Prabhupada just wouldn’t stop talking. Since we had left the Bombay airport on Friday evening, March 31, 1972, more than twenty-four hours earlier, he hadn’t slowed down a bit. Now he’s sitting late at night in an upstairs room in a borrowed white terrace house at 26 Renny Street in the Paddington district of Sydney, Australia, talking with Pradyumna, Nanda Kumar, and me, and with his ISKCON Australia leaders Upendra and Mohanananda, about every subject under the crescent moon, including the flowers in a vase on his desk… It’s getting so late, after midnight now, officially April 2, and Prabhupada hasn’t rested in about two days. His elbows are propped on a low table-desk, head in his hands in a sort of reverie. Prabhupada appears to tower over us, his stature magnified by the greatness of his words, his control over every situation, his fearless intensity, and his gigantic spirit. Our point of view begins at his feet, looking up as if he’s way over our heads. His movements are so graceful, light, and expressive, yet heavy with meaning. He is guru, heavy. He seems so dominant, so huge in our eyes, yet I just saw the details in his passport as we passed through Australian customs: Abhay Charanaravinda Bhaktivedanta Swami, whose father is listed as “Late Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati Goswami Maharaj Prabhupada” and whose visible distinguishing mark is “Vishnu tilaka on forehead.” He is just 1 m 60 cm (5 feet 3 inches) tall and maybe soaking wet he weighs 120 pounds. He’s in that special zone now, wired but tired yet kind of drifting. “Where was I? Oh, yes.” He’s in bliss and wants to keep talking. Now he gets a snack attack.