August 1969

PRABHUPĀDA WANTED TO go to England. His obligations on the West Coast fulfilled, he was eager to travel and preach on a new continent. But his disciples in England, although creating a significant impression on London, hadn’t yet found a temple. The three couples were living in three different apartments around the city; still, after a year, they had no center.

But in Germany young Śivānanda had opened a little storefront temple within a few months of his arrival. Prabhupāda decided to go as soon as possible to Śivānanda in Germany, and from there go to England when they were ready for him. In July he wrote Kṛṣṇadāsa, who had joined Śivānanda, “You wanted to fix up a date, so I am telling you that I am prepared now on any day you call me.”

Only four disciples and a few friends were in Hamburg. At first they became a little bewildered, although blissful, to hear Prabhupāda wanted to come. They weren’t sure they had enough money. Would they have to pay his ticket all the way from California? And his secretary’s ticket? All they had was a tiny storefront – where would Prabhupāda stay? Not many people attended their temple programs, so what would Prabhupāda do in Hamburg? Prabhupāda sensed their confusion when they sent a discount Icelandic Airlines ticket to him at the wrong address in California. He wrote them on August 5,

In 1968 in Montreal, when he had heard Śrīla Prabhupāda talk about bringing Kṛṣṇa consciousness to London, Śivānanda had asked to go. At first, however, Prabhupāda had doubted whether such a young, inexperienced boy should go alone to a foreign country as Śivānanda was proposing. But when Śivānanda had persisted, Prabhupāda had allowed him, although warning, “Be careful. I was an old Calcutta boy when I came to New York, and I never got cheated.”

Śivānanda had had very little money, but in August 1968, his mother had paid for his trip to England. London immigration authorities had refused him entry, and he had gone to Amsterdam. There he had drawn public attention and press coverage by dressing in a dhotī and chanting in public. He had sent Prabhupāda the news clippings as well as a letter expressing enthusiasm, and loneliness.

Touched by Śivānanda’s bold pioneering spirit, Prabhupāda had written him as spiritual father to son.

Prabhupāda proudly held up the example of young Śivānanda before his other disciples. When a few devotees traveled for the first time to Vancouver, Canada, found a poor reception, and wrote Prabhupāda that they were giving up on Vancouver, Prabhupāda wrote them about Śivānanda. “You will be pleased that his little activities for a few days are now published in a local paper with his photo. And although he is alone, I think his journey to Europe is a successful one by this time. And similarly wherever we go we must not come back defeated. That is my idea. So I think Śivānanda’s enclosed copy of letter will encourage you.”

Śivānanda had traveled from Amsterdam to Berlin, where he had rented a storefront. Prabhupāda had followed his success with great interest.

Upon Śivānanda’s arrival in Germany, he had soon been joined by a German-speaking American boy, Kṛṣṇadāsa, and a German devotee, Uttamaśloka, who had both been living in California. Kṛṣṇadāsa, only eighteen, had been working as a jeweler’s apprentice in San Francisco and felt confident he could get similar work in Germany to support the temple there. Now they had jointly decided to close the Berlin center and move to Hamburg. But Prabhupāda’s growing hopes for attracting the intelligent people of Germany had been threatened in December when he had received a distressful letter from Śivānanda saying he was going to leave Europe. This was five months after his arrival. Prabhupāda had replied,

Śivānanda agreed to stay.

At this time also Prabhupāda had written another young disciple, Acyutānanda, who was experiencing difficulty alone in India. Prabhupāda had asked him also not to abandon his position. Mostly Prabhupāda’s letters to his disciples were to encourage them in what they were already doing, but at times like these he had to tell them to stick it out and not leave. To have even one man in a foreign country was very important. Even if Śivānanda didn’t do much active preaching, if a sincere disciple simply stayed somewhere, then things would grow. So Śivānanda had stayed.

Hamburg
August 25, 1969
  Prabhupāda and Puruṣottama flew from Los Angeles to New York, stopped over for twenty-four hours, and then flew by Lufthansa Airlines nonstop to Hamburg. The stewardesses wanted to give them cooked meals and seemed personally disappointed when Prabhupāda wouldn’t take them. They asked if he would take fruits and then produced a good variety. Prabhupāda accepted.

