“The work that you do when no one is watching, will someday make you the person everyone watches.”
I remembered the above quote when I saw two senior devotees serve quietly, without any honour and glory. Their stories are incredible, but true…..
Read on…..
A young man from Japan once faced a heart-wrenching ultimatum from his billionaire father:
“If you continue this Krishna consciousness, you will not receive a single farthing from me.”
The son chose Krishna.
True to his threat, the father disowned him. But this quiet, determined soul remained unwavering. He gave up everything the world calls security and continued serving Krishna—not for attention, not for reward, but out of deep, inner conviction.
Four decades later, that same young man—Tusta Krishna Prabhu—is serving as the Temple President of Sri Sri Radha Govinda Mandir in Denver, Colorado. Along with his wife, he leads not with authority, but with example. He is humility personified—gentle, kind, deeply rooted in service, and naturally attracting countless Americans to Krishna consciousness. His presence has become a magnet for sincere seekers.
The temple hall is often packed, reverberating with ecstatic, wild kirtans that awaken the soul. Tusta Krishna Prabhu’s life is quiet, but his bhakti is thunderous.
And then there is Nidra Mataji—a name that ironically means “sleep,” but whose devotional alertness would shame a soldier. A disciple of Srila Prabhupada, she has been serving in Denver since 1975, waking daily for mangala arati, distributing Srila Prabhupada’s books tirelessly, and performing humble service from dawn to dusk.
With a toothless, mystical smile and childlike innocence, she radiates a softness that melts the heart. She never complains, never slows down, and never seeks recognition. She knows nothing but Krishna and His devotees. That is her world.
Once, while distributing books on the street, an envious man punched her hard in the face. She returned to the temple—bruised but grateful. “He was sent by Krishna to humble me,” she said with folded hands. She prayed to the Lord to bless that man with love of God, not punishment. Her heart held no malice. Her forgiveness reminded me of a quote: “To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover the prisoner was you.”
Days later, the same man walked into the temple—broken, weeping, and remorseful. He searched for “that lady,” fell at Nidra Mataji’s feet, and begged forgiveness. Today, he is a devotee.
These are not just stories. These are living commentaries on the Bhagavatam. These devotees may never speak from the vyasasana, but their lives speak volumes—lives that embody surrender, compassion, and spiritual power in silence.
These unsung heroes of Bhakti teach us that their silence is not weakness; they are silently growing roots that will one day hold up a forest.
The Quiet Glory of Devotion
In today’s world, visibility often equates to value. But in Krishna’s world, it is sincerity in obscurity that He treasures most. The purest service is often invisible—done not for applause, but for love. Tusta Krishna Prabhu’s journey of giving up wealth for Krishna is not just a sacrifice—it is a declaration: that Krishna is not just worth more than money—He is worth everything.
Humility as Invincible Strength
Krishna seems to specialize in giving His toughest tests to His softest devotees—and somehow, they always pass with grace.
Nidra Mataji’s response to violence was not to harden—but to soften further. Her forgiveness wasn’t theoretical—it was embodied. And that softness transformed the attacker into a devotee. This is the power of humility—it disarms the ego, it transforms the heart. Such devotees protect the spiritual integrity of our movement. Devotees like her don’t have time to check who liked their post—they’re too busy being liked by Krishna.
They Are Our Protectors
These devotees are the roots of ISKCON. While some speak from stages and write books, others serve silently—keeping the heart of the movement alive. If the institution survives, it is because of these unseen saints who work without recognition, complaint, or break. They are Krishna’s secret soldiers.
Their Stories Must Be Told
We must speak about them—not to glorify individuals, but to anchor ourselves in what real bhakti looks like. In an age of performance, their lives offer purity. Their sacrifices ground us. Their simplicity awakens our faith. The best people are not always the ones who make the most noise. Not all heroes wear capes. Some quietly change the world in silence, with compassion.
Krishna Sees What the World Misses
When the world forgets you, and Krishna remembers—that is real success.
When no one praises you, but Krishna smiles—that is the treasure.
When your life changes others, not by preaching, but by example—that is perfection.
These souls live that truth. And they remind us that bhakti is not in the spotlight—it is in the shadows, in the kitchen, in the streets, in the temple room after everyone’s left, and in the prayers said through tears and toothless smiles.
So let us remember, honor, and emulate these saints.
Not to imitate their austerities—but to absorb their spirit.
To serve not for show—but for Seva.
To chant not to complete—but to connect.
To see our service not as duty—but as a love-offering.
These devotees are warriors in Srila Prabhupada’s army—not by how loudly they speak, but by how deeply they love.
Let us be inspired by them. Let us walk more softly, serve more sweetly, and remember—Krishna is not looking for performers. He is looking for lovers.
“The highest reward for a person’s toil is not what they get for it, but what they become by it.” – John Ruskin
