CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

THE FIRST WEEK in Hrsikesha was idyllic, heavenly, with perfect weather and hopes of Prabhupāda eating and recovering. But on the eighth night, a violent storm hit, and with the storm came a drastic turn in Prabhupāda’s health. He said the end was near, and he asked to go immediately to Vṛndāvana, in case Kṛṣṇa wanted him to depart from the world very soon.

The devotees in Hrsikesha had been in high spirits, and so had Śrīla Prabhupāda. While crossing the Ganges by boat, Prabhupāda had requested drinking water to be fetched from the center of the river. He had liked the lodge provided by his host, and he had even gone into the kitchen to show his disciples how to cook. Word had spread through the pilgrimage-tourist town that A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami was present, and Prabhupāda had agreed to hold a darśana from five to six P.M. daily. The room had always been crowded at that hour with forty to fifty people, including Western hippies and seekers as well as Indians on pilgrimage or vacation. Although Śrīla Prabhupāda’s voice had been extremely faint, he had spoken with force, stressing Bhagavad-gītā as it is.

When an American hippie had questioned him skeptically, Prabhupāda had replied, “You cannot understand, because you are crazy.” And when a lady had put forward materialistic welfare work as the highest good, Prabhupāda had replied, “Your compassion is as valuable as blowing on a boil to heal it.”

Only a few disciples were with Prabhupāda in Hrsikesha, and they had deemed it a wonderful treat. Not only had Prabhupāda directed the cooking, but he had told stories while cooking. He had said that only a lazy man couldn’t cook, and then he told a Bengali story – the story of a lazy man – to illustrate. There was a king who decided that all lazy men in his kingdom could come to the charity house and be fed. So many men came, all claiming, “I am a lazy man.” The king then told his minister to set fire to the charity house, and all but two men ran out of the burning building. One of the two said, “My back is becoming very hot from the fire.” And the other advised, “Just turn over to the other side.” The king then said, “These are actually lazy men. Feed them.”

But on the evening of May 15, Śrīla Prabhupāda could neither sleep nor work at his dictation. The storm, a harbinger of the monsoon season, knocked out all electric power in Hrsikesha. Since the fans were not running and the window shutters had to be closed because of the wind, the room became very hot.

At five in the morning Śrīla Prabhupāda called for Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami and said he was feeling weak. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa massaged Prabhupāda for an hour. Even at dawn the wind did not let up, and sand was blowing.

The storm and power failure continued the next night. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked Prabhupāda about the swelling in his hands and feet, and Prabhupāda replied, annoyed, “Why you are bothering? It is my body, and I am not disturbed.” But then he added, “From the material point of view, it is not good. Please consider how everything may be turned over to the G.B.C., so that in my absence everything will go on. You may make a will, and I will sign it.” He was talking definitely about things that before he had only alluded to.

Suddenly, at one-thirty A.M., Prabhupāda rang his bell, and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and Kṣīra-corā-gopīnātha responded. From beneath his mosquito net, he said, “As I was telling you, the symptoms are not good. I want to leave immediately for Vṛndāvana.” If it was time for him to pass away, he said, then let it be in Vṛndāvana. Since he wanted to leave immediately, the devotees stayed up all night, packing and preparing to leave. Train reservations were not available, however, so they decided to go by car.

Śrīla Prabhupāda rode in the back seat of the small Ambassador, sometimes stretching out on the seat. Upendra sat at his feet on the floor, while Tamāla Kṛṣṇa sat in the front next to Dāmodara Paṇḍita, an experienced driver who drove fast but with utmost care. Often Dāmodara Paṇḍita would glance into the rear-view mirror and meet Śrīla Prabhupāda’s attentive gaze. At one point, when Prabhupāda saw a man selling cucumbers, he asked Dāmodara to stop the car. Cucumbers, he said, were good for quenching thirst.

After four and a half hours they reached Delhi and stopped at the ISKCON center in Lajpat Nagar. It was very hot. The devotees watered down the roof, and Śrīla Prabhupāda rested there on a cot.

By five the next morning they were ready to set out for Vṛndāvana. At the Delhi temple, the devotees had given Prabhupāda a large plate of the Deities’ prasādam, but he had only taken a few tastes. “Eating is finished,” he had said. “I prayed to Kṛṣṇa to be freed from eating and sleeping, and it is happening. I have already given up mating and defending. Now all these material activities are finished with.”

As they drove out of the city and into the countryside, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa noticed that Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed more peaceful. “You look very happy to be going to Vṛndāvana,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“Yes,” Prabhupāda replied, “Vṛndāvana is my home, and Bombay is my office.”