When Prabhupāda and Puruṣottama arrived in Hamburg, Śivānanda, Kṛṣṇadāsa, and two other boys were at the airport to greet them. They had a taxi waiting. The weather was gray and cold, despite the season. As the taxi passed the streets lined with close, neat homes, Prabhupāda said it reminded him of Calcutta – when the Europeans had gone to India, they had built houses similar to these.

The temple was on Eppendorfer Weg, in a business area, next to a hair salon. The storefront, with its plate glass window painted blue except for an oval in the center, and “Radha Krishna Tempel” painted over the window, could have been in New York or San Francisco except for the sign, “Internationale Gesellschaft für Krischna Bewußtsein e.V.”

The apartment Śivānanda had rented for Prabhupāda was two small rooms on the fifteenth floor of a modern building across the street from the storefront. Śivānanda and a few others came before Prabhupāda in his room, and Śivānanda apologized that Kṛṣṇa consciousness was so small in Hamburg. They had heard how devotees in Los Angeles were going out, sometimes fifty at a time, chanting and dancing in the streets and distributing hundreds of Back to Godheads. But in Hamburg Śivānanda and another boy had gone out chanting only a few times, with little success. They had no speaking engagements for Prabhupāda, Śivānanda said, and they weren’t sure if many people would attend the temple lectures, although they had advertised around town with posters. Prabhupāda smiled and sat back. “That’s all right.” And he began talking with Uttamaśloka about his progress in translating Bhagavad-gītā As It Is into German.

With Puruṣottama busy typing Prabhupāda’s translations and letters, Śivānanda did most of the personal service for Prabhupāda – cooking, accompanying Prabhupāda on his morning walk, giving him his daily massage. Puruṣottama looked rather gloomy; he seemed unhappy to be in Hamburg, perched high in a skyscraper under a gray north German sky, with a tiny temple and almost no devotees. But Śivānanda was exuberant; it seemed that Prabhupāda had come to ISKCON Hamburg just to give him the mercy of his personal association.

In his room, Prabhupāda told Śivānanda he would lecture in the temple on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings. He would see guests in the afternoon – the two devotees ready for initiation, some regular visitors who wanted to see Prabhupāda, and a young Indologist, Dr. Franz Bernhardt, who had an academic interest in seeing Prabhupāda. Prabhupāda then began speaking about how intelligent Germans were. He said among Europeans, German scholars were the most adept in Sanskrit; they had a lively interest in Indian philosophy. Prabhupāda had a German Godbrother who had come to India and been initiated by Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, so he had heard something about German culture from his Godbrother.

As for manufactured products, he continued, if something was made in Germany, it was first class; the next best was Japanese, and then American. He said the Hamburg devotees should strive to establish saṅkīrtana here as it was in the U.S. He described how the Los Angeles temple was decorated and how hundreds of people came to the Sunday Love Feasts. They should make their temple in Germany even more important than the one in Los Angeles. And they should go out and distribute magazines, and from the collections support the center. He said they should at least go out an hour a day. If the devotees really wanted to remain in Germany, they should try to learn the German language. Although German was a foreign language to some of the Hamburg devotees, Prabhupāda said that somehow they had to present the philosophy of Kṛṣṇa consciousness to the German people. He gave the example that if in a foreign country a man discovers fire in the building, he has to get help from the neighbors, even though he doesn’t know their language. He may not express himself in good language, but that’s not important. Because of the urgency of the situation, he can still get his message across. Similarly, the material world is the blazing fire of māyā, and a devotee has to inform the people, even if he has to use broken language.

A friendly German husband and wife entered the room and sat in the back. The girl told Prabhupāda she enjoyed reading his book Teachings of Lord Caitanya. Prabhupāda was very glad and said that both she and her husband should read the books carefully and then preach the teachings of Lord Caitanya to the Europeans. Hours went by, while Prabhupāda painted a realistic but vigorous vision of how these few devotees could use their energies in spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness in Germany.

The next day he went out for a walk, accompanied by a few devotees. Prabhupāda wore a turtleneck sweater and a large black coat, but no hat. He carried a cane. The boys were dressed in pants, coats, and hats, except Kṛṣṇadāsa, who wore a suit and tie, since he would have to go to work at the jeweler’s shop after the walk. Śivānanda took Prabhupāda to the Hamburg harbor, Landungsbrücken, on the Elbe River. The weather was still gray, damp, and – for August – cold. People driving by turned, looking at Prabhupāda, and even stopped their cars to stare. Prabhupāda was himself very surprised to see some ditch-diggers pausing to drink beer at this early hour. “They are drinking beer already?” He turned to Śivānanda.

