It was a long flight. I have arrived at Brindavan, staying near the ashram. Road works have commenced to build the bridge over the railway gates at Whitefield. The taxi driver took the wrong turn and took me to the new hospital instead; he did not listen properly to me. I said “Take me to Whitefield”, all the taxi drivers were yelling at me “Baba is in Puttaparthi!” “Baba is in Puttaparthi!” “Baba – Puttaparthi!” They want to take my trolley and push, they want to take over my life and tell me where to go, etc., etc.
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