Many people have noted that their trips to Vrndavan begin with a period of transition and turbulence until one experiences the nature of the dham (place of residence of the Lord)
Grumpy old Jewish gray stubblehead,
Carries worries around like a crumpled brown bag with numbers written on it.
Lord Balarama hooks it with his plow and tosses it into non-existence.
“You are here, don’t miss it.”
What a smile, as he leans with a naughty air upon the shoulder of Brother Almighty.
I have entered the Dham.