“Yes, Prabhupāda,” Śivānanda replied, “they begin very early.” Then Prabhupāda saw one billboard after another, many advertising Zigaretten (“cigarettes”). He exclaimed, “Oh, Zigaretten!”

“Why are these people so fat?” Prabhupāda asked.

“Oh, they eat a lot of potatoes,” Śivānanda replied.

“No,” Prabhupāda said, “they eat a lot of meat.”

The Germans may be the most intelligent Europeans, Prabhupāda said, but they were also the most materially attached. Prabhupāda and his students stopped to watch a tugboat towing a large oceanliner into the harbor. “Just see,” Prabhupāda said, “a man under the spell of māyā is just like this big oceanliner. The tugboat is small, but because the big oceanliner has its engine off, the little boat can drag it. Similarly, the soul without Kṛṣṇa is pulled by māyā down to hell.”

As they continued walking they came upon an open vegetable market. “Let’s go see what they have,” Prabhupāda said. Carefully he observed the selection of fruits and vegetables, paying close attention to details.

As they started back, Prabhupāda said, “This morning I will have eggplant pakorās and hot milk. It is very good for cold weather. It helps keep you warm.”

“Hot milk, Prabhupāda?” Śivānanda asked.

“Yes. Milk means hot cow’s milk.”

As they approached the storefront Prabhupāda remarked, “These Zigarettens are very popular.”

For the rest of the day Prabhupāda read, took breakfast, answered letters, took massage at eleven, bathed, took lunch, rested an hour, and then received visitors in the afternoon. In the evening he came down to the temple and lectured on Bhagavad-gītā. Although Maṇḍalībhadra was there ready to translate Prabhupāda’s words into German, there was no need, since everyone in the audience spoke English.

One of the few guests attending Prabhupāda’s lecture was the landlady. She was in her eighties, lonely, and glad to have young people living in her building. Sitting behind a partition where Prabhupāda could not see her, she listened to the lecture. When Prabhupāda got up from the vyāsāsana and walked to the back of the room, he found her sitting there. “Oh,” he said, “the landlady is a devotee too?”

Śivānanda had no experience arranging lectures for Prabhupāda, nor did he have the time. He was busy cooking and doing other duties for Prabhupāda. Kṛṣṇadāsa worked full-time. Under the circumstances, Professor Bernhardt’s visit was the major “outside” engagement for Prabhupāda during his Hamburg visit. Śivānanda had met Professor Bernhardt months ago at the University of Hamburg after hearing of a Sanskrit and Indology professor on campus. Without knowing anything about the etiquette of dealing with a professor, he had entered Dr. Bernhardt’s office without an appointment.

“We are going to start a Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa temple here,” Śivānanda had told the professor. “Are you familiar with the Vedic scriptures?”

Although Professor Bernhardt remained strictly formal with Śivānanda, he couldn’t deny an academic interest in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He had studied Vaiṣṇavism, specializing in Indian religious festivals. So when Śivānanda invited him to come and meet Bhaktivedanta Swami, Professor Bernhardt had eagerly taken the opportunity.

Professor Bernhardt, a well-dressed young man with wavy blond hair, sat patiently through one of Prabhupāda’s kīrtanas and lectures in the temple. Afterwards, in fluent English, he asked, “What about we here in the city who have cosmopolitan consciousness?”

“What is this cosmopolitan consciousness?” Prabhupāda asked. “They are killing the animals.” Prabhupāda explained to him the universality of Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

“I am interested,” Dr. Bernhardt said, “to learn about the differences between the Śaṅkarites and the Vaiṣṇavas and their philosophies.”

“Oh, yes,” Prabhupāda replied. “I will teach you.” And they agreed to meet again at Prabhupāda’s apartment.

