ŚRĪLA PRABHUPĀDA’S FIRST two stops in Europe were Rome and Geneva. In both places devotees had arranged many outside speaking engagements as well as meetings with important guests in Prabhupāda’s room. The Rome temple was a small house at a busy intersection near Piazza Lodi. Traffic was relentless, its noise penetrating into Prabhupāda’s quarters within the temple building. “I hope the noise of the traffic doesn’t bother you too much,” Dhanañjaya, the temple president, apologized.

“No,” Prabhupāda replied, “this sound is very pleasing. It means this is a very important part of Rome. This is a very good location.”

At the Villa Borghese, in a hotel hall built to seat five hundred people, Prabhupāda spoke before a crowd of more than one thousand. Prabhupāda was pleased by the enthusiastic gathering of Italians, who behaved as if coming to receive the blessings of the Pope. They were pious, but they had not been taught properly how to engage in the Lord’s service. This, he said, was the one defect. Although the devotees had arranged a meeting between Prabhupāda and the Pope, the Pope was ill, so Prabhupāda met with Cardinal Pignedoli, who was in charge of non-Christian liaisons.

In flying to Geneva, Prabhupāda and his secretaries viewed the snow-covered Alps. “This is a very dangerous spot,” Prabhupāda remarked as the plane flew above the alpine peaks. “Many planes have crashed here.”

In Geneva the mayor offered Prabhupāda an official reception. Everything went smoothly, according to diplomatic protocol. Afterward, the mayor asked frankly, “If everyone became like you are saying, wouldn’t the economy be threatened?”

Prabhupāda said no. And he quoted the same verse he had given to press reporters in Hyderabad: annād bhavanti bhūtāni. Grains are produced by rains, which are produced by sacrifice to Viṣṇu. Prabhupāda proposed that if men cultivated their own land and kept cows, they would have no economic problems. Kṛṣṇa conscious devotees could work in all ways of life within society; in fact, they could teach how to organize society according to God conscious principles.

While returning to the temple, Prabhupāda asked, “Were my answers all right?” One of the devotees replied that he thought the mayor considered the devotees beggars. “Therefore,” Prabhupāda said, “I told him about tilling the land. We are not beggars. We are giving the highest knowledge. I gave him a copy of Bhagavad-gītā, the highest knowledge. He could not give us anything. So who is the beggar?”

Prabhupāda accepted an invitation in Geneva to speak at the World Health Organization of the United Nations. He also met at the temple with Indologist Jean Hurbert and with several scientists and professors.

After speaking for a few hours with Karandhara, Prabhupāda decided he would be just the man to take up the heavy responsibilities of G.B.C. of India. He should make his headquarters in Bombay and help the devotees there get the No-Objection Certificate. It was a bold move for Prabhupāda, based on trust in his disciple and on the immediate need for Kṛṣṇa conscious leadership in India. He had his secretary immediately type a letter to the leaders of the temples in Hyderabad, Bombay, Calcutta, Māyāpur, Delhi, and Vṛndāvana, authorizing Karandhara’s appointment as the new Governing Body Commissioner for India. “It is a great relief for me,” wrote Prabhupāda. “Please give him all cooperation and work together for advancement of our mission to make the people of India Kṛṣṇa conscious.”
  

Paris
June 8
  Twenty-five hundred people in the audience as well as fifty devotees onstage awaited Śrīla Prabhupāda’s appearance at La Salle Pleyel in Paris. After kīrtana, Prabhupāda began his lecture by having a devotee read in the Bible from the Gospel of St. John: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was God.” Prabhupāda then spoke on the power of the holy name as transcendental sound.

Many persons in the crowd were student radicals, who specifically came to cause trouble. And Śrīla Prabhupāda gave an analogy that agitated them, comparing the conditioned soul’s existence in the material world to a citizen’s punishment for breaking the laws of the state. As soon as Prabhupāda said that disobedient citizens would be punished, the students began to boo and yell. He was speaking in English, and his disciple Jyotirmayī-devī dāsī was translating each line over the microphone. When the students began shouting, Prabhupāda turned to Jyotirmayī and asked, “What are they saying?”

“They don’t like the example you have given,” she replied, “because they don’t like the government here.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda then spoke back to the challengers, “You may not like it, but the fact of the matter is that if you break the laws you will be punished.” He was speaking of the absolute law of karma, but the student radicals took it politically. They continued shouting at Prabhupāda. One man jumped up and shouted loudly in French, “You may be speaking spiritual things, but one thing I would never do is sit on a throne and demand that people bow down to my feet!” At these words the audience began applauding and whistling and chanting the words “Par terre! Par terre! Par terre!” Prabhupāda again asked for a translation. Jyotirmayī told him they were shouting, “Get down!”

Returning the challenge, Prabhupāda spoke strongly into the microphone: “I could speak to you from the floor also, but that does not mean you would understand any better. If you know the science of God consciousness, then you also can sit on the vyāsāsana, and they will bow down at your feet.”

Prabhupāda’s strong reply brought silence to the hall, as if his answer had satisfied the challengers. Suddenly a black man jumped up on the stage and addressed himself to the theater audience. He began by speaking in defense of Prabhupāda and the devotees, but then he began speaking against them. Finally he began speaking incoherently, and Prabhupāda turned to his disciples onstage and said, “All right, have kīrtana.” The devotees rose with drums and karatālas and began a rousing kīrtana. Most of the people in attendance joined also, and the protests were drowned out.

After this tumultuous scene, while riding back to the temple, Prabhupāda said that in the future they should not give him a vyāsāsana to sit on before public audiences; in the future they should give him a simple cushion to sit on. He also doubted the value of explaining philosophy to such large audiences. For the balance of his stay in Paris he spoke to smaller groups who were actually interested to hear him.

Frankfurt
June 18
  When Śrīla Prabhupāda arrived, Haṁsadūta and a large group of devotees accompanied him in a procession of twenty cars and vans to the outskirts of the city to the ISKCON center, Schloss Rettershof, a castle on a hill. “My heart becomes engladdened when I hear a mṛdaṅga in a German village,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said.

The devotees showed Prabhupāda the Schloss. The central room was a large ground-floor hall with a ceiling two stories high. A second-floor gallery, overlooking the hall, led to Prabhupāda’s quarters. While Śrīla Prabhupāda was in his room, the assembled devotees from centers all over Germany and from Amsterdam gathered downstairs, where they held a wildly enthusiastic kīrtana. After half an hour Haṁsadūta appeared at the railing and motioned to the devotees to come up to Prabhupāda’s room.

Somehow the devotees managed to squeeze into Prabhupāda’s quarters or to at least stand in the hallway and watch, as Prabhupāda sat, relaxed, speaking informally. “I worked hard my whole life,” he said. “I never liked to sit idle. So devotional service means to be always engaged in Kṛṣṇa’s service. Not like the servants in Calcutta. They get an order, and then they go to Dalhousie Park and sleep all day. Then when they come back late, the master asks them, ‘Where have you been all day?’ And they reply, ‘I was busy working for you.’ Not like that, you see?”

Prabhupāda laughed, and all the devotees also began laughing, although most of them understood very little English. Prabhupāda then quoted Lord Caitanya’s prophecy that His name would be heard in every town and village. The devotees’ chanting in the villages of Germany, he said, was fulfilling that prediction.

“But unfortunately,” he added, “people object, just like the man who is being saved from danger.” He gave the example of a man on a roof flying a kite. When another man, seeing him about to walk off the roof, called out to him, “Look out, you’re in danger!” the man on the roof became angry and said, “What, you have checked my movement?” Any gentleman, Prabhupāda said, will speak out if he sees another in danger, even though the one in danger may object.

Prabhupāda’s German devotees accompanied him on speaking engagements in nearby towns, and although he was not very enthusiastically received by most people, the devotees became more dedicated than ever to give their lives in the service of Prabhupāda and Kṛṣṇa. For his public engagements he sat on a small cushion, so as not to again arouse the indignation of people who could not understand the tradition of the guru.

At one engagement a wealthy businessman, two of whose sons were Prabhupāda’s disciples, questioned Prabhupāda. “How can a crocodile of the Nile swim in a German river? In other words, how can you transplant a foreign culture with Indian ways and dress to Germany?”

