Bombay
January 9, 1977

ŚRĪLA PRABHUPĀDA STARTED his morning walk before dawn. He and the devotees knew their way well through Hare Krishna Land to the public road, and once off the property, they turned left, then right and began walking down the block leading to the beach. The sky began to lighten. At first they could not visibly distinguish land from sea from sky. But gradually subtle nuances of color revealed the horizon, and they could see the vast plain of the Arabian Sea stretching to meet the even greater sea of sky, where last stars twinkled and faded. As Prabhupāda and his small group walked along the broad beach, they were flanked on their left by a line of leaning palms and on their right by a rumbling surf.

Śrīla Prabhupāda wore a gray woolen cādara around his shoulders, a saffron silk kurtā and dhotī, and peach-colored canvas shoes. He used a cane, leaning not heavily on it, but lightly. With each brisk step he would point the cane ahead, poking it into the sand and lifting it again, rhythmically marking the pace. He walked erectly and held his head high.

A long line of Bombayites, many of them wealthy Juhu residents on their morning stroll, appeared, and a few coconut-wālās set up their carts, cutting off the tops of choice coconuts in anticipation of their first customers. Śrīla Prabhupāda liked to walk at this time of morning, and weather permitting, he would do so no matter where he was in the world. Juhu Beach, however, was one of his favorite places to walk.

Along the way, he and his disciples were joined by Dr. Patel, in white shirt and pants, and several of his friends, mostly doctors and lawyers. Śrīla Prabhupāda had been silent, but now he began to speak.

“How everything is nice,” Śrīla Prabhupāda commented, gesturing toward the beach before him. “See the sky, how clear and how nice by Kṛṣṇa. Pūrṇam idam.” With his cane he indicated the tall, graceful palm trees. “The tree is called vṛkṣa,” he said. “The vṛkṣa-yoni, or birth as a tree, is condemned. By Kṛṣṇa’s arrangement, however, the vṛkṣas are also so nicely set up, it becomes beautiful.”

“They are all representatives of Kṛṣṇa,” said Dr. Patel. “This is perfect.”

“Pūrṇam,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, quoting Īśopaniṣad. “Pūrṇam idam, pūrṇam adaḥ.” Just as the rising sun illumines everything, Śrīla Prabhupāda discoursed, speaking against the atheistic notion that the complex material creation has no creator. “God’s creation,” said Prabhupāda, “is perfect and complete because it comes from Him who is pūrṇam, perfect and complete. Aṇḍāntara-stha paramāṇu cayāntara-sthaṁ / govindam ādi-puruṣaṁ tam ahaṁ bhajāmi. Paramāṇu means smaller than the atom. Six paramāṇus make one anu. That is atomic dimension – you combine six paramāṇus. So in that paramāṇu also the Lord is there.”

“He made it,” said Dr. Patel, “and then He entered into it. That is what the Veda says.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “the Paramātmā is there. The whole human life is meant for understanding all this and glorifying the Lord. And they are wasting their lives by imitating the hog.”

Prabhupāda again fell silent, except for softly uttering the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra. Now the beach was light, and many people, out on their morning walks or runs, greeted Śrīla Prabhupāda as they passed. The greetings were always words of respect, or at least “Good morning,” and Śrīla Prabhupāda’s response was usually “Hare Kṛṣṇa.”

Suddenly Prabhupāda again began to speak: “There’s a very big conspiracy against us.”

“By the church?” guessed Dr. Patel.

“Not by the church,” said Prabhupāda.

“By the society?”

Prabhupāda uttered a thoughtful “Hmmm,” then added, “Now they are determined to cut down this movement.” He didn’t give any details, and neither Dr. Patel nor the others could fully draw out what was on his mind. Whatever it was, said Dr. Patel, no conspiracy against Kṛṣṇa consciousness could take place in India.

“I wanted to start this movement in India,” Prabhupāda replied. “I requested so many friends, ‘Give me just one son.’ But nobody agreed. They said, ‘Swamiji, what will be the benefit by this if I make my son a Vaiṣṇava or a brāhmaṇa?’ They do not give much importance to the movement. They are planning how to stop this movement in so many ways.”

Always a faithful Indophile, Dr. Patel replied, “The Americans are like that, always making propaganda.”

“There is good and bad in every place,” said Prabhupāda. “Kṛṣṇa says, manuṣyānāṁ sahasreṣu. Out of thousands of persons hardly anyone is interested in perfecting his life. This is Kali-yuga.”

They walked on, and Śrīla Prabhupāda said no more about it, speaking instead of materialistic household life, in which the chief pleasure is sex. Beyond this abominable sex pleasure, he said, was the full satisfaction of spiritual life.

Prabhupāda walked for half an hour and then turned around and began walking back, wanting to return to the temple by seven, just in time to greet the Deities. Some of the others were flagging from the brisk pace, but Śrīla Prabhupāda strode on, his golden-hued face triumphant in self-realization.

Prabhupāda began talking about the importance of sat-saṅga, association with devotees, and Dr. Patel quipped, “Instead of doing sat-saṅga, people go to Kumbha-melā!” He laughed, as if it were a good joke.

But Prabhupāda corrected him. “No,” he said, “Kumbha-melā is sat-saṅga. If you go to Kumbha-melā to find a man of knowledge, then your Kumbha-melā is right. Otherwise, yat-tīrtha-buddhiḥ salile na karhicit, sa eva go-khara. If one thinks that this salila, the water, that just to take bath in the water is Kumbha-melā, then he’s a go-khara, a cow or an ass. But if he thinks, ‘Now there is an assembly of so many saintly persons, let me take advantage of their knowledge,’ then he is intelligent.”

Ever since Śrīla Prabhupāda had arrived in Bombay, he had been questioned about the upcoming Kumbha-melā at Allahabad. The Māgha-melā occurred every year, but according to astrological calculations, a more auspicious occasion came every twelfth year: Kumbha-melā. And every twelfth Kumbha-melā (an event that occurred only once in 144 years) was especially auspicious. This year, 1977, was to be such a Melā, and the government was predicting an attendance of twelve million at the confluence of the holy rivers near Allahabad. Śrīla Prabhupāda had said he would go.

“So, sir,” said Dr. Patel, “you are going by train to Kumbha-melā?” Śrīla Prabhupāda replied that he liked the train, but Dr. Patel said it was not good for health and that it would be a very long ordeal. He also warned Prabhupāda that Allahabad would be very cold. And if Prabhupāda wanted to leave the Melā early, he would find it very difficult because of the crowds. “I’ll get one of my friends to get me some water from Allahabad on that day,” laughed Dr. Patel. “I’ll take my bath here.” Dr. Patel’s friends also mentioned the difficulties of extreme weather and crowds at Allahabad during the Melā. Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, was not swayed. He was well acquainted with Allahabad, having lived there with his family from 1923 to 1936.

“In 1925,” said Prabhupāda, “I went to the Melā. I remember, I was touching the water, and it was so pinching that it was cutting your body. But as soon as you actually get a dip – one … two … three – then you immediately come out, and it is all right.”

Prabhupāda mentioned the 1928 Melā, when he was carrying his young child. “I was in the midst of the crowd,” he recalled. “It was so big that I was afraid that if there was any rush this child may be finished. But, by the grace of Kṛṣṇa, nothing happened.”

“What is the reason for the Melā?” asked Prabhupāda’s servant, Hari-śauri. “Is it something about some drops of nectar from the Mohiṇī-mūrti?”

“It is actually a religious conference,” Prabhupāda replied. “All the different groups gather in that holy place, and they propagate their philosophy there. India is a country of religion. They know spiritual life is more important than this material life – that is India. Now they are diverting their attention to the material. Otherwise, the whole of India is for spiritual life.”

About five minutes before seven, Śrīla Prabhupāda left the beach and walked back to Hare Krishna Land. As he approached, he saw the massive two-story towers of the ISKCON hotel and the even taller and grander temple domes. The buildings, however, were unfinished. The temple domes had to be covered with marble, and all the buildings needed numerous finishing touches. Prabhupāda was anxiously anticipating the opening, but Surabhi Mahārāja spoke of delays. The opening date, therefore, remained indefinite.

Delays had been routine ever since Prabhupāda had first tried to purchase the Juhu land from Mr. N. in 1971, and obstacles had plagued all his attempts to build. Now the triumph of installing the Deities of Rādhā-Rāsavihārī in one of the most gorgeous temples in India was near. Rādhā-Rāsavihārī were still being worshiped in the temporary shelter the devotees had erected in 1971, but as Prabhupāda approached, he could see the magnificent temple structure looming behind that humble shed, proclaiming that soon Rāsavihārī would move into His palace. Kṛṣṇa was blessing the faithful work of Śrīla Prabhupāda and his disciples in Bombay. Although Śrīla Prabhupāda was always traveling, pushing his movement ahead on all fronts, he would regularly return to Bombay. He, more clearly than his disciples, could see when the workers were delaying or even cheating. This time, as before, he would stay for a while, give advice, and then move on.

On returning to the ISKCON property, Śrīla Prabhupāda came before the Deities and beheld once again the charming beauty that made him sometimes indicate that of all Deities, these were the dearest to him. His promise to Rādhā-Rāsavihārī that he would build Them a beautiful temple was soon to become a living reality, but he sometimes expressed doubt as to whether he would live to see it. He was now eighty-one and was bothered by certain persistent illnesses.

Of course, the warnings of death were nothing new to Śrīla Prabhupāda, as he had had serious bouts with illness from the beginning of his preaching in the West in 1965. Yet despite his frequent remarks about retiring, his disciples found it difficult to imagine. Yes, they should by all means complete the work as soon as possible and open the Bombay temple, and yes, they should assure Prabhupāda that he could retire and eventually complete his Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. But of course, Kṛṣṇa would allow him to remain with them and see the completion of at least these two projects.

Rāmeśvara Swami inquired as a humble servant before his spiritual master. “Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he said, “you look well. Are you feeling well?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed. “At the present moment I am feeling well, because you are here.”

Within moments they were discussing ISKCON preaching and management, and Prabhupāda advised Rāmeśvara that the best policy was to use money for printing more books. As soon as money accumulated, Prabhupāda warned, it would be taxed and would cause headaches. Better to immediately spend it for printing books.

“Print books and sell and spend,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Follow this policy and distribute these books. That is our main preaching. Somehow or other we must take our books door to door and distribute. Then our preaching is successful. Anyone who will read will get some benefit, that is sure. Because no other such literature is available throughout the whole world. It is a new revolution to the people in general.”

When Śrīla Prabhupāda asked for news of ISKCON’s activities in the West, Rāmeśvara gave the latest details of how the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement in America was being attacked in the courts and press as a psychologically dangerous, brainwashing cult. Śrīla Prabhupāda was already aware of this; it was, in fact, the “conspiracy” he had referred to on his morning walk. An anticult movement was now aggressively active and lumping the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement in with other new movements. Śrīla Prabhupāda was well aware of the “deprogrammers’ ” kidnapping of devotees and intensively coercing them, and he had shown that he was not intimidated by the attack. He assured the devotees that Kṛṣṇa would protect them and that the outcome would ultimately be in their favor.

The most significant battle, one that had concerned Śrīla Prabhupāda for several months, was a legal case in New York where the temple president, Ādi-keśava Swami, was being charged with employing mind control to keep the devotees in the temple. The parents of two adult devotees had pressed charges after hired deprogrammers had failed to break the two devotees’ determination for Kṛṣṇa consciousness. In a spirit of anticult crusade, an assistant attorney general was prosecuting, using all legal and governmental facilities at his disposal. Although civil libertarians were outraged and assured the devotees that the opposition could never win, the implications of the case were fearful nevertheless. The case challenged the very right of the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement to exist as a bona fide religion and challenged the right of adult devotees to remain in the movement against the wishes of their parents. Also at issue was whether members of the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement were members by their own choosing or were being kept in the movement by psychological manipulation, “brainwashing.” When Śrīla Prabhupāda had first heard of this case, his reply in a letter from Vṛndāvana had been like a clarion call to battle against the forces of illusion.

Sitting with Śrīla Prabhupāda in Bombay, Rāmeśvara Swami informed him that a nationwide committee of professors and theologians had come to the defense of Kṛṣṇa consciousness in the New York case and that many lawyers and psychologists were sympathetic.

“It is so much mercy from Kṛṣṇa,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Kṛṣṇa wanted all these things to happen. Kṛṣṇa Himself became important when He killed so many demons, not simply by lying down in the lap of mother Yaśodā. When He was on the lap of mother Yaśodā, from that day He began to kill. Therefore Kṛṣṇa established that He was the Supreme Personality of Godhead. So even Kṛṣṇa was not exempted, what to speak of us. Prahlāda Mahārāja was not exempted. As soon as you speak of God, this opposition will come. Jesus Christ was crucified. They are so kind they have not crucified me or my men. But you have to expect all these things. Nityānanda Prabhu was personally injured. Haridāsa Ṭhākura was beaten in twenty-two bazaars. This task is like that.”

“They are getting everyone in America to ask the question, ‘What is Hare Kṛṣṇa?’ ” said Rāmeśvara.

“That is our gain,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “They are chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa.”

“We still have to work very hard to defeat them,” Rāmeśvara added. “Oh, yes,” said Prabhupāda. “That is necessary. You don’t sleep. Never did Kṛṣṇa say to Arjuna, ‘I am your friend. I am God. You sleep here. I’ll do everything.’ No! You must fight! That is wanted. Kṛṣṇa said, ‘You fight, and remember Me. Then I’ll do everything.’ This is an opportunity of remembering Kṛṣṇa always.”

Prabhupāda explained that the greatest shock for the materialists was that the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement strongly opposed illicit sex, meat-eating, and intoxication. To them, for a person to give up these things was so shocking that they could not accept it was happening because of a genuine spiritual experience. Referring to a previous case, Prabhupāda said, “In Germany they also accused that the old man is sitting in Los Angeles, and he has engaged all these boys in collecting money for him. They are thinking that way, that I have some mind control power, and I have engaged these men – they are getting the money and I am enjoying.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda recalled how, as early as 1969, when his temple in Los Angeles had purchased a few cars and the number of devotees had begun increasing, the neighbors had become envious. Prabhupāda said that he had invited them to also come and live in the Kṛṣṇa consciousness community, but that their reply had always been no. Prabhupāda said that the more the opposition created turmoil, the more Kṛṣṇa consciousness would become famous. He also reasoned that people were reacting to his very strong preaching.

“I condemn everyone,” he said, “that they are all dogs and hogs. And the United Nations I called a pack of barking dogs. It’s a fact. And in Chicago I said, ‘All women, you cannot have freedom.’ So I became a subject of great criticism.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda concluded his meeting with Rāmeśvara by saying that the devotees should be very alert and intelligently defend the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement; but they should also understand that a higher principle was operating This opposition indicated the genuineness of ISKCON. Even Kṛṣṇa Himself was sometimes the center of calamitous activities, such as when He fought with Kāliya and other enemies or when, as an infant, He fell into the Yamunā river.

“This is the beauty of Vṛndāvana,” said Prabhupāda. “When Kṛṣṇa entered the Yamunā to fight with Kāliya it was not at all good news for mother Yaśodā, Nanda, the friends and family. Not at all. Their life was lost. But still Kṛṣṇa was the center. This is Vṛndāvana. In everything Kṛṣṇa is in the center. So our situation is just like that. They are making bad propaganda against Kṛṣṇa – this is the opposition – but I am happy that Kṛṣṇa is the center. That’s all. This is the beauty of this movement. Although we are put into some difficulty, yet the center is Kṛṣṇa.”

Early on the morning of January 11 Śrīla Prabhupāda embarked on the twenty-four-hour-plus train ride from Bombay to Allahabad. He was sharing his first-class compartment with Rāmeśvara Swami, Jagadīśa, and Hari-śauri, and even as the train pulled out of the station, Prabhupāda was preaching.

Rāmeśvara mentioned a radio show he had recently been on in California, where a Lutheran minister had said Kṛṣṇa was a sex symbol because He had so many wives and gopīs.

“Even taking it that Kṛṣṇa is after sex,” said Prabhupāda, “then if sex is bad, why are they after sex?”

“He says that sex is not for God,” Rāmeśvara replied. Śrīla Prabhupāda was sitting on one side of the compartment, and his disciples sat facing him. The loud rattling of the train cars on the rails made conversation sometimes difficult.

“If sex is not there in God,” said Prabhupāda, “then how has it come? God created everything. So God did not create sex?” Śrīla Prabhupāda explained that sex exists both in the material world and in the spiritual, material sex enjoyment being a perversion of the original, pure sex that exists in the Supreme. Kṛṣṇa’s sexual enjoyment, therefore, is not at all like material sex; it is the exact opposite, in fact, inasmuch as the reality is the opposite of its reflection.

“You do not understand how to face the opposing party,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. He was in an animated, argumentative mood, enthusiastic to show his disciples how to defeat the opposition. He had sometimes described his own spiritual master as siṁha (“lion”)-guru, and they now saw him in a similar fighting spirit. “The more opposition there will be,” he said, “the more we have to defend.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Rāmeśvara asked, “should we be thinking in our minds that one day the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement will have to manage the cities and the nations of the world?”

“Oh, yes,” Prabhupāda replied.

Rāmeśvara asked how the devotees could accomplish such a huge, ambitious project. The management would be simplified, Prabhupāda explained, since the citizens would live a pure, natural life. Thus the burdensome, sinful aspects of godless government would become unnecessary, and so many complex problems would be solved. He gave the example of self-sufficient agrarian communities where men earn their livelihood locally. But only by education and by experiencing the higher taste of Kṛṣṇa conscious pleasure, he said, could the masses become satisfied with simple living.

Rāmeśvara asked if America would become Kṛṣṇa conscious by a minority of Kṛṣṇa conscious persons becoming powerful in government, while the masses remained as karmīs.

“No,” Prabhupāda replied. “You can introduce Kṛṣṇa consciousness in such a way that they will become devotees. Suppose in big, big factories we shall introduce this prasādam distribution and chanting. They will immediately become devotees. Their hearts will be cleansed: ceto-darpaṇa-mārjanam.”

“But will it be like Russia,” pursued Rāmeśvara, “where there is only a small group of people who are in control?”

“No, it is not like that. The quality of the people will be changed.”

“So that means only when the whole mass of population becomes Kṛṣṇa conscious,” Rāmeśvara suggested, “then there will be Kṛṣṇa conscious government.”

“No,” Prabhupāda corrected. “You can have government when you are in minority. But the mass of people, on account of this quality, they have to see the example.”

In one sense these were not immediate concerns – how the devotees would manage the whole world – since the devotees’ political influence was at present insignificant. But by answering these questions, Prabhupāda was establishing future goals and tactics for the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Rāmeśvara Swami, as both a practical manager and a visionary, wanted to know exactly how Śrīla Prabhupāda saw the Kṛṣṇa conscious world of the future.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had the answers, but he indicated that social or political management would be done not by any new formalities but by pure Kṛṣṇa consciousness, by changing the hearts of the people through chanting, hearing, studying scripture – and then organizing things on the basic principles of Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

As the train passed beyond the heavily populated Bombay area and entered the countryside, Śrīla Prabhupāda looked out the window, appreciating the scenery. “We have come to the open field,” he said. “How it is nice. And as long as we were passing through the congested areas – hellish, simply hellish. Now here is open space, how it is nice.”

“Entering into a city is so imposing on your consciousness,” said Hari-śauri.

“Yes,” Prabhupāda said, “at that point it is simply rubbish. All papers thrown here and there, and people living in hellish conditions. Now see here how it is open and pleasing. So organize these farm projects.”

When Rāmeśvara pointed out that beginning a farm community required a great deal of capital, Prabhupāda simply replied that the devotees should show the example and that others would automatically follow the successful pattern. Rāmeśvara mentioned that in America, although the ISKCON temple presidents were eager to get as many people to join as possible, they found that most people were unable to come up to the required standard.

“Therefore farm,” Prabhupāda said.

“They have to be encouraged to have a little bit of Kṛṣṇa consciousness in their own home,” Rāmeśvara suggested, “ – make their home a temple.”

Prabhupāda disagreed. “No. Let them go to the farm, New Vrindaban.” If the people were disinclined to austerity, he said, then let them come to the farm with their wife and children and live comfortably in their own house. And on the farms they would find plenty of employment. More and more, Prabhupāda said, people would become jobless and would be obliged to take shelter of a Kṛṣṇa conscious farm community.

“So we can expect,” said Hari-śauri, “that material conditions are going to become very much worse than at present?”

“They may come or not,” said Prabhupāda. “We don’t care. Let us establish an ideal society.”

Although Prabhupāda had left Bombay without taking breakfast, he continued speaking for four hours and then asked Hari-śauri to serve lunch. The other devotees left the compartment.

Hari-śauri carried all Prabhupāda’s personal effects in two small shoulder bags, one with three changes of clothing, the other with Prabhupāda’s plate, bowl, spoon, tiffin, tilaka, and mirror. With just these two bags, Prabhupāda was traveling all over the world. Although he was the head of a wealthy, international movement, he kept nothing for himself and traveled light. Whatever donations he collected, whatever profits came from the sale of his books, whatever properties he owned – everything was in the name of ISKCON. And yet when it came time to eat in the middle of that dusty train ride, his servant was able to produce silver bowls and a tray and an elegant vegetarian feast. Although Prabhupāda kept nothing for himself, by Kṛṣṇa’s arrangement he was well provided for.

Śrīla Prabhupāda sat cross-legged on the train seat and pointed to what he wanted from the stainless steel tiffin compartments his servant placed before him. There were sabjīs, purīs, fruits, and sweets. After Śrīla Prabhupāda chose what he wanted and began to eat, he insisted that Hari-śauri also take prasādam. When they finished, Hari-śauri distributed the remnants of Prabhupāda’s meal to the other devotees, and Prabhupāda lay down to rest.

In the afternoon, more devotees gathered in Prabhupāda’s small compartment, and he continued preaching, mostly in reply to points Rāmeśvara Swami raised.