As they turned off the Delhi – Agra Road, Śrīla Prabhupāda saw for the first time the stone marker, “Bhaktivedanta Swami Marg.” They soon met up with Guṇārṇava, who was waiting on a motorcycle and who joyfully sped ahead to tell the devotees at the Krishna-Balaram Mandir that Śrīla Prabhupāda was here. At the gate of the temple a big kīrtana party, including all the gurukula children, was gathered to greet Prabhupāda with chanting and dancing. Four devotees carried Prabhupāda on a palanquin to the temple hall, where he offered his respects to the two Lords, Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. After the ārati ceremony honoring Śrīla Prabhupāda, Prabhupāda spoke briefly to the assembled devotees.

“If death takes place,” he said, “let it take place here.” Seeing his demeanor and hearing him speak these unexpected words, some of the devotees in the room began to cry. “So,” he continued, “there is nothing to be said new. Whatever I have to say, I have spoken in my books. Now, try to understand it and continue your endeavors. Whether I am present or not present, it doesn’t matter. As Kṛṣṇa is living eternally, similarly, the living being also lives eternally, but kīrtir yasya sa jīvati. One who has done service to the Lord lives forever. So, you have been taught to serve Kṛṣṇa. So with Kṛṣṇa, our life is eternal. The temporary disappearance of this body – it doesn’t matter. The body is meant for disappearance. So live forever by serving Kṛṣṇa.”

Despite the finality of these words, Śrīla Prabhupāda continued to converse in his room with a few guests who remained after most of the devotees had left. A retired family man, a Mr. Bose, was present and told Prabhupāda how he was now living alone in the Krishna-Balaram Mandir. Prabhupāda said, “You will not be able to adjust to this way of life.” But when Mr. Bose expressed his determination, Prabhupāda added, “You have a very good family, so it is hopeful.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda went on to recall some of his activities at Hrsikesha, and he spoke of how his movement was growing stronger around the world and how in New York the judge had made a very favorable decision.

A little later, the conversation turned to ghosts, and Prabhupāda told about the haunted house of Lokanath Mullik in Calcutta. Prabhupāda had also rented a “ghost house” in Lucknow. “I am not afraid of ghosts,” he said. “I am ghostproof. In England there are also many ghosts. They are generally evil, and sometimes they even kill. They can be seen sometimes entering a latrine or sitting on a pillar. By offering piṇḍa one can free his forefathers from ghostly bodies. In Māyāpur there were Muhammadan ghosts, but not anymore. By our chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa ghosts are driven away.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was still prone to become involved in management, and he asked his secretary to report to him on the various ISKCON activities. “You become my eyes,” he said. But to think that the Bombay project was not yet completed disturbed him very much. “I have worked so far to get done whatever is accomplished,” he told Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “Now if the Deities are not properly installed in my presence, it will be a great shock.” But ISKCON management was too much botheration, and Prabhupāda told Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “You must give me complete relief from management.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa mentioned that Prabhupāda would sometimes become upset if he was not informed about ISKCON management, but Prabhupāda said better not to inform him. “Now take it that I am dead,” he said. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa took this remark to mean that the leaders of ISKCON should manage all problems just as if Prabhupāda were no longer present. They should relieve him so he would be free to think of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. And Prabhupāda confirmed that this was the right idea. “Give me that chance,” he said.

After one day in Vṛndāvana, Śrīla Prabhupāda wrote,

Seeing Śrīla Prabhupāda’s mood, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa mentioned the need for a will, and Prabhupāda agreed. A will, he said, was simple enough. Whatever he spoke, several men could sign as witnesses. He recalled how his spiritual master, just before a hernia operation, had made a very simple will on a scrap of paper. Although he never underwent that operation, years later the same will was presented in court and was accepted as evidence against the plots of some of the disciples.

“He was the original founder,” said Prabhupāda, “so whatever he wills, that is accepted.” When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked why Prabhupāda’s Guru Mahārāja had not undergone the operation, Prabhupāda replied, “Everyone has their sentiment. He thought that the doctor was paid to kill him.”

“Yes,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “because sometimes people were actually paid off to kill him. Actually, Śrīla Prabhupāda, you and your Guru Mahārāja were the greatest enemies of modern civilization in this century.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda explained, “This is Caitanya Mahāprabhu’s mission. Bhārata-bhūmite haila … . This is India’s culture. The whole world is in darkness, and they are risking their life in the transmigration of one body to another. He does not know that he is eternal and that in a few years this fragment is passing away, this life is just a passing flash. This is the Vaiṣṇava’s concern. What these rascals are doing? They are jumping like monkeys, wasting time. That is the Vaiṣṇava’s compassion, para-duḥkha-duḥkhī.”

When some other devotees gathered in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s room, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa explained Prabhupāda’s recent decision. “So Śrīla Prabhupāda has decided that the best medicine would be Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and kīrtana, and no need of any doctors who have promised to help save the life. We shouldn’t bring them. And no outsiders.”

“No medicine for the body?” asked a devotee.

“Oh, whatever medicine I am taking,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “Yogendra Ras.”

“He has tried so many medicines,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa said. “Every doctor has come, and they have each given their medicine. And he has tried them. This medicine always works: Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and kīrtana.”

