Dr V’s office room. At the far corner of the hospital’s ground floor. Four years after his passing, the light is always on, the door always open. Fresh flower placed on the altar behind his desk. The bookcases spilling over as usual. All the familiar landmarks. The Divine Plan on the wall, alongside the world map. The files, the paperweights he used to anchor down the wide pages of Savitri. The poised, gray stone statue of the Buddha is still there, the pictures of his sister, my grandmother – Janaky, of Neem Karoli Baba, and of course of Sri Aurobindo and the Mother. There is too now, a picture of Dr V himself, a picture of him sitting in this very room, in his usual place. Arms resting wide on the desk, head tilted to one side, a radiant smile. Stepping into this room there is a stillness and a presence that’s palpable. I feel like he’s still here. I try and come here every day, to sit for a bit. With that stillness. That presence. I remember the feeling of walking in through this door, so many mornings. “Good morning good morning!” no one could say it quite like this man. Welcome, delight, wisdom and such warmth in his voice. We are so blessed to have had him among us in the ways that we did.