“In regard to brainwashing,” said Rāmeśvara, “they claim that our lifestyle tends to take the devotee and isolate him from the world.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “we hate to mix with you. No gentleman tries to mix with loafers. Crows will not like to live with the ducks and white swans, and white swans will not like to live with the crows. That is natural division. Birds of the same feather flock together.”

Rāmeśvara: “They have a list of five or six conditions, and they say if all these conditions are present, then it is a suitable atmosphere for brainwashing. They say we are imposing those conditions on our members.”

Prabhupāda: “Yes. We are brainwashing from bad to good. That is our business. We are washing the brain from all rascaldom. Your brain is filled up with all rubbish things – meat-eating, illicit sex, gambling. So we are washing them. Ceto-darpaṇa-mārjanam. Śṛṇvatāṁ sva-kathāḥ kṛṣṇaḥ puṇya-śravaṇa kīrtanaḥ hṛdy antaḥ-stho hy abhadrāṇi. Abhadrāṇi means ‘bad things.’ So the bad things should be washed. Don’t you cleanse your home? Don’t you cleanse your room? Is that brainwashing? So if you wash your room very clean, who blames you? But you are so rascal that you charge us, ‘Why are you washing away this garbage?’ We are washing out the garbage, and you are protesting. This is your intelligence. But intelligent men wash away the garbage. That is the law of civilization, to cleanse. That we are doing.

“According to Vedic civilization you are actually untouchable. Now we have come to touch you. Therefore wash – first you must wash. According to Indian civilization the dog is untouchable, but he is your best friend. So you are untouchable. Therefore, we have to wash your brain. Unless your brain is washed, you cannot understand Kṛṣṇa. Man is known by his company. You sleep with dog, you eat with dog, your best friend is dog, so what you are? You must be washed, scrubbed.”

Rāmeśvara: “But this is their argument, that the standard in America is that you become learned in different fields – science, music, art, and literature. This standard of culture and education is coming from the idea of the Renaissance in Europe. But in our Hare Kṛṣṇa movement we are isolating ourselves from these things and simply reading one set of literature – Kṛṣṇa.”

Prabhupāda: “This other is not culture. As soon as you change, that means it is not culture. It is mano-dharma, mental concoction. Yes, we want to stop your nonsense. That is our mission. Those who are intelligent, they have taken. And you also take.”

Rāmeśvara raised the objection that Kṛṣṇa conscious children are not prepared to go to public schools and universities, and Śrīla Prabhupāda replied that they were being saved.

“But what if they want to change later in their life?” asked Rāmeśvara.

“They have become Kṛṣṇa conscious from the very beginning,” Prabhupāda replied. “That is the perfection of life. They are perfect from the very beginning of their life. And you are going to school in the college, but you are becoming most uncivilized – like cats and dogs, becoming naked and having sex on the street. So what is the value of that education? Stop all these colleges and universities. As soon as they are stopped, it is better for human beings.”

Rāmeśvara: “They say that if we claim our members are gentlemen, they why is it that they go to the airport and bother so many people?”

Prabhupāda: “They are not bothering. They are educating. When a thief is advised, ‘Kindly do not become a thief,’ he takes it as botheration. But it is good advice.”

Rāmeśvara: “They say it is invasion of privacy. Every man has the right to think the way he wants.”

Prabhupāda: “Yes. Therefore I have got the right to think like this and sell books.”

Rāmeśvara: “So if I do not want to hear your philosophy, why do you impose it?”

Prabhupāda: “It is not imposing. It is good philosophy. We are canvassing: ‘Take it. You will be benefited.’ And they are being benefited. Those who are reading, they are being benefited. And why are you advertising – big, big signboards: ‘Please come and purchase’? Hmm? Why are you imposing your so-called goodness on us? Why you are doing?”

Back and forth the battle went, hour after hour, Rāmeśvara unleashing all the arguments against the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, and Śrīla Prabhupāda defeating them. Prabhupāda called the arguments “childish” and “foolish,” and he strongly criticized the materialistic demeanor from which they sprang. By śāstra and logic he proved that the nondevotee has no good qualities and is less than an animal because of his lack of God consciousness. Such a person, he said, was in no position to criticize, and such criticisms only showed ignorance of the real purpose of human life.

The train stopped in Manmad, Jalgaon, and Khandwa, as well as other small towns and junctions, and for Prabhupāda and his disciples the day passed quickly in discussion. Prabhupāda was absorbed in defending the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. He relished fighting on behalf of Lord Caitanya. He was speaking, of course, mainly for the benefit of his disciples, but beyond that, he was expressing his compassion for all beings and his dedication to the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement.

“They are spending so much for military strength,” Prabhupāda continued. “They are not performing yajña, so how will there be rainfall? There will be warfare, devastation. It is a most rubbish civilization. They are misleading everyone – soul killing. It is the blind leading the blind. Even when there is difficulty, we have to do this as Kṛṣṇa’s business. Let the dogs bark on. We don’t care. If we remain sincere to Kṛṣṇa, that is our victory. The external result is not so important. We have to act according to the direction of Kṛṣṇa.

“Of course, we want to see good results, but even if there is no good result, we don’t mind. We must be sincere to Kṛṣṇa, that we have done our best without cheating. That is our duty. As servants, we shall not cheat the master – result or no result. The devotee is not sorry if there is no result: ‘Never mind.’ Caitanya Mahāprabhu says, ‘I have brought to Benares the hari-nāma, but here they are all Māyāvādīs. So if it is not accepted, all right. I shall take it back.’ But we must do our best canvassing work: ‘Please take it.’ That is our mission. Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare … . ” Śrīla Prabhupāda’s speaking trailed off into chanting japa. He would chant for a while and then bring up another point.

Rāmeśvara Swami continued to stir the controversies, anxious to fortify his own convictions and preaching ability by hearing directly from Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“Very often,” Rāmeśvara said, “they will say, ‘It is not religion that we are concerned with, but it is brainwashing and mind control. You are chanting so many hours a day… ’ ”

“What is it to you!” Prabhupāda interrupted sharply. “That is my business. Why do you bother yourself?”

Rāmeśvara: “But you are not giving these young people a chance to think when they chant for so many hours.”

Prabhupāda: “You are thieves. You are coming to kidnap. Why shall I give you a chance? They are chanting, but you are charging brainwash. You ask them don’t chant – that is your business. But that you cannot do.”

Rāmeśvara: “But they say that takes away freedom to think.”

Prabhupāda: “That is controversy. But you want to take his freedom, and still you are accusing us.”

Prabhupāda said that first there should be a test of what is genuine religion. “We say,” said Prabhupāda, “that the law given by God is religion. And it does not matter what name is given to God. If we say ‘Kṛṣṇa,’ that does not mean that He is not God. So before there is a challenge to Kṛṣṇa consciousness, there should be an assembly discussion and decision as to what is genuine religion. We say that God is one, and whatever He has given as law, that is religion.”

Rāmeśvara: “But the Christians say that according to the Bible, if God wanted us to believe in Kṛṣṇa, He would have told us on Mount Sinai, and He would have told us through Jesus Christ. Jesus said, ‘I am the only way.’ ”

Prabhupāda: “That’s all right. But Jesus Christ did not explain more to you because you are rascals. You cannot follow even his one instruction, ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ It is not the foolishness of Jesus Christ. But because you are so rascal, you cannot understand him. Therefore he avoided you rascals. Because whatever he said, you cannot follow. So what you will understand? Therefore he stopped speaking.”

Rāmeśvara: “They also say that you are ruining family life.”

Prabhupāda: “That’s all right. We are entering Kṛṣṇa’s family.”

Hari-śauri: “But if you are actually followers of God, why are you breaking up the families? Shouldn’t you have love for everyone?”

Rāmeśvara: “One of the commandments is that one shall honor thy father and mother.”

Prabhupāda replied that a devotee loves his mother and father by teaching them Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

Hari-śauri: “My mother testified to that. When I was at home she said I was impossible to live with. When she saw me afterwards, I was very nice.”

Prabhupāda: “Many. Hayagrīva’s father and mother also.”

Rāmeśvara: “My parents think like that too. I could have no relationship with them before, but now that I am a devotee, I actually want to help them.”

Prabhupāda: “There are so many fathers and mothers who appreciate. None of our disciples are disrespectful to mother and father. Why? I never said you become disrespectful to your father and mother. At Brahmānanda’s initiation, his mother was standing there and I instructed Brahmānanda, ‘Take the dust of your mother’s feet first, then you offer me obeisances.’ So first of all he offered his obeisances to his mother. I told him, ‘You have got good mother. Otherwise, how she has got a son like you?’ I always say like that. I never say disrespect. In a particular case, if the father and mother are demons, he must give up their association. But we never said break up the family.”

Rāmeśvara: “I think we’ve used up all our arguments.”

Prabhupāda (still eager to argue): “First of all you said that we are depriving of food. Where is this?”

Rāmeśvara: “Yes, this is their argument, that we only let devotees eat twice a day. And there is no meat and very little protein.”

Prabhupāda: “That depends on him. If he likes to eat that kind of food, you have no right to force. Then you are turning to force. There are different persons, and they like different types of food. If he likes twice a day, why do you insist thrice? That is his choice.”

Rāmeśvara: “And sleeping only four or five hours – very little.”

Prabhupāda: “Yes, because it is a waste of time.”

Rāmeśvara: “But this makes his mind very weak.”

Prabhupāda: “You rascal! You have nothing to do – you sleep! Napoleon used to sleep for one hour, two hours – he was such a busy man. So they are so busy in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Every great man does not sleep very much. Sleeping is simply a waste of time. If he does not sleep more, it is a sign of greatness.”

When Rāmeśvara Swami argued that the opposition has psychologists to testify against us, Prabhupāda replied, “We have got our psychologists.”

After talking all afternoon and into the night, Prabhupāda told the devotees to rest. At ten P.M. he lay down, and Hari-śauri massaged his legs. “Actually,” Śrīla Prabhupāda concluded, “their arguments are not very sound. Therefore it is simply a plan of Kṛṣṇa’s to help give us some prominence. It will make us more well known.” Opposition, he said, was just an opportunity to preach. But to deal properly with the legal cases and other serious opposition, the devotees would have to know how to preach. And they would have to be spiritually strong. He was readying his men, speaking to them day and night on the twenty-four-hour train ride to Allahabad.

Allahabad
January 12
  They arrived at nine A.M., and half a dozen of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s sannyāsī disciples, along with a kīrtana party of about fifty devotees, were there to greet him. They had brought Prabhupāda’s car down from Delhi, and he rode the short distance from the station to the Melā site. Thousands of pilgrims, on foot and in rickshas, crowded the streets, making Prabhupāda’s progress by car slow. Finally the road ended, but the traffic continued onto the sandy flats surrounding the Triveṇī (confluence of the rivers Sarasvatī, Gaṅgā, and Yamunā). Here, within a few days, a city of tents had sprung up. Two million had camped already, with millions more arriving daily. Every spiritual group in India had its bamboo-fenced compound of tents.

As the car inched along, Prabhupāda smiled to see a group of his disciples strolling among the camps and performing hari-nāma kīrtana. But not until he passed through the congested main area of camps to the far end of the Triveṇī did he reach the ISKCON camp. The ISKCON tents, most of which had been erected about half an hour before Śrīla Prabhupāda’s arrival, were located near a railway bridge on an island called Gaṅgādvīpa; and the Triveṇī bathing area was a twenty-minute walk away. The festival organizers had provided simple outdoor toilets, water taps, and a “kitchen,” consisting of a cloth partition, a hole in the ground, and some bricks.

It was, as Śrīla Prabhupāda had expected, the usual Kumbha-melā austerity, but he was displeased with the camp’s remote location. And when he heard that the electric lines did not reach their area, he became even more displeased. How could people come to the program in the evening if there were no lights? He called for Bhāgavata and Gurudāsa, who were in charge of organizing the ISKCON camp.

“Who got this land?” he yelled.

“When I got here,” said Bhāgavata, “it was an empty field. They told me, ‘We are putting you on this island. The governor is there, Kalapatri Mahārāja is there, Maharishi Mahesh Yogi is there.’ I thought you were there with all the leading personalities.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed. “You are inexperienced, so they cheated you. All right, you did not know.”

But later, when he heard that Bhāgavata and Gurudāsa had not obtained enough food for mass distribution, he became angry. Again he called for Bhāgavata.

“Why is there no prasādam distribution tonight?” he demanded.

“Well, Prabhupāda,” Bhāgavata stuttered, “I don’t know. They didn’t buy any food.”

“Why have they not bought?” Prabhupāda was angry. “What is the matter with you? You Americans are big spenders – simply wasting money. You have no stock of food. Why you did not stock rice, dāl, and wheat? Why you have no stock? What is the matter with you? You have no brain. You spend five rupees’ cab fare going, five rupees’ cab fare coming back, and you buy one rupee of rice. This is your mentality. You are nonsense! Every time you need something you go to the store and buy it. You don’t know how to buy sufficiently one time and then use it. You cannot think like that. And why have you made this location under the elevated train? Why have you done this wrong? The train is making noise. This paṇḍāl is a failure. Food is not being distributed.” After twenty minutes of reprimanding, Prabhupāda dismissed Bhāgavata.

A little later Prabhupāda called for Bhāgavata again. “Bhāgavata Mahārāja,” he began, although Bhāgavata was not a sannyāsī, “if you can just get the lights on, then you will be doing good. Can you do that?” Bhāgavata said he could, and by that night the ISKCON camp had lights, although, as at all the other camps, the power was frequently shut off.

Only a few people visited the ISKCON paṇḍāl the first night; the weather was cold, damp, and windy. Śrīla Prabhupāda chose to sit up all night at his desk rather than lie in the cold bed. Wearing all his clothes – sweaters, a hooded coat, a cādara, and gloves – he sat at his desk in the darkness. A kerosene heater did little to drive the chill from the tent. Rāmeśvara Swami sat up much of the night too, relighting the heater’s pilot light, which blew out every few minutes as the wind swept through the tent.

By morning, Śrīla Prabhupāda had a bad cold with runny nose and eyes. He did not go to the river for bathing but used the icy water from the pump next to his tent. His hands and feet were swollen, something that had happened to him before during illness. When the devotees suggested he not stay at the camp, Prabhupāda insisted; he wanted to preach. People were beginning to discover his location and come to see him, so he wanted to stay and preach. Kumbha-melā, he said, was an opportunity for the devotees to preach, not merely to bathe in the Gaṅgā.

The devotees crowded into Śrīla Prabhupāda’s tent for guru-pūjā and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam class. They had no garland for him, but he said nothing about it. By the time he had ended his short lecture, the sun had risen. He asked Hari-śauri to put the cot outdoors, where he rested and later took massage in the sunshine.

During his massage, Prabhupāda looked over at the railroad bridge and said that he remembered this bridge from his former days in Allahabad. He said that his father had been cremated under the bridge on the same island of Gaṅgādvīpa in 1930.

That afternoon, a group of devotees arrived from Māyāpur, and some of them immediately complained to Prabhupāda about how poorly managed the ISKCON paṇḍāl seemed to be. Prabhupāda asked them to try to salvage the program by distributing as many books as possible, so the devotees began distributing Hindi editions of Prabhupāda’s books.

The devotees took their chanting and book distributing down the main road, where they came upon the camps of different Śaivites, who sat around their fires wearing only kaupīnas (loincloths). Many of them, their hair matted, their bodies covered with ashes, were puffing heavily on hashish in chilam pipes. Nearby, on the other side of the road, were the camps of Vaiṣṇavas from the Rāmānuja sampradāya. Though they were also tyāgīs (renunciates), and their appearance was similar to the Śaivites’, they were more friendly; they were glad to see the devotees and shouted out, “Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Rāma.”

The devotees were amazed by the piety of the millions of pilgrims. On seeing the kīrtana party approach, many people offered prostrated obeisances. Others rolled on the ground, or picked up dust where the devotees had walked and put it in their mouths. And although many of the pilgrims were poor, they came forward and dropped at least a few paisa into the pot carried by one of the devotees. Anyone who gave a rupee would receive a book, and the books became so popular that people would come and ask for them by name. Some people threw money, and the sannyāsīs would catch it in their topcloths, which they would hold out like aprons. By the end of the day, the devotees had distributed about seven thousand pieces of literature.

On the second night, Śrīla Prabhupāda again sat up, while Rāmeśvara Swami tried futilely to keep the heater going. Hari-śauri had placed Śrīla Prabhupāda’s dictating equipment on the desk, but Prabhupāda did not touch it.

January 14, Śrīla Prabhupāda’s third day in Allahabad, was the first day of Kumbha-melā bathing and would be a special opportunity for book distribution. An ISKCON chanting party of about fifty men and several Indian gurukula boys was very well received as they traveled throughout the Melā area. At one-thirty P.M., the time of auspicious bathing, the kīrtana party made its way to the Triveṇī. As they approached, the police cleared a path for them all the way to the water. By evening they had distributed eight thousand books, and for the first time since they had arrived, Prabhupāda expressed his pleasure at their success. He ordered some of the sannyāsīs to stay at the Melā until all the books were distributed.

The next morning, despite ill health, Prabhupāda took a walk. Surrounded by about twenty-five disciples, he walked slowly. Although he was a small figure surrounded by tall sannyāsīs, the Kumbha-melā pilgrims were able to easily recognize his preeminent position, and they would break through the ranks of devotees and offer daṇḍavats before him. When Prabhupāda saw people approaching, he would stop walking and let them touch his feet, despite the objections of his disciples. He was already sick, and he had explained in his books that a devotee can become ill if sinful people touch his feet. Still, he did not object.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was scheduled to stay at the Melā through January 21, but his disciples pressed him to go to a place more suitable for his health. Rarely had any of them seen him so sick, and they worried. “But my only ambition,” said Prabhupāda, “is that so many people can become enlightened.”

Word was beginning to circulate that Śrīla Prabhupāda, the guru of the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement, was staying in a camp on Gaṅgādvīpa, and more people were starting to come to see him. He said that the people coming to the Kumbha-melā were expecting all the holy men and spiritual teachers of India to be there, so he felt obligated to stay until the 2lst.

Rāmeśvara Swami tried to advise Prabhupāda. “Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he said, “there is something much more important than your giving darśana to these people, and that is your writing of your books. Only a few thousand people are going to see you here, but if you go on writing, we will distribute your books by the millions. Then millions of people will have your darśana. There is no facility for writing here. The climate is too cold, and your health is weak. Let’s go on to Bhubaneswar, where it’s warm and they have healthy water.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda had previously mentioned Bhubaneswar because of the water of Bindu-sarovara, which was supposed to have special medicinal properties. And he liked the argument that his writing was more important than his remaining in Allahabad to benefit a few thousand pilgrims. For the devotees on his personal staff – his secretary, servant, and cook – to see Prabhupāda going through such austerities while suffering ill health was very painful.

Finally Prabhupāda agreed to go. He called in Gurudāsa and Bhāgavata and gave them a final verbal chastising for the mismanaged paṇḍāl. Then, on the afternoon of the 15th, he prepared to leave.

Rāmeśvara Swami and Gurudāsa went to the train station to purchase tickets, but they found that no seats would be available for weeks. Seeking special consideration, they visited the local railway office, a lavishly appointed, remodeled railway car. There they happened to meet their friend from Bombay, Mr. Gupta, and they told him of Prabhupāda’s illness and of his desire to leave at once for Calcutta.

Mr. Gupta phoned Bombay and arranged for a first-class coach to be added to a train coming from Bombay to Allahabad. The devotees profusely thanked Mr. Gupta, who began proposing that Śrīla Prabhupāda travel throughout India in a royal car like the one they were in. The devotees discussed with him about how they might buy or lease such a car, and it seemed an interesting possibility. But the immediate miracle had been arranged: a coach to take Prabhupāda out of the crowded throngs of Kumbha-melā to Calcutta.

After a difficult car ride, inching along through the crowds from the Triveṇī to the train station, Prabhupāda and his party finally arrived at the railway station, where government men helped him and his disciples with their luggage and saw to their comfort. From the devotees’ point of view, this was the proper respect for a pure devotee of the Lord, the most important person in the world; yet such treatment was rare. Śrīla Prabhupāda was pleased, and he asked his secretary to type a letter, thanking Mr. Gupta, who was caring for Prabhupāda “just like a father looking after a son.” He invited Mr. Gupta and his family to attend the upcoming Gaura-pūrṇimā festival in Māyāpur.

Śrīla Prabhupāda asked to hear the reviews of his books, as published in The Krishna Consciousness Movement Is Authorized. His secretary read one review after another – professors praising Prabhupāda’s work and requesting him to go on producing such valuable books. After hearing the reviews, Prabhupāda lay down to rest. “The pen is mightier than the sword!” Rāmeśvara Swami declared.

“Yes,” Śrīla Prabhupāda answered. “It is a revolution. That is what I thought as I wrote on and on. The Communists have changed the lives of people throughout the world by their empty literature and false promises. Why not a revolution started on the basis of the absolute knowledge?”

January 18, 1977
  After the intense cold of Kumbha-melā, Prabhupāda had recuperated a couple of days in Calcutta. His head cold had gone away, but the swelling in his hands and feet persisted, as did other maladies. Externally, he was diabetic and suffered from poor digestion, as well as from the general dwindling of physical powers common to an eighty-one-year-old body. His condition was not suited for continual travel, hard work, frequent lectures, and taxing management.

Yet Prabhupāda was transcendental to his apparent material condition. Although sometimes he would inquire about cures, mostly he was callous toward his poor health. Even after receiving a doctor’s advice or concluding himself what was good for his health, he would often ignore it in favor of what he thought was best for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Previously, in Vṛndāvana he had felt better by drinking the fresh well water, so he thought he might also get relief by drinking the water of the famous Bindu-sarovara near Bhubaneswar. Besides, ISKCON had recently acquired a small donated plot of land outside the city, and Śrīla Prabhupāda’s Oriyan disciple Gaura-govinda Swami had gone there, constructed two simple dwellings, and was making plans to build a temple.