“You can become Kṛṣṇa conscious in a tie and suit,” Prabhupāda replied.

“Isn’t this chanting self-hypnosis?” asked another man.

“No,” Prabhupāda replied staunchly, “it is purification.” And so it went – mostly challenges, with a few sincere inquiries.

While Prabhupāda was in Frankfurt, two interested, distinguished visitors came to see him: a Benedictine monk, Father Emmanuel, and Baron von Dürckheim, a prominent German philosopher and spiritual writer. Both men were attracted by Prabhupāda’s philosophical explanations and accompanied him on his morning walks for several days.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s next stop was Australia. He had worked out a schedule whereby he would attend three Ratha-yātrā festivals in three cities: first in Melbourne, then a week later in Chicago, and two days later in San Francisco. He would then go to Los Angeles, Dallas, and New Vrindaban, timing everything for his return to Vṛndāvana by July 25 for the Krishna-Balaram Mandir opening two weeks later.

He was now regularly referring to the opening date of the Krishna-Balaram Mandir as a time when many devotees from around the world could gather at Vṛndāvana to be with him. On June 17 he had written from Germany to Jayahari in London.

After a twenty-hour flight from Frankfurt to Australia, Prabhupāda was picked up at the Melbourne airport by devotees in a borrowed Rolls Royce. The newspaper reporters were quick to notice the car. “DIVINE GRACE COMES ROLLSING IN,” read one headline. The story began, “Sixty young Hare Krishna devotees yesterday welcomed their earthly leader to the city with obeisances – but official Melbourne met him coolly.”

Another story began, “A chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce will meet the founder of the materialistic-shunning Hare Krishna sect, Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda, at Tullamarine today.” Another newspaper showed a large picture of Śrīla Prabhupāda smiling and bore the headline “H.D.G. IS HERE TO HOUND US.” The story began,

News coverage of Prabhupāda’s visit didn’t end with reports on his arrival at the airport. The next day, while the devotees were preparing the Ratha-yātrā carts, an extraordinary incident resulted in front-page headlines in The Herald.

The article was accompanied by two large pictures showing “Hare Krishnas” holding the large canvas canopy.

Although the news media was unable to understand the disciples’ love for Śrīla Prabhupāda, the rescue was something everyone could relate to. Wrote a columnist in The Australian,

The columnist coyly speculated whether the devotees’ “holy rug” was still usable in the religious festival as a canopy for His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda.

The incident proved to be good publicity for the festival the next day, when Lord Jagannātha, the Lord of the universe, and His pure devotee, Śrīla Prabhupāda, held a Ratha-yātrā procession through the main streets of Melbourne. Regarding media coverage, Prabhupāda had said that simply the printing of the holy names Hare Kṛṣṇa greatly benefited the readers, regardless of whether the names were mentioned in reverence or disrespect.

Amogha: Prabhupāda met Lord Jagannātha at City Square by Town Hall. There was a vyāsāsana on the cart, but he chose to walk before the carts, in front of the Deity of Lord Caitanya. Prabhupāda was wearing a gold wool cap, a peach-colored turtleneck jersey, and an effulgent silk saffron dhotī and kurtā. Around his shoulders he wore a white silk cādar, and he wore a garland of orchids and many yellow flowers. It was winter in Melbourne and quite cold, but he put his hands up and chanted and danced.

We had about eleven new mṛdaṅgas. There were also three men playing big bass drums. And we all formed a circle around Śrīla Prabhupāda. It was ecstatic, all playing drums, chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, and Prabhupāda himself chanting in the parade, going on through the city. Prabhupāda marched with transcendental power, just taking over the city, walking right down Swanson Street.

Sabhāpati: From the point of view of weather, it wasn’t a very nice day. Prabhupāda met the ratha cart at the corner of Swanson Street and Burk Street, and he led from there on. He walked about two miles. All the devotees had been having kīrtana in three different groups, but when Prabhupāda met the Ratha-yātrā procession we all gathered around him. He was leading the procession. Behind him was a fourteen-foot mūrti of Lord Caitanya, followed by three ratha carts. Every now and again in the procession Prabhupāda would stop and turn around and stare up at Lord Caitanya. He would simply stand and look up at Lord Caitanya for a minute or two, and then he would turn around again and lead the procession. It was such an ecstatic experience that one gets the feeling that Prabhupāda had conquered Melbourne, and Australia.

Gaura Gopāla: I was right next to Prabhupāda through the whole ceremony, playing the drum. He particularly liked to sing one tune through the whole time. He put his hands up in the air. He was dancing.

Vaikuṇṭhanātha: The Ratha-yātrā parade was going, and Prabhupāda was walking, and at one point he asked me, “Get me some water.” I became panic-stricken because there was nowhere to get water. So I just depended on Kṛṣṇa and ran over to a house as fast as I could and asked the people for some water. They gave it, and I ran back to Śrīla Prabhupāda. When I was getting that water, though, there was this big rainbow out, and it had actually begun to rain a little bit. It was a very vivid rainbow, and the end of the rainbow came right down on top of the huge building where the Ratha-yātrā ended.

Hari-śauri: There is a huge place, the Exhibition Buildings, and we had rented one section of it where the roof was about eighty feet high. So the ratha carts were taken in with the tops lowered, and then the tops were put up again inside the hall. All three ratha carts were brought in, and the tops were pulled up. Then Śrīla Prabhupāda came in, and everyone was seated. About a thousand people were there. Śrīla Prabhupāda sat up on the vyāsāsana on the ratha cart itself and gave a lecture from there.

Sabhāpati: Although it was a cold and rather nasty day, there were a thousand people in that Exhibition Building. Prabhupāda’s lecture was brief: He thanked everyone for coming along and joining in the saṅkīrtana movement of Lord Caitanya Mahāprabhu. He told everyone he was very appreciative of how they had come to see Lord Jagannātha and of how they were taking part. He said that actually all these activities of singing and dancing were due to Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu.

The Melbourne newspapers duly reported the Ratha-yātrā: “A day for cymbals and chants,” “Chariots top the Swami.” One newspaper reported, “Don’t let Krishna alarm you: cleric.”

The article praised the devotees’ “reaction against extreme materialism” and reported the events of the Ratha-yātrā parade. Reverend Powell, head bishop of the Anglican Church in Melbourne, had paid Śrīla Prabhupāda a visit, and this had resulted in the bishop’s Sunday sermon comment that “Hare Krishnas” were not alarming. Śrīla Prabhupāda took the bishop’s comments as very significant.

That same evening in his room Prabhupāda met with the vicar-general of the Roman Catholic Church in Australia, Reverend J. A. Kelly. Prabhupāda played a recording of his morning’s lecture at St. Pascal’s, and afterward the Reverend asked if Prabhupāda would pose with him for a picture to be printed in their religious periodical. Again, the newspapers picked it up: “Swami spreads unity message.”

July 1
  In Melbourne Prabhupāda dictated a letter to Gurudāsa in Vṛndāvana. It was less than six weeks before the scheduled opening of the Krishna-Balaram Mandir, and Śrīla Prabhupāda had not received regular reports from Vṛndāvana. He was concerned that everything be ready on time for a gorgeous ceremony.

While Gurudāsa got direct instruction on the ceremony, almost every other devotee Prabhupāda wrote received his personal invitation to the Krishna-Balaram Mandir opening. In a letter to Cyavana Mahārāja in West Africa, Prabhupāda wrote,

The audience, which had been quiet until the interruption, now became noisy and restless. Three of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s more aggressive disciples left the front row and went to the back, where the man was shouting. Meanwhile Śrīla Prabhupāda stopped speaking and sat tolerantly, waiting. The shouting stopped, and he began again. “As I was explaining, in material life we have been changing from one body to another. This is not a very good condition of life. Nobody wants to die, but he is forced to die.”

After five minutes, the abusive language again broke out. This time Śrīla Prabhupāda’s three disciples pushed the shouters out the back door. In the fight, one of the students pulled a knife from his boot, but a devotee disarmed him.