Kṛṣṇadāsa: A couple of days after Prabhupāda arrived in Hamburg, Dr. Bernhardt came laden with gifts. He was very conscious of Vaiṣṇava protocol. Even if he were in the Himalayas in this cold, horrendous weather, he would be freshly shaven and wearing a tie. He was very punctual and precise. Prabhupāda talked with him, and the entire conversation was in Sanskrit. As a matter of fact, every now and then Prabhupāda would put in a couple of words of English for our benefit. For three or four days there were continual meetings between Prabhupāda and Dr. Bernhardt. They culminated in a statement by Dr. Bernhardt. He lapsed into English and said, “What you are saying is that all my knowledge is useless without devotional service.” Prabhupāda said, “Yes, now you’ve understood.” Then Dr. Bernhardt said, “What you’re saying is that all my studies and entire library are just like an ass laden down with so many books that are ultimately pushing him to his grave.” Again Prabhupāda said, “Yes, that is right.”

When Dr. Bernhardt remarked that he had been thinking of ISKCON as hippies since he had seen an ad stating that Allen Ginsberg was a member, Prabhupāda took it very seriously. The next day he wrote Hayagrīva.

Prabhupāda’s third meeting with Dr. Bernhardt was at the professor’s home. This time Dr. Bernhardt confessed to Prabhupāda that he did not agree with many points in Prabhupāda’s translations of the Vedic literatures. He criticized the Vaiṣṇava philosophy. He also told Prabhupāda that he had no religious feeling for Kṛṣṇa consciousness, since he considered himself a Christian. By the end of this meeting their relationship was becoming strained, and afterwards Prabhupāda remarked that in none of their meetings had the professor even said Hare Kṛṣṇa.

September 3, 1969
  Within a week of Prabhupāda’s arrival in Germany, the Janmāṣṭamī holiday occurred. Prabhupāda observed Janmāṣṭamī, Kṛṣṇa’s birthday, quietly, not like the previous year in Montreal, when hundreds of Indians had gathered along with disciples from many temples. Here there were only about half a dozen devotees on hand. They fasted and then came to Prabhupāda’s apartment in the evening. Prabhupāda talked about Kṛṣṇa, and they chanted together. Then at eleven-thirty P.M. Prabhupāda decided to have his head shaved – something he usually did once a month. Kṛṣṇadāsa carefully shaved his spiritual master’s head, while the others sat and watched. Although it was not the customary activity of Janmāṣṭamī night, the devotees loved associating with Prabhupāda in this intimate way. Then at midnight Prabhupāda went with them to the temple, where they broke their fast.

The next day was Vyāsa-pūjā day, the celebration of Prabhupāda’s seventy-fourth birthday. That morning a package arrived from New York containing several copies of the Vyāsa-pūjā booklet, a twenty-five-page paperback filled with homages from Prabhupāda’s disciples.

Months before, one of the devotees had discovered an old issue of a magazine published by Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī; the magazine contained a Vyāsa-pūjā homage Prabhupāda had written commemorating the appearance day of his own spiritual master. When the article had been brought to Prabhupāda’s attention, he said that his disciples could also write their own appreciations, just as he had done forty years before. So the devotees in New York had gathered offerings from seventeen different temples and had printed them all in a Vyāsa-pūjā booklet.

Prabhupāda was very pleased to receive the little booklet, and he had one of the devotees read it aloud in the temple. When all the readings were finished, he explained how service and prayers were accepted by Kṛṣṇa through the medium of the disciplic succession. Although outsiders might think that, “This man is becoming flattered in hearing his own eulogy,” the real meaning of Vyāsa-pūjā homage is that it is a test of how well the disciples were understanding Kṛṣṇa consciousness and serving the spiritual master. Their praises were all going to the Supreme Personality of Godhead through the disciplic succession. And such praises were required training for the disciple, just as officers train soldiers in the military. But in this case, the training was in the feelings of pure consciousness.

Sitting on the vyāsāsana, Prabhupāda looked out at his little band of disciples sitting before him on the linoleum floor of the well-lit storefront. “I thank you for improving Kṛṣṇa consciousness,” he said. “I am a sannyāsī, so I have come here empty-handed. You are providing for me. What can I do? I can simply pray to Kṛṣṇa for you. But don’t be satisfied that you have understood. This knowledge should be distributed. In my old age I have come to your country, carrying the order of my spiritual master to distribute. You are all young boys and girls, so take this and distribute it to the whole humanity. They will be happy.”

