Meditation. That word always used to carry an aura of exclusivity for me—something reserved for the spiritually advanced, the inner circle of sadhakas who had “qualified.”
Līlā smaraṇam, the sacred remembrance of the Lord’s divine pastimes, seemed especially out of reach—like a fruit hanging far above my head.

But is it truly meant to be so?

The scriptures tell us that smaraṇam—remembrance—is one of the nine limbs of bhakti.
Specifically, līlā smaraṇam involves meditating on the transcendental activities of the Supreme Lord, especially His sweet pastimes in Vraja. This is not imagination. This is not daydreaming. It is heart-work.
It is soul-longing. And yet, how often have we heard (and perhaps even internalized), “You’re not qualified for this.”

I’ve lived with that hesitation. I’ve felt the subtle fear of offending the sacred pastimes, of treading into territory I am not “ready” for. But over time, I’ve come to realize something very important: līlā smaraṇam is not an advanced limb of bhakti to be postponed indefinitely—it is a gift that unfolds gradually through mercy and sincerity.

vikrīḍitaṁ vraja-vadhūbhir idaṁ ca viṣṇoḥ
śraddhānvito yaḥ śṛṇuyād atha varṇayed yaḥ
bhaktiṁ parāṁ bhagavati pratilabhya kāmaṁ
hṛd-rogam āśv apahinoty acireṇa dhīraḥ

“The pastimes of Lord Viṣṇu (Kṛṣṇa) with the young women of Vraja are meant to be heard and chanted with faith and devotion. One who faithfully hears or describes these pastimes achieves the highest devotion for the Lord and quickly becomes free from the disease of the heart — lust.”
– Srimat Bhagavatam 10.33.40

Līlā-smaraṇam is not something we wait to do only after we’re completely purified of lust—rather, it is one of the powerful practices that removes lust, when done properly, humbly, and under guidance. Līlā-smaraṇam is medicine, not just a reward for already being healthy.

A verse from Śrī Rādhā Rasa Sudhānidhi that beautifully illustrates how līlā-smaraṇam serves as a potent remedy for the heart is verse 14:

rādhā karāvacita pallava vallarīke
rādhā padāṅka vilasan madhura sthalīke
rādhā yaśo mukhara matta khagāvalīke
rādhā vihāra vipine ramatāṁ mano me

“May my mind find pleasure in the play forest of Rādhā, where the sprouts and vines are touched by Rādhā’s hands, where the ground is sweetened by Rādhā’s footprints, and where the birds madly sing Rādhā’s glories!”

This verse invites us to immerse our mind in the vivid remembrance of Śrīmatī Rādhārāṇī’s pastimes in Vṛndāvana. By focusing the heart on Her divine activities—tracing Her footprints, witnessing the vines She touches, and hearing the birds that sing Her praises—one naturally becomes absorbed in līlā-smaraṇam. Such meditation purifies the consciousness, displacing material desires with transcendental affection.

As highlighted by Śrīla Ananta Dāsa Bābājī Mahārāja, this form of remembrance is not merely a practice but a transformative experience that aligns the sādhaka’s heart with the eternal pastimes of the Divine Couple. Engaging in līlā-smaraṇam under the guidance of Śrī Guru thus becomes the best medicine for curing the heart’s ailments and awakening pure devotion.
Līlā-smaraṇam is both a sādhana and a mercy.
When practiced with humility, longing, and shelter, it becomes the path and the purifier.

The external limbs of devotion—hearing, chanting, serving—nourish the heart, and slowly, through the blessings of the Holy Name, the mind becomes eager to know more. One begins to wonder: What does Kṛṣṇa look like? How does He laugh? What does Śrīmati Rādhārāṇī say to Him in Her playful moods? And it is then that the remembrance of līlās begins to sparkle like morning sunlight on Yamunā’s rippling waters.

But none of this is possible without Śrī Guru.

If there’s one truth that my heart clings to again and again, it is this: Without taking shelter of Śrī Guru’s lotus feet, there is no sādhana, no real bhajana. As I’ve written before on Amrita Tarangini, the Lord personally appears as Śrī Guru to guide us, to protect us, and most importantly—to reveal to us who we really are. Guru tattva is not optional. Śrī Guru is the captain of this fragile boat, and without his mercy, we drift endlessly.

Meditating on Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa’s intimate pastimes, especially in the mood of a Rādhā-dāsī, is not something we stumble into. It is Śrī Guru who grants entrance into this sacred realm. He knows our svarūpa, and step by step, he guides us—first by grounding us in the Holy Name, then slowly allowing glimpses into the Divine Couple’s eternal play.

Of course, caution is necessary. One should not whimsically dive into intimate līlās with an unclean heart. But at the same time, I now understand that the answer is not repression. It’s putting our minds under the shelter of a bona fide guru. It’s not about trying to imagine something esoteric; it’s about remembering what is real—what the soul already longs for.

I’ve come to see that līlā smaraṇam isn’t a luxury. It’s a necessity. A natural evolution of the heart that chants sincerely, day after day. It flows not from our strength, but from mercy. And that mercy flows most potently through Śrī Guru and the Holy Name.

So no, I no longer accept the idea that “Thou shall not meditate.” Rather, I say: “Thou shall meditate—with reverence, with longing, and above all, under guidance.”

When remembrance is done as a humble offering to Śrī Guru, and with the support of the Holy Name, it becomes not a transgression, but a treasure. And I pray every day for the strength and grace to enter, step by step, into that eternal stream of nectar—the amṛta tarangiṇī of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa’s līlās.