The atmosphere inside the auditorium was tense, and many people were talking loudly. Some got up to leave. Madhudviṣa Swami, taking the microphone, pleaded with the students to remain calm and continue hearing from Śrīla Prabhupāda. Some students in the audience seemed on the verge of violence, and the devotees feared for Prabhupāda’s safety. But Prabhupāda was willing to continue. He called for questions.

Student: “I am a Christian, and I would like to know what is your opinion of Jesus Christ.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “We respect Jesus Christ as you do, because he is representative of God, son of God. We are also speaking of God, so we respect him with our greatest veneration.”

Question: “You are a son of Jesus too?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “Yes, I am a servant of Jesus. I don’t say I am Jesus.”

Question: “I want to know if you have the power of Jesus?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “No, I have no power of Jesus.”

Question: “Well, I’ve got the power of Jesus! [Laughter.] Because I’m a Christian.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “That’s all right. You are Christian. We are Kṛṣṇian. It is practically the same thing.” (Laughter and applause.)

Student: “I have one other question. I believe Jesus is coming back, and not Kṛṣṇa. What are you guys going to do when you see Jesus?” (Laughter)

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “When he is coming, welcome. We shall welcome. It is very good news that Jesus is coming.”

Student: “Jesus had no reputation. He wore sandals and was crucified between two thieves. And your spirituality is on a Rolls Royce and a padded seat, and you’re all into money – you Kṛṣṇas, you want money.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “I don’t want money.”

Student: “And you say violence is violence, that’s what you believe. Jesus turned the other cheek, and he expected his followers to.” (Applause.)

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “This Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is not a sentimental religious system. It is science and philosophy.” Prabhupāda explained that understanding the science of God was transcendental to Christianity or Hinduism. The real goal was to learn to love God.

Second student: “I have a question about Krishnamurti. Krishnamurti stresses that when you are speaking in the Western world, you should speak and present yourself as a Westerner, not as an Indian or as you would speak in India. Instead of sitting on a raised dais and dressing in the robes of a monk, Krishnamurti would say dress in Western clothes and sit on a chair. What is your opinion of this?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “Actually a God conscious person is neither a Westerner nor Easterner. So anywhere the devotee goes, as they receive him, he accepts. These devotees have arranged a raised seat, so I have accepted the raised seat. If they wanted me to sit down on the floor, I would have gladly accepted. I have no objection to this or that. But as devotees receive and give honor, that is good for them, because actually we should honor the Supreme Lord God and His representative. Nowadays it is different. Students are not learning to honor. But that is not actually the system. According to the Vedic system, the representative of God must be honored as God.”

Another student (loudly): “Do you consider your movement the major form of enlightenment emanating from the United States today? What particular role does your movement play in the White House psychological warfare department? Will you be coming to our Fourth of July demonstration against the United States this year and take up the real political issues?”

Again many students began shouting. Madhudviṣa Swami took the microphone. “I can answer if you like. Our movement is not from the United States. If you have some paranoia that everything is coming from the United States, well, that is your hang-up, not mine. [Applause.] And second of all, our spiritual master came to the United States to start this Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement because he got a free ticket on the boat to go there. If you would have sent him a free ticket, he probably would have come to Australia first. So he is trying to spread love of God. He is not trying to start any kind of political movement. He is trying to spark a revolutionary consciousness. I think you are also interested in revolution. We are interested in revolution also. But we are interested in revolution which will help people to feel peace themselves, whether they are Communists or Marxists or whatever it is you like. We are trying to help people attain happiness whether they are – ”

Madhudviṣa Swami’s remarks triggered the largest vocal protest yet. The commotion rose as students all over the hall began to shout. There was no possibility of a peaceful philosophical discussion.

The devotees’ greatest concern became getting Prabhupāda out of the hall unharmed. Prabhupāda rose from his vyāsāsana and, escorted by his disciples, left by a side exit. A large crowd of students had gathered outside the door as Prabhupāda emerged, but he entered his waiting car without incident. As he rode slowly through a cluster of students a girl kicked at the car with her booted foot. And as the devotees were getting into their vans students threw stones. Finally, as the devotees drove off the campus, they had to pass under an elevated walkway where some waiting students threw black paint down onto the vans.

Riding in his car, Prabhupāda was mostly silent, but he seemed disgusted. He said that in the future, he would only give lectures in classes where he was invited; no more wide-open lectures.

Śrīla Prabhupāda flew from Melbourne to Chicago, stopping overnight in Hawaii. His schedule allowed him only a couple of days in Chicago, where he would attend that city’s first Ratha-yātrā festival.

He was very keen on holding Ratha-yātrās in big cities around the world. And although large crowds often could not hear Kṛṣṇa conscious philosophy without becoming restless, angered, or even violent, everyone could enjoy and benefit from a Ratha-yātrā festival. Śrīla Prabhupāda had written in The Nectar of Devotion, quoting from the Bhaviṣya Purāṇa, “A person who follows the Ratha-yātrā car when the rathas pass in front or from behind, even if born of a lowly family, will surely be elevated to the position of achieving equal opulence with Viṣṇu.”

In Jagannātha Purī, India, the original home of Jagannātha worship, a Westerner could see Lord Jagannātha only during the yearly Ratha-yātrā festival, when the Deity would come out of the temple and ride on His cart. And besides, very few Westerners would actually go to Jagannātha Purī. But Śrīla Prabhupāda and his Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement were making Lord Jagannātha available to everyone by bringing the Ratha-yātrā right down the main street of their city. It may seem odd to the average American or Australian, but from the viewpoint of Lord Jagannātha and His followers, it was perfectly proper. Lord Jagannātha, “the Lord of the universe,” was for everyone, everywhere, regardless of nationality or religion.

This year’s festival, 1974, would mark the eighth annual San Francisco Ratha-yātrā. And now, at Prabhupāda’s urging, devotees in more and more cities were beginning to hold the festival. Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to give utmost prestige to this kind of preaching, and so he had gone out of his way to come to Chicago, where he had never been before, just to ride an hour down State Street on Lord Jagannātha’s cart. Prabhupāda felt that his disciples, by holding Ratha-yātrās in cities on every continent, would defeat false religion. And spontaneously people would be attracted to Kṛṣṇa, simply by enjoying a festival of singing, dancing, feasting, and seeing the Lord.

The city was busy with thousands of shoppers and workers. Many members of Chicago’s large Indian community had turned out to receive the Lord’s blessings and to observe this tradition so well known to them. And hundreds of Prabhupāda’s disciples from throughout the Midwest had gathered to pull on the ropes of the cart, lead kīrtanas, and distribute prasādam and Back to Godhead magazines as the big cart plied down one of the busiest streets in America.

Although several policemen on motorcycles led the procession, their mood was hardly that of the King of Orissa, who had traditionally led the Ratha-yātrā procession in India. Each year the king would present himself as a menial servant, leading the parade by sweeping the road before Lord Jagannātha with a gold-handled broom. The Chicago police, however, seemed intent only in getting the parade over with as soon as possible. With stern anxiety they dedicated themselves to keeping open the flow of ordinary automobile traffic. They acknowledged that the devotees had an official permit for the parade, but they continually prodded them to pull the cart faster, threatening to terminate the parade entirely.

By Kṛṣṇa’s grace, however, everyone, including the Chicago police, became satisfied as the procession moved along peacefully for several miles, finally arriving at the Civic Center Plaza. Amid skyscrapers and city noise, Śrīla Prabhupāda addressed the outdoor audience. Immediately following the lecture, the devotees began prasādam distribution and kīrtana. Prabhupāda was pleased by the festival.

San Francisco
July 7
  Thousands followed the three carts for several miles through Golden Gate Park. Śrīla Prabhupāda, riding on the second cart, beneath the deity of Subhadrā, wore the same golden wool cap he had worn in Australia, a white bulky knit sweater, and a garland of red roses. Despite his recent extensive traveling, he was alert and well. He looked out at the sea of devotees and parade-followers and took great satisfaction in the transcendental scene.