That morning Prabhupāda initiated five devotees: three regular brahmacārīs – Vāsudeva, Ramantu, and Sucandra – who had all been chanting and serving for almost a year, and to the surprise of the other devotees, a married couple who had only recently been visiting the temple. When one of the devotees questioned the couple’s eligibility, Prabhupāda said that as long as they were chanting and following the four rules, they were eligible. Prabhupāda named the couple Viśvanātha and Kuntī. He told the new initiates that if they would keep always in contact with the chanting of Hare Kṛṣṇa, they would be always purified. He compared the purification required before one could enter the spiritual world to the adjustment required by astronauts before they could enter the moon. “But as far as we are concerned, we don’t think that they were actually successful.”

Prabhupāda also told the initiates that on behalf of Kṛṣṇa he was working to distribute knowledge, and that those who were actually fortunate would take it. “Our job is to teach people and give practical suggestion,” Prabhupāda explained. “Those who are fortunate will take; otherwise we shall go on canvassing.” Each person was independent and could take or not. Although God would never interfere with their independence, they should understand that the proper use of their independence was to become unalloyed servants of God.

Prabhupāda was giving his new disciples what he knew to be the sublime gift for human life. But they were all individual spirit souls, free agents, and they had to decide out of their own free will to surrender to Kṛṣṇa or not. In the case of Viśvanātha and Kuntī, Prabhupāda was obviously taking a risk, but he wanted to give them the chance.

Every morning Prabhupāda would take a stroll to one of the nearby parks, sometimes with a few disciples and sometimes with only Śivānanda. Sometimes while he walked along the waterfront, Prabhupāda would ask about shipbuilding and related industries, and Kṛṣṇadāsa would answer. When Prabhupāda asked Kṛṣṇadāsa what the population of Hamburg was, he knew. Prabhupāda began to jokingly call Kṛṣṇadāsa “Stats,” because he knew so many statistics.

One morning, while Stats was answering Prabhupāda’s questions about various cranes used in shipbuilding, Prabhupāda turned to the others and said, “You see, although I am the guru and I am taking you back to Godhead, that doesn’t mean that I cannot learn from him.”

Another morning Prabhupāda and Śivānanda were walking alone in the park. Because of Śivānanda’s tight schedule and lack of sufficient sleep, he was feeling tired. Prabhupāda noticed Śivānanda’s fatigue and suggested they sit down on a park bench. Prabhupāda sat down carefully, while Śivānanda sprawled. Exchanging looks with Śivānanda, Prabhupāda sat forward even straighter, removing his back from the backrest. Seeing the great contrast in their sitting postures, Śivānanda sat up straight.

Back in the temple, Śivānanda told the devotees about the incident. The next day, when Prabhupāda went on his walk, about five devotees accompanied him to the park. Again Prabhupāda said, “All right, let’s sit down here.” The two park benches faced each other, and as Prabhupāda sat down carefully with his back straight, all the devotees sat very straight opposite him on the bench, looking over at Prabhupāda. Seeing his disciples sitting seriously in a rigid line, in an obvious imitation of himself, Prabhupāda began to laugh.

One morning Prabhupāda and a few devotees walked past a church situated on its own plot of land, surrounded by several other buildings belonging to the church. Admiring the communitylike arrangement, Prabhupāda said to Śivānanda, “So you will get this church for us?”

“I will see, Prabhupāda.”

“In India,” Prabhupāda said, “there are situations very similar to this. There is a temple, and around the temple all the devotees are living. It’s a nice situation.”

Another morning Prabhupāda remarked about the extraordinary amount of garbage in front of the houses. Śivānanda explained that this was a monthly function in German cities, a throw-out day, when everybody puts out junk and things from their attic that the garbage collectors ordinarily do not take. On throw-out day the garbage collectors come with a special truck and remove all oversized garbage. Prabhupāda noticed all sorts of usable items, and as he walked, he would point with his cane: “Why don’t you take that for the temple?”

“Well, Prabhupāda, we already have one of those.”

After a while Prabhupāda would investigate another person’s garbage and point with his cane. “Yes, get that. Get that.” Repeatedly Śivānanda explained that the temple already had the articles. But Prabhupāda continued to point things out. Finally Prabhupāda found an Oriental rug sitting on the curb. “Yes, now this you can use.” And Prabhupāda had them carry the rug back to the temple. The rug turned out to be in such good shape that, after cleaning it, they placed it in the temple room.