“Bhavauṣadhāc chrotra-mano-’bhirāmāt,” quoted Śrīla Prabhupāda. (He had been quoting it again and again.) “It pleases the ear and the mind, bhavauṣadhāc chrotra-mano-’bhirāmāt, ka uttama-śloka-guṇānuvādāt. Make glorification of Bhagavān, and everyone will appreciate it – except the animal.”

At Śrīla Prabhupāda’s request, kīrtanas by a group of no more than four or five devotees and Bhāgavatam readings went on constantly, whether he was in his room, on the veranda, or on the roof. In the morning from five to ten and in the evenings from three to nine he would sit with his eyes closed, absorbed in the kīrtana, “the medicine for the disease of material existence, which gives pleasure to the mind and ear.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa promised to Prabhupāda he would read him no letters and bring him no visitors. Prabhupāda had long wanted this, and now it at least would come to pass.

The writing of the will would not be done with the attitude that the end had come, but in the spirit of “preparing for the worst.” It also meant finishing things so they would not have to be done at the last minute. Prabhupāda was concerned that his movement continue securely, with all ISKCON properties in the possession of his disciples within the institution and all his instructions made clear for the future. These matters should be dispatched now in a will, and the G.B.C. men should gather in Vṛndāvana to make these last arrangements and to be with him. Once these things were settled, Prabhupāda would be free to continue writing his books with no worries.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa later asked Śrīla Prabhupāda whether his new decisions indicated that he was losing his desire to fight to live. Śrīla Prabhupāda indirectly admitted it was so. “Therefore,” he said, “I do not wish to leave Vṛndāvana. If, by Kṛṣṇa’s desire, I survive, then we shall see later on. Otherwise … . ”

Even though his secretary did not read him letters or bring him news, Prabhupāda went on thinking. “What about the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple?” he asked. He had been renting his rooms there for years, and the temple proprietors had often challenged his rights. This was just another of his multifarious worries in maintaining his preaching around the world. Prabhupāda advised that his disciples always live in the Rādhā-Dāmodara rooms; that would prevent the landlord from trying to use them for something else. Even while lying quietly, resting, Prabhupāda would turn over such problems in his mind.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa wanted to double check to see that Prabhupāda actually wanted all the G.B.C. men from all over the world to come. It would be costly and demanding, so he wanted to be sure that Prabhupāda really wanted it. When Śrīla Prabhupāda assured him that he did, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, who saw his service as responding to whatever Śrīla Prabhupāda desired, also spoke in favor of the idea.

“Because they love you,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “I am sure they will all want to come and be with you.”

“Your love for me,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “will be shown by how much you cooperate to keep this institution together after I am gone.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda would usually make comments such as this while lying in bed. As soon as he would speak, some of the devotees attending him would come close to catch his words, and sometimes the kīrtana would stop.

The parts of Prabhupāda’s daily schedule that remained the same as before were his rising in the middle of the night to translate Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, his morning massage and bathing, and his hearing news through his secretary. He had all but stopped his morning car ride, as well as his darśana of the Deities. Eating was almost nil. He asked to be moved from his bed downstairs to the one upstairs, and sometimes he would sit at his desk.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read Prabhupāda a letter from Girirāja, more like a loving prayer than a letter. Girirāja had quoted a verse by Prahlāda Mahārāja from Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam:

Śrīla Prabhupāda was very affectionate toward Girirāja for his faithful, fearless service, and he listened with great appreciation, closing his eyes and drinking in every word of the prayer.

That same evening, Śrīla Prabhupāda sat up to receive a member of Parliament, Sri Sitaram Singh. Although he was appreciative that a highly placed man was visiting, he spoke on the absolute plane, exposing material illusions. Immediately, he attacked the narrow-mindedness of politicians with their party politics. He also exposed the rascaldom of politicians who claimed to support nonviolence on the basis of the Bhagavad-gītā. At times like this, the devotees with Śrīla Prabhupāda would almost forget that he was making preparations for the end of life. Later that night, after Mr. Singh had left, Prabhupāda said, “I can speak some more, or if Kṛṣṇa desires, then whatever I have given already, that is all.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was unlimitedly willing to speak about Kṛṣṇa and to help give Kṛṣṇa consciousness to others. But how much longer he would stay, how much more he would give, was up to Kṛṣṇa. With more time, he would carry on Kṛṣṇa’s will in the material world. But if Kṛṣṇa’s desire was that he should leave, then he would also accept that willingly. Even if he had to soon depart from this world, he could not simply shut off his burning compassion, his preaching spirit. Most of all, he desired that what he had started – a worldwide movement to save suffering souls – should continue.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami confided to his Godbrothers that his own feelings were mixed. It was a time of sorrow, and yet Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed relieved now that he had decided not to struggle to survive. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa said he couldn’t but feel happy at Śrīla Prabhupāda’s relief from all concerns. Bhavānanda Goