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One day, after returning from Śrī Laṅkā—following all the tragedies of the war, the loss of friends (bandhavas), the abduction of Sītā (Sītā-haraṇa), and more—Lord Rāma sat in his palace, thanking all who had helped him. He, who knows every heart, saw Hanumānjī sitting under a tree. Hanumān is the great bhakta whose name is synonymous with devotion. Even today, devotees say to their master or God: "Lord, you know how much I love you, but I am not that Hanumān who can tear open his chest to show the trust within. We are afraid." For when someone once asked Hanumān, "Where are Sītā and Rām?" he replied, "In my heart." Others also say, "In my heart," but Hanumānjī proved it. With his own nails, he tore open his chest. As it bled, everyone saw within his heart the blessed forms of God Rāma and Sītā—as clear as a picture on a television screen. This very example was later given by Jesus when he showed his heart, saying, "My heart for you," meaning for God. That is the story of Hanumān's love. How much love do we have? We cannot even bear to leave one button open; if it is, someone will say, "Oh, your button is open, please close it." Śrī Rām, Jai Rām, Jai Jai Rām. That is the miracle of Rāma, and that was the bhakta Hanumānjī. Therefore, it is said Hanumānjī is the greatest, and he is still here. Yet, even such a great bhakta can have doubts, and the Lord knows many ways to remove them. Either the doubt is removed, or the person is removed. We pray that God removes our doubt and does not withdraw His kṛpā-dṛṣṭi, His merciful gaze. For when grace (kṛpā) is lost, truth (satya) becomes untruth, nectar (amṛta) becomes poison (visha), and the sun becomes dark night. It must never be rejected. Hanumānjī sat under the tree, thinking of his past with God Rāma—those fourteen beautiful years. "How lucky I am," he thought. "There was a day I wandered the mountains without aim, direction, or sense of life—just eating, sleeping, jumping, enjoying. But since I met Him, my life changed. I found my purpose, my dharma, my karma. My birth is successful. Lord, how can I express my thankfulness? There are no words; 'thank you' is too little. How happy I am to sit here in the Lord's garden. I do not wish for the palace. It does not matter where I am; I am in the shelter of my Lord, my Savior, at the center of love." Prem nahī vo sabse pyāra. As said in a bhajan of Mahāprabhujī: "He is not merely love; He is the Beloved of all. The love which loves Love itself—that is God." Prem Naivo Sabse Pyāra. Hanumānjī was very happy, reminiscing about Laṅkā. "How terrible it was. Lakṣmaṇa would have died, but thanks to Rāma, I brought the Sañjīvanī herb from the Himalayas. Even Rāma Himself would have died, but I ran to Vaikuṇṭha and brought Garuḍa. How difficult it was to find Sītā. It was I who found Sītā." Into the peaceful ocean of nectar (Śānti Amṛta Sāgar), a drop of poison fell—doubt, pride. "I found Sītā. I brought the Sañjīvanī. I brought Garuḍa from Veṅgpuṇḍa. If I had not been there, what would have happened to Rāma?" A single drop of lemon spoils liters of milk. All bhakti and śakti were consumed (svāhā). Suddenly, Hanumānjī felt empty. His heart was empty. Love was gone. The electricity vanished; the light disappeared in a second. The windows, curtains, and doors were closed. How did it happen? The light vanished. Everything was lost; confidence was lost. Love for God is love itself. Hanumānjī felt both empty and overfilled—like milk boiling over, overflowing, yet empty at the bottom as the substance flows away. This was ego. "If I wouldn’t be there, Rāma wouldn’t be successful." God Rāma sat smiling. "Oh, Hanumān. What a great pity." God worries about us more than we do. The Master worries about our development more than we do. Parents worry more about their children than the children themselves. Now God thought, "I will give Hanumān the final lesson so that forever his ego and doubts are utterly removed." In this way, God Rāma walked to a window and spoke very sweet, kind words. Hanumānjī was sitting beneath it in the garden, one ear always turned, thirsting, starving to hear that sweet voice call his name. God Rāma said, "Hanuman." Every hair on Hanumān's body stood up, directing itself toward Rāma like an antenna. That is a bhakta—all feelings directed toward the Lord, like a sunflower to the sun. Hanumānjī said, "Yes, my lord, I am in your service." God Rāma said, "Come to me immediately." Hanumānjī jumped and was there. "Yes, sir, my lord, I surrender to thee. My whole being is for you. What can I do?" Rāma said, "Hanuman, I am very thankful to you. You know, I did not express my thankfulness." Hanumān's ego expanded; he stood taller. "You know, Hanuman, I think without you, I would not have found Sītā, and we wouldn’t have been able to cross the ocean. You constructed that bridge, allowing our entire army to reach Śrī Laṅkā. Without you today, my beloved brother Lakṣmaṇa wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t be here, too. And most importantly, without you, Hanuman, I wouldn’t have won the war. Don’t you think that is true? Say something." Hanumān said, "Yes, Lord, but all is your kṛpā." He stood in vīrāsana, attention ready. "Lord, what can I do?" God Rāma gave him a ring and