The train journey from Calcutta to Bhubaneswar was twelve hours, another opportunity for Rāmeśvara Swami to probe. His thirty-day assignment as Prabhupāda’s secretary was almost over, and then he would return to Los Angeles and his American BBT duties. He had come to India set on inquiring from Prabhupāda about whether there would be world war and, if so, how book distribution would continue and how in the future a new world order of Kṛṣṇa consciousness would be introduced. Prabhupāda had answered many of his questions, but there were always more.

The Puri Express left Calcutta around ten P.M. After taking a massage, Śrīla Prabhupāda stretched out on the lower bunk to rest, and Hari-śauri and Rāmeśvara took the two bunks opposite him. Around midnight Prabhupāda turned on his light, sat up, and began chanting softly on his beads. Within a few minutes, Rāmeśvara awoke and, seeing his spiritual master sitting up, paid obeisances and also sat up, waiting expectantly. Immediately Prabhupāda began to speak about the inevitability of war between Russia and America. Even if America took to Kṛṣṇa consciousness, the war would be inevitable – the only way to stop the godlessness of Communism. When Rāmeśvara asked if that war would be within his lifetime, Prabhupāda said it was difficult to say. It depended, he said, on the devotees’ distribution of books and Back to Godhead magazines. Although in Russia the government tried to strictly control all literature, Kṛṣṇa conscious books were entering nonetheless and were immediately becoming popular. The Communist leaders were becoming fearful, but they also had some respect for Indian culture. Prabhupāda said that by increasing book distribution, America, and thereafter the whole world, would become Kṛṣṇa conscious.

“So you have to push on more and more,” he said. “This opposition, brainwashing charges, means they are recognizing this as a culture. They may like it or not, but they recognize it as something permanent.”

Prabhupāda said he had no political aim, but he knew that Indian culture coupled with American money could save the world. “You must think in terms of the whole world,” he said. “Not just one nation. That is our preaching. That is the duty of the G.B.C.”

The talk went on for more than two hours, and Rāmeśvara felt completely satisfied by the intimate instructions. Although he had once before asked some of the same questions about book distribution and the war, Prabhupāda had chosen not to answer. But now he revealed some of his thoughts, just as a father instructing a trustworthy son.

The second small building, about twenty-five feet from Prabhupāda’s hut, was a tiny temporary temple room. A shabby canvas roof spanned the open area between the two buildings, and Prabhupāda’s vyāsāsana was beneath this, arranged so he could lecture at outdoor gatherings. Two rented tents also stood on the land, to accommodate visiting devotees during Prabhupāda’s stay. Prabhupāda’s outdoor toilet facilities, about twenty-five feet behind his hut, consisted of a latrine and a separate area for bathing.

Śrīla Prabhupāda did not mind the primitive facilities; in fact, he liked them. Although he was ill and for personal comfort could have been residing in his choice of comfortable buildings in the West – a manor in London, a castle in Paris, a penthouse apartment in New York City – he felt perfectly at home and happy living in a primitive mud-and-thatch hut on a secluded patch of land in the dust of Orissa.

Sitting on the outdoor vyāsāsana, Prabhupāda spoke to a small gathering of devotees and some local villagers. Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu, he said, had two favorite places: Bengal and Orissa. And in Orissa (Jagannātha Purī) He spent the last eighteen years of His life. He went to Vṛndāvana and South India but then returned here to stay with His personal associates, Śrī Rāmānanda Rāya, Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya, and Śikhi Māhiti. Prabhupāda quoted a scriptural reference indicating that the spiritual movement for this age will begin from Utkala, or Orissa. Śrīla Prabhupāda said Orissa was very special to the Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavas, and his own Guru Mahārāja was also born here, at Purī. “Now we have got a little place here,” he said. “It doesn’t matter if it takes time, but slowly but surely we can develop this center. Especially since Bhubaneswar is going to be the capital of Orissa. In the future many tourists will come to see other attractions of Orissa. Now it is up to the Oriyans to develop this idea.”

Prabhupāda spoke with Gaura-govinda Swami and told him to begin advertising – private meetings in the afternoon and a regular lecture-kīrtana-prasādam program at night. That evening very few visitors came. ISKCON had done little preaching in Orissa, and Prabhupāda was not as well known. Mostly local farmers, villagers, and poor children came – for the free prasādam. Prabhupāda told the audience that he could speak in three languages – English, Bengali, and Hindi – but not Oriya. He therefore decided to speak in English and have Gaura-govinda translate. He would speak a few sentences and then pause while Gaura-govinda gave the Oriya.

“In this material world,” said Prabhupāda during his evening lecture, “always the attempt is to defy the supremacy of the Supreme Personality of Godhead. At the present moment the so-called scientists’ only business is how to defy the supremacy of God. Naturally this movement has to face many impediments, because at the present moment the whole world is practically godless. Even in our country, in India, where Bhagavad-gītā was spoken by the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Kṛṣṇa – even here the same attempt is going on. Big, big scholars, big, big politicians, they take Bhagavad-gītā in their hand to show that they are great authorities in Bhagavad-gītā. But they are presenting commentation just to defy Kṛṣṇa.” Prabhupāda spoke for about ten minutes. There were no questions.

Bhubaneswar’s hot days and cool nights just suited Prabhupāda. After resting for a few hours, he rose and began translating Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. It was the first time he had done so since leaving Bombay for Kumbha-melā. He was nearing the end of the Ninth Canto.

Gaura-govinda Mahārāja had scheduled a cornerstone-laying ceremony for a new temple on February 2, the appearance day of Lord Nityānanda. Prabhupāda agreed to stay until then and leave the next morning.

Rāmeśvara Swami, Gargamuni Swami, and Bhavānanda Goswami were sitting with Śrīla Prabhupāda in his hut discussing deprogramming cases with him. They were saying that these enemies of ISKCON were so fanatical that for Śrīla Prabhupāda to go to America would be dangerous. Śrīla Prabhupāda interrupted, however, changing the subject. “Our immediate problem,” he said, “is toward my health. I am not digesting food. Therefore there is some swelling in the hands and the legs.”

“Is it affecting your translation work?” asked Rāmeśvara Swami.

“That it has not affected,” said Prabhupāda. “It is going on. I have translated seventeen volumes. That may not be affected.” He reached over and turned on the dictating machine, and they heard a few seconds of his most recent dictation from the twenty-fourth chapter of the Ninth Canto.

“We know you have a very low opinion of doctors,” said Rāmeśvara Swami.

“I wish to die without a doctor,” Prabhupāda said. “I may be seriously ill, but don’t call a doctor. Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. Don’t be disturbed. Everyone has to die. Let us die peacefully, without doctor. All this medicine, injections, and prohibitions, this, that. Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa and depend on Kṛṣṇa. Nārtasya cāgadam udanvati … that is Prahlāda Mahārāja’s verse. Find out this – Seventh Canto.” Hari-śauri reached to Prabhupāda’s bookcase for the Seventh Canto, Volume Two, of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. Within a few moments he found the verse and read aloud:

“These are facts,” said Prabhupāda.

“That’s ultimately,” said Gargamuni Swami. “But maybe we could give you some temporary relief. Because when you are ill, we feel – ”

“Yes,” Prabhupāda conceded. “But no severe treatment should be accepted. Better not to take. Better to chant Hare Kṛṣṇa.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Bhavānanda. “In the past, when your health was not good, they have begun chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa in all the temples around the world – a special additional kīrtana. Perhaps we could institute that.”

“No,” said Prabhupāda, “not for my health. You do your kīrtana ordinary. That first stroke on Second Avenue, that was almost fatal. You were present, I think?” Prabhupāda turned to Gargamuni, and they reminisced about the stroke in 1967.

Hari-śauri said a homeopathic doctor had just prescribed some special medicine, and Prabhupāda agreed to try it. Gargamuni said that his father used to have a similar swelling, but his had been due to diabetes. “I have diabetes,” said Prabhupāda. Gargamuni Swami said his father used to give himself an insulin injection every morning. “There are many gentlemen who take insulin at least once a day,” said Prabhupāda, although he obviously had no intentions of doing so.

Prabhupāda’s main health program was his diet, but even in that he was not very strict. An Indian cook named Shantilal was present in Bhubaneswar, and he used a lot of spices and ghee in cooking for Gargamuni Swami and his men. Sometimes Prabhupāda would ask for some of what Shantilal had cooked, and this greatly disturbed Prabhupāda’s servants and cooks, although they could do nothing about it. Gargamuni had also been ill recently, and when Prabhupāda first saw him with his cook Shantilal, he had said, “I thought you were sick.”

“Yes,” Gargamuni had replied, “but still I have to eat. Śrīla Prabhupāda, you are eating very simply. You are not eating spiced food?”

“Sometimes I also have to have spices,” Prabhupāda replied. “Otherwise there is no taste. And without that taste, what is the use of life?” Then in a joking spirit Prabhupāda and Gargamuni Swami commiserated, saying they were not going to stop eating tasty prasādam.

“We’d rather die,” laughed Gargamuni Swami, and Prabhupāda also laughed.

“You have mentioned several times,” he began, “that there is a conflict which is inevitable between Russia and America.”

“No,” said Prabhupāda. “If they understand Kṛṣṇa consciousness, both of them, then there will be no conflict. Now we are publishing in Russian.”

When Rāmeśvara asked what would happen if many cities were bombed, Prabhupāda said that people would come to their senses and adopt a simpler, agrarian life, just as the ISKCON farm communities were demonstrating. “That will be a good lesson for them,” said Prabhupāda.

“So is this conflict part of the spreading of Kṛṣṇa consciousness?”

“Oh, yes. Paritrāṇāya sādhūnāṁ vināśāya ca duṣkṛtām.* To conflict means to finish their sinful activities – finished. Stop it.”

“So after the conflict there will be an opportunity to influence people?”

“We shall take every opportunity,” said Prabhupāda. “We are the best opportunists. Ānukūlyena kṛṣṇa. This is anukūla – favorable for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness – and we shall immediately accept it. It doesn’t matter what it is. We do not depend on the public opinion, that this is good or this is bad. Good means if it is favorable for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness.”

Rāmeśvara said that it seemed the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement would have to grow much more before it could actually be as influential as Prabhupāda was indicating

“It will grow,” said Prabhupāda. “It is growing. Simply our workers should be very sincere and strict, and it will grow. Nobody can object. That’s a fact. Simply we have to be very strict and sincere, and nobody can check.”

“We will be the only ones who have any vision of what to do after the war,” said Rāmeśvara.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “We have got clear vision. We are not putting any theory. We are always presenting fact, and that is materializing. Just like we started our farm communities. It is materializing gradually. It is not yet fully organized. Still there is hope that it will give peace to the people. There is sufficient hope.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda opened his eyes widely in disbelief. “What is this?” he said. “You are from India, and you do not know what is God? This is the degradation of Kali-yuga.” Śrīla Prabhupāda continued his sharp criticism and then explained that Indians have the special benefit of Vedic literature and culture; therefore, every Indian should know God.

Prabhupāda gave his first public lecture the next evening, and about 150 people attended. He began his lecture, “Last night some gentleman questioned, ‘What is God?’ ” Śrīla Prabhupāda explained that Śrī Bhagavān personally appears in “our country,” Bhārata-varṣa, and leaves His instructions, which have been accepted by the ācāryas. India, Prabhupāda explained, is especially favored, since God personally incarnates there and imparts His instructions. “But at the present moment,” Prabhupāda continued, “our young men are inquiring, ‘What is God?’ So why has this happened? It has happened because we are making progress toward animal civilization.”

Anyone with a bodily conception of the self, Prabhupāda said – anyone thinking of his identity in relation to family, country, or race – was no better than a cow or an ass, according to Vedic śāstra. He repeatedly warned that Indians should be careful of sinking to the position of having to ask what is God. Unfortunately, when he called for questions after his lecture, it was the same thing.

“I want to know the meaning of the word Kṛṣṇa,” a man asked.

“You do not know what is the meaning of Kṛṣṇa?” Prabhupāda retorted. “You do not know?”

The man said something in Oriya and then said in English, “The etymological meaning.”

“Kṛṣṇa,” said Prabhupāda, “means all-attractive. Kṛṣ, karṣati. Yes, Kṛṣṇa means the attractive, all-attractive. And besides that, you do not know Kṛṣṇa? That is the difficulty, that our people have become so degraded that they are asking what is God, what is Kṛṣṇa. Someone has studied the Seventh Canto of Rāmāyaṇa, but now he is asking, ‘Whose father is Sītā?’ So this is the position. We are born in the country where Kṛṣṇa spoke everything, and now we are asking, ‘What is the meaning of Kṛṣṇa? What is God?’ This is the position, very degraded position.”

Seeing several men jogging, Prabhupāda commented that most people were hungry and poor while a few were living in big houses, overeating, and running to lose fat. “So he will educate the people,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said, “and after some time they will join the Naxalite movement and kill the rich man. No. Everyone should be engaged in working the land.” Prabhupāda said his ISKCON men should also work, because unless they were properly engaged they would gossip and fall victim to sex desire.

Early one morning Prabhupāda set out in his car for Purī, on the Bay of Bengal. He looked at several properties there, but either their locations were poor or the buildings were deteriorated, or both. Prabhupāda walked along the beach with his men, and the surf was pounding. “I was jumping here,” he laughed. “In 1920 or ’21 I came here. At that time I was married. I was married in 1918. I came after appearing for my B.A. examination. And because I was jubilant, I was jumping. When the waves came I was jumping. Now it is fifty-seven years after. They say we do not change bodies, but where is that body? Now I am walking with stick. Then I was jumping. I am still here. I remember. But the body has changed. What is the difficulty to understand? I am the same. Otherwise, how I am remembering all these things? But that body is now lost. Tathā dehāntara-prāptiḥ. Why this simple philosophy these rascals cannot understand?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda stayed a day at the beachside Tourist Bungalow, and one of his Godbrothers, Śyāmasundara Brahmacārī, from the local Purusottama Gaudiya Math visited. After he left, Sri Sevasiva Rath, a member of the pūjārī committee of the Jagannātha temple, also came to visit. Prabhupāda spoke to him about the possibility of ISKCON devotees entering the Jagannātha temple. To bar the Western Vaiṣṇavas from entering the temple was prejudiced and ignorant. Since the members of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement were fully engaged in spiritual life, they should not be considered unfit simply because of their birth status or race. Sevasiva Rath was friendly and agreed with Śrīla Prabhupāda; he promised he would do what he could to help. He also told Prabhupāda about a book he had just published and invited him to attend a small paṇḍāl meeting the next evening, at which the book would be inaugurated. Prabhupāda agreed.

Later, Prabhupāda was sitting on the veranda outside his room at the Tourist Bungalow. As he sat watching Shantilal preparing lunch in the back of Gargamuni’s van, he could smell the aromatic spices cooking in the ghee. He called to Gargamuni Swami and asked that a plate of Shantilal’s cooking be brought to him. Soon Prabhupāda was enjoying a meal of rice, dāl, purīs, spicy sabjīs, and chutney. He said that Shantilal cooked wonderfully and that all devotees in ISKCON should learn this art. If the meat-eaters could take such prasādam, he said, they would give up their sinful habit.

As Prabhupāda sat in his hotel room that evening with a few disciples at his feet, he reminisced about how he had come to America in 1965 and had suffered two heart attacks at sea. “They say that anyone who gets a third heart attack,” said Prabhupāda, “they must expire. I had two attacks on the ship, and then in New York a third one – paralyzed. Left side was paralyzed. I do not know how I was saved. And one girl, that captain’s wife, she studied astrology. She said, ‘Swami, if you can survive your seventieth year, then you will live for one hundred years.’ ”

Śrīla Prabhupāda and his disciples laughed.

“So,” Prabhupāda continued, “somehow or other I have survived my seventieth year. I do not know whether … . They say I will live for a hundred years. But seventieth year was severe. Three heart attacks and paralysis. And I was without any family. At that time none of you were with me. I was alone. I wasn’t dependent on anyone. But on the ship I saw that Kṛṣṇa was going to save me. I was going for His mission.”

“Because he is a rascal,” Prabhupāda explained, “therefore he is excommunicated. My Guru Mahārāja kicked him out. So what is the value of his testimony? That is natural that someone will go out and speak against us. These things will happen in preaching. You cannot expect very smooth path.” The devotees agreed, and someone added that one of Jesus’ closest disciples had betrayed him.

Śrīla Prabhupāda compared the present trouble to the troubles he had encountered when he first came to America. He reminisced further about his near fatal illness in 1967 and his return to India, where he had recuperated. But even after returning to America, he commented, he had not been able to sleep at night because of a sound in his ear.

“As long as the body will be there,” Prabhupāda said, “there will be so many troubles. Kṛṣṇa has advised that they will come and go. Don’t care for it. Āgamāpāyino ’nityās tāṁs titikṣasva bhārata. So bodily troubles, mental troubles, and enemies – so many impediments will come. What can be done? We have to tolerate. That is the material world. We cannot expect smooth, very happy. That is not possible. Kṛṣṇa was advising that to Arjuna, what to speak of us. Kṛṣṇa never says, ‘I have made some magic. You will have nothing to suffer.’ He never gave Arjuna any tablet. So we have to follow that. The modern gurus say, ‘I will give you some magic ash. There will be no trouble.’ But Kṛṣṇa, what did He say? He said, ‘No, tolerate.’ He did not say, ‘You are ass. I will give you some ash.’ Neither did Arjuna ask, ‘Why do You ask me to fight? Give me some ash. I’ll throw it.’ He was not such a fool that he asked some magic from Kṛṣṇa to kill his enemies. Actually he fought. This is Bhagavad-gītā. So face things as they are, and depend on Kṛṣṇa. That is our duty. Don’t expect any ash, miracle, magic.”

Some of the devotees were already in the ocean, and when Prabhupāda reached the water’s edge, they all gathered around him. As the waves glided in and swirled around Prabhupāda’s feet, Hari-śauri scooped palmfuls of water and began to bathe Prabhupāda’s body – his arms, chest, and head – washing away the mustard seed oil he had applied during the massage. Soon other devotees began reverently splashing handfuls of water onto Prabhupāda’s body. Standing almost up to his knees in water, the bright sunshine illuminating his golden-hued body, Prabhupāda laughed as the devotees joined in.

The devotees realized that this pastime was just like an abhiṣeka, or bathing of the Deity, and when Gurukṛpā Swami began to sing the prayers for bathing the Deity – cintāmaṇi-prakara-sadmasu – the other devotees joined in, singing and taking part in the abhiṣeka by the sea. Śrīla Prabhupāda enjoyed it, sometimes putting his head forward to indicate that he wanted water poured on his head, then closing his eyes as the devotees poured the water. When Prabhupāda lost his balance for a moment, Hari-śauri grabbed him. Prabhupāda’s feet had been sinking into the sand, and when he held one foot out it was muddy. As he wriggled his toes, a devotee poured water on the foot, washing it clean. Prabhupāda then bent over, put ocean water in his mouth, and spat it out. Only Gurukṛpā Swami was quick enough to catch some of the water and drink it.

As Prabhupāda allowed the devotees to participate in bathing and gently massaging him, the devotees were carried away by ecstatic feelings. After about ten minutes, Prabhupāda came out of the water, changed his clothes, and walked back to the hotel, where two devotees escorted him to a comfortable chair, sat him down, and carried him up to his room for his afternoon rest.

In the afternoon, Sevasiva Rath came again to see Prabhupāda, accompanied this time by another Purī brāhmaṇa. They gave Prabhupāda some Jagannātha prasādam and sang the Jagannāthāṣṭakam. In silent appreciation Prabhupāda listened as the brāhmaṇas sang the famous prayers with each verse ending jagannāthaḥ svāmī nayana-patha-gāmī bhavatu me (“O Lord of the universe, kindly be visible unto me.”) When the two brāhmaṇas finished singing, Prabhupāda said, “So these European and American Vaiṣṇavas, they are hankering after jagannāthaḥ svāmī nayana-patha-gāmī bhavatu me. Now it is through your intervention that they may be able to see Jagannātha Svāmī. They are hankering like that – jagannāthaḥ svāmī nayana-patha-gāmī.”

Sevasiva Rath again expressed his sympathy about the devotees’ not entering Jagannātha’s temple. He also told Prabhupāda more about the book he had published, a compilation of select verses from Jagannātha dāsa’s translation of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam into Oriya. Sevasiva had also written some commentary, and his book was to be inaugurated at a function that evening. Prabhupāda again promised to attend and address Purī’s brāhmaṇas and religionists.

That evening, Śrīla Prabhupāda was guest of honor at the outdoor paṇḍāl on the beach, and his disciples accompanied him to the stage with a rousing kīrtana. Prabhupāda took his seat. After the kīrtana ended, one of the managers of the Jagannātha temple came forward and garlanded Śrīla Prabhupāda. Sevasiva then announced, “We thank A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda, who has been kind enough to grace this occasion wherein we have assembled this evening to pay our respectful homage to His Holiness Jagannātha dāsa Gosvāmī, who was a contemporary of Lord Caitanya.” Suddenly, about five brāhmaṇas sitting on a platform rose and walked off the stage to join a kīrtana party in front of an altar in a nearby field. It seemed strange to the devotees that these men had to leave just when Śrīla Prabhupāda was going to speak.

“I thank you very much,” Śrīla Prabhupāda began, but then the sound system failed. Śrīla Prabhupāda paused, while one of his own disciples, an electrician, corrected the problem. Śrīla Prabhupāda resumed speaking, his voice amplified above the distraction of the nearby kīrtanas.

“So in our humble way,” Prabhupāda was saying, “we are trying to introduce Jagannātha Svāmī’s culture. Jagannāthaḥ svāmī nayana-patha-gāmī bhavatu me.” Sevasiva had invited Prabhupāda explicitly to speak about his new book, and Prabhupāda had already mentioned privately to his disciples that these people were inviting him to serve their own purpose. But now Prabhupāda took the occasion to speak about Lord Jagannātha, rather than about the Oriyan Jagannātha dāsa. He had a special message in mind.