In his speech before a crowd of ten thousand, Prabhupāda said that the Americans should lead the world in propagating Kṛṣṇa consciousness. “I know that all American ladies and gentlemen here are educated and intelligent,” he said, “and I am very much obliged to the Americans who have helped me make this movement popular all over the world. When Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu first introduced the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement, He said, bhārata-bhūmite haila manuṣya-janma yāra/ janma sārthaka kari’ kara para-upakāra. He thus expressed His desire by saying that anyone who has taken birth as a human being in Bhārata-varṣa, or India, should understand the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement and spread it all over the world for the benefit of all humanity. He also predicted that in all the villages and towns of the entire world the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement will be known.

“So with the cooperation of you young Americans who are kindly helping to spread this movement, it is now factually becoming well known all over the world. I recently went to Melbourne, Australia, where we held a similar festival in which many thousands of people joined and chanted and danced with us. Then I went to Chicago, where we held the same ceremony. Now this morning I have come here, and I am so glad to see that you are also joining this movement.”

Prabhupāda’s fingers tapped lightly against his karatālas as he spoke, his eyes half closed. He chose his words with confidence, and those words echoed across the meadow. Prabhupāda requested his audience not to think that Kṛṣṇa consciousness was sectarian; it was meant for everyone, because the real nature of the self was spiritual. Chanting the holy name and dancing, he said, were not ordinary.

“It is open to everyone who will simply chant the mahā-mantra: Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. You are generally young, whereas I am an old man who may die at any moment. Therefore I request you to take this movement seriously. Understand it yourselves, and then preach it throughout your country. People outside America generally follow and imitate what America does. I am traveling all over the world, and everywhere I see other countries building skyscrapers and in other ways imitating your country. Therefore if you kindly become Kṛṣṇa conscious and chant and dance in ecstasy, in emotional love of God, the entire world will follow you. Thus the entire world can become Vaikuṇṭha, a spiritual world in which there will be no more trouble. Thank you very much.”

Gurudāsa had sent a letter to all ISKCON centers inviting devotees to attend the opening of the Krishna-Balaram Mandir in Vṛndāvana. He had invited life members from Bombay and Calcutta and had reserved cars for them on the trains. Prabhupāda also was inviting his disciples to come to Vṛndāvana for Janmāṣṭamī. Lecturing before hundreds of devotees in Los Angeles, he said, “I invite all of you to come to Vṛndāvana to the opening of the Krishna-Balaram Mandir.”

Prabhupāda had also mailed invitations to his Godbrothers, and when one of them, Śrīdhara Mahārāja of Navadvīpa, accepted the invitation, Śrīla Prabhupāda replied, assuring him of comfortable accommodations and suggesting the easiest way to travel from Calcutta to Vṛndāvana. Śrīla Prabhupāda also told Śrīdhara Mahārāja of his preaching.

On July 15, only ten days before Prabhupāda’s proposed arrival in Vṛndāvana, he wrote almost identical letters to his sannyāsī disciples, inviting them to come and resolve the many personal matters and items of business that had been pending during his busy tour.

When Karandhara, the newly-appointed G.B.C. for India, began to express doubts that everything would be ready on time, Prabhupāda replied from Los Angeles,

Although Prabhupāda had responded to Karandhara forcefully, the note of uncertainty from his head manager in India disturbed him. He wrote to Surabhi, who was in charge of the Vṛndāvana construction, “I am a little agitated in mind because Karandhara’s letter says that there may be some work to be done even during the time of our festival.”

Prabhupāda said that if the City continued to prohibit the parade, the devotees should erect a stationary cart in Hyde Park and hold a festival there, without a procession. “After holding our ceremony,” said Prabhupāda, “we shall take the deity in a palanquin and go to Trafalgar Square. The ratha will stay. It will not move. But we shall take the deities on palanquin and go to Trafalgar Square. In this way, take police permission and, after going there along with the ceremony, protest. They cannot object. But the ratha must be seen. And the people must know that the rascal police government has stopped it.”

Prabhupāda repeated his instructions several times. He was in a grave mood as he instructed his followers. “My Guru Mahārāja used to say, prāṇa āche yāṅra sei hetu pracāra: one who has got life, he can preach. The dead man cannot preach. So you become with life, not like dead man. Just like all my Godbrothers, they are dead men. And therefore they are envious of my activities. They have no life. If you want to make an easygoing life, showing the Deity and then sleep, then it is a failure movement.”

Prabhupāda could not bear to hear that such an important festival as Ratha-yātrā was being stopped. “We shall abide by all the rules,” he said, “but we must have this festival. They saw last year that in the open sunshine thousands of people, tens of thousands of people, stood in Trafalgar Square for three hours. And they do not go to the church. So they have seen there is something. Otherwise, how people have taken so much interest?”

Brahmānanda Swami: “Yes, just like in the San Francisco paper, they admitted, ‘This is the most popular festival.’ ”

Prabhupāda: “Yes, fifteen thousand people attended my lecture silently in San Francisco. So they are seeing there is something in the movement. But sometimes some parties do not want us to go on without objection, or else they will be finished.”

“So that is my request. I am traveling all over the world. I am going to see how things are going in Dallas and New Vrindaban. So my touring is natural. I have started this movement. I want to see that it is going nicely. Don’t deviate. That is my only request.” Prabhupāda began to cry and simply concluded, “Then you will remain solid. Thank you very much.”

New Vrindaban
July 18, 1974
  A letter from Karandhara reached Śrīla Prabhupāda, informing him of his resignation as G.B.C. for India. The responsibilities were too great for him, for he had only recently come back to Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He would continue to follow the spiritual program, but he could not be the G.B.C. Again Śrīla Prabhupāda was set back, and before several G.B.C. men in his room at New Vrindaban he asked, “What to do? What shall we do? So maybe I should just give up these projects in India.”

“But Śrīla Prabhupāda,” the devotees replied, “those India projects are very dear to you.”

“But what can be done?” Prabhupāda asked.

Because there was no regular G.B.C. secretary for India, Prabhupāda did not receive accurate reports on the Vṛndāvana temple construction. When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami had left in April to preach in the West, several months had passed before Prabhupāda had appointed a replacement, Karandhara. Now, after only a few weeks, Karandhara had resigned. Gurudāsa’s version, therefore, was the only one Prabhupāda had received. The end of July grew near, and devotees prepared to travel to Vṛndāvana – for a fiasco.

Vṛndāvana
August 4, 1974
  When Prabhupāda’s car pulled up at the ISKCON property in Ramaṇa-reti, a group of devotees greeted him with kīrtana and flowers. Some twenty-five devotees from temples around the world had already gathered for the grand opening celebration, and along with the Vṛndāvana devotees they crowded happily around Śrīla Prabhupāda. No formal walkways had been constructed, and Prabhupāda walked through the half-constructed walls, past piles of sand and bricks, making his way toward the Deity house. Even here the lack of ornamentation and finishing was apparent, and rubble lay all around.

“What is this?” Prabhupāda demanded as he toured the construction site. “There is nothing here. Where is the temple? You told me the temple was finished.” Gurudāsa, Surabhi, Guṇārṇava, and others directly responsible were unable to answer. Their faces went white.

Prabhupāda was furious. “How can you open this?”

The visiting devotees also began speaking among themselves: “It’s not ready. How can we open?”

“But Prabhupāda,” said one devotee, “devotees from all over the world are coming.”

“Stop them immediately!” Prabhupāda said. “There will be no opening!”

Prabhupāda had burst the bubble, the illusion that they would be ready for the grand opening. Prabhupāda’s anger was frightening, and the devotees who surrounded him were no longer carefree and joyful. “You were going to open this temple?” Prabhupāda scoffed.

“The altar is ready,” said Harikeśa, who had come from Japan to attend the opening. “We can install the Deity and – ”

“You cannot open this temple!” Prabhupāda shouted. “This temple is not completed!”

Prabhupāda then walked into his house, followed by the Vṛndāvana managers and a few other leaders. Whoever could keep his distance from Prabhupāda in this mood considered himself spared. Surabhi’s wife ran off to pray to Kṛṣṇa, afraid of Prabhupāda’s ferocity.

In his room Prabhupāda’s anger only increased. He yelled at Gurudāsa for mismanagement. He yelled at Surabhi. He yelled at all of them. No one dared to offer suggestions or excuses. There was nothing to do but turn white and become depressed. Prabhupāda suddenly inquired whether the temple could be opened, despite the mess. “Can you have the Deity rooms ready at least?” He turned to Surabhi. “This is an insult to our Society. What will people think? We have announced it everywhere!”

