And we begin to see Prabhupad now as a great saint, at home and relaxed as the true spiritual father of India, taking his place on the balcony to address the flushed and excited devotee-masses like the Pope at St. Peter’s, his forehead plastered with sandalwood paste, the rooms and halls around him suffused with gardenia and tuberose aroma. Prabhupad is simply loving it—and we’re loving him more each second. To see our father, our best friend, our Master so well-treated, revered by a whole city–makes us dizzy with new realizations: Prabhupad is a saint, and this is what “saint” means: A person who is admired or venerated because of their virtue: from the Sanskrit root “sat,” one who knows and abides by the truth. And we realize what the world might be like if everyone was a Krishna devotee.