I remember you asked me to grocery shop for my sister’s wedding feast in the morning, and then assist you in cooking for the remainder of the day. First I bungled the shopping, and then made numerous blunders trying to make aloo kachori for the next several hours. By this time I thought I might not be capable of anything you asked me to do. But you were so patient, and in the course of that day imparted many basic Vaishnava cooking and kitchen precepts. Further, while you single-handedly prepared a multi-course wedding feast, I watched you chop, peel, mince, stir, mix, fry, bray and so on–often using your hands rather than tools as equipment, and noted your kitchen ease, focus, and expertise. I was fascinated by everything about you. In this connection, I pray to share these things that you have taught me, especially with the younger generation, now poised on the launching pad, in hopes that they may take these instructions to heart.
I also remember the wedding ceremony that evening—a fire blazed in the dead center of your small living room that we had met in only 24 hours previously—with smoke so thick I was coughing. Again I watched you, this time in a ‘Swamiji’ role of officiating priest chanting Sanskrit prayers and hymns, as you lovingly gave away my only sister in marriage to an old friend—both only initiated devotees for two weeks. In this connection, I pray that all vows and prayers spoken by me to you at a sacred fire yajna be followed purely.