“Nobody actually knows about it, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Surabhi replied fearfully, exposing himself for another blast.

“Oh?” Prabhupāda somewhat changed his tone. “You have not made any propaganda about it? No invitations?”

“Not yet, Prabhupāda. Not to the people in Vṛndāvana. They do not expect it to open, because everyone who has been here can see that it is not possible to open. They know it’s not ready.”

“This is a farce,” Prabhupāda scowled. “It is a fiasco.” Disgusted, he looked at his Vṛndāvana managers. “We have to open. How can we open on Janmāṣṭamī?”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Surabhi said, “the doors are not ready. They are still cutting the wood.” Prabhupāda inquired about the Deities from Yamunā, who explained that Their paraphernalia had been purchased but that the thrones were not ready.

“What is your opinion?” he asked her.

“I am totally unqualified to speak,” Yamunā said, “and although I have no right to speak, I see it as almost impossible to actually open the temple. There is no pūjārī.”

With a sense of finality and failure, Prabhupāda said, “Then we won’t do it. But we have invited so many people from all around the world to come, and I was not informed of this. Now you all decide.

“When can we open?” Prabhupāda asked. “Can we open on Diwali? When is Diwali?”

“October, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

“How about Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī’s appearance day?” a devotee suggested. “That’s at the end of December.”

Prabhupāda was silent, looking displeased. Surabhi spoke up. “It will take six months, actually seven months.” Then Prabhupāda chose the day of Rāma-navamī, in April; the opening could coincide with the annual gathering of devotees in Māyāpur and Vṛndāvana.

Surabhi spoke again. He had grown pessimistic from his experiences with construction in India. “It depends on whether we can get the cement, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he said. “We have to get it from the government. That was the main obstacle preventing us from opening now. We could possibly have the opening in three months, if we could get cement.”

“All right,” Prabhupāda said, resigned – there was no use trying to set a date. “It will be done before next Janmāṣṭamī.” His tone was sarcastic. “And if the cement can be obtained, it can be done after three months.”

Later, while meeting with various individuals, Prabhupāda continued to express his displeasure, especially to Gurudāsa. He asked questions but was dissatisfied with the answers. He asked Gurudāsa to bring the financial records, and then he reprimanded him more. Finding a receipt for Gurudāsa’s stay in an expensive hotel in Jaipur, Prabhupāda made an issue of it. Gurudāsa became aloof. When Prabhupāda finished talking with him, Gurudāsa returned to his room, staying there unless Śrīla Prabhupāda called for him.

Prabhupāda began talking about changing the temple presidents in Vṛndāvana; he suggested Harikeśa. Gurudāsa and his wife, he said, could be in charge of the guesthouse, which was as yet only a hole in the ground. He called Gurudāsa again and asked what he thought of his managing the Vṛndāvana guesthouse, suggesting he go to the Jaipuria Guesthouse in Vṛndāvana for ideas about management.

“But Prabhupāda,” Gurudāsa said, “they charge such low rates at the Jaipuria Guesthouse. I’m sure those rates must be subsidized.”

“This Mr. Jaipuria is a Marwari businessman,” Prabhupāda replied. “He’s not losing money on the guesthouse. He’s making money. That is the art of management. That you have to learn by going there and seeing.” But Gurudāsa felt too exhausted by the austerities of living and managing in India, where Prabhupāda’s attention and criticism were so demanding and intense and where everything was so difficult. He and his wife began to think of leaving Vṛndāvana.

Prabhupāda continued to pressure Surabhi, calling him in at different times of the day. “Why aren’t these Deity doors up?” Prabhupāda demanded.

“I am trying, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Surabhi replied. “There are so many things to do.”

“Never mind,” Prabhupāda said, “you have to get it done. These hired men are all cheating you. Don’t let them cheat you. It is not easy for all these devotees to collect money. It is all Kṛṣṇa’s money and can only be used for Kṛṣṇa’s projects. Protect that money and see it doesn’t go in the hands of the wrong people. I don’t want the contractors to become rich men because of our projects. And I want marble on that building. Where is the marble?”

“Where can I get marble?” Surabhi asked.

“Why are you asking me these questions?” Prabhupāda shouted. “You are the expert. I don’t know. Use your intelligence.”

Ultimately, Prabhupāda’s anger with his disciples was incidental, the reaction due them for their foolishness. It was also a way of instructing them and testing them. But deeper was Prabhupāda’s transcendental impatience and frustration that his devotional service in Vṛndāvana was still not manifested. He wanted a wonderful temple for the glory of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, a temple that would establish Kṛṣṇa consciousness all over the world. It was an offering to his spiritual master, and he had promised it to Kṛṣṇa. But still it was not completed.

As for Prabhupāda’s disciples’ failure to do the job, Prabhupāda had to take the burden and the agony of that failure. His disciples were his instruments in his service to Kṛṣṇa. If the instruments didn’t work properly, then he suffered, just as when one’s arms and legs fail to function, the whole body suffers. His disciples’ failure to carry out his desires was his loss. In this way, he felt transcendental lamentation over their failure to open the Krishna-Balaram Mandir on Janmāṣṭamī day.

Prabhupāda’s disturbance, though transcendental, was nonetheless real; it was not feigned merely for instructing. Nor could the devotees cheaply “cheer up” their spiritual master. For Prabhupāda’s disciples to properly assist him, they would have to understand his transcendental mood and serve him accordingly. Prabhupāda wanted practical, down-to-earth service from his disciples. They should not expect to serve him sentimentally but should work hard. Devotional service was dynamic. Prabhupāda wanted his disciples to help him with his projects to serve his Guru Mahārāja – projects which, if successful, could save the world from misery.

Sometimes they were cheated. One shipment of twenty bags had been cut with other materials, and when they used it in casting a column, it remained soft for four days and finally crumbled. When at last enough cement arrived to complete the work, the devotees felt sure it had happened only because of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s presence.

Prabhupāda had Guṇārṇava count every bag of cement as it arrived. From eight in the morning until nine-thirty at night the shipment kept coming on trucks, each truck with four coolies to carry the heavy bags on their backs into the storage shed. Guṇārṇava stood outside all day with pad and pen, marking the receipt of each bag. Śrīla Prabhupāda came out of the house several times and watched gravely. In the evening, when they were finished, he called Guṇārṇava in. “So how many bags?” Prabhupāda asked, and Guṇārṇava gave the exact figure.

“Everything is locked away now?” Prabhupāda asked.

“Yes, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

Prabhupāda talked about the cement as if talking about a shipment of gold.

August 12
  Prabhupāda felt very weak. It was on the afternoon of his appearance day, and he was sitting at his desk in the main room of his house. He lay down on his seat and put his head against one of the arm pillows. The following day he felt so weak he could not walk or stand. He had no appetite and ran a fever of 104 degrees. A local doctor arrived and examined Prabhupāda – malaria. He prescribed some medication, which Prabhupāda took once or twice and then refused. A second doctor came and prescribed different medicines. “Stop bringing these doctors,” Prabhupāda said. “No doctor can cure me.”

It was August, the monsoon season, and many devotees fell sick. When Śrutakīrti, who had recently returned to his post as Prabhupāda’s personal servant, contracted malaria, Kulādri, who had come to Vṛndāvana to attend the temple opening, volunteered to assist. Then Kulādri got malaria. Other devotees became ill with malaria, jaundice, dysentery, and various digestive problems.

The weather was overcast, hot and humid, and thousands of varieties of insects began appearing. For several days at a time the sky would be cloudy, the temperature in the nineties. Then the sun would come out and steam everything up with almost intolerable heat. It was Vṛndāvana’s most unhealthy season.

As Prabhupāda’s condition worsened, the devotees became morose and even fearful for their spiritual master’s life. They brought Prabhupāda’s bed out where it was cooler, on the small patio outside his house. His servants would massage or fan him. Days passed and Prabhupāda didn’t eat, except for a few grapes and some slices of orange. This was the way his father had died, he said – by not eating. Such remarks frightened Prabhupāda’s disciples all the more, and they began visiting the samādhis of the Gosvāmīs to pray that Prabhupāda would be cured.