“You will be very much pleased to know,” he continued, “that in the year 1967 I introduced Ratha-yātrā in San Francisco, and it has been going on continually for the last nine or ten years. And the government, they have fixed up a holiday for Ratha-yātrā. We have the twentieth of July as a government-fixed-up holiday for Ratha-yātrā. And people take part in the Ratha-yātrā. Not only my devotees, but even outsiders. Ten to twelve thousand people attend, and we distribute prasādam to all of them. They feel very much obliged. And the newspaper writes that people in general never felt such ecstasy as they are feeling in the Ratha-yātrā festival. The police say that the crowds in the Western countries, as soon as there is a big crowd, they create disturbance. But the police were surprised that this crowd is not a window-breaking crowd.

“Next we introduced Ratha-yātrā in London. And in London, Trafalgar Square – it is the most famous square within the city – there is a big column called Nelson’s Column. Our ratha was so high that The Guardian newspaper criticized this Ratha-yātrā as a rival to Nelson’s Column. Next we introduced Ratha-yātrā in Philadelphia. And last year we introduced Ratha-yātrā in New York. And we also have Ratha-yātrā in Melbourne and Sydney and in Paris.

“So in the Western countries Ratha-yātrā is being introduced one after another, and Jagannātha Svāmī is attracting the attention of the Western people.” Suddenly some of the men on the stage began talking loudly among themselves in Oriya. Prabhupāda stopped, turned, and said, “What is that?” The talking subsided, and he continued.

“So people will come in your Jagannātha Purī now from all parts of the world. That is beneficial from various points of view. From the point of view of the tourist program, the government will benefit. When people are attracted to see Jagannātha Purī, Jagannātha Svāmī, that is good. But unfortunately you do not allow these foreigners to enter the temple. How it can be adjusted? This stumbling block should be dissolved, that you want Jagannātha Svāmī to be compact within your home and you do not expand the mercy of Jagannātha.

“He is Jagannātha.* He is not only just Purīnātha or Oriyanātha. He is Jagannātha. Kṛṣṇa declares in the Bhagavad-gītā, bhoktāraṁ yajña-tapasāṁ sarva-loka-maheśvaram. That is the definition of jagannātha – sarva-loka-maheśvaram.* So why you should deny the inhabitants of sarva-loka the darśana of Jagannātha? Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu never approved such things. Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu said pṛthivīte ache yata nagarādi grāma / sarvatra pracāra haibe mora nāma. When the thing is being done and when they are eager to come here, why you should restrain? What is the cause? This is not very good.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda continued to argue that foreigners who had taken to Vaiṣṇavism should be allowed to enter the temple of Lord Jagannātha. Offenses to the Vaiṣṇavas, he said, were condemned by Lord Caitanya. Therefore, Prabhupāda declared, he had come to Purī specifically to request the leaders to remove this offensive restriction and be friendly to the foreign devotees. He invited Purī’s leaders to come and see the Jagannātha and Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa temples all over the world and see how the foreigners had actually become pure Vaiṣṇavas, strictly avoiding sinful life. “No illicit sex, no meat-eating, no fish-eating, no egg-eating, no intoxication, no gambling,” said Prabhupāda.

“Why you should not receive them as Vaiṣṇava and give them proper reception? That is my request. I hope there are many learned scholars and devotees present here. They should endeavor to remove this restriction of shortsightedness, and let us combinedly work with Jagannātha to preach the bhakti cult for the benefit of the whole world.”

As Prabhupāda finished his lecture, Hari-śauri leaned forward and asked Prabhupāda if he wanted to answer questions. But Sevasiva came quickly to Prabhupāda’s side and said, “No, don’t put their questions.” Sevasiva picked up the small paperback volume which was supposed to have been the topic of the evening’s presentation. “The Bhāgavata of Jagannātha,” said Sevasiva, and he handed it to Śrīla Prabhupāda, requesting him to now speak, as expected, about the merit of the book and its inauguration. Śrīla Prabhupāda looked indifferently at the small book in his hand. Speaking over the microphone he said, “So what shall I do? Of course, I do not know the Oriya language, but it is said that it is Bhāgavata of Jagannātha. So it is inaugurated today.” Prabhupāda placed the book down and stood up to leave. The audience applauded.

Śrīla Prabhupāda then walked off across the sands in the dark, followed by his disciples, and entered a nearby Gaudiya Math temple, where the devotees held kīrtana. They then went to another Gaudiya Math temple, Purusottama Math, and again held kīrtana.

During the chanting at Purusottama Math, Prabhupāda sat in a chair. When he was ready to leave, he began to stand, using his cane as a support, but suddenly, as he was about halfway up, he dropped down again onto the chair. Hari-śauri had to lift him to his feet by holding him under the arms. Prabhupāda said nothing, but walked slowly out of the hall and got into the car. Not everyone had noticed Prabhupāda’s momentary collapse, but Hari-śauri, on returning to his room, anxiously wrote of it in a letter to a Godbrother as “yet another sign that Śrīla Prabhupāda’s health is very quickly dwindling away.” Certainly none of the Purī paṇḍitas had noticed any dwindling from Śrīla Prabhupāda’s presentation on behalf of Lord Jagannātha, Lord of the universe.

“The first chapter, which has sixty-nine verses,” he began, “describes Mahārāja Parīkṣit’s eagerness to learn about the incarnation of Lord Kṛṣṇa, and it also tells us how Kaṁsa killed the six sons of Devakī because of his fear of being killed by her eighth child. The Second Chapter contains forty-two verses …” Prabhupāda’s patient description of each of the ninety chapters was the epitome of faithful rendering of paramparā knowledge – without concoction, interpretation, addition, or subtraction. Therefore, he spoke with the same full faith that the original speaker of the Bhāgavatam, Śukadeva Gosvāmī, had spoken with five thousand years ago to Mahārāja Parīkṣit.

“Simply by chanting or repeating kṛṣṇa-kathā,” Prabhupāda was saying, “one is liberated from the contamination of Kali-yuga. This is the mission of Kṛṣṇa consciousness: to hear about Kṛṣṇa and thus be liberated from material bondage.” Sitting up on their blankets, the devotees listened; they would not return to sleep. It was an important, historic moment.

The Tenth Canto begins five thousand years ago, when the entire world was oppressed by demonic rulers, and Prabhupāda was comparing the situation then to the present situation. His words were faint, but not weak. He was unhesitating, sure. “Without reference to the supreme power of the Personality of Godhead,” Prabhupāda dictated, “demons assert themselves to be independent kings and presidents, and thus they create a disturbance by increasing their military power. When such disturbances are very prominent, Kṛṣṇa appears. At present also, various demonic states all over the world are increasing their military power in many ways, and the whole situation has become distressful. Therefore Kṛṣṇa has appeared by His name in the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement, which will certainly diminish the burden of the world. Philosophers, religionists, and people in general must take to this movement very seriously, for man-made plans and devices will not help bring peace on earth.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was like a field general in his tent, and his disciples were like his infantry men. They knew they were hearing his battle strategies even before the information was disseminated through the chain of command. They were thrilled. With faith they heard that just as Kṛṣṇa had defeated the demonic rulers, so the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement would counteract the demonic culture of the present age.

Later, on the morning walk, one of the devotees mentioned to Prabhupāda that they were planning to put his name on a sign on the door, saying that on January 30 at 2:50 A.M., Śrīla Prabhupāda began the Tenth Canto. Prabhupāda was pleasantly surprised that they had heard him.

“Kṛṣṇa’s flute can be heard in the Tenth Canto,” said Prabhupāda, “and the chapters Twenty-nine through Thirty-four are the smiling face of Kṛṣṇa.”

“It is true,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “but now it has only taken its roots. You have to water and protect it, then you will get fruit. You have to give it protection. People must hear about us by our books, and we have to talk about the books.”

“So it is not that it will happen overnight?”

“No,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Gradually it will grow. The seed is there. Now protect it by introducing more and more books in every house.”

Again, Prabhupāda referred to the upcoming New York court case. “At least tell them to read our books,” he said. “This is our statement. Our defense is that you first of all read these books and then give your statement. Finish this, and then give your judgment. Give them all these eighty-four books!”

Śrīla Prabhupāda became excited by the thought of the judges and lawyers reading all his books. He was completely serious, and he insisted the devotees get the authorities to read the books as legal evidences. Śrīla Prabhupāda continued, “Kṛṣṇa says, sarva-dharmān parityajya, ‘Surrender to Me and give up all other religion.’ Now the question may arise, ‘Why we shall surrender?’ Then you can argue and go on for three years. The whole thing will come out: What is God? What is creation? What is your position? Why you should surrender? And so on, and so on, so on. What do you think?”

“Yes, we should introduce the books as much as possible,” said Satsvarūpa. “I’ll write a letter to New York and tell them to emphasize this.”

“Bring all these books in the court,” Prabhupāda said. “One time in Calcutta there was a big lawyer named Mr. Ghosh. So on one case he brought so many books for argument. The judges were friends, so they very mildly criticized him, ‘Oh, Mr. Ghosh, you have brought the whole library?’ ‘Yes, my lord,’ said Mr. Ghosh, ‘just to teach you law.’ ” Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed and repeated, “ ‘Yes, my lord, just to teach you law.’ ”

Prabhupāda wanted his disciples to apply the same logic in the New York case. If the judge objected and said, “Why have you brought so many books to bother me?” the devotees should reply, “You have to hear. It may take twelve years to hear, but you have to hear. This is the law.” It sounded difficult, but the devotees knew they would have to try. This was Śrīla Prabhupāda’s specific instruction for handling the case.

“We have to say,” said Prabhupāda, “we never tried to brainwash. We have done exactly according to śāstra, authority. Here is the evidence. We have not manufactured anything. So they must read all the books. I think you should take defense in that way.”

“Our defense statement is already written in your books,” said Hari-śauri. “Certain sections?” asked Satsvarūpa. “Or should we say that they have to read all the books?”

Prabhupāda shouted, “All! Line to line. Our defense is eighty-four volumes.”

“But they’ll say,” said Gurukṛpā Swami, “ ‘If we read all these books, we’ll become brainwashed too.’ ”

“That is my duty,” said Prabhupāda, “ – you are trying to brainwash me, and I am trying to brainwash you. This is going on. That is the tussle. It is wrestling. You are trying your strength. I am trying my strength. Otherwise, where is there fight? You have got right to not agree with me. I have got right to not agree with you. Now let us settle.”

“Why not?” questioned Prabhupāda. “This is the capital of Orissa. People are coming here. We have to have centers in every town. Even if it is not a big center, some have to work and stay here. Even if the people are coming every night only to eat the kicharī, that is also preaching.”

One of the devotees said that it was too far from town and that Orissa was too poor. A better idea might be to try to build a big temple in Jagannātha Purī. Śrīla Prabhupāda replied that to build in Jagannātha Purī was all right, but that Bhubaneswar was also important. Prabhupāda’s Oriyan disciple, Gaura-govinda Swami, told Prabhupāda that as soon as the annual India pilgrimage was over, all the devotees would leave, and he would be left alone with one or two brahmacārīs. He was particularly suited to translating Prabhupāda’s books into Oriya, so he asked Prabhupāda to give him someone to help manage the center.

“Where is the fat one?” asked Prabhupāda. “Bring him here.” And a devotee ran out to fetch Bhāgavata. At the time the devotee found him, Bhāgavata was sitting in the visitors’ tent, telling the other devotees about his plan to go to New York. When he heard Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to see him, he assumed it was in connection with the cornerstone-laying ceremony, since he was in charge. But as soon as he entered Prabhupāda’s room he sensed something heavy was about to happen.

Śrīla Prabhupāda smiled and asked Bhāgavata how he was.

“I’m fine, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

“How would you like to stay here and manage this place?”

“Well, Śrīla Prabhupāda, I don’t really think I can stay here. It’s too hard.”

“Couldn’t you stay here and build this building?”

“I could. But it is very difficult. And I was all set to go to New York.” Bhāgavata began excitedly telling Prabhupāda about a telegram from Ādi-keśava Swami in New York inviting him to come and head an important preaching department in the temple.

“New York?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “They have too many men in New York already. You don’t have to go to New York. You should stay here.”

Bhāgavata objected; he couldn’t work with Gargamuni Swami, the G.B.C. man for this area of India. Prabhupāda replied that he was sending Gargamuni to Bangladesh; he wouldn’t be in charge of ISKCON in Orissa anymore. Prabhupāda would personally supervise Bhāgavata.

Bhāgavata dāsa’s next objection was that his health was not good, and he had to sleep a lot.

“This is a very healthy place,” Prabhupāda countered. “You simply go out in the field to pass stool, then wash with your loṭā, and afterwards clean the loṭā with the mud. And you can bathe with the same loṭā. In this way you will stay clean and healthy.”

Bhāgavata then raised his ultimate objection. “Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he said, “to tell you the truth, I’m not chanting my rounds. I think I’d better go to New York, because there is good association there, and I can become strong in my regulations.”

“That’s all right,” Prabhupāda replied. “You are working very hard. So if sometimes you aren’t chanting your rounds, that’s all right. As long as you are working hard, you can do your rounds at another time.”

“Well, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Bhāgavata dāsa, “according to the Gurvaṣṭakam, I can understand that whenever you please the spiritual master you please Kṛṣṇa.”

Prabhupāda smiled. “Yes.”

“So if you want me to stay here, then I should stay.”

“Yes, I want you to stay here – make life members, build this building, and help manage the place.” Although Prabhupāda had laid a cornerstone for a temple, the center had no funds or donors in sight and no established congregation. All the devotees had was faith in Śrīla Prabhupāda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s train was to leave at 11 o’clock the next night, and Prabhupāda sat in his little hut talking with his disciples until it was time to go. The conversation ranged from World War II politics to the Tenth Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. At one point, Śrīla Prabhupāda was saying how man cannot change the laws of nature. Man should not claim that he knows something or can do something unless he can stop the miseries of birth, death, disease, and old age. “My position means my karma,” Prabhupāda explained. “If I am in the plush Bhaktivedanta Manor, I have the same suffering as I do in this hut. If I think, ‘Now I am in the Manor. I am happy,’ that is foolishness. But that is how they think. Then why are they dying? They should stop that. Can you, my disciples, help me in old age? You may try your best, but you should admit it is beyond your power. But as soon as you go back home, back to Godhead, everything is solved.”

He spoke about diets. Ghee was not good for him, but to eat only boiled food was like starving. He said he was capable of fasting. “If you give me nothing to eat for three days, I can do it.” Gargamuni told Śrīla Prabhupāda of a man he knew in Calcutta who was healthy at ninety and who attributed his health and longevity to his strict diet of only fruits. Gargamuni suggested Prabhupāda try that diet, and Prabhupāda agreed.

Prabhupāda mentioned the diet of his spiritual master. Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, he said, ate very little, but not only fruits. He liked to eat salty things, and his favorite preparation was made from chick pea flour and peanuts fried in ghee.

After the talk, when devotees were commenting about Prabhupāda’s proposed fruit diet, Hari-śauri remarked affectionately, “He has said that before, but he will never do it.”

As the train pulled into Howrah Station, Prabhupāda sat for a few minutes before disembarking. The vendors’ loud cries of “Chāy! Chāy!”* punctuated the overall din of humanity and machines.

“This modern society!” Prabhupāda sighed. “It is very painful to even see their faces – they are fallen so much. By seeing their faces you become polluted. Last night they disturbed so much. And they think they are happy, they are enjoying life.”

“But we have to take the risk,” said Satsvarūpa, “to go and preach?”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “If you are engaged in preaching, you are not affected. Sometimes yogīs go to the Himalayas just to avoid seeing the face of the vicious persons. They practice yoga in a sacred and solitary place. Otherwise, what is this? Simply ‘Chāy, chāy, chāy,’ and cigarette, biḍi, talking nonsense, drinking? Yet the Vedic system is still in India. In the morning they take bath in the villages. In the cities also, at least those who come from the village. You will find in Bombay, many poor men are taking bath early in the morning. You have seen? They will wash their floor, take bath.”

With fond thoughts of the pure life in the Vedic village, Śrīla Prabhupāda left the station, passing through the crowds and the noise. He knew Calcutta well, better than any of his disciples. The poverty, chaos, and political slogans did not phase him. It was his hometown. But he had no mundane connections there. He was coming only for a few days – to preach. Then on to Māyāpur.

Māyāpur
February 7, 1977
  More than eighty Bengali gurukula boys, along with some one hundred other devotees, greeted Prabhupāda with a kīrtana at the front gate of the Māyāpur Chandrodaya Mandir. The entire ISKCON land seemed to be blooming with flowers, and the freshly painted temple building shone like the first reddish rays of dawn. The new building, a long residential building, was almost completed. “Back to home, back to Godhead,” Prabhupāda said softly, as his car entered the gate and slowly proceeded toward the temple.

He was arriving three weeks before hundreds of devotees from all over the world were scheduled to come and be with him for the celebration of Gaura-pūrṇimā, the appearance day of Lord Caitanya. Bhavānanda Goswami and Jayapatāka Swami, Śrīla Prabhupāda’s leaders of ISKCON Māyāpur, ushered him through the crowd of gurukula boys and devotees up to the Deity room, where he beheld and bowed before the shining, golden forms of Śri Śrī Rādhā-Mādhava.

Later, while sitting in his room on the second floor, Śrīla Prabhupāda complimented the devotees for making the grounds so beautiful and clean. Hundreds of flowers decorated his room like a gorgeous garden. “These flowers are your first success,” said Prabhupāda. He sat back, relaxed with the special pleasure and satisfaction he felt when in the atmosphere of his beloved Māyāpur. “For Kṛṣṇa’s service,” he said, “you submit some plan, and He’s very glad. We want some flower for Kṛṣṇa’s service, and Kṛṣṇa is supplying. Everything we want for Kṛṣṇa, not for our sense gratification. For Kṛṣṇa we can endeavor multifariously – that is the contribution of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said that prior to Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, the Vaiṣṇavas used to live retired lives in Vṛndāvana – no preaching. Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī was the first to demonstrate how pure devotees can preach in sophisticated ways, even living in big buildings and utilizing automobiles in the service of Kṛṣṇa.

“People may be envious that these devotees are living in palatial buildings,” said Prabhupāda, “but Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura said only the devotees shall live in palatial buildings. Only devotees. Just like government servants are given the best places to live in. Similarly, those who are devotees, they should be given all facilities. Not extravagancy, not luxury, but nice food, nice place, nice facilities – and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. This is our mission. This is not dry. Especially you coming from America and Europe, you are not accustomed to the hardships of Indian people. You must have the bare necessities of comfort, and serve Kṛṣṇa. This I am trying to do and utilize.”

Prabhupāda thanked the devotees present for working in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, and he reiterated his familiar formula that American brains and American money combined with Indian culture could turn the whole world into a heaven.

Later, Śrīla Prabhupāda went to oversee the new building, the longest building in West Bengal, Jayapatāka Swami said – more than seven hundred feet. Śrīla Prabhupāda said it looked like a train. He inspected all the rooms one by one and emphasized that they must be ready in time for the festival. Walking along the veranda he remarked, “Oh, it is just like Fifth Avenue.”

The next few days were quiet. Prabhupāda would sit taking his massage in the late morning on the roof amid hundreds of potted plants. Leaning on the rail of the veranda outside his room one day, he looked down onto the lawn where one of the women was picking flowers for the Deities. “This is temple,” he said, “ – always something going on. And with each flower picked, she advances in spiritual life a little more.” Prabhupāda particularly liked that the Māyāpur Chandrodaya Mandir was always being expanded and improved. He liked to look out from the veranda and see guests arriving, devotees working, and new plans manifesting.

But Prabhupāda’s ill health persisted – an imbalance of pitta and vāyu (bile and air), he said. One morning when his servant asked him how he felt, he replied, “Very bad.” But sometimes after a “very bad” morning, he would feel much better.

The devotees did not think of Prabhupāda’s illness in a material way, but it caused them anxiety. Over the years he had gone through various health crises, and the devotees knew these illnesses were transcendental, directly controlled by Kṛṣṇa. In 1974, when he had been very ill in Vṛndāvana, he had said that the cause was his disciples’ not strictly following the rules and principles of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. His disciples knew they had to strictly follow his orders if they actually cared for his health. He would go on taking risks – accepting more disciples, traveling and preaching – but his disciples had to avoid acting in ways that would disturb his health. Mostly the devotees preferred to think that Prabhupāda’s health would soon improve. And Śrīla Prabhupāda himself did not dwell on the subject; he was too absorbed in spreading the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement.

A few days after his arrival, Śrīla Prabhupāda journeyed by car and ferry to Navadvīpa to visit the āśrama of his Godbrother Bhaktirakṣaka Śrīdhara Mahārāja. But while walking up the steep stone steps, Prabhupāda’s legs suddenly gave way, and he collapsed. Fortunately, Hari-śauri was close enough to catch him. It was the second time Prabhupāda had collapsed in less than two weeks. Both times he had been actively preaching, and both times he had continued on his way with no mention of what had happened.

In Bhubaneswar, Śrīla Prabhupāda had promised Svarūpa Dāmodara he would go to Manipur with him after the Māyāpur festival. Manipur, an independent country north of India, was mentioned in the Vedic literature, Prabhupāda said. Arjuna’s wife Citrāṅgadā had come from Manipur, and it had been ruled by Kṛṣṇa conscious kṣatriyas. Now Śrīla Prabhupāda, encouraged by Svarūpa Dāmodara, who was born and raised in Manipur, was eager to go and try to revive a Kṛṣṇa conscious state there. But with his weakening health, he questioned whether he should travel.

Hari-śauri, who had been with Prabhupāda continually for eighteen months, felt that Prabhupāda’s health was not likely to improve. And in one sense, the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement was spreading so widely under Prabhupāda’s direction that it was perhaps not so necessary for Prabhupāda to travel, at least not with the extraordinary expenditure of energy and strength that he had been displaying for the last ten years. Maybe he could retire from traveling. Even during the previous summer, when he had been traveling in the United States, he had once remarked that he simply wanted to go there to become encouraged by how well his devotees were managing everything by themselves. He used to say that he had laid the foundation and erected the framework for the building of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement; now his followers simply had to fill it in. He would often say he had injected medicine into the system of materialistic society; now it would spread and act. He also said he had ignited the fire that would now rage around the world. Therefore, although he was always anxious for his movement, he had confidence.

