It was midnight. Srila Prabhupada sat on a pillow behind his low desk, his light the only one on in the building. All the other devotees were in bed. On the desk before him rested the dictating machine and a volume of Srimad-Bhagavatam with Bengali commentary. A small framed picture of his spiritual master, Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati, sat between two small vases of roses and asters. On the floor beyond the desk was the broad mat covered with white cotton fabric, where a few hours before, devotees and guests had sat.
But now he was alone. Although usually he retired at ten, rising three or four hours later to translate, tonight he had not rested, and his Bhagavatam lay closed, his dictating machine covered.