One evening Harikeśa stayed up all night near Prabhupāda’s room, chanting softly a continuous kīrtana of Hare Kṛṣṇa. Prabhupāda liked it. “This kīrtana,” he said, “is what actually gives us life.” After that devotees took turns, so that there was always kīrtana.

Prabhupāda explained that his illness was due to the sins of the ISKCON leaders, eighty percent of whom were not strictly following the rules and regulations, he said. Even in Vṛndāvana some of the devotees weren’t regularly rising at four A.M. Since Prabhupāda was speaking little, he had only briefly mentioned this cause of his illness. But brief as it was, it crushed his disciples. As for who was guilty, each disciple would have to say for himself. But in a mood of “Oh, God, what have we done?” all the disciples in Vṛndāvana immediately became very attentive to the rules and regulations.

In the morning Bhāgavatam class the devotees who lectured regularly discussed the subject as explained in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books: At the time of initiation Kṛṣṇa absolves the initiate of all karmic reactions due for past sinful acts. The spiritual master, however, as the representative of Kṛṣṇa, also shares in removing the disciple’s karma. Kṛṣṇa, being infinite, can never be affected by such karma, whereas the spiritual master, although completely pure, is finite. The spiritual master, therefore, partially suffers the reactions for a disciple’s sins, sometimes becoming ill. Jīva Gosvāmī warns that a spiritual master should not take too many disciples, because of the danger of accepting an overload of karma. Not only does the spiritual master accept the previous karma of the disciples, but if the disciples commit sins after initiation, then for those also the spiritual master may sometimes become ill.

Prabhupāda said that his “misdeed” was accepting so many disciples, but he had no choice for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness. The spiritual master sometimes suffers, he said, so that the disciples may know, “Due to our sinful activities, our spiritual master is suffering,” and this always had a sobering effect on any would-be offender. But now, for the first time, Prabhupāda was specifically blaming his disciples for a serious illness. By neglecting their spiritual master’s most basic instructions, they were causing him great distress. They understood that their spiritual master was no ordinary malaria victim, and they knew they had to correct their mistakes and pray to Kṛṣṇa that Prabhupāda would get better.

Prabhupāda’s condition was so critical and the implications of his statements so broad that his secretary, Brahmānanda Swami, thought it best to notify the entire International Society for Krishna Consciousness. Because Prabhupāda was pleased by the twenty-four-hour kīrtana, Brahmānanda Swami thought that this program might be introduced in every ISKCON temple in the world. A few telegrams were sent, and word quickly spread that every temple should hold continuous kīrtana, petitioning Kṛṣṇa for Prabhupāda’s recovery.

It reminded some of the senior disciples of 1967, when they had stayed up all night chanting and praying for Prabhupāda’s recovery from an apparent heart attack. At that time Prabhupāda had encouraged them to chant a hymn to Lord Nṛsiṁhadeva and to pray, “Our master has not finished his work. Please protect him.” Due to the sincere prayers of the devotees, Prabhupāda had said, Kṛṣṇa had saved his life. Now, in 1974, there were many more devotees than in 1967, and all of them were praying for Prabhupāda’s recovery. But now also, from what Prabhupāda had said, there were also more devotees to misbehave and cause him pain. That message – “Eighty percent of the leaders of my disciples are not following the rules and regulations; this is why I am suffering” – was not telegrammed. It was too heavy.

Prabhupāda had come to Vṛndāvana for a celebration, but there had been none. Now he was very sick, and his servant was carrying him in his arms to and from the bathroom. Other devotees were also massaging and serving him very sincerely. And there was always kīrtana for him. Meanwhile he simply depended on Kṛṣṇa and waited to get better so that he could go on with his work.

While he tolerated his condition as the mercy of Kṛṣṇa, he suddenly received word that the governor of Uttar Pradesh was coming to visit him. The governor, a Muslim named Akbar Ali Khan, was traveling in the area, and Seth Bisenchand, a friend of Prabhupāda’s and the governor’s, had recommended that the governor visit the temple.

Prabhupāda thought that perhaps the governor would agree to help the devotees, at least in such matters as getting government permission for steel and cement. Therefore, despite his failing health, he insisted that the devotees hold a reception in the courtyard, and he would personally go out and greet the governor. Lying on his back and speaking in a faint voice, he ordered a feast to be cooked and tables and chairs to be arranged in the courtyard.

The devotees pleaded with Prabhupāda to allow them to do everything themselves and tell the governor that Prabhupāda was very ill. “He has come,” Prabhupāda said. “I have to go out and meet him.”

Śrutakīrti dressed Prabhupāda in a fresh silk dhotī. Prabhupāda tried to apply the Vaiṣṇava tilaka to his forehead, but even that was a struggle and took more than five minutes. When they were ready to go, Prabhupāda asked his servant, “Have I put on my tilaka?” He seemed almost delirious from the fever and was unable to stand. Śrutakīrti and others carried him in a chair and placed him in the middle of the courtyard, where they had arranged several tables with prasādam and Prabhupāda’s books.

Just before the governor’s arrival, many policemen and soldiers arrived, roping off the area, directing traffic in front of the temple, and holding people outside until the governor arrived. Guṇārṇava had rolled a long red carpet from the edge of the property into the temple courtyard, and devotees lined both sides of the carpet, chanting with karatālas and mṛdaṅgas. When the governor arrived, Surabhi presented him with a garland. Immediately removing the garland, the governor walked down the red carpet and into the courtyard. Prabhupāda stood.

The devotees were amazed to see Prabhupāda standing straight and shaking the governor’s hand. Prabhupāda and the governor stood together for a while and then sat down. Except for the guests, everyone present knew that Prabhupāda was not capable of much exertion. They saw him shivering and trembling, yet trying to smile and be gracious with his guest. The devotees were in great anxiety, thinking that Prabhupāda’s life might end at any moment, and yet they took part in the sociable pretense along with their spiritual master. The governor, on invitation, gave a speech, talking about how India’s future lay in industry.

Then Prabhupāda stood to speak, leaning against his chair. His eyes were very dark, and he was barely able to focus his vision. Although he had spoken very little for almost two weeks, he now spoke for twenty minutes, while the governor listened politely. Afterward Prabhupāda sat and honored prasādam with the governor and his entourage of fifteen ministers. After the governor left, the devotees carried Prabhupāda back to his room, where he collapsed with a 105-degree temperature.

The political guests and military escort gone, the temple site returned to its usual quiet, and the devotees resumed their soft kīrtana, chanting by Prabhupāda’s bedside. Amazed at Prabhupāda’s strength and determination, they realized how little they themselves were actually putting forth in Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

After two full weeks Prabhupāda’s fever finally broke. A great ordeal was now over. The monsoon was ending, but the same problems of temple construction persisted.

And so did Prabhupāda’s determination. His disciples also felt determined, and they resolved to work through all the bureaucratic delays and slow labor conditions. Now no one was going to neglect spiritual regulation.

Prabhupāda spoke no more about his illness, and devotees around the world were informed of his improvement; they could stop the emergency kīrtanas and go on with work as usual. Prabhupāda also resumed his usual duties regarding the temple construction.

One thing was clear, however: Prabhupāda was completely spiritual. And the devotees working with him had engaged in a spiritual contract, a contract based on love and trust. He was taking their karma, and they had promised to follow his instructions. Now, despite his disappointment in them for their failures, that contract was still in order. If he continued to give his causeless mercy, then they could carry out his orders. Otherwise they were without spiritual strength. For Prabhupāda there was never a question of not continuing. Even when he had suffered illness on his disciples’ account, he had never thought to abandon them.

Bombay
  From November 1974 through January 1975 Śrīla Prabhupāda stayed in Bombay. During this time he persistently but patiently tried to obtain the No-Objection Certificate, which would enable him to start construction of Rādhā-Rāsavihārī’s beautiful temple. His close involvement with this project impressed Girirāja and others who were dedicating their lives to Hare Krishna Land. As Śrīla Prabhupāda had written in Bhagavad-gītā, “One has no goal in life save and except acting in Kṛṣṇa consciousness just to satisfy Kṛṣṇa. And, while working in that way, one should think of Kṛṣṇa only: ‘I have been appointed to discharge this particular duty by Kṛṣṇa.’ While acting in such a way, one naturally has to think of Kṛṣṇa. … That order of Kṛṣṇa comes through disciplic succession from the bona fide spiritual master.”