said, "This is my last work for you in this life. In a remote part of the Himalayas, a very old ṛṣi, seated there for yugas, is performing tapasyā. My last wish is to give him this ring. I know no one can reach him. It is very hard—the best climbers fail. There is no oxygen, it is very high, only rocks, no path. But I wish to give this, and I know no one can do it without you." Hanumānjī said, "Lord, no problem. Not even a single corner in the entire universe can remain empty without my presence. I am capable of reaching everything. I need only one thing: your kṛpā, your blessing. That is all. I will do it." He took the ring, placed it in his mouth under his gums for the climb, and left. After some days, he arrived. He asked God Rāma, "How will I know the right ṛṣi? How does he look?" Rāma said, "You will see him. He has no clothes, no bed, no pillows, no house, no hut. He has only one thing: a bundle of grass. When the sun rises and is very hot, he places the bundle on one side and sits in its shadow. When the sun is high and hot, he puts the bundle on his head as an umbrella. When he lies down, he uses it as a pillow. When the cold wind blows, he uses it as a protective wall. That is all. He eats only prāṇa." Hanumānjī arrived and saw the ṛṣi. As Holy Gurujī says in a beautiful bhajan, the ṛṣi was full of light, full of nectar, radiating. Hanumānjī bowed down gently. Yet, within, he thought, "I am Hanumān, the messenger of Rāma, the ambassador of Rāma." What would the ṛṣi think of him? Still, he said, "Pranām," in greeting. Before he could introduce himself, the ṛṣi said, "Hanuman, it was a hard way to reach me, but you are strong. You are truly Hanumānjī. You have done many things for Rāma. Where is the ring?" Hanumān took it out, cleaned it, and said, "This ring is sent by my lord, Rāma." The ṛṣi said, "Okay." He took the ring and, without looking at it or saying thank you, threw it into a nearby water pond about one meter deep and two meters wide—as if discarding it into a wastepaper basket. Hanumānjī grew angry. "It does not matter who he is—holy or not, ṛṣi, yogī, or bhogī. He did not even say thank you or look at the ring properly. He threw away the ring of my Lord!" Hanumān knew the ṛṣi was Trikāl Darśī, a knower of past, present, and future—Antaryāmī, the inner witness. But Antaryāmī never reveals what you are thinking; if He does, it is in such a polite way that you will not understand, and it will make you more doubtful, angry, and confused. The Ṛṣi looked at him and smiled. "Hanumānjī, you are thinking, 'Why did I throw the ring away?' Can you please bring my ring back from the water? Put your hand in and take it out." The pond was still. Hanumānjī reached in and brought out not one ring, but hundreds of identical rings. He searched, "Which one is his ring?" The ṛṣi said, "Don’t worry. They are all the same. There is no difference. But if you want to count, you can. There are still more inside. Hanuman, as many rings as are here, that many times Viṣṇu has incarnated on this planet. And whenever He incarnates, He must pay a tax to the ṛṣis. They cannot be successful without Guru Kṛpā. If you remember, I told you there are five kinds of ṛṇa (debt): to the mother, the father, the gods, the teacher, and the ṛṣis. One who repays all these debts will be successful. So whenever Viṣṇu incarnates, He must pay the tax of His devotion in the form of this ṛṇa. It is my blessing that enables Viṣṇu to be successful in this world. Otherwise, His līlā would not function. Līlādhārī kī līlā fail hojātī—the player of miracles, His miracles become senseless. Now throw them in again." Hanumānjī was now completely surrendered but more confused. "What is going on? Should I believe now in Rāma or this Ṛṣi? My God! After so much sādhanā, I am confused again." The Ṛṣi said, "Hanuman, bless Rāma. Give him my blessings, and never think it was you—that due to you, Rāma won the battle in Śrī Laṅkā, found Sītā, that you brought the Sañjīvanī herb or Garuḍa. It is Ṛṣi Kṛpā. It is His tapasyā, Rāma’s tapasyā. It is Viṣṇu’s devotion, for He went through ṛṣi kṛpā, guru kṛpā. Therefore, go and tell of guru kṛpā—he gave a blessing, mercy." Hanumānjī thanked him, took the dust of the ṛṣi’s feet, placed it on his head, and returned. Śrī Rām, Jai Rām, Jai Jai Rām. The whole mountain resonated with Śrī Rām. Hanumānjī returned very humbly, pure, as if after a saṅkt prakṣālana (internal cleansing). All ego and doubt were lost through the ṛṣi’s kṛpā. God Rāma came and embraced him. "How was it?" Hanumānjī said, "Lord, excuse me, forgive my ego and pride. I thought it was I who was doing for you, but now I know, Lord, I was only an instrument. The doer was somebody else." That mantra comes from there. Holi Gurujī often tells us; Mahāprabhujī used to say: "Many Rāmas were born in my presence, many Viṣṇus incarnated in my presence, many Brahmas created this universe or these creatures in my presence, many times." So, this Ṛṣi, I think, is Mahāprabhujī. The door to Brahman is the sun, and at the gate of that sun sits Mahāprabhujī. He is blessing. Kṛpā can let you in, and that sun and that Brahmaloka is Devapurījī. Therefore, Mahāprabhujī said in one verse: "Pratho Mahāprabhujī, Rekhā Vyādam Bhajano." Yes, I bought a śambhu. They got the part. Ah, he put it in a baguette.