The weather continued cold and overcast, with only about two days of sunshine during Prabhupāda’s three-week stay. After a walk one cold, drizzly morning, while Prabhupāda was waiting with Śivānanda for the elevator, Śivānanda was rubbing his hands together. “You’re cold,” Prabhupāda said. And he touched Śivānanda’s hands. “Feel my hand.” It was warm. “If you keep this area of the body warm” – Prabhupāda put his hands on his chest – “then the rest of the body will be warm.” Śivānanda could not help but feel overwhelming affection for Prabhupāda, even in such small reciprocations. Every morning walk would reveal many such treasurable little incidents.

Śivānanda was not an experienced cook, so Prabhupāda taught him. The apartment kitchen was small, about six feet square, with an electric stove, a sink, and a little counter space. When Prabhupāda said that Śivānanda made good eggplant pakorās, Śivānanda made eggplant pakorās daily. Then one morning Prabhupāda asked, “You’re not cooking that eggplant again, are you?”

Prabhupāda then taught Śivānanda some other things to cook, including a special way to cook cabbage, a way to cook capātīs by cooking them on one side in the oven, taking them out, and then cooking them on the other side on the electric burner. Prabhupāda asked for mangoes, but it was difficult to find them in Hamburg. Those that Śivānanda could find were still green. Prabhupāda instructed Śivānanda to put the peeled mangoes in a sugar solution for a week; when the mangoes turned black, they became a kind of mango chutney.

Śivānanda knew Prabhupāda’s concern for not wasting anything, so he asked him what to do with the mango peels. Prabhupāda seemed surprised, but he said, “If you want to do something with the peels, then put them in mustard oil with salt and turmeric.” The devotees tried this, but they found the taste awful – except for Maṇḍalībhadra, who liked them.

For breakfast Śivānanda would usually take whatever was left on Prabhupāda’s plate, but one morning there was very little left, so Śivānanda began cooking cereal for himself. He had just begun eating the cereal in the other room when Prabhupāda entered. Prabhupāda took one look at Śivānanda’s cereal and told him to come into the kitchen. There Prabhupāda showed Śivānanda how to make halavā, cooking farina and butter and mixing it with boiling sugar water. “When you want something to eat,” Prabhupāda said, “then you can make this halavā.”

Prabhupāda still had his small Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa Deities in Hamburg, and They sat on the little altar shelf within his closet. Whatever Śivānanda would cook, Prabhupāda would have him make up a plate and then bring it and offer it with prayers to Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. One day, while Śivānanda was cooking, Prabhupāda came to the kitchen door and motioned for Śivānanda to come out. He then led Śivānanda to the open closet before the Deities of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. Gesturing to the Deities, Prabhupāda said, “It’s not for me that you’re cooking, but it’s for Them.”

Prabhupāda had come to Hamburg knowing the center was undeveloped. But he wanted to encourage the devotees there and give Śivānanda the opportunity to serve him personally. On Prabhupāda’s behalf Śivānanda had so submissively come here and started the center; now Prabhupāda had come to encourage him by engaging him as his walking companion, cook, and masseur.

One day Śivānanda was massaging Prabhupāda’s head when Prabhupāda began to explain that as a person gets older, the body does not digest food as well. The stomach begins producing bad airs, but by massage these airs become redistributed. Śivānanda became concerned and thoroughly absorbed himself in giving Prabhupāda his massage.

Every day at eleven Śivānanda would come in and give Prabhupāda his massage. One morning he entered the room and found Prabhupāda sitting in a chair by the window, his head covered with a blanket, chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa on his beads. “You should pray to Kṛṣṇa for me,” Prabhupāda said to Śivānanda. Śivānanda was surprised; how could he pray for his spiritual master? He began to stammer, “Well, Prabhupāda, … I don’t … I don’t think it would work.”

“Why not? You are a devotee of Kṛṣṇa.”

Another time Prabhupāda asked Śivānanda to massage around his heart. He asked him to push hard. Śivānanda thought he was rubbing Prabhupāda too hard, but Prabhupāda said, “Just push harder.” Śivānanda asked Prabhupāda if his health was all right, but Prabhupāda seemed annoyed that he had asked.

Again Śivānanda expressed remorse. “It must not be very good for you here in Hamburg,” he said. “You were staying in Los Angeles, and there were so many devotees there, and the situation was so nice. Now you’ve come here, and there’s practically nobody.”

“That’s all right,” Prabhupāda said softly. “We are doing our preaching work whether there are a lot of devotees or not.”