To serve in a particular project, dedicating oneself to giving the local people Kṛṣṇa consciousness, was an opportunity Śrīla Prabhupāda offered every disciple. His field was the entire world, and he was like an emperor who wanted to award vast lands to loyal sons. But his awarding of lands and projects was not for material ownership (which is always illusory) but for service to the Lord. Kṛṣṇa was the proprietor of everything; therefore a preacher could remain in a particular area of Kṛṣṇa’s domain and try to free the residents from the clutches of māyā. Hare Krishna Land in Bombay was one of Prabhupāda’s major plans, but it was only gradually evolving, as if Kṛṣṇa first wanted to see the devotees pass many tests of obedience to Prabhupāda’s order before allowing the project to manifest.

Although ISKCON owned a half-dozen tenement buildings on the Juhu land, law prohibited them from evicting any of the tenants. But no law said that the owner could not add another story onto his buildings. So Śrīla Prabhupāda had requested Mr. Sethi, a loyal life member and a construction contractor, to build rooms on the top of at least two of the tenement buildings. Eagerly, Mr. Sethi had undertaken this order and had obtained permission for the construction.

Now that the work was completed, the rooms were being used for brahmacārī quarters, offices, and book storage. At last the devotees had vacated the straw huts that had been their residence from their first days on the land. This move not only relieved them from living in nasty, rat-infested quarters, but also allowed them to tear down the huts. And demolition of the huts had been a stipulation before the city would issue the NOC.

Another major objection from the city had been that the temple’s bhajana would create a nuisance, and that point had to be satisfied first and foremost. When the police saw Prabhupāda’s drawing of the projected temple and hotel, they admitted that within such a big temple the kīrtana would not create as much noise as it did at present. So they agreed to accept the master plan for Hare Krishna Land and remove their objections based on “nuisance,” provided ISKCON tear down the straw huts and widen the access road so the tenants could approach the back portion of the land. Each of these legal demands involved many detailed points of contention; it was like a long, drawn-out chess game. But Prabhupāda was experienced, cautious, and determined. He proposed to stay at Hare Krishna Land for several months to help Girirāja, Mr. Sethi, and the others.

Meanwhile, Prabhupāda insisted that the spiritual program at Hare Krishna Land go forward unabated. Even without a permanent temple, five to seven hundred guests were coming for the Sunday feasts. Girirāja had reported to Prabhupāda that Janmāṣṭamī in Bombay had been a great success, with several thousand people coming to see the Deities and take prasādam.

For Śrīla Prabhupāda, who was now accustomed to staying in places like New York or Los Angeles for a week or less, to stay in Bombay for a three-month period confirmed again that Hare Krishna Land was very dear to him. It was his special child. When danger threatened, he became alarmed and protective, and when success came, he was very proud and wanted to tell the world.

Prabhupāda seemed satisfied that at least some construction was always going on. He asked that Mr. Sethi build a brick wall around the property, even though parts of the wall were sometimes torn down at night by guṇḍās. “Build something,” Prabhupāda said, “even if it is just one brick, but go ahead with construction.” Just as when, in acquiring the Bombay property, Prabhupāda had understood the great value of possession even before attaining the deed, so with construction he insisted they go ahead, even without full permission. “The work must begin,” Prabhupāda said, “whether you have got sufficient men and bricks or not. Begin even little, little, so it can be understood that we have begun.”

Prabhupāda followed his invitation to the governor with a letter to Surabhi in Vṛndāvana.

Invitations were coming in for Śrīla Prabhupāda to travel to different places, and another world tour was developing. Prabhupāda wrote to Hṛdayānanda Goswami, who was inviting him to visit Mexico City and Caracas.

During February and March of 1975, Śrīla Prabhupāda toured widely again, traveling eastward via Tokyo and Hawaii to Los Angeles. While traveling, he received word that Governor Reddy had accepted the invitation to attend the Vṛndāvana temple opening on Rāma-navamī. He also received an encouraging report from Surabhi, assuring him that this time the temple opening would definitely take place. “I am encouraged that you expect to have everything completed on time,” Prabhupāda wrote. “This I want.”

Prabhupāda traveled to Mexico City and Caracas. Again, in answering his mail, he was saying he would soon meet everyone in Vṛndāvana. To an Indian life member who wrote him for advice in touring foreign temples, he wrote,

Leaving South America, Prabhupāda moved quickly, stopping in Miami, Atlanta, Dallas, and New York – all within a month of his departure from India. He then went to London, stopped in Tehran, and returned to India on March 16. It was Prabhupāda’s eighth trip around the world in ten years.

Early in the morning of March 23, Śrīla Prabhupāda left the Calcutta temple for Māyāpur, traveling in a caravan of five cars. Prabhupāda was in the first car, three following cars carried his sannyāsī disciples, and the last car carried his sister, Bhavatāriṇī, and other ladies. As usual, Prabhupāda asked to stop at the mango orchard.

Daivī-śakti dāsī: They all sat around together, just like cowherd boys, Prabhupāda in the center taking his breakfast fruits. It was Ekādaśī, and I had made a cake for Prabhupāda out of dates and coconut – very fancy. When Prabhupāda opened his tiffin and saw it, he said, “Oh, what is this? Who has made this?” So Acyutānanda Swami told him I had made it, and he started eating it right away. Prabhupāda said he liked it. Then they washed their hands, and we were on our way again to Māyāpur.

Māyāpur
March 23, 1975
  For this year’s festival, almost five hundred devotees from around the world had gathered, and Prabhupāda – while taking his morning walks in the nearby fields, while entering the temple of Rādhā-Mādhava, or while lecturing from the Caitanya-caritāmṛta – was the central attractive feature. Each morning after giving the class, he would circumambulate the temple room, followed by his disciples. A brass bell hung from the ceiling on either side of the Deities’ altar, and Prabhupāda, while circumambulating the Deities, would go up to one of the bells and ring it several times, pulling the rope while the kīrtana continued wildly. Then, with cane in hand, he would walk around the back of the Deity altar and emerge on the other side to ring the other bell.

The devotees would jump up and down close around him, singing Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. Smiling with great pleasure, Prabhupāda would continue the length of the temple room, past the pictures of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, Gaurakiśora dāsa Bābājī, and Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura, then come around and up the other side of the temple room to the first bell again and strongly ring it. After half a dozen such blissful circumambulations, he would leave the temple, while the kīrtana continued to roar. Coming out into the bright morning sunshine, he would walk up the broad staircase to his room.

On at least two occasions during that festival, Prabhupāda became stunned in trance while delivering the morning lecture. One time he was speaking in appreciation of the sacrifice of his disciples, who had spent so much money and come so far from their homes in America, Europe, and Australia to render service and attend the festival in Māyāpur. “You are all young,” he was saying. “You have a good opportunity. But I am an old man. I have no opportunity.”

And with these words he suddenly fell completely silent. Such silence before five hundred disciples produced a feeling of suspended time. Everyone waited. Finally, one of the devotees began chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, and Śrīla Prabhupāda returned to external consciousness, uttering, “Hare Kṛṣṇa.” He told the devotees, “Have kīrtana,” and went to his room.

By insisting on the devotees’ participation in the annual India pilgrimage, Prabhupāda was solidifying the spiritual basis of ISKCON, his transcendental institution. To gather his devotees like this was the reason he had prayed and struggled to erect centers in the dhāmas. He wanted to extend the purifying shelter of Māyāpur and Vṛndāvana to all his followers, now and in the future. Bit by bit, the plan was coming together; the whole world was being saved by Lord Caitanya’s movement.

Vṛndāvana
April 16
  When Śrīla Prabhupāda arrived to finally conduct the Krishna-Balaram Mandir opening, he was pleasantly surprised to see the three tall domes rising over the temple. The domes had been constructed entirely during the eight months since his last visit. The four-story international guesthouse had also been completely built during his absence. Surabhi had supervised workers in day and night shifts to get everything done on time.

