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Śrī Dīpa Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Jaya, Satguru Deva Kī Jaya. There was once an old lady and an old man, and they were always praying to Kṛṣṇa. They were quite poor, and they had one child who was only seven. Every day, mother and father would pray to Kṛṣṇa. But one day, because his parents were quite old, the father said, “Now I have to go.” He was sick and was going to go to heaven. He said, “I have to go now, but Krishna will take care of you.” And his wife said, “Yes, yes, I know you have to go, and you’re going to heaven. I’m sure Krishna will take care of you.” So then the lady was there, and the boy was there, living in the house. The mother said, “I know that it is your time, but I also know that Kṛṣṇa will take care of everything.” And so the mother and her son were left in the house. They were quite poor; they only had one cow. From the milk of that cow, they used to buy food—they sold the milk and bought food to eat. But the mother was praying all day, every day to Kṛṣṇa. Eventually, that boy, because he was already seven years old, had to go to school. But the school was quite far from where they lived, and the path led through a very, very thick jungle. There was just a small trail to get through, and it was a jungle filled with wild animals—not like here, not like in Strilky, but lions and tigers and such. This was an Indian jungle. He started to walk to school, but it was very scary because there were too many animals, and he could hear them. He went back to his mother and said, “I don’t want to go to school, I don’t want to go to school because it’s too scary.” And she said, “Don’t worry, tomorrow you can go, and your brother will go with you.” He said, “What brother? I don’t have any brother. I’m the only child. You never told me that I had a brother.” She said, “Yes, yes… you have a big brother. He lives in the forest. When you go into the forest, just call him, and he will come and take care of you and walk you through the forest. You should know his name—his name is Rākhal Rājā.” Okay, he thought, in the morning I’ll go and try. And in the nighttime and in the morning, of course, his mother was, as usual, praying to whom? Krishna, yes. Well done. So he went in the morning. I hope you remember that name, Rākhal Rājā. Next morning he went to the forest, and as he started to walk inside among the trees, he got scared just like the day before. Then he thought, “Oh, my mother said I have to call out to my brother. I have to call out his name.” But he thought, “I’ve forgotten what it is… what is it? Rākholrāj, yes.” So he started to call out, “Rakhalarāj, Rakhalarāj, please come, please come.” He called two or three times. Then, from out of the jungle, from behind the trees, a very tall boy came. He had a peacock feather in his hair and a flute in his hand. Do you know who it was? Yes, probably it was. The boy said, “Who are you?” And he replied, “I’m Rākhal Rāj. You called me. I’m your brother. I’m going to walk you to school.” The boy was very, very, very happy. Can you imagine? Now he found out that he had a big brother, and he could safely walk through the jungle. So they safely passed through the jungle, and best of all, he could go to school. He went to school with the boy, with Rākhul Rāj. When he was coming back home again and entered the jungle, he thought, “Oh, I have to call my brother. What’s his name again? I’ve forgotten.” So he called again, “Rakhal Rāj, yes, yes,” and Rākhal Rāj came and said, “Yeah, let’s go home.” The next day he did the same thing. When he met Rākhal Rāj in the forest, Rākhal Rāj even bought him a present. The boy was even happier. Every day it was the same: he would walk to school through the forest, call his big brother Rākhal Rāj, and all the way to school and all the way back home they would talk together, sing songs, and play games. You can imagine how happy he must have been. Then one day something happened. The teacher at his school was having a party, a celebration for the birth of his new son. In India, when there is a function like that for a new child, everybody brings something to give. But of course, the boy’s mother was very poor, so she had nothing for him to take. He was a little upset, and as he went into the forest, he was sad, but he called out to Rākhurāj. Rākhurāj came and said, “What’s wrong today? Why are you sad?” He answered, “Oh, because I have to go to this function, this party, and I don’t have anything to take with me. Everybody else will bring things for my teacher, and I don’t have anything. How can I go? Otherwise everyone will say I didn’t bring anything.” And Rāghurām Rāj said, “No problem.” Somehow, from behind his back, he pulled something out and said, “Take this.” It was a small pot of kheer, sweet rice. The boy thought, okay, it’s better than nothing—it was only very small. He took it and gave it to his teacher. The teacher said, “Thank you very much. It’s so wonderful that you brought such a good present.” The teacher knew the boy was very poor and couldn’t bring a big present. But there was a large pot ready for the function, meant to hold the kheer being cooked. Before anyone could fill it, the teacher quickly tipped the little pot into the big one, so that later he could say the boy had brought all this kheer. All the other students were bringing presents as well. But as soon as the tiny pot of kheer was poured into the big pot, the big pot became completely full of kheer. He had only put in a small amount, but suddenly it was full. The teacher thought this was strange. Then people started eating the kheer, and it was the best kheer they had ever tasted. They ate and ate and ate—hundreds of people—but the pot remained full. It was like the well in Nepal: no matter how much you took out, it would stay full. The teacher thought, this must be something quite magical. He asked the boy, “Where did you get this present?” The boy said, “Oh, I got it from my brother in the forest.” The teacher said, “But you don’t have a brother.” The boy insisted, “Yes, I do.” “No, you don’t, otherwise he would have already come to school before, and I know you’re the only boy in your house.” The boy said, “Yes, yes, I have a brother. His name is Rākhal Rāj, and he lives in the forest.” “But I do have a brother, he lives in the forest, and his name is Rākhal Rāj.” Now the teacher was starting to think there might be something special about this. “And the teacher thought, there must be something to this.” He said, “Can I see your brother? Can you show me?” Of course, the boy said, “Yes, yes, of course, let’s go.” They went into the forest, and the boy started calling out, “Rakhlaraj, Rakhlaraj, please come.” But he didn’t come. He called again, “Rākhal Rāj, Rākhal Rāj, please come.” Still he did not appear. The boy was getting a little upset: “Why don’t you come? I’m calling you, why don’t you come? You always come.” The teacher began to say, “You’re not telling the truth, there is no boy in the forest. Where did you get that pot?” The boy called once more, “Rākholrāj, please, why don’t you come? You always come, and now you’re making trouble for me.” Then a voice came out of the forest. It was his brother’s voice, Rākolrāj. He said, “I can’t come.” The boy asked, “Why can’t you come? You always come.” He replied, “Yes, yes, I come. You know why I come.” Who was really Rākhol Rāj? It was Krishna. He said, “I only come to you when you call me because your mother is always praying to me. But your teacher, who comes with you, never prays to me. So how can I show myself to him? Even if I came, he wouldn’t be able to see me anyway, because he doesn’t pray.” The teacher understood immediately. He understood that it must be Kṛṣṇa. He said to the boy, “Okay, it doesn’t matter if I don’t see your brother. Now I know who it is.” And the boy went home again with his brother. Who was it? I forgot again. Rākhal Rāj. Yes, Rākhal Rāj. And so he kept coming and going to school, playing with his friends. That is the story of Rākhalarāja. Śrī Dīpa Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Jaya, Śrī Śrī Devapurījī Mahādeva Kī Jaya, Dharma Samrāṭ Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Mādhavānanda Purī Jī Mahārāja Kī Jaya, Viśvaguru Mahāmaṇḍaleśvara Paramahaṁsa Śrī Svāmī Maheśvarānanda Purī Jī Satguru Deva Kī Jaya. Can you imagine if we could have one of these like that? You could just put it in a big pot and it would go “Whoosh!”—or with ice cream. It’s a children’s story, but where is our jungle? Where is the jungle that we are actually scared to walk through? It is that inner jungle of our own feelings and emotions—of those things we have inside which we have repressed and held there for a long time. Bhajans like “Satguru Rākho Lāja Hamārī” are the same thing. We’re going in, into ourselves, into areas which are unknown and can be scary. It is about going inside our inner self to an unknown land that is perhaps a little frightening. But if you have confidence that Mahāprabhujī is there with you, then He is with you. And if you’re like the teacher, who doesn’t have that faith, that devotion, then you can’t see it. Śrī Dīpa Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Jaya, Satguru Deva Kī Jaya. Śrī Dīpa Nārāyaṇa Bhagavān Kī Jaya, Satguru Rākhola Jaya Hamārī… Nārāyaṇa karatā, Dīna Nārāyaṇa karatā, Śaraṇa tumhārī, Satguru Raghurāma jaya mārī.