Sometimes Upendra would dramatically re-enact the story of “seeing Krishna everywhere”. He described how he had liked to accompany Srila Prabhupada on his morning walks around Stowe Lake in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco. Upon returning one morning, Upendra had asked:

“Swamiji, what does the pure devotee see when he walks in the park?”

Prabhupäda had replied: “He sees Krishna. He sees these are Krishna’s trees, this is Krishna’s house, he sees everything as belonging to the Supreme Lord.”

“But if Krishna is everywhere,” Upendra said “does the pure devotee see Krishna on the wall on the right and then the wall on the left or in the corner, or in between every atom? Does he see one form of Krishna merge into another? Where does one form of Krishna begin and take off from the other form?”

Srila Prabhupada answered that it was not like that. By way of example he had pointed to his desk. “Do you see my spectacles?”

Upendra answered “Yes.”

“Whose spectacles are they?” Prabhupada asked.

“They are yours,” said Upendra.

Prabhupada pointed to his shoes. “And what is that?”

“Those are your shoes,” said Upendra.

“So,” Prabhupada explained, “similarly a pure devotee sees Krishna like that. Everything is Krishna’s. This is how he sees Krishna everywhere.”

These intimate and heartwarming accounts by Upendra gave the young devotees a taste of real personal contact with Srila Prabhupada, despite being physically so far away. Occasionally, however, geographical isolation had its minor problems.

By the time Srila Prabhupada returned from his bath, applied marks of Vaisnava tilak, and chanted his noon-time gayatri mantra, his lunch was ready. Upananda had cooked the dal, rice and vegetables at the temple, and had sent them over to the house. While Prabhupada bathed, Bali-mardana — who couldn't cook — had frantically attempted to make chapatis, but the apartment was equipped with only an electric stove. As Srila Prabhupada sat, Vegavan ran in with the first hot chapati.

Prabhupada prodded it. "This chapati is raw." Vegavan went to the kitchen and returned with another — burnt crisp, like a pappadam. Srila Prabhupada glanced at Vegavan with a look of irritation. Vegavan again ran into the kitchen, coming back with another chapati, this time half-raw, half-burnt. Prabhupada appeared disappointed. He tasted one vegetable preparation. "It is wrongly spiced," he said. Vegavan was flushed and shaken.

Prabhupada looked at Vegavan with concern. "Call Bali-mardana." Bali-mardana entered, his hands covered with flour.

"If you didn't know how to cook, why didn't you tell me?" Bali-mardana tried to explain that there was only an electric stove. Without a flame, the chapatis would never puff up.

But Bali-mardana's excuse annoyed Srila Prabhupada even more. He stood, washed his hands, and entered the kitchen. He worked quickly, preparing a simple vegetable dish, advising as he went. Simultaneously, with the same dough, on the very same electric stove, Prabhupada rolled and cooked a few chapatis which all puffed like balloons. After Srila Prabhupada left the kitchen, Bali-mardana tried to cook more chapatis, but they didn't puff up. It seemed a magical art that only Prabhupada knew.

From the book "The Great Transcendental Adventure" by Kurma Das. Chapter 2 – "In the hands of the Mlecchas" Sydney, Sunday 9 May 1971