The tall central dome and two side domes, one over each altar, were magnificent. Their graceful form led the mind to higher thoughts and suggested an existence beyond the material world. The strength and beauty of the domes reminded one that beneath resided the Deity of the Supreme Lord. A temple was to enlighten people, to remove their nescience, and the domes eloquently spoke of this purpose. They could be seen for miles, rising boldly above the landscape of Vṛndāvana, proclaiming the worship of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma.

Each dome was topped by a copper kalaśa consisting of three balls (representing the lower, middle, and higher planets), and at the top, the eternal Sudarśana cakra, the spinning wheel-weapon of Lord Viṣṇu. The Sudarśana cakra was Kṛṣṇa Himself, and just to see this glorious symbol atop the mandira made the devotees feel victorious and satisfied. Even the guests could not help but regard it with awe. Atop the Sudarśana cakras were copper victory flags.

As Prabhupāda toured the completed building, he continually looked up at the domes. “Oh,” he said, “the domes have come out very nice. What do you think?” He turned to the devotees accompanying him.

“They are magnificent!” said Haṁsadūta.

“Yes, Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami, “I think that Surabhi has done a nice job.”

“Yes.” Prabhupāda smiled. “Everyone is telling how nice Surabhi is doing.” Prabhupāda turned to Surabhi, who had gone with little sleep for weeks. “But I can’t say that. Only me – I am criticizing you, because that is my job. I have to always criticize the disciple.”

No less than six hundred devotees from ISKCON centers around the world had come to Vṛndāvana as part of the annual Indian pilgrimage. The high point was to be the installation of the Deities and the opening of the temple. Final preparations were going furiously – cleanups, decorations, cooking. Many important life members and guests had come and were staying in their private rooms in the forty-room guesthouse. Prabhupāda’s vision had finally come to pass. He had created probably the most beautiful and opulent temple in Vṛndāvana – certainly the one most alive with dynamic devotion and preaching spirit – and along with it he had built one of the best local hotels, for visitors with an eye for kṛṣṇa-bhakti.

Touring the grounds, Prabhupāda walked into the sunken courtyard, its marble floor clean and dazzling. This was no rented house in America, something built for another purpose – it was a temple, like the temples in Vaikuṇṭha described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. “It is heaven on earth,” Prabhupāda said. “I think it surpasses all the temples in India.”

Prabhupāda stood smiling before the tamāla tree, its venerable branches spread throughout one corner of the courtyard, and he recounted how there had been a discussion of cutting it down and he had prevented it. Tamāla trees are associated with the pastimes of Śrīmatī Rādhārāṇī and are very rare. In Vṛndāvana there were perhaps only three: one here, one at Seva-kuñja, and one in the courtyard of the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple. That the tamāla tree was growing so luxuriantly, Prabhupāda said, indicated that the devotees were performing genuine bhakti.

Convinced that the temple was actually ready, Prabhupāda entered his residence, just between the temple and the guesthouse. Many details demanded his attention, and many visiting disciples were present.

Thus in Ramaṇa-reti, in a place where there was no temple, a pure devotee desired, “Let there be a temple, and sevā, devotional service.” And what had once been an empty lot was now a place of pilgrimage. Such is the power of the desires of the pure devotee.

Śrīla Prabhupāda would often say of his devotional service in India, “Vṛndāvana is my residence, Bombay is my office, and Māyāpur is where I worship the Supreme Personality of Godhead.”

Bombay is the biggest commercial city in India. Prabhupāda’s “business” was pure devotional service to Kṛṣṇa, and in Bombay he dealt more with the managerial aspects of Kṛṣṇa consciousness in India. He had incorporated ISKCON in India with the main branch in Bombay. All other branches of ISKCON in India, therefore, were legally part of the Bombay incorporation. In Bombay, Prabhupāda had cultivated more lawyers and businessmen as life members and earned more friends of his Society than in any other city in India. So whenever he was in Bombay, he often sought legal advice, not just about the Bombay center but also about his other affairs in India.

Since Bombay was a modern city with professional and office facilities on a level with many Western cities, Prabhupāda wanted to locate the Indian division of his Book Trust there, for printing Hindi translations of his books as well as English versions for the Indian market. Bombay, unlike Vṛndāvana and Māyāpur, was not a dhāma but a bustling, wealthy city. ISKCON’s biggest donors lived there. Although Śrīla Prabhupāda’s demeanor was entirely transcendental in Bombay, and his activities were often the same as elsewhere – speaking on Bhagavad-gītā and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and worshiping the Deity – nevertheless, Prabhupāda called it his office. And though it was his office, he wanted a temple there.

“Māyāpur,” Prabhupāda said, “is where I worship the Supreme Personality of Godhead.” Prabhupāda conceived of a temple to be built in Māyāpur that would be the grandest of all temples in his movement. He and his devotees would worship the Supreme Lord there in such a magnificent style that the whole world would be attracted to Prabhupāda’s place of worship, the Mayapur Chandrodaya Mandir.

According to the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, the prescribed worship for this age is saṅkīrtana, the chanting of the holy names of God. Saṅkīrtana worship emanated from Māyāpur, the original dhāma of Lord Caitanya. “In the Age of Kali,” states Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, “Lord Kṛṣṇa appears in a golden form, as Lord Caitanya, and His activity is to chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. People with sufficient intelligence will worship Him in this form.” Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to make the most wonderful worship of Caitanya Mahāprabhu in His birthplace and thus completely fulfill the predictions of the previous ācāryas, who foresaw a great Vedic city rising from the plains of Navadvīpa.

Māyāpur could also be considered Prabhupāda’s place of worship because his spiritual master, Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, had preached extensively there and because his samādhi was there. Since Śrīla Prabhupāda’s entire preaching mission was in the service of his spiritual master, he worshiped his spiritual master through preaching in Māyāpur. Māyāpur was the origin and symbol of preaching Kṛṣṇa consciousness, because there Lord Caitanya and Nityānanda actually began the saṅkīrtana movement that Prabhupāda was now carrying all over the world.

Vṛndāvana is Prabhupāda’s residence. Religious people in India as well as religious scholars in the West saw Prabhupāda as a Vaiṣṇava sādhu – from Vṛndāvana. When he began his preaching in New York City, he would often introduce himself as “coming from Vṛndāvana.” “Here I am now sitting in New York,” he once said, “the world’s greatest city, but my heart is always hankering after that Vṛndāvana. I shall be very happy to return to my Vṛndāvana, that sacred place.”

The people of Vṛndāvana also thought of Prabhupāda as their hometown success. Upon retiring from family life in 1954, Prabhupāda had gone to live in Vṛndāvana, first at a temple near Keśī-ghāṭa and then at the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple. After taking sannyāsa in 1959, he had continued to reside in Vṛndāvana and, when not living there, to reserve his two rooms at Rādhā-Dāmodara.

Vṛndāvana is the home of Kṛṣṇa consciousness, the place of Kṛṣṇa’s childhood pastimes, the place where the six Gosvāmīs, sent by Lord Caitanya, had excavated holy places, written transcendental literature, and built temples. Any devotee could feel at home there, and thousands of Vṛndāvana’s residents carried bead bags, chanted Hare Kṛṣṇa, and wore the Vaiṣṇava tilaka and dress. Vṛndāvana belonged to Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa, and this was still acknowledged by the residents of the present-day Vṛndāvana.

Ultimately, Vṛndāvana is revealed only to the pure devotee. Vṛndāvana is the eternal residence of all spiritual souls in their eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa. The Vṛndāvana in India is a transcendental replica of Goloka Vṛndāvana, the eternal planet where Kṛṣṇa resides in the spiritual world. The pure devotees aspire to attain to Goloka Vṛndāvana after finishing their life in this world, and Prabhupāda, therefore, as a pure devotee of Kṛṣṇa, naturally felt at home in Vṛndāvana. He sometimes said that if he were to become very ill, he would prefer not to go to a hospital but to simply go to Vṛndāvana and there pass his last days. To spread the glories of Vṛndāvana, Prabhupāda had left Vṛndāvana, but like a traveler away from home, he always thought of returning.