In plain words
The faith that a foreigner called Max Müller had in Bhārata could not be put as this much or that much. In his last days he resolved to come to Bhārata and leave his body. ‘What is the reason?’ many friends asked. What is there in Bhārata? Then he said: ‘In the air of Bhārata there is Satya, in its dust there is Dharma, in its soil there is Prema, in the Gaṅgā there is sacrifice. Where should I go, if not to such a holy Bhārata? No other country is as sacred as this one. Enna bhārate tanna bhārata. What is not in Bhārata is in no other country,’ he said. Born in such a Bhārata and calling ourselves people of Bhārata, we are unable to recognise the faith of Bhārata. If we are to recognise this sacred history of Bhārata, we must labour very hard. Our ancients of those days all did many sādhanas. The treasure of nectar that they won and handed down in those days is itself today's butter called Prema-bhakti. But this Prema lies somewhere or other. That is precisely why Yaśodā said to the Gopīs:
Śrī Kṛṣṇa, Who Wears a Human Guise through Māyā
‘Kṛṣṇa!’ You will not eat what is given; You will not eat what I give; You go off to the cowherds' hamlets and eat butter there in secret; all this scandal was born with You, Kṛṣṇa! Your whole mouth smells of butter; how great Your mischief, nothing but uproar; You are not as big as a fingernail, child; give up these spoiled ways now?
So small a child, and You are setting the whole village in an uproar, Kṛṣṇa! Is there no butter in our house? There is all the butter You could want. Why should You not eat it? Why must You go to other people's houses and eat it by stealth? Then Kṛṣṇa answers. ‘Mother! There is no difference in butter, between home butter and outside butter. Their heart itself is sacred butter, the sweetest butter; it is the softest butter.