April 1977. Chaitra sud 9. Bhagwan Swaminarayan's birthday according to the Hindu calendar had been celebrated by Swamishri in Amdavad. The next day, we all came to sit in Swamishri's morning puja. It was only early morning, yet the sweltering heat was already getting to me. Besides, I hadn't really recovered from the previous day's fast - even though I had broken it late the night before. Swamishri, on the other hand, had yet to drink anything. Nevertheless, he shone with a distinct rosiness and freshness.

After his puja had finished, Swamishri, in a spontaneous burst of joy, showered upon the devotees a whole heap of roses. The devotees revelled in Swamishri's grace.

Seeing this, I thought to myself how wonderful it would be if Swamishri gave me a rose too. 'But I'm still new, and young. Why would he give one to me?' I concluded, and let the thought drop.

As per Swamishri's normal routine, he got up from his puja to go for darshan of the murtis in the main mandir. He walked towards the pujari's basement entrance through a path flanked by yuvaks. There I stood, among the crowd. Swamishri didn't even know me in particular. But as he passed me, he pushed the two roses he had been holding into my hand. He walked away; I was left motionless. Somehow he knew. Somehow he fulfilled my wish.