One morning just after breakfast, Prabhupāda was on his veranda looking out across the land of Māyāpur. Turning to Hari-śauri, he said, “Actually it does not matter even if I die immediately. I have given the basis for everything, and now if they simply manage things nicely and follow whatever programs I have begun, then everything will be successful.” Hari-śauri was disturbed to hear such statements, and he remained speechless. Then Prabhupāda added, “But still I would like to finish this Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.”

“What is the complaint of the opposing party?” asked Prabhupāda. Again, as when he had argued with Rāmeśvara Swami, he defended the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement while his disciples fired materialistic arguments at him. It was not just an exercise; he was training his disciples. He had to answer any arguments that had discouraged or weakened them. And beyond that, he was actually the ultimate defender of Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

“They say we are zombies,” said Brahmānanda.

“Zombies?” Prabhupāda asked. “What is that?”

“Zombies,” said Hari-śauri. “Like a robot. We have no brain. We are like machines. They say we have no freedom of choice.”

“Children have got also the same thing,” replied Prabhupāda. “But the father stops. Children want to play; they do not like to go to school. Father does not like it. Is that father’s attempt to check the child’s freedom? Every father is doing that. The government is doing that. Why the government is checking criminals?”

Prabhupāda was interested to hear other news, and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami reported on the new ISKCON farm in Pennsylvania and on the restaurant in New York City. Brahmānanda Swami talked about their new farm in Africa, and both he and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa gave their impression of things at Hare Krishna Land in Bombay and reported on Gopāla Kṛṣṇa’s progress in printing Prabhupāda’s books in various Indian languages.

“So this is the thing that is starting to happen now,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “They are lobbying in the Congress of the United States to pass laws that if someone is abnormal then the parents should have the right to commit him to psychological treatments. Even though the child may be fifty years old and the parents seventy years old, if the parents think that the child is not sane, then they have the right to have the child committed.”

“This is very dangerous,” said Prabhupāda.

They told Prabhupāda of a devotee who had been kidnapped while distributing books at an airport. The court had given the girl’s parents legal authority to have her confined for thirty days in a special center in Arizona run by deprogrammers. They also told him that among the lobbyists advocating kidnapping were powerful groups of Christians and Jews, who had become active because they saw that other movements, not only the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, were taking young people away from the religion of their parents. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that a probable result of ISKCON’s court case in New York would be to establish ISKCON as bona fide. Defenders of civil rights in America were alarmed at the threat to constitutional liberties, and therefore the court case was generating great interest. It was a test of freedom of religion. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa told Prabhupāda it was the biggest test case of the decade, and that the American Civil Liberties Union had taken it as one of their main priorities.

“Two states have passed laws making this deprogramming legal,” said Brahmānanda Swami. “And they also give tax exemption. That means the government is giving support.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “They are afraid that these Kṛṣṇa conscious men may capture the government.”

“Yes,” agreed Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami, “some of them are saying that the Kṛṣṇa conscious organization is very powerful and that our ambition is to take over the world.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed. “That’s a fact. Well, let us see. It is a fight between Kṛṣṇa and demon. Let us do our duty and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa; everything will be all right. There were so many demons. Prahlāda Mahārāja was five-years-old boy and his father was such a big demon. But still Prahlāda Mahārāja was victorious. Similarly, you are all like Prahlāda Mahārāja. The fight is there. Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. Depend on Kṛṣṇa. You will come out victorious. Nṛsiṁhadeva will come. So the ‘poison’ of Kṛṣṇa consciousness is acting now. That is good. If we come out victorious, that will be a great victory.”

As they spoke, the electricity went off, and Prabhupāda’s room, as well as the rest of the building, was in darkness. Within a few moments a devotee entered with a kerosene lantern. Prabhupāda began to reminisce, saying that electricity had been introduced in India when he was a young boy. At first not every house could afford electricity, he said, and if a man had a good gas light in his house, he was considered rich. He said the street lamps were carbon arc, and the man who changed the carbon rods would throw the used ones in the street. “When the carbon would be changed,” said Prabhupāda, “they would throw, and we children would collect them.”

“What would you do with them?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed and said, “Play – ‘We have collected something.’ So electricity was introduced in our life when we were ten or twelve.”

“But still you were able to read,” said Brahmānanda.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “with this lantern.” He recalled that his father would purchase kerosene for the lanterns. His father was not rich, but by buying and stocking things in quantity, he used to amply provide for his family. Life was simple then, Prabhupāda concluded, but civilized.

The sannyāsīs began telling Prabhupāda about how a military dictatorship had taken over in Argentina and had officially banned the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Twenty thousand dollars’ worth of books had been seized, and devotees had been arrested. Many other persons were being regularly arrested or shot in the streets.

“Things are deteriorating everywhere,” said Prabhupāda.

“Very quickly,” added Brahmānanda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “So this will give impetus to Kṛṣṇa consciousness – yadā yadā hi dharmasya glāniḥ.* Don’t be disappointed. Kṛṣṇa will act through His movement and kill them, these demons. How it will be done, that you cannot know now, but it will be done. Let us remain true soldiers. That’s all. And suppose you die in the fight? Fight means with vow, with determination either to gain victory or die. Because it is a fight against māyā. Why you shall be afraid of being killed? When there is a fight, one must know that, ‘Either I’m going to be killed or gain victory.’ Jīva vā mara vā. Those who are devotees, either they live or they die, it’s the same thing. While they live they are serving Kṛṣṇa. When they die they will serve Kṛṣṇa. Jīva vā mara vā. Tyaktvā dehaṁ punar janma naiti mām eti.* He goes to Kṛṣṇa. So what is the loss? We are working for Kṛṣṇa, and if we die we go to Kṛṣṇa. What is the loss?”

“This movement is not brainwashing,” Prabhupāda began, “we are brain-giving. First of all you must have brain. Then there is a question of washing. But you have no brain. You do not know what is this life. You cannot explain what is the difference between a dead man and a living man. You have got so many big, big scientists and philosophers, but you do not know. So where is your brain? First of all prove your brain. Then there can be a question of washing. It is not brainwashing. It is brain-giving movement. Unfortunately, you have no brain. Therefore you misunderstand. On this point the Bhagavad-gītā will explain. What do you think? Brainwashing or brain-giving?”

“Yes,” said Ādi-keśava, “this is good.” Prabhupāda said the devotees should consult among themselves, write an essay, and send it to the court. His main point was that most people could not understand the simple truth of the soul. They are in need of knowledge, and the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is giving essential knowledge of the soul. Therefore it is a brain-giving movement.

Ādi-keśava took the role of the antagonists. “Well,” he said, “I have a brain, and it is functioning. Otherwise, how could I be speaking to you now? How could I even answer you?”

“But that speaking and the dog’s barking are the same thing,” said Prabhupāda. “The dog is barking. What is the difference? He is speaking in a different language, that’s all. The dog is barking, and you are speaking. What is the difference?”

Ādi-keśava: “But they say, ‘We have art. We have science.’ ”

“Whatever you may have,” Prabhupāda replied, “you cannot answer the ultimate question.”

Arguments flew back and forth, as other devotees in the room challenged Prabhupāda’s logic. But Prabhupāda stuck to his main point. If a man doesn’t know the difference between a dead man and a living man, if he doesn’t know the soul, then he has no brain. When the devotees mentioned faith in scripture, Prabhupāda said that he was not arguing on the basis of scripture, but on logic. Whatever arguments they raised, Prabhupāda strongly defeated. There was no trace of illness or weakness in Prabhupāda’s demeanor as he drilled his men on how to defend by aggressive argument.

“They say that this discussion is beyond our intelligence,” said Ādi-keśava.

“If you say beyond your intelligence,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “that means you have no brain.”

In Prabhupāda’s association, Ādi-keśava gained strength and conviction. “They complain,” said Ādi-keśava, “that if one becomes a devotee, he suffers from loss of identity. But actually, they don’t know who they are. So we will challenge them like that, ‘What is this loss of identity? You don’t even know who you are. So you have nothing to lose.’ ”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, with great spirit. “What is your identification? That you do not know. We are teaching that by identifying yourself with this body, you have lost your identity.”

“Most of their charges,” said Ādi-keśava, “are based on misconceptions about our movement. For instance, they say that we do not eat enough or sleep enough. Yet we have studies from their own scientists that say our diet is good.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “How we are living if our diet is not good? Ten years we are eating insufficiently? Then how we are living? You do not know what is good food, but the result you have to know. A cow eats so much grass, and a human being eats a small plateful. If the cow says, ‘You are not eating sufficient like me,’ is that logic?”

“No,” said Ādi-keśava, “it is not logic.”

Prabhupāda: “So you are just like cows and asses. You eat voraciously. Does it mean I have to eat voraciously?”

“But what proof is there?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami. “They may argue for proof of the soul.”

“This is proof,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Now if the real active principle has left, if you can understand it, then replace it. Replace life. If you cannot, then you have no brain.” Prabhupāda argued that at death, although the parts of a body remained, something was missing.

“But you have not seen that something,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“See it or not,” said Prabhupāda, “I can see. Why this man is dead? Something is missing.”

“Well,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “it’s just like a machine.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda became fiery. “A machine you can replace! Why don’t you bring a new body and replace the dead one? Therefore you have no brain! It is a completely different thing!”

Prabhupāda said this philosophy of the soul should be presented in court. “It will be very interesting,” he said. “The case will prolong, and we can disclose our whole philosophy. Is it not? Think deeply, over and over, and fight. Tell them, ‘What is your seeing? You cannot see beyond this wall. Does it mean there is nothing? Why depend on your seeing, rascal? You are being brainless.’ I take it as a good opportunity for describing our whole philosophy. Don’t take it as otherwise. Rather, prove yourself sufficient in this subject matter. This is a trial examination.”

The devotees told Prabhupāda how critics were examining the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and trying to find fault with the devotees on the basis of their philosophy. They were challenged in court about Prabhupāda’s statement that man had not gone to the moon.

“I personally did not go with you,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “So how shall I believe? From the practical point of view, I did not go. It is just some news, so why should I accept it? They believe some paper, that’s all. So why shall we not believe the Vedic literatures? Vedic literature is so authoritative. It has been accepted by the ācāryas.”

Next the devotees began talking about how the parents and deprogrammers justified their use of force. “This clouds the issue in the courtroom,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami, “because everyone naturally feels very sympathetic toward the fathers and mothers.”

“Why don’t you quote from our śāstra,” replied Śrīla Prabhupāda, “that he is not father – pitā na sa syāt. Find this verse.”

Pradyumna had the book off the shelf and his finger on the verse within a few seconds. He read, gurur na sa syāt sva-jano na sa syāt, pitā na sa syāj jananī na sā syāt / daivaṁ na tat syān na patiś ca sa syān, na mocayed yaḥ samupeta-mṛtyum. “One who cannot deliver his dependents from the path of repeated birth and death should never become a spiritual master, a father, husband, mother, or worshipable demigod.”

“So how is he the father?” asked Prabhupāda. “What is the purport?”

Ādi-keśava Swami: “They argue sometimes that —”

“You will argue your point,” interrupted Prabhupāda, “but our point is there. We shall argue from our point of view. Unless the father releases the son from the cycle of birth and death, he is not father.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda never let up, and finally he concluded, “If you try to advise a rascal, he will be angry. So this is the position. Still, we have to do our business. What can be done? Difficult task. Therefore, if you want to please Kṛṣṇa very quickly, struggle for preaching: ya idaṁ paramaṁ guhyaṁ mad-bhakteṣv abhidhāsyati. So we have got our business, to please Kṛṣṇa. That is our mission. So despite so many inconveniences, we have to do this business. Mūḍho ’yaṁ nābhijānāti loko mām ajam avyayam.* They are all mūḍhas. So we have been engaged to teach them some lesson.”

Ādi-keśava mentioned that an official in the Indian Embassy had said that the Indian government would give him asylum if necessary. Śrīla Prabhupāda was pleased to hear this. When Ādi-keśava admitted that he was sometimes discouraged and alone in the prolonged legal struggle, Prabhupāda said he could take other men with him to help. But the main backing Ādi-keśava required was from Śrīla Prabhupāda; he wanted Prabhupāda’s mercy. And Prabhupāda, like a father, gave solace and courage to his young, rather frail-looking son who was going into battle. Don’t be afraid, Prabhupāda said. Repeatedly he would call Ādi-keśava to his room to give him more mercy: another logical argument, an instruction on how he should act in court. Prabhupāda’s essential advice, of which Ādi-keśava was now aware and convinced, was that he should preach; Kṛṣṇa would protect him.

Prabhupāda’s dictation continued:

Now the very same arguments that Prabhupāda had spoken to the sannyāsīs were immortalized in the Bhaktivedanta purports. In the future, after the court case had been finished and mostly forgotten, Prabhupāda’s true assessment of the situation would prevail.

Soon the Māyāpur Chandrodaya Mandir was teeming with transcendental activity; the Gaura-pūrṇimā festival was in full swing. The Vaikuṇṭha Players of New York staged an evening theater performance of the Rāmāyaṇa, and Śrīla Prabhupāda attended. The audience watched and appreciated Śrīla Prabhupāda almost as much as they did the play.

On the opening night of the paṇḍāl, a government minister attended to officially inaugurate the festivities. He cut a ribbon to open the new building, and he and Śrīla Prabhupāda walked together down the long first-floor corridor and viewed a photo display of ISKCON centers around the world. Halfway down the corridor Śrīla Prabhupāda stopped, shook his head, and said, “It is all inconceivable.” The minister was also amazed at the scale on which Śrīla Prabhupāda was propagating Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavism. Then Śrīla Prabhupāda and his guest went onto the stage. The minister gave an introductory speech, glorifying a well-known impersonalist swami, referring to him as a divine incarnation. He also slighted the name of Lord Caitanya by saying that although he didn’t know whether Caitanya Mahāprabhu was an incarnation, he knew He had certainly done good in the world.

Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke next, using scriptural evidence to correct the erroneous opinions the minister had given in his talk. Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke in Bengali, and most of his disciples could not understand, but they could appreciate the gist. Later, when Śrīla Prabhupāda was sitting in his room with a few devotees, he began laughing. Smacking his fist into his left palm, he said, “I have smashed him.”

With Gaura-pūrṇimā only about a week away, thousands of Bengali pilgrims were attending the ISKCON center each night. They streamed into the temple room for kīrtana and darśana of Rādhā-Mādhava and then went to see the ISKCON photo exhibit. It was the biggest and best organized Māyāpur festival ever. Despite the opposition in America, Lord Caitanya’s movement was flooding the world with the waves of saṅkīrtana, and this gathering of more than five hundred devotees from every continent was a powerful testimony to the good health of the growing Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement.

Rāmeśvara Swami returned with the latest figures of Prabhupāda’s book production. In the English language alone Śrīla Prabhupāda had published 43,450,500 pieces of literature. And the total production of Prabhupāda’s books in twenty-three languages, including Russian, was 55,314,000, more than ninety percent of which had already been distributed. Rāmeśvara also presented Śrīla Prabhupāda with a new book just off the press, the Ninth Canto, Part One, of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. Rādhāvallabha reported that the next printing of Bhagavad-gītā As It Is would be so large that the paper required to print it would have to be carried on seventy-six train cars. Prabhupāda and the devotees laughed at the astounding figures.

Prabhupāda thanked the devotees for their hard work. “This is the blessing of my Guru Mahārāja,” he said. “He wanted it. And because we are trying to do this, he is giving us all blessings.”

The G.B.C. men began their annual three days of meetings, and each evening they would meet with Prabhupāda. He heard their proposals and, after making some corrections, approved them. The final item on the G.B.C.’s list of resolutions was that all ISKCON temples hold twenty-four-hour kīrtana, in view of Prabhupāda’s sickness. The devotees had also done this in 1974 when Prabhupāda had been ill. “Yes,” Prabhupāda said when he heard the resolution, “chanting is the only cure for all diseases.”

On Gaura-pūrṇimā, Śrīla Prabhupāda accepted more than two hundred disciples for first initiation, and he awarded second initiation to one hundred disciples. Huge crowds poured through the front gate all day; and from four P.M. until late at night, the roads would be packed and the kīrtanas would attract large receptive audiences.

In the afternoon Śrīla Prabhupāda received Tarun Kanti Ghosh, the home minister for Bengal, also in charge of the state police force. Prabhupāda spoke with Mr. Ghosh in his room and found him very favorable toward ISKCON and the Kṛṣṇa consciousness philosophy.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had decided to stay on in Māyāpur instead of accompanying the devotees to Vṛndāvana for the second half of the festival, so some of the leaders came to his room to pay their respects before departing. When Harikeśa Swami and Ādi-keśava Swami entered together, Prabhupāda told Harikeśa that because the people in the Communist countries were suffering so much, he should give them books without making them pay. Turning to Ādi-keśava, he said he had placed much responsibility on Ādi-keśava’s thin shoulders but that he should be victorious. “So you are Harikeśa and Ādi-keśava,” he said, “the Keśa brothers. So go and preach. Be successful.” Śrīla Prabhupāda similarly spoke lovingly with other G.B.C. men as they departed for their assigned areas around the world.

Within a few days, Māyāpur was again quiet, with very few visiting devotees remaining.

“My mission is now successful,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “In 1965 I went there. This is now recognized after twelve years. I was loitering in the street alone, carrying the books. Nobody cared.”

Svarūpa Dāmodara was present, and he spoke with Prabhupāda about the Bhaktivedanta Institute and about preaching in Manipur. And other matters came before Prabhupāda’s attention. But he kept coming back to the news from New York. “Our most auspicious sign is this,” said Prabhupāda, “ – ‘Hare Krishna Movement Is Bona Fide Religion.’ ”

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s plans were to move to Bombay. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami said a lot of senior devotees were gathering in Bombay. They had gone there from Vṛndāvana and were waiting for Prabhupāda. “I am, therefore, going,” said Prabhupāda, “in spite of my so much inconveniences. I am going there.”

“You want to stay in Bombay?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “How long?”

“I don’t want to stay anywhere,” said Prabhupāda. “I want to work. Staying – I have stayed in big, big palaces, big, big cities. I have no other desire but to work.”

“How long do you want to work in Bombay?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“So long as there is work,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “There is no end of it. Our Bombay should be organized. Work is our life. There is no question of how long. As long as possible. Kṛṣṇa is giving us good opportunities. Now we should take it seriously. It is not a joke – ‘Hare Krishna Movement Is Bona Fide Religion.’ ”

The devotees discussed before Prabhupāda the significance of the court decision. They also appreciated the judge and said that he was a senior man in the courts and was considered conservative. Śrīla Prabhupāda said that he should be sent a letter of congratulations: “May God bless you for such right judgment. Live long life to serve God.”

“Honest and sincere people normally appreciate our movement,” said Svarūpa Dāmodara. “Only those who are envious —”

“Envious we don’t care about,” Prabhupāda interjected. “We don’t care, never care about. I didn’t care – many times, even my Godbrothers. Neither do I care just now. I’ll go on with my work. Why care? We are doing our duty, that’s all – under the higher authoritative order. Have no fear. It is not personal gratification. So arrange for Manipur. We shall go.”

Svarūpa Dāmodara said he would go to Delhi and try to arrange permits for entry, but that it would be hard, since most foreigners were not allowed to enter Manipur. He said that after doing his business, he would come to Bombay and see Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“Now work very strenuously,” said Prabhupāda. “You are all young men. And somehow or other, to a dead horse you have given life. The last fortnight I was thinking I was dead. I was thinking like that – now life is finished. I can be finished at any time – that is not amazing. To live, that is amazing. My life is finished – that is not amazing. No one will lament. ‘Oh, he was old man, eighty-two years old.’ But if I can live for some days more, that is wonderful. If I die that is not wonderful.”

“Kṛṣṇa is wonderful,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami.

“Kṛṣṇa is wonderful always,” said Prabhupāda.

“And you are wonderful,” said Bhavānanda Goswami.

“I am wonderful,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “as long as I serve Kṛṣṇa. Otherwise, useless, no value. If I can serve Kṛṣṇa, then I am wonderful, certainly.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda continued declaring that Kṛṣṇa was the most wonderful and could do anything. That he was alive and still active, he said, attested to Kṛṣṇa’s being wonderful. “If Kṛṣṇa is not wonderful,” he said, “is it possible for me to do all these things? Who am I? We don’t want to become cheaply wonderful. We want to become really wonderful, by serving Kṛṣṇa. That is our mission. Kṛṣṇa is wonderful undoubtedly. Who can become more wonderful than Kṛṣṇa? Mattaḥ parataraṁ nānyat. Always remember, Kṛṣṇa is wonderful. Don’t take Kṛṣṇa very slightly, like one of you. That is foolishness. Kṛṣṇa is wonderful always. He is the most wonderful person, and He can do anything wonderful.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda continued to make appreciative remarks about the judge’s decision. He said he had feared the case might have taken fourteen years, and yet it had not even taken fourteen hours. Kṛṣṇa was so wonderful.

March 22
  The senior devotees in Māyāpur felt Śrīla Prabhupāda was too ill to travel and that he should remain there and recuperate. Besides, reports from Bombay were conflicting. Surabhi Swami, knowing that Prabhupāda’s quarters weren’t finished, wanted more time, so he wired Prabhupāda, requesting him not to come. But Girirāja and others had been arranging a lecture program for Śrīla Prabhupāda at a paṇḍāl in Azad Maidan in Bombay, and Girirāja had written inviting Prabhupāda. Prabhupāda considered the opportunities for preaching and decided to go. He had his secretary send a telegram from Māyāpur to Bombay.

But on Prabhupāda’s arrival in Bombay, he was so weak that he could not walk down the steep stairs from the airplane, and airline personnel arranged for him to be lowered to the ground by hydraulic lift. Once he was on the ground, several devotees assisted him in walking. Although he appeared frail, he smiled brightly when he saw the devotees waiting for him at the airport.

In the car Śrīla Prabhupāda inquired about the Bombay temple, and Hari-śauri informed him that his quarters were not yet ready, with no toilet, no running water, no doors or windows, and the workmen polishing the floors. Prabhupāda dismissed these objections and said he would move in anyway. The devotees who knew the state of the building became extremely anxious. It didn’t seem possible that anyone could live there. But Prabhupāda said he would.

Hari-śauri said he was surprised Prabhupāda had decided to travel, and Prabhupāda replied, “Yes, even up to last night, there was no chance of my coming. But still, somehow or other, we are here.” Prabhupāda was traveling and preaching because that was his life. For more than thirty years he had been spreading the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement – first in India and then in America and throughout the world. As long as Kṛṣṇa gave him even a little strength, he would continue. He wanted to hold the public lectures in the city, and he wanted to observe the progress of the construction at Hare Krishna Land, his grandest temple. Even though the temple was not completed, he would move in and show the devotees how to use it.

As they drove up to the entrance to Hare Krishna Land, Prabhupāda could see the tall towers of the ISKCON hotel and the incomplete but massive domes of the temple. These huge structures dwarfed the little shed that was the temporary residence of Śrī Śrī Rādhā-Rāsavihārī. The Deities had been in that shed since 1971, when Prabhupāda had moved Them there, with a promise that he would build Them a beautiful temple. And now, after much difficulty and struggle, that promise was soon to be fulfilled. Rādhā-Rāsavihārī would soon move into one of the most gorgeous and opulent temples in India.

Hare Krishna Land was intense with activity as some two hundred workers plied their various skills in constructing the temple-hotel complex, under the direction of Surabhi Swami and his assistants. A dozen men were cutting redstone slabs to cover the concrete superstructure of the hotel; almost fifty marble workers were chipping away with hammers, making decorative columns and arches in the temple; and masons and interior finishers were working on the theater building. Much of the work was completed, yet everything still appeared bare, like bones without flesh. The hotel had no windows or doors and, of course, no furniture or curtains, and the temple was mostly an unfinished structure.

The work crews were moving quickly, concentrating especially on Śrīla Prabhupāda’s quarters on the top floor of one of the hotel towers. But even that was not ready, so Citrakāra, as ordered by Surabhi Swami and Girirāja, drove Prabhupāda’s car past the hotel to the rear of the property, to where Prabhupāda usually stayed, in an apartment in one of the old tenement buildings.

Devotees were waiting at Śrīla Prabhupāda’s tenement room in happy anticipation. They were prepared with paraphernalia to perform a foot-bathing ceremony and ārati, and they had spent most of the day cleaning the rooms, which were decorated with lily garlands and scented with incense. A group of devotees stood outside the building with mṛdaṅgas and karatālas holding kīrtana, and some of the brahmacāriṇīs were poised, ready to throw flower petals before Śrīla Prabhupāda when he walked from his car and up the stairs. But Śrīla Prabhupāda was in a different mood. “I will never again go into this apartment,” he said. “Take me to my new quarters.” Citrakāra repeated what Śrīla Prabhupāda had already heard: “Your quarters aren’t ready yet, Śrīla Prabhupāda. It will take a few more days to finish.”

“Call Surabhi Mahārāja,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. He was adamant. The devotees in the apartment and in front of the tenement wondered why Śrīla Prabhupāda wasn’t getting out of his car. As Citrakāra was driving Prabhupāda back to the hotel, Surabhi came running up behind.

“Why are my quarters not ready?” Prabhupāda asked from the car window. Running to catch up, Surabhi explained that he needed a few more days and that Śrīla Prabhupāda could please stay at his old apartment in the meantime.

“You do what I say!” shouted Prabhupāda. The car stopped. “If I don’t go there now,” Prabhupāda said, still speaking loudly, “it will never be finished. I want to go now!”

“Yes, Śrīla Prabhupāda.” And Surabhi ran off to see if he could get the elevator to work. Meanwhile, the assembled devotees, having heard the news, also ran to be with Prabhupāda as he entered his new quarters.

Śrīla Prabhupāda felt his time was limited, and if he was not insistent, his disciples would delay more and more. He had already been delayed for years by the landowner and the government. Even after he had purchased the land, the police commissioner had remarked that the kīrtana was “a nuisance” and had delayed construction for months by denying the No Objection Certificate. But despite so many delays, Prabhupāda had persisted and won. No, he wouldn’t go back to the old place. Now the new Bombay temple should come to life – now that he had come.

The elevator didn’t work. The devotees, therefore, carried Prabhupāda in a palanquin up the stairs to his fifth-floor apartment. The place was cluttered, and the floor was covered with a thick, greasy marble polish the workers were using. The dozen workers present were confused – why was their work being interrupted? The devotees rushed in with drums, karatālas, and ārati paraphernalia, but just stood around, not knowing what to do. The room was bare, with no furniture, desk, or sitting place.

Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, looked around at the chaotic scene and said, “I am going to sit down here.” A devotee took off a woolen cādara and placed it on the floor in an isolated dry part of the room, and Śrīla Prabhupāda sat down. “Now you can do what you like,” he said.

While some of the devotees began washing the floor, others ran to find serviceable pieces of furniture to provide Śrīla Prabhupāda with a desk, seat, and bed. Surabhi Swami nervously bathed Prabhupāda’s feet and then offered ārati, while devotees sang śrī-guru-caraṇa-padma and tried not to slip on the greasy floor. Surveying the scene with a satisfied look, Śrīla Prabhupāda smiled broadly and said, “Thank you very much.”

When the welcoming function was complete, Śrīla Prabhupāda was left alone with his secretaries. He said his quarters were to his liking. He spent the night there, but the next day agreed to move for a week to the home of Mr. Kartikeya Mahadevia. For a week he would attend the Bombay paṇḍāl program, which was near Mr. Mahādevia’s home, and this would give Surabhi Swami enough time to get the quarters ready.

Compared to former paṇḍāl festivals, where sometimes thirty thousand people had gathered in one evening, this one was small, with only about a thousand attending nightly. The main reason for such a small turnout was that India had just held an election, and the people were absorbed in politics. On March 22, after the Congress party had been defeated in the House of Parliament, Prime Minister Indira Gandhi had resigned. Within a day or two, a new prime minister would be selected from the Janata party. Many Bombayites who might otherwise have attended the paṇḍāl lecture were caught up in hearing the news, attending rallies, or talking about national politics and the fall of Indira Gandhi. But the small crowd that attended was very interested. Prabhupāda was not disappointed.

Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke, and his faint voice was amplified over the sound system. “Bhavānanda Swami will recite two or three verses from Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam,” he said, “which is the theme of our Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. The first verse begins with taravaḥ kiṁ na jīvanti.”

“Do the trees not live?” Bhavānanda recited loudly. “Do the bellows of the blacksmith not breathe? All around us do the beasts not eat and discharge semen?” He read Śrīla Prabhupāda’s purport and then read the next verse: “Men who are like dogs, hogs, camels, and asses praise those men who never listen to the transcendental pastimes of Lord Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the deliverer from evils.” After Bhavānanda finished reading the long purport to that verse, Śrīla Prabhupāda began his lecture. He explained how the spirit soul changes bodies, life after life, but admitted that people are generally unaware of this simple fact. “But at least in India,” he said, “this condition should now be changed.” Not everyone would be able to realize this spiritual knowledge, but at least there should be an ideal institution. And that, he said, was the purpose of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, to create ideal brāhmaṇas who could guide and instruct the rest of the society.

“Not from so-called politicians,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “This is Indian civilization. Formerly even Lord Rāmacandra, who was the king – He is God Himself – still He used to consult the learned brāhmaṇas, sages, and saintly persons for governmental duties. The divisions of society must be there. There are so many things to be done in the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Don’t take that it is simply chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa. Hare Kṛṣṇa chanting is the prime factor, because if you chant Hare Kṛṣṇa mahā-mantra, then gradually everything will be clear in your mind.”

Prabhupāda told how he had overcome opposition in America and how the people there were taking Kṛṣṇa consciousness seriously. When he stated his plan for a combination of American money and Indian culture, the people applauded. “The real thing is knowledge,” Śrīla Prabhupāda concluded. “So don’t keep this knowledge locked up in your books, but spread it. My only request is that the leaders of India should now come forward and join this movement and take this advantage of doing good to the whole world. Thank you very much.” The audience’s applause swelled into a sustained ovation.

Prabhupāda’s voice had been weak, his body almost motionless, but he had projected a power that had overcome those bodily limitations. His presence was, in fact, more commanding than ever. His energy was obviously the pure energy of the soul, transcendental to the bodily condition. Girirāja Swami called for questions, inviting people to come up and speak into a microphone in front of the stage.

Woman: “Isn’t spiritual life very taxing?”

Prabhupāda: “Do you think that you are not being taxed? Why should you not be taxed for the proper gain? You are being taxed for so many nonsense things. Why not be taxed for the proper thing? That is intelligence.”

As Prabhupāda answered the questions, he became more and more forceful, although he remained very still, not even moving his hand. His answers were not as lengthy as usual – he seemed to be saving his energy – but he delivered each answer with intense emphasis and conviction.

A well-dressed, middle-aged Indian man stepped forward and asked, “Swamiji, what is the importance of health in life, and how do you advise people to maintain health? And how does it connect to your mission?”

Prabhupāda: “What is health? First of all you have to understand that however healthy you may be, you must die. So what problem will you have solved? Janma-mṛtyu-jarā-vyādhi duḥkha-doṣānudarśanam, Kṛṣṇa says. It is not my manufacturing. Although you may try to remain very healthy, nature’s law is that you must die. How can you help yourself? After all, you have to meet death. So long as you have got this material body, there is no question of health. You must suffer. You may be a very great scientist, but nature’s law must act. Prakṛteh kriyamāṇāni. Foolish persons bewildered by false egotism think, ‘I am improving my health, I am improving this… ’ He is improving nothing. He’s completely under the clutches of material nature. He can’t act anything independently. That is the law of nature.”

Another man asked if Prabhupāda could solve political problems “with this religious basis.”

“Yes,” Prabhupāda replied. “All problems will be solved when we become Kṛṣṇa conscious.”

“What is the simple solution to understand the soul?” another man asked. “I would like to understand the soul.”

“This is very simple,” Śrīla Prabhupāda replied, “but you are educated so foolishly that you cannot understand.” Śrīla Prabhupāda explained briefly that the body is made of material elements but that there is a superior element. “Anyone can understand,” he said. “Everything is explained in the Bhagavad-gītā. But people are not serious to understand.”

In fact, Śrīla Prabhupāda was becoming increasingly strong in his uncompromising criticism of all mūḍhas who do not accept Kṛṣṇa as the Supreme Personality of Godhead. He was condemning materialistic civilization, calling it a dog civilization or an anthill civilization. A dog runs on four legs, and a human being runs on four wheels; but if he doesn’t know the meaning of life, then he is no better than the dog. Both humans and ants build tall edifices, but if a man doesn’t know of the soul and of Kṛṣṇa, then despite his proud skyscrapers, his civilization is no more than a glorified anthill.

“If more visitors come,” Prabhupāda said, “I shall describe all this anthill civilization. Health – nonsense. What health? He’ll be kicked out immediately.” Śrīla Prabhupāda was referring to the man’s question from the paṇḍāl. “Who is healthy if he is going to die?” Prabhupāda asked. “ ‘I am so healthy that I am going to die tomorrow.’ This is their health.”

“Almost every one of those questions,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami, “was about the body.”

Prabhupāda: “Kṛṣṇa says, na hanyate hanyamāne śarīre. That is healthy. When you do not die although the body is destroyed, that is healthy life. What is this healthy life? The body is finished – and everything. Actually, everything is not finished, but people are kept in that ignorance. They think the body is finished and then everything is finished, but that is not the fact. Kṛṣṇa very clearly said, na jāyate mriyate vā kadācin.* If you do not question, then how is it possible? But that is the most important question.”

Prabhupāda mentioned that despite the United Nations World Health Organization, still everyone was going to die. “Where is health?” he asked. “Such foolish things are going on all over the world. So organize. Introduce reality to them and spread it, slow but sure.”

“So we shouldn’t be impatient and compromise,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami, “just to be popular.”

“There’s no question of becoming impatient,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “You have got a diamond. If there is no buyer of the diamond, that does not mean you have to throw it away. You must know that ‘Here is a diamond. If I want it, I must pay the proper price.’ That I want to establish. Why India’s culture should be lost in this way? I am not a cheap patriot. I want to give Indian culture to the whole world. I am not going to cheat people, taking Bhagavad-gītā and speaking all nonsense. I want to present Bhagavad-gītā as it is. That is my mission. Why should I cheat you?”

“We will try to follow your message properly,” said Mr. Mahadevia.

“Why should India’s big culture be lost for the matter of these rascal leaders?” said Prabhupāda. “They should be stopped. Kṛṣṇa consciousness is all-inclusive. Just like the economic question: annād bhavanti bhūtāni. Kṛṣṇa says grow food. It is practical. But when I was travelling, I saw millions of clerks coming to get education. And who is growing the food? Then these clerks have to be provided in these pigeonholes and depend on ration. Is that civilization? Throngs of people are coming. They are coming like ants. And when you go to the village, it is all vacant. No one is interested to produce food. Everyone is interested to live in the city in these pigeonholes and go to the cinema, the brothel, go to the club, learn how to drink, how to become ‘gentlemen.’ Is that civilization? The human aim of life is lost. You do not know why you are going to the office, why you are eating. They are keeping humanity in an animal mentality, a doggish mentality. University education is a doggish mentality. The dog wags his tail as soon as you give him some food.”

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Mahadevia. “For application for a job, there are five jobs, and five dozen people apply.”

“Is that education?” said Prabhupāda. “Better not to be educated. Those who are not educated, they can purchase five rupees’ worth of potatoes and sit down anywhere. After spending so much money, living at the cost of fathers and mothers, they have no job and no food. Then they plan some political party – Naxalite or this or that party – and join a political movement and help Indira Gandhi. You are paid to make propaganda.”

“But all that has vanished now,” said Mr. Mahadevia. “That plan has failed completely.” Like many other Indians, Mr. Mahadevia was hopeful that with a new election, conditions would be improving.

“No,” said Prabhupāda, “another one will come. This unemployment is there. When I was a child, we were purchasing mustard oil for three annas, and now it is selling for thirteen rupees per kilo. Will a change of government bring this thirteen rupees to three annas? Then what is the benefit? Stool is stool, whether you take it from the top side or the bottom side.”

A few devotees entered the room and sat, while Prabhupāda encouraged them all in preaching. He said that people could not get relief through government but through Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Kṛṣṇa and His devotees were for everyone, not for a particular nation or person.

“The people are in darkness,” said Prabhupāda. “And the politicians are keeping them like dogs, hogs, and camels, taking a vote from them and becoming a leader. Nobody protested last night, however, that I called all men dogs, hogs, and camels. No one came forward and said, ‘You are using very strong words.’ Because it is all a fact.”

“They especially liked your idea,” said Hṛdayānanda Goswami, “of American money and Indian culture. They applauded for that.”

“Yes, that is my mission,” said Prabhupāda. “I am doing that. I am bringing money from America. Nobody is paying me. It is not a joke. Ten lakhs of rupees. Who else brings?”

“Even big export companies don’t bring so much,” said Gopāla Kṛṣṇa.

“And they will be glad,” said Prabhupāda. “They have got money, and they are getting culture. I am trying for united nations. That is the real attempt, not this United Nations, all rogues and thieves and cheaters, barking dogs. I am trying for real United Nations. Let us cooperate together.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples rallied to hear him speak like this, and they resolved to somehow counteract the forces of ignorance through Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He said they should proceed slowly but surely, just as he had done. He had begun humbly, “loitering” on the streets of New York, and before that he had been living alone in the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple. But now there was the Bombay temple, a palace that would be crowded with thousands of guests to see the Deity and attend cultural programs.

“Do it enthusiastically,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “You are all young men.”

“Our enthusiasm is coming from you, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“I am old man,” said Prabhupāda faintly. But the devotees didn’t accept that; Śrīla Prabhupāda was nava-yauvana, spiritually ever fresh.

In his evening lectures Śrīla Prabhupāda advised his hearers against identifying with any political party. One day someone is a prime minister, he said, and the next day that person is finished. Although Prabhupāda had begun his lecture series by apologizing to the audience, saying he could not speak much because of his poor health, each night he very strongly argued that Kṛṣṇa consciousness is the only solution. And during the question and answer period that followed his lecture, he was often explosive.

“When chanting,” a man asked through the microphone at the front of the stage, “you chant the name of Rāma as well as Kṛṣṇa. But I do not see any photograph of Rāma here. What is the reason?”

“You do not see, but can you hear?” Prabhupāda asked.

“I do not see!” the man insisted.

Śrīla Prabhupāda exploded, “But you do not hear!” And he went on to explain that hearing is the best way of understanding that which you cannot see.

Another man asked how a religious-minded person could move in the material world. Prabhupāda replied, “Therefore you have to understand your spiritual identification. But because you are fools and rascals you are thinking, ‘I am this body.’ ” He said that to realize this knowledge one must be trained by a spiritual master.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was aware that most of the questioners had no serious intentions of following him, so sometimes he reprimanded them, like an older brother, for their foolishness. Even their asking philosophical questions with no intention of following was itself foolishness. But Śrīla Prabhupāda continued to offer the diamond of Kṛṣṇa consciousness, even when the inquirer didn’t possess the purchase price of sincerity. He offered it nonetheless, and at great expense to his own physical condition.

When a man rhetorically asked Prabhupāda to kindly enlighten him about the soul, Śrīla Prabhupāda replied, “That is already explained, that you are a soul within the body.” Śrīla Prabhupāda elaborated on how the senses are superior to dull matter, the mind is higher than the senses, intelligence is higher than the mind, and the soul is highest of all. “So it requires study,” he said. “It requires education. The education is there, the books are there, the teachers are there. Unfortunately, you are not interested to take this spiritual education. You are now interested in technology – how to hammer. That’s all.”

Each evening a prominent guest would appear at the paṇḍāl and introduce the program. One night, after J. M. Gandhi, a justice of the high court of Bombay, spoke, Bhavānanda Goswami read aloud the first two verses, along with Śrīla Prabhupāda’s commentary, from the teachings of Lord Ṛṣabhadeva in the Fifth Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke briefly and agreed to take questions.

“If God is everywhere,” a man asked, “why His presence is not felt by everybody?”

“Everybody is not intelligent,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Mostly they are rascals. Manuṣyānāṁ sahasreṣu. This is the statement by God that, ‘Out of millions of persons, one tries to become perfect. And out of many millions of perfect persons, one can understand God.’ So God understanding is not so easy. But if we want to understand, God will help us. That is the point.”

The next man said he had several questions. “My first question is, I don’t think God is opposed to sex. Seriously. I have heard many a lecture, and it is always stressed as if the God is opposed to sex. But I don’t think that’s so.”

“God is never opposed to sex,” replied Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Who said? God said, dharmāviruddho kāmo ’smi: ‘Sex which is not against the regulative principles of religious life, that I am.’ God never says, ‘Stop sex.’ Otherwise, why is there gṛhastha-āśrama? Āśrama means that there is Kṛṣṇa consciousness. But make it āśrama, and follow the rules and regulations of āśrama. Then it is all right. Otherwise, you are bound up by the laws of nature.”

The same man then referred to Prabhupāda’s purport which Bhavānanda Goswami had read, in which Prabhupāda had criticized the life of the hoglike man who lives only for sense gratification. “One of your principal statements,” the man said, “was that a man goes on the motor tram, stands there for two hours, reaches his place of business and works there from nine o’clock in the morning to five o’clock in the evening, returns back, has his food and sex and all that. I found many people who have worked very hard, raised children very nicely, have sex, but lead a good life. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.”

“Yes, if there is no wrong,” said Prabhupāda, “it is all right. But this sort of life is not very palatable.”

The man continued, “Because I find even the dog —”

Śrīla Prabhupāda interrupted, but his reply was soft and humble. “If you like that life, if you feel it is good, then that is up to you. But I don’t think this is a very nice way of life, to work so hard simply for bread.”

“No,” the man said, “I agree there.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda then raised his voice more strongly. “Then agreed, agreed. Then why disagree? That’s all right, no more.” The man had more questions, but Tamāla Kṛṣṇa called on someone else.

“Would you agree that God is just a concept? If you do not, please give a logical reason for that.”

Prabhupāda: “Why shall I agree that God is only a concept?”

“Because I want it logically.”

“You do not know logic. You have to learn logic.”

“But I still would like you to explain it logically.”

“Yes, but you have to learn how to know it. There is master. Just like you cannot prove logically that without father, there is a child.” Śrīla Prabhupāda explained that everything we see is growing out of the earth, and the earth is described in the Vedas as the mother. But there cannot be a child without a father; where there is mother and child, there must be father. God, therefore, is the father of everything.

The following night Prabhupāda did not speak at all, but he sat onstage while two of India’s leading cardiologists, Dr. Kesharrao Datey and Dr. Sharma, spoke. Śrīla Prabhupāda had been garlanded by Dr. Datey, and he sat patiently and silently on the vyāsāsana, satisfied that prominent Bombayites were honoring the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Dr. Datey spoke about heart disease and said it could be eliminated by controlling anxiety. He then praised Śrīla Prabhupāda and his movement. After the doctors’ brief talks, Svarūpa Dāmodara gave another scientific lecture and showed slides. Śrīla Prabhupāda later told Svarūpa Dāmodara and others, “This scientific program is giving me extra strength to preach Kṛṣṇa consciousness.”

“It seems like you are giving more stress to science in recent years than previously,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami.

“That is required for convincing the modernized man,” said Prabhupāda. “Perhaps I am the first man who protested against these unauthorized scientists.”

“Oh, yes,” said Svarūpa Dāmodara. “Everybody is afraid of them except Śrīla Prabhupāda. Frankly speaking, I never knew that the problem was this serious before I met Śrīla Prabhupāda. I never thought about this.”

“Therefore I took it so seriously,” said Prabhupāda. “Every morning walk I would look for you and ask, ‘Where is the scientist?’ I thought, ‘Here I have got an opportunity to impress a scientist, and that will fructify.’ That was my aim. Therefore I was bothering you in so many ways.”

“It is your incredible mercy, Prabhupāda,” said Svarūpa Dāmodara.

“Because I cannot use the technical words,” Prabhupāda said, “and he can do that. So I wanted that he should be trained up.”

“When I went there,” Girirāja told Prabhupāda later, “he asked me to sit with them on a dais. So I did. But was that wrong?”

“Why not?” said Prabhupāda. “He is honoring you.”

Girirāja said that Mr. Rajda had asked to be the first speaker at the rally, so that he could be free to come and meet with Śrīla Prabhupāda before leaving the next day for a meeting with the central government in Delhi. Girirāja explained that Mr. Rajda was a member of Parliament from Bombay South, which was the most prestigious district, and that he had formerly helped ISKCON in their case against the attempted demolition of the temple.

Mr. Rajda entered the room and made a respectful gesture of obeisance to Śrīla Prabhupāda. He said he had met Śrīla Prabhupāda once, but since then he had been in jail for nineteen months. Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed surprised. “Jail?” he asked.

Mr. Rajda explained that he had been jailed during Indira Gandhi’s political emergency. More than 150,000 “patriotic people” had been imprisoned, he said, including J. K. Prakash and the present prime minister, Morarji Desai.

“When Girirāja told me that you were here,” said Mr. Rajda, “I told him definitely I would like to ask for darśana.”

“This attempt at material adjustment … . ” Prabhupāda began, speaking slowly. “Just like we felt a little danger under the regime of Indira Gandhi. Now we have another feeling. This is material adjustment. Material adjustment may be temporarily beneficial, but that is not permanently beneficial.”

Mr. Rajda replied, “Unless there is adhyātmika adjustment, there cannot be lasting benefit.” Mr. Rajda was obviously acquainted with the Sanskrit Vedic knowledge, and he was also aware of the value of going to see a saintly person.

Prabhupāda persisted, however, in making the point that people do not really understand spiritual life. He described that the material body is made of different elements, and yet the living being is different than these elements. “Unless we understand this fact,” he said, “which is very nicely explained in the Bhagavad-gītā, this material adjustment will never make us happy.”

Mr. Rajda followed Prabhupāda’s point but asserted that a great change had taken place since the elections. “The basic difference,” he said, “is that formerly there was no moral code observed by the rulers.” He was entirely agreeable – or wanted to be – with Śrīla Prabhupāda, yet they were speaking on different levels. Both asserted that spirituality was needed in government, but Mr. Rajda’s political conclusion was that such spiritual reform was now present in his political party.

Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, continued to speak of people who talk of God yet don’t even know the identity of the soul. He didn’t specify whether this criticism applied to the former or to the present political party, although his remarks seemed to include both. Whoever was not in transcendental knowledge, whoever tried to work in the material field without knowing the difference between spirit and matter, would come to the same inglorious end.

“No,” said Mr. Rajda, “the last rulers, most of them were Communists. They said religion is opium. They didn’t believe in religion at all.”

“Therefore,” Prabhupāda said, “they say something, we say something, he says something, you manufacture something. But nobody knows what is reality. That is the difficulty. Unless you know the reality, to suggest and say, ‘I suggest it,’ does not mean that it is a solution. This is going on all over the world. Na te viduḥ svārtha-gatiṁ hi viṣṇum.* The external features, these material features – they are concerned with that. Earth, water, fire, air, ether, mind, intelligence. But they do not know that beyond this, there is another element. Unless you come to that knowledge, there is no question of welfare activities. That knowledge is available in India.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda accepted Mr. Rajda’s visit as sincere and serious, and so he wanted to convince him to fully accept Kṛṣṇa consciousness if he was really serious about introducing principles of dharma and morality into government. Real dharma had to start with an acceptance of self-realization as the all-important goal of life. It could not succeed just by rubber-stamping the government as religious.

“Now we have got good government,” Śrīla Prabhupāda conceded. “Very nice. Now you should take advantage of the privileges which are there in India. The Bhagavad-gītā is there. If you take directions from Bhagavad-gītā, then the whole human society will be benefited. That you do not know. That is the defect. Even big, big leaders, they profess to be students of Bhagavad-gītā, but they do not know anything, although it is clearly stated. Who is the leader in India who does not know Bhagavad-gītā? Everyone knows. Even Morarji Desai, when he was to be arrested by the leaders of government, he said, ‘Wait, let me finish my reading of Bhagavad-gītā.’ Is it not?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Rajda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “ ‘Let me finish my Bhagavad-gītā, then you can harass me.’ ”

Mr. Rajda added that Mr. Desai was also studying the Bhagavad-gītā very minutely while he was in jail.

“But now,” said Prabhupāda, “he says that ‘Janata is my God.’ Did he not say this recently?” Mr. Rajda admitted that Morarji Desai had stated that, but that he had later clarified it.

“It is the government’s responsibility to make people God conscious,” Śrīla Prabhupāda argued. “It is a very simple thing. God personally is explaining how to become God conscious. It is a very simple thing: man-manā bhava mad-bhaktaḥ.* Even a child can do it, so why not leaders? Then their example should be followed. Why don’t they do this, this God consciousness? Do it seriously. Then everything will be all right. They are defying the existence of God and reading Bhagavad-gītā. This is their position.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda explained to Mr. Rajda how he had been propagating the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement virtually alone. For years he had worked in the West, and now he was bringing his movement to India. “Cooperate with us,” he said. “You are so kind; you have come to see me. You have got desire. So let us take it seriously.”

Mr Rajda seemed very moved, and replied, “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Correct.”

“It is serious,” said Prabhupāda, “but nobody has taken it seriously. Bhagavad-gītā is popular book. Everyone takes the Bhagavad-gītā and says, ‘I am a student of Bhagavad-gītā.’ But if the leaders of a society really set the example, others will follow.”

“That’s correct,” said Mr. Rajda. “A serious effort should be made. Only lip service will not help. That is correct.” Mr. Rajda reminded Prabhupāda how he had supported the Juhu temple at the time of the attempted demolition.

“So you have given a great service,” said Prabhupāda. “Now it is not only not demolished, but it is standing there.”

“It is standing,” affirmed Mr. Rajda, “and a very nice temple.”

Mr. Rajda mentioned the possibility of a meeting between Śrīla Prabhupāda and Morarji Desai. He said it could be arranged if it was convenient for Prabhupāda.

“My life is dedicated for this purpose,” said Prabhupāda. “It is convenient for me at any time. I am not keeping good health at the moment, yet still I have come. I am just trying, even up to the last moment of my life. If I can deliver some good to these people – that is my determination. What is this life? Life will end today or tomorrow or day after. But if you live just to the point, that is the idea. Otherwise, trees are also living – thousands of years. What is the benefit?”

Mr. Rajda confirmed that the meeting could definitely be arranged. He would see the prime minister and fix up a time.

“So,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “there’s some Kṛṣṇa’s purpose that you were elected.”

“It is through His blessings,” said Mr. Rajda.

“Take advantage of His blessings,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Do some service.”

Before leaving, Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Mahadevia. Prabhupāda had one of the devotees purchase a nice sārī and he presented it to Mrs. Mahadevia. “I stayed with you, and this is just my remembrance of thanks, so don’t refuse.” He gave a tape recorder to Mr. Mahadevia, a sārī to the Mahādevias’ daughter Priti, and money to their servants. Mrs. Mahadevia was very pleased but she protested, saying it was a traditional duty and a pleasure for them to receive Prabhupāda in their home. Previously Śrīla Prabhupāda had been playing the tape recorder in Mr. Mahadevia’s presence, and Mr. Mahadevia had admired the sound reproduction. Now, when Śrīla Prabhupāda gave him the tape recorder, he protested. “No, Prabhupāda, I was not telling you that you should give me that tape recorder. I was just telling you that it’s a good piece.”

“No, no,” Prabhupāda insisted, “this is for you. You must keep it.”

Seeing how the one large room was arranged to facilitate his different activities, Śrīla Prabhupāda said, “This is like my room at the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple. In one corner I am writing, in another corner I am sitting, in another corner I am taking prasādam.” The comparison was odd, since the Rādhā-Dāmodara place was a tiny cell, yet Śrīla Prabhupāda saw them as related: the beginning in Vṛndāvana and the apex in Bombay. In either place, he was the same person, humbly taking a little prasādam, writing his books, and ambitiously planning for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

Śrīla Prabhupāda discussed with several of his disciples and Dr. Sharma about his daily routine in Bombay. He said he would come down for darśana of the Deity and would lecture once a week on Sunday. On special occasions he would see a visitor in his quarters, but rarely. “Generally,” he said, “people come to visit and say, ‘How are you? How are you feeling?’ And he takes a half hour even. So what is the use of wasting time like that, ‘How are you?’ Everyone knows that I am not feeling well.”

“So they can come to the temple room in the morning,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “If they actually want to see me, I am going there. They can see me for a half hour. And for talking, there is no need of talking, ‘How are you? How are you feeling?’ This is not talking.”

“Instead,” said Gargamuni Swami, “they can buy some of your books downstairs.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, nodding approvingly. “This is a waste of time. I want to stop this, to answer all these things, ‘How are you?’ ” By saving his time and energy, he said, he could work on his book writing. Devotees assured him that everyone would appreciate this schedule and would be happy that he was working on the Tenth Canto.

“I think I shall be able to work from today,” Prabhupāda declared. “Now I have got very nice place, full freedom. So there will be no difficulty.”

That Prabhupāda would not take any morning walks went without saying. Everyone closely involved with Śrīla Prabhupāda had come to accept a new way of living, with no morning walks and very few classes. Someone suggested that Prabhupāda might like to walk on the roof, but even that seemed to be too difficult.

“No, one story I can go,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Not now, but I can go. So you are trying so much for my comfort, I do not know whether I shall be able to repay you. But I shall try my best. It is not possible to repay your debt, you are so kind. So I can simply pray to Kṛṣṇa to give His blessings to you, so that you may remain very steady in devotional service and preach His message all over the world. Otherwise, I have no other means. Without your help, I could not do anything. So you are very kind. Kindly continue your cooperation. This is the movement for para-upakāra [doing good for others]. I have got report from our other temples all over the world – they are doing very nice. Is it not? Other temples outside India, they are doing very nice.” Svarūpa Dāmodara, who had recently come from the West, told about the successful standard of devotional service in the temples there.

Prabhupāda said he wanted silence so he could do his work, and he told a little story about a woman whose tinkling bracelets disturbed her husband. The husband took one bangle away, but still he was disturbed by the “tink-tink-tink.” He took away another bangle and another, until there was only one left. Then there was no more “tink-tink-tink.” Prabhupāda specifically asked his secretaries not to gather and talk in the outer room. “Remain always one,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “and read books. Then there will be no noise. And as soon as you become two – ‘tink-tink-tink.’ That I don’t want.”

“It won’t happen,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “If anyone comes to see me, I will go out of the apartment.”

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “in this way arrange. It should remain always quiet and serene.”

“These are your quarters,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “No one else should come.”

“And we shall arrange for seeing our own men at a time,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “But the principle should be silence. That will be all right. I will be free to work.”

Prabhupāda continued to appreciate his new situation. The rooms were well ventilated, with plenty of sunlight. Other ISKCON buildings, like the Bhaktivedanta Manor in London, were very good, he said, but in most seasons he couldn’t open the doors or windows, because of the cold. “You have to remain packed up,” he said. “In Detroit and London, you cannot open a window.” But here in Bombay the temperature was ideal, and the area outside Prabhupāda’s window was verdant.

Days went by, and most devotees in Bombay never got to see Prabhupāda. They were all used to having him come down in the morning and walking with them for an hour on Juhu Beach. And they were used to having him come to greet the Deities, give classes, and give darśana in the afternoon. He had always been open, especially in India, allowing anyone to see him at almost any time. He had always received them warmly and listened to their problems or questions with great sympathy. So for them not to be able to see him, even while he was living in their midst, was traumatic. Only two or three secretaries stayed with him, and whenever other devotees came into his rooms to see him, they would feel that they were taxing him and would leave at the first opportunity.

Unexpectedly one morning Śrīla Prabhupāda appeared in the temple room, and the few devotees removed Prabhupāda’s picture from the vyāsāsana so he could sit down. He hadn’t given any warning that he was coming, and many of the devotees were absent. But the word spread that Prabhupāda was there, and the devotees came running.

After the guru-pūjā ārati, Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke to the assembly of devotees. He said he was sorry that he couldn’t come down more often and that he wanted to cook for all the devotees and serve them. On Sunday, he said, he would cook a feast and invite all the devotees up to his quarters. “I shall come daily to the temple,” he said, “and I shall remain up to eight for our darśana and talks, if there is any comment. Generally every day it will be done. And on Sunday you can fix up some time. I will speak in the evening. And then Kṛṣṇa’s desire, as He likes. But for the time being, this arrangement.”

Prabhupāda’s humility and his exactly reading the minds of the devotees made them feel ecstatic love for him. Some of them had even been thinking that Prabhupāda had forgotten them and that other things had become more important for him. But now he was reassuring them. Although he appeared to be incapacitated, he was fully reciprocating with his disciples. He was telling them that as they were controlled by him, so he was also controlled by their loving service.

Śrīla Prabhupāda then explained the significance of guru-pūjā, analyzing some of the words in the song the devotees sang each morning during the ceremony. “So the necessity is prema-bhakti,” he said. “Prema bhakti jāhā hoite avidyā vināśa jāte, divya-jñāna. So what is that divya-jñāna?” Prabhupāda explained that it was the duty of the guru to awaken divya-jñāna, or superior knowledge of the self. Because the guru reveals divya-jñāna, he is worshiped. For the nondevotee, divya-jñāna is never manifest, and one thinks of himself in terms of his body – as American, Hindu, or Muslim.

“So we worship the guru,” said Prabhupāda, “because he gives us superior knowledge. Not this knowledge of how to eat, how to sleep, how to have sex life and defend. Generally, the political leaders, the social leaders, they give this knowledge: how to eat, how to sleep, how to have sex, how to defend. The guru has no business with these things. He has divya-jñāna, superior knowledge. That is required. This human form of life is an opportunity to awaken that: divya-jñāna hṛde prokāśito. And if he is kept in darkness about that divya-jñāna, then life will be lost. Remember this. It is a very risky life to be once again thrown into the waves of birth and death. We do not know where we will go. It is very serious. Kṛṣṇa consciousness is divya-jñāna. It is not ordinary knowledge.

“So you should always remember these words, divya-jñāna hṛde prokāśito. And because the spiritual master enlightens with divya-jñāna, one feels obliged to him. Yasya prasādād bhagavat-prasādo / yasya prasādān na gatiḥ kuto ’pi.* So this guru-pūjā is essential, just as the Deity worship is essential. It is not cheap adoration. It is the process of enlightenment, of divya-jñāna. Thank you very much.”

Not only was Prabhupāda reminding his disciples that he hadn’t forgotten them, but he was also reminding them that they should not be absent from the guru-pūjā and worshipful thoughts of the spiritual master, even if he was not able to personally come before them.

Śrīla Prabhupāda mostly stayed alone in his room, and during the day he would move from one desk to another, either to dictate the Bhāgavatam, to take prasādam, or to speak to guests. He was especially prolific at his writing. Rising at one or two in the morning, he would dictate ninety, a hundred, and occasionally almost two hundred digits on his dictating machine. This was more than he had done in months.

But he had little appetite. He could not eat anything heavy, and sometimes he had no appetite even for a cup of milk. Pālikā dāsī and sometimes Kṣīra-corā-gopīnātha, a Bengali devotee, were the cooks. Śrīla Prabhupāda liked Kṣīra-corā-gopīnātha’s śukta, made from nīm leaves, eggplant, bitter melon, potato, sweet potato, and yogurt.

One morning Śrīla Prabhupāda asked for orange juice, but there were no oranges in the kitchen. Gopīnātha ran to get them, but when he returned, Śrīla Prabhupāda was ringing his bell. Gopīnātha rushed in and told him, “I am just coming. It takes time to make the juice.” After a few minutes, when the juice did not come, Śrīla Prabhupāda began repeatedly ringing his bell. As Gopīnātha at last entered with the juice, Prabhupāda spoke out angrily, “I am sick with no appetite, and when I have a little hunger, then you take hours!” He said he didn’t want the juice, but Gopīnātha put it on the table anyway.

Śrīla Prabhupāda picked the glass up and drank. “You are serving me so nicely,” he said quietly. “I am always chastising you. When one gets old, he becomes short-tempered.” Gopīnātha had not felt bad about the reprimand, but on these humble words from Śrīla Prabhupāda he felt terrible. Gopīnātha became so emotional that he could hardly speak. Yet he managed, in a choked voice, to say, “Please, Śrīla Prabhupāda, don’t speak like that. I make mistakes, and if you don’t correct them, then who will?”

There were many little personal exchanges like this between Śrīla Prabhupāda and his assistants, but sometimes he would be more silent and inward than they had ever seen him before. He would spend time chanting and reading, and only on special occasions would he see a guest.

Śrīla Prabhupāda agreed to an interview with Mr. Koshi, assistant editor for The Current magazine. Mr. Koshi’s approach was not reverent but provocative, in search of a lively interview. Prabhupāda was interested in speaking to many people through a magazine article, but he had no interest in flattering the editor or in compromising. Especially of late, as at the Bombay paṇḍāl, Prabhupāda was speaking in the most plain, direct words. Whoever approached him he informed about Kṛṣṇa and their illusion in not accepting Kṛṣṇa. Mr. Koshi asked Prabhupāda why he had been recognized first in countries other than India.

“Because they [Indians] are so poor that they cannot purchase diamond,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “But diamond must be there. They are so poor-hearted, their education has been so poorly given, that they cannot understand.”

“Poorly given?” asked Mr. Koshi.

“Yes,” replied Prabhupāda. “They are teaching, ‘You are this body. Jump like cats and dogs.’ That’s all. That is nationalism? It is, ‘You are this body. Jump like cats and dogs.’ A group, as a group of crows gather together – caw, caw, caw. That has been taught. Make a group and crow. But you don’t find this word nationalism in the Bhagavad-gītā. These are all borrowed words.”

“So what is your alternative?” asked Mr. Koshi.

“We are preaching internationalism,” said Prabhupāda. “Everyone welcome. Come to Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Here is Christian, Hindu. Here is African, Muhammadan – everything. That is real United Nations. If they were thinking that ‘I am American,’ then why are they after a poor Indian man? Indians are known outside India as poverty-stricken, and that’s a fact. But actually we are not poverty-stricken. If we cultivate our own standard of knowledge, Bhagavad-gītā, then we are the richest. We can give the whole world these gifts.”

Prabhupāda said it was regrettable that scholars and politicians pretend to be students of Bhagavad-gītā without even knowing the difference between the body and the owner of the body. They do not even know the first lessons of Bhagavad-gītā.

“So what is the solution?” asked Mr. Koshi.

“Solution!” Prabhupāda shouted. “You learn it!”

“But they don’t want to do it,” said Mr. Koshi.

“Then they will go to hell,” said Prabhupāda. “What can be done? If you want to cut your own throat, you can do it. Who can save you? But our duty is to say, ‘Don’t commit suicide.’ ”

Mr. Koshi made a case for drinking tea and coffee; he could not see how such things were sinful. Prabhupāda explained that they were intoxicants.

“But there are several million like me,” said Mr. Koshi.

“Millions of zeros does not mean one,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Zero is zero. If there are seven million zeros added together, you cannot make one.”

Mr. Koshi also wanted to ask why Prabhupāda paid so much attention only to Kṛṣṇa, since there were hundreds of gods in the pantheon, but Prabhupāda stopped him short.

Mr. Koshi asked about the brainwashing controversy.

“There are so many accusations,” said Prabhupāda, “but now it is in the court.”

“But you don’t require recognition of any court, do you?” asked Mr. Koshi.

“You require,” replied Prabhupāda laughing. “I don’t require. You require.”

“Yes, until then,” said Mr. Koshi, “there is doubt.”

“Because you are after the court,” said Prabhupāda, “after the judges. We are not after anyone. We are after one – Kṛṣṇa. That’s all. We know what our duty is.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda further explained that opposition was coming in America because so many young people were taking to Kṛṣṇa consciousness. “Young men are taking it,” said Prabhupāda. “They are preaching. They have sacrificed their lives. So they are intelligent persons. They can understand that they should not die. Kṛṣṇa consciousness is not an old man’s recreation.”

“No,” said Mr. Koshi, “but you are responsible for it.”

“I am not,” said Prabhupāda. “Kṛṣṇa is responsible. I am just distributing. My duty is to distribute. That’s all.”

Mr. Koshi asked Prabhupāda if he was happy with the way his movement had spread, and Prabhupāda replied, “Why shall I not be happy? I am not manufacturing anything. That is not my business.”

Jumping from one topic to another in search of readable magazine copy, Mr. Koshi asked Prabhupāda, “How is your health now?”

“Not good,” Prabhupāda replied. “Health or no health, it is the outward machine. That doesn’t matter. But if it is a good machine, then it helps. That’s all. Otherwise machine good or bad, it doesn’t matter.”

“What happens when the machine stops?”

“If your machine has stopped,” Prabhupāda said, “you take another machine. That’s all. Why shall I be overwhelmed, ‘Oh, machine is going, machine is going’? Therefore, Kṛṣṇa says, ‘You are lamenting for the machine, you nonsense.’ That is not the paṇḍita’s business.”

Mr. Koshi: “What is your typical day like? What time do you get up, and how do you spend your day?”

“How can I say?” replied Prabhupāda. “I have got so many things.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, sensing that the interview had gone about as far as it could profitably go, spoke up. “Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he said, “I want to suggest that if he has some further questions, we could try to answer them, and then if there are still unanswered ones … . ”

“No,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “he has no answer on this spiritual matter. He will ask me some political questions. We have no function in politics.”

Mr. Koshi disregarded the signal from Prabhupāda’s secretary and went on with his questions. “You see,” he said, “when I see a group of young people like these boys here dancing in the street, it is something jarring to my eyes. What is the necessity for the chant?”

“One man’s food is another man’s poison,” Prabhupāda replied laconically.

“No, no,” said Mr. Koshi, “there must be a purpose behind it.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “that is the way to spiritual understanding in this age.”

Mr. Koshi asked about illicit sex, and Prabhupāda replied that sex should be used only within marriage, for begetting children.

“Don’t you think that the children should be given freedom to choose voluntarily?”

“Do you want to give freedom to your children?” asked Prabhupāda.

“I am asking you,” said Mr. Koshi.

“No, no,” said Prabhupāda, “what is the use of giving freedom to a child with a razor? He will cut his throat, that’s all.”

“But at a later age perhaps.”

“Later age, yes,” said Prabhupāda. “That is enjoined. When a child is sixteen years old he can do as he likes. Not before that.”

Now Mr. Koshi was ready to wrap it up. “What is your message to the world?” he asked Prabhupāda.

Prabhupāda and the devotees laughed. “Again you ask me,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “After reading Rāmāyaṇa, you are asking me whose father is Sītā. I have explained already.”

Before Mr. Koshi left the room, Prabhupāda requested, “Write nice article.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Mr. Koshi replied. “It is my job.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda made sure Mr. Koshi took prasādam before leaving.

Certain managerial affairs Prabhupāda would try to avoid, although often to no avail, such as concerning the delays in completing the construction work at Bombay. He could hear the sounds of the work, and sometimes it was noisy, but it was the slowness that perturbed him. Sometimes he would sit silently for hours and then remark to his servant or secretary that he was very upset by the construction delays. “You are sincere workers,” Prabhupāda told the devotees in charge, “but no intelligence. I can see that this construction work is not going on. Am I to close my eyes? I can do that, but I am a sensible man. How can I close my eyes? They are all giving their excuses.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda analyzed the different leaders and, on finding defects in each of them, concluded that they were incompetent to speed up the construction. When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that maybe they should consult a life member who was expert in construction, Prabhupāda approved. So Mr. Mohatta, an engineer and life member, was brought to see Śrīla Prabhupāda.

At that time, the construction company was demanding that all past bills be paid before they would go on with the work. But Śrīla Prabhupāda said he wouldn’t pay any more bills until the work was completed; then all bills would be paid in full. Although some of the devotees were more inclined to pay the company right away, at least partially, so that the work would go on smoothly, Mr. Mohatta at once appreciated Prabhupāda’s reasoning and began dealing with the construction company on that basis. He got results, and Prabhupāda was relieved. Thus, although Prabhupāda was eager to retire fully, he did not feel he could remove himself from ISKCON management yet.

He began having the newspapers read to him. Much of the news dealt with the downfall of the Congress party and the reform promises of the Janata party. From time to time Prabhupāda would comment, “These rascals, wherever they go, they create trouble.” One time he commented, “Mandaḥ sumanda-matayaḥ – they have got a conception which is very, very bad. Their religious, social, and political conceptions are all condemned.” Prabhupāda’s conclusion: “What the fools and rascals are doing – that is the newspapers.”

Prabhupāda directed Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and others to write letters and articles replying to some of the news stories. In one news editorial, the writer criticized formal education as corrupting the minds of children. “Educationists and researchers,” the writer urged, “should look into the question and suggest remedies.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “That means the rascals do not know that godlessness and godless education will be like that. The teachers who are suggesting, they are themselves bad, and they are leading. They do not know what is the defect. You can write to them, ‘You leaders, you do not know what is the cause. This is the cause – harāv abhaktasya kuto mahad-guṇā/ manorathenāsati dhāvato bahih. Without God consciousness, there cannot be any education, there cannot be any good qualities. You do not know this, and you are simply crying in the wilderness. All the education and its propaganda is to make the world godless, although the most scientific knowledge of God is there in the Bhagavad-gītā.’ Write him. Give him a slap: ‘You do not know.’ ”

Another article, “One Hundred Million Harijans Pick a New Messiah,” observed the death anniversary of Dr. Amritsar, the former champion of human rights for the untouchable caste. The writer lamented that the untouchables, termed “harijans” by Mahatma Gandhi, were so downtrodden and presented such a baffling problem to the leaders and people of India. Śrīla Prabhupāda asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa to write to the editor, explaining how Kṛṣṇa consciousness uplifts the most fallen. “We shall elevate them to go back to Godhead, whatever they may be,” said Prabhupāda. “The defect was that Gandhi started this harijan movement – keeping them where they are and at the same time changing their name by rubber stamp to harijan. That must be failure. Just by artificially giving him money or stamping approval, it won’t change anything. You have to change him. And they have no plan for that. We should not misuse this word harijan, which means the personal associate of God.”

Prabhupāda said that some of the senior devotees should regularly write on topics which he would suggest. More and more they should take up the management, write essays, and give lectures transmitting the arguments he would give them.

“Now you try to manage the whole world organization, all G.B.C. men,” said Prabhupāda. “Suppose I am not there. Manage very nicely. But not independently to create havoc, but really manage. I am still present, so I will give you direction. Don’t spoil it. We are in a very good, prestigious position. So much hard labor. I started with a very humble condition, and now it has come such an exalted position. You don’t spoil it. That is my request. Increase. That will depend on your character, behavior, and preaching. Everyone was astonished how I started this without any help. My only asset was I was sincere. Everyone knows it. Otherwise, how is it possible?”

Upendra, who had come to be Śrīla Prabhupāda’s personal servant, was surprised to see how Prabhupāda’s diet had changed. He could no longer cook the kicharī which Prabhupāda had previously liked. Often Prabhupāda would not even speak when he wanted something, but would indicate an idea or a desire with a nod of the head, a glance, a flick of the finger, or a sound like “Hmm.”

From his room Prabhupāda heard the routine sounds of the day: the call of the cuckoos and the crows, the hammering of the marble workers, and the more distant car engines, horns, bicycle bells. He could also hear the pūjārī’s bell and the conchshell at each ārati, as well as the kīrtanas and bhajanas in the temple room.

One morning while Prabhupāda was talking to Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and Girirāja, the recording of the “Govinda” song began, signifying, as it did in all the ISKCON temples, that the Deity was now giving morning darśana. “Kṛṣṇa consciousness is such a nice thing,” said Prabhupāda. “Alone in this world I am struggling, and the so-called intelligent persons, they will not come. They have business. Why? If it is actually beneficial to the human society, why I should try alone? I will go on trying as long as I live. There will be no checking. But what kind of intelligent persons there are? We shall go on playing govindam ādi-puruṣaṁ tam ahaṁ bhajāmi. People may hear or not hear. We don’t mind.”

Girirāja had arranged the meeting with Mr. Rajda, and now he had another member of Parliament, Mr. Ram Jethmalani, ready to meet with Śrīla Prabhupāda. Mr. Jethmalani had many doubts, however, and he had admitted to Girirāja that he didn’t know whether Kṛṣṇa really existed or was imaginary. His main interest was in improving the slums. But he was willing to see Śrīla Prabhupāda – who was, after all, the guru of a worldwide movement – for a customary social visit. He would see him and then go on to a “thanksgiving tour” among the members of the Bombay constituency who had voted for him in the recent elections.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s desire was to enlighten the political leaders according to the instructions of Bhagavad-gītā. If that was not possible, then he wanted to elicit their help, such as in arranging special visas for foreign devotees and mediating local problems between the Bombay temple and the municipal bureaucracy.

Girirāja introduced Śrīla Prabhupāda to Mr. Jethmalani, and when Prabhupāda heard of the man’s interest in improving slum conditions, he replied, “So we can uplift the position of the harijans very easily by this process of Caitanya Mahāprabhu.” He described Lord Caitanya and Lord Nityānanda as the originators of the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement. And the purpose of Their movement, he said, was to alleviate the suffering of all the sinful people by giving them the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra. But for such a claim, Prabhupāda said, there must be evidence. “You are a lawyer,” he nodded congenially to his guest. “So you want witness and evidence.”

“You don’t blame me,” agreed Mr. Jethmalani.

“No, it is not blaming,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “It is a fact. Without evidence, without proof, how can a law be established?” Prabhupāda cited his evidence in a song by Narottama dāsa Ṭhākura, which told of two great sinners, Jagāi and Mādhāi, who had been saved by the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement. That was five hundred years ago, Prabhupāda said, but today one could see practically in the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement how drunkards and illicit sex hunters had become saintly. “Kṛṣṇa consciousness is so nice,” he said. “Everyone can be elevated. So what is this harijan? We can uplift them.” Mr. Jethmalani asked why there was no emphasis in the Bhagavad-gītā on public and social service.

“There is no need,” said Prabhupāda. “This is animal conception of life. The dogs also combine together and make a sound, ba-ba-ba-ba-ba. A human being can also do like that. But then what is the difference between animals and human beings?”

“But I don’t know that animals, on the contrary, serve each other,” said Mr. Jethmalani. “It is men who do.”

“But what is the use of serving?” Prabhupāda asked. “What you can do? What service you have done? You cannot do anything beyond the laws of nature. Now Indira is in difficulty. What can you do? In one day, everything is finished. The law of nature is so strict. You cannot do anything. You are falsely proud that you want to help, but it is not possible. Prakṛteḥ kriyamāṇāni.* You can only do this service of understanding you are not this body but you are spirit soul. Your business is this. This is dharma.”

Mr. Jethmalani protested that nevertheless there was so much physical suffering around. Prabhupāda agreed that it was good to be sympathetic, but one had to actually do something to rectify the suffering. “So you must know first of all how suffering can be stopped,” said Prabhupāda. “Then you do this, the needful. Otherwise, what is the use if you do not know the method? Duḥkhālayam aśāśvatam.* I think you have read the Bhagavad-gītā?”

Mr. Jethmalani said he had. He could not understand yet exactly how the Bhagavad-gītā could be so practical, but he was listening respectfully to Śrīla Prabhupāda and appreciating his staunch conviction. But after a few minutes, he prepared to leave. “Anyway,” he said, “I will be in touch with your Girirāja.”

Prabhupāda continued preaching and simultaneously asked that prasādam be brought for Mr. Jethmalani.

“Sir,” said Mr. Jethmalani, “I will take leave of you, and with your blessings. I hope we shall soon be —”

“We are preaching Kṛṣṇa consciousness without any sectarian motive,” said Prabhupāda. “This is unity on the spiritual platform. Try to understand.” Mr. Jethmalani said he hoped that he could be of some use to Prabhupāda’s movement.

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “that is required – that you want to cooperate.”

“Whatever you order at any time,” said Mr. Jethmalani.

“So inform him,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “and bring prasādam.”

At first Mr. Jethmalani said he would prefer that the prasādam be brought down to his car so that he could hurry and get to the public meeting on time. But Prabhupāda insisted; that was no way to honor the Lord’s prasādam. “Kindly wait,” he asked. Mr. Jethmalani said he did not want to eat in Prabhupāda’s presence, but Prabhupāda insisted and explained that this was an exchange of love. Finally, when the full plates of prasādam were brought in, Mr. Jethmalani was very appreciative. He had been so busy that he had not eaten all day, and he found the prasādam very tasteful.

“This is the real human service,” said Prabhupāda, watching with pleasure as his guest began to eat, “ – to give them knowledge.” Mr. Jethmalani became more relaxed and friendly, inquiring about Prabhupāda’s daily routine and about different aspects of how Westerners had taken to Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

Girirāja mentioned that earlier Mr. Jethmalani had been questioning whether Kṛṣṇa had an actual existence or whether He was imaginary.

“Why imaginary?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “He’s in the history, Mahābhārata.” Prabhupāda continued to give historical evidence of Kṛṣṇa from the śāstras, and Mr. Jethmalani listened submissively while continuing to eat. In due course, sweets were brought.

“In Northern India,” said Prabhupāda, “first of all they give sweets. So they eat sweets to the heart’s content.”

“The best way to destroy your appetite is to eat sweets first,” said Mr. Jethmalani.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, and they both laughed.

“So I am very glad that you have taken the prasādam,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “I am pleased. Therefore, I wanted that you eat before me. It is a great pleasure.”

On the best of terms, Prabhupāda and his guest parted, with Mr. Jethmalani promising he would confer with Girirāja about any problems. Girirāja was ecstatic. His dream of Prabhupāda at the Bombay temple, transforming lionlike politicians into gentle devotees, was being fulfilled.

“Yes, you have done everything. Still, we want the whole Bhāgavatam, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

“That will be done,” said Prabhupāda. “Even it is not full, there is no loss. You are competent. You can take charge. Now you can take charge of all the money, and let me remain free from management. My only request is, don’t spoil it. I have sometimes chastised so that it may not be spoiled.”

Prabhupāda said that for him to see that things were going on nicely under his ISKCON leaders would make him happy. “And I will go on writing books. That will be all right?” He said there was no need for him to eat anymore. Since he was not physically active, there was no purpose in taking a lunch of capātīs and rice.

Girirāja expressed that it was the pleasure of Prabhupāda’s devotees to see him eat and relish prasādam. But Śrīla Prabhupāda disregarded this and said the brain could be kept active just by a little fruit or milk.

These moods – Prabhupāda speaking of retirement and fasting, even hinting of passing away – were only occasional moods. They were very real, practical, and sober, but he would soon turn to other things, promising his continual involvement with his disciples, his movement, and the world. After a brief spell of such talking, he would again be commenting fiercely on the follies of the scientists and politicians.

Śrīla Prabhupāda said that if a man could not accept the simple logic that there must be God, then he was obstinate and not even sane. “But these animals,” he said, “they are passing on as big scientists, philosophers, theologians, and so on and so forth. We have to stop them. Na māṁ duṣkṛtino mūḍhāh prapadyante narādhamāh. This is the qualification of the person who does not accept God. He is either duṣkṛtina, narādhama, mūḍha, or māyayāpahṛta-jñāna. Māyayāpahṛta-jñānā means those who are highly educated but have no knowledge. Āsuraṁ bhāvam āśritāḥ means they do not believe that God exists. So as Kṛṣṇa conscious leaders, you have to chastise these rascals.”

Girirāja said, “It’s actually relishable to chastise them.”

“Yes,” Prabhupāda laughed. “It is a pleasure sport.” As they spoke, Kṣīra-corā-gopīnātha entered with the daily newspaper. “What is the news?” Prabhupāda asked. “What are all these rascals saying? Newspaper means all the statements of rascals.”

Gopīnātha read the headlines aloud: “Honest Plea to Congress Chief Minister … Mischief Calls for Assembly Election.”

“Again elections,” said Prabhupāda. “As if election will change their quality. Let them remain rascals and simply by election replace one rascal with another rascal. Let them remain rascal but get votes. That is described in Bhāgavatam: śva-viḍ-varāhoṣṭra kharaiḥ saṁstutaḥ.* The population is śva-viḍ-varāhoṣṭra, and they are giving vote, another big paśu [animal]. Yes, this is democracy. The voters are paśus, or beasts, and they are selecting another big paśu. This is going on. The rascals do not know that if instead of a tiger we select a lion, then what is the difference? Simply names. The tiger was president. Now the lion is president. And both of them are animals. Where is the man, the human being? This is going on. And because they are paśu, they say, ‘Oh, now there is lion. Now the tiger is driven away. Now there is lion.’ This is going on. Am I right?”

Prabhupāda said that temple living was for brahmacārīs and sannyāsīs. If a gṛhastha was rendering essential service, the temple could provide an apartment for him. “But why salary?” asked Prabhupāda. “Where is the question of salary? Where is vairāgya, renunciation? Salary project should be stopped. If they want salary, they can work outside. In the name of Vaiṣṇava, he is drawing salary, living comfortably, having sense enjoyment. So all you, my officers, should think it over and do the needful.”

Prabhupāda told how Lord Caitanya was living in the perfect situation in family life with His wife and mother, and yet He left it all to practice vairāgya. And thus He was praised by Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya, “You are the Supreme Person, appearing as Śrī Kṛṣṇa Caitanya, and You are teaching renunciation and devotional service.”

“But that is not respectful,” said Prabhupāda. “Then he does not know how to honor a saintly person. Useless to meet. If he has no respect for a saintly person, if he thinks he is greater than a saintly person, then the visit is useless.”

“Yes, then the meeting will start on the wrong foot,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “He has to come see you, Śrīla Prabhupāda. There are so many examples in the śāstra of big personalities coming to see saintly persons.”

“Even Caitanya Mahāprabhu refused to see the king of Orissa,” said Prabhupāda, “what to speak of going there.” Prabhupāda explained that he did not require anything from the prime minister, but for the benefit of the human society he could suggest some things to him. He said that it was a fact that sometimes, when in difficulty, a saintly person could approach a king. He gave the example of Lord Caitanya’s devotee Gopīnātha Paṭṭanāyaka, and how the devotees asked Lord Caitanya to intervene to save him. But Lord Caitanya showed that it was a difficult job to approach such royal persons. With these guidelines in mind, Girirāja pursued the idea of a meeting.

On the evening of May 5 at about midnight, Girirāja received a phone call from Mr. Rajda; the meeting with Morarji Desai was fixed for seven-thirty the next morning. The prime minister was only going to be in Bombay for one or two days and would be staying at his son’s flat on Marine Drive. Although Girirāja knew that Prabhupāda had said he would not go to Mr. Desai, Girirāja wanted to consult Prabhupāda to see if certain leading disciples should go. Not wanting to disturb Prabhupāda, he tiptoed into Prabhupāda’s hallway and peeked into the room. Prabhupāda was awake, sitting at his translating table, working. He looked up, saw Girirāja, and motioned him to come forward.

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Girirāja, “I am very sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I just received a phone call from Ratan Singh Rajda.” Girirāja related that Morarji Desai was ready to meet them at his residence the next morning. Śrīla Prabhupāda explained that he wanted to see if Morarji Desai would have been willing to come and meet him at Hare Krishna Land. “It’s not that I’m proud,” he said, “that I can’t go meet him at his place. But unless his mood is respectful, there is no use.” Prabhupāda said that this was the test of whether the prime minister had a proper attitude. He agreed that Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami and Girirāja should go ahead and meet the prime minister.

Girirāja: This meeting with Śrīla Prabhupāda was one of the most intense and unique that I ever had, although I was able to be in his presence so many times. We were alone together, at midnight. Everyone else was asleep. All the lights were out, and it was just the two of us in this big room. He was sitting behind his marble translating desk, and I was sitting on the floor at his feet.

I said, “Prabhupāda, I am sorry that I had to disturb you like this in the middle of the night.” Śrīla Prabhupāda said, “That’s all right. Actually, with this sickness I cannot sleep at night. Even if I want to, I cannot sleep. Due to this illness, I cannot eat also. I am such an old man. There is no question of sex life and there is no question of defense either, so I guess I am liberated.”

Of course, I knew that Śrīla Prabhupāda was liberated, not because of bodily circumstances, as he was humbly saying, but because he was in transcendental consciousness. He was always up at night, translating, not because he was sick and couldn’t sleep, but out of devotion to his Guru Mahārāja and to Lord Kṛṣṇa. But it was a very wry, humorous remark, and I felt very charmed by the whole meeting and offered my obeisances and went back to sleep.

The next morning, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami and Girirāja were prepared well in advance for their meeting with the prime minister. Before leaving, they asked Prabhupāda what books they should give him. Prabhupāda replied, “Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa book, and Teachings of Lord Caitanya.”

“In Hindi?” asked Girirāja.

Prabhupāda frowned. “No, English.”

The devotees went in their car to pick up Mr. Rajda at his flat; from there they would go to the apartment on Marine Drive where Prime Minister Desai was staying. After Girirāja had been ringing the front doorbell for about twenty minutes, Mr. Rajda finally appeared. He said that they had to wait just five more minutes, while he continued dressing and eating. Unfortunately, by the time they reached the apartment on Marine Drive, it was eight o’clock. They were thirty minutes late! As soon as they entered, the prime minister said, “You are very late.” He was already meeting with some other people and said that he would see the devotees for a few minutes. He repeated that he had been waiting since 7:25. The devotees remained silent, not knowing what to say. They apologized and gave him Prabhupāda’s books. Mr. Desai didn’t say much and quickly excused himself, going back to his meeting with the others.

When the devotees returned to the temple, Prabhupāda eagerly asked what happened. He was very upset to hear that they had been late. “Very bad,” he said. He remarked that Morarji Desai was known for his punctuality. They had missed a good opportunity, he said, by their misbehavior. When the devotees explained that Mr. Rajda had made them late, Prabhupāda asked for a more detailed report. The devotees said the main thing Morarji Desai wanted to know was why they were late.

“Did you tell him that Ratan Singh Rajda made you late?” asked Prabhupāda.

Girirāja and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa shook their heads. Prabhupāda became disgusted and said, “Why did you not say that he made you late? That you were on time, but he made you late? I know you are thinking that he is our friend and you didn’t want to embarrass him in front of the prime minister, but now the whole thing is spoiled.” Feeling very foolish and ashamed, the devotees sat silently before Prabhupāda. Śrīla Prabhupāda reflected for a moment. “Anyway,” he said, “these men will never change their views.”

“You should take care of your health,” said Sriman Narayan. “I hope you get better.”

“Oh, this is just an old machine,” Prabhupāda laughed. “The more you cure it, the more it gets worse. But my work never stops. That keeps on going. My main work is to write these books, and that is going on.” Several other Indian guests were present, and they at once began recommending good places for health: Srinagar, Kashmir, Dehradun, Masouri, Simla, Hardwar.

“Yes, the water in Hardwar is good,” said Sriman Narayan, “but better than that would be in Hrsikesha, where the Ganges flows. Whatever places are on the bank of the Ganges, the water will be very good. Pure Ganges water.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda took these remarks seriously and turned to his disciples. “Yes, then we can go to Hrsikesha. This time is very good. Let us arrange for that.”

From that moment, going to Hrsikesha became a definite plan, and Prabhupāda prepared to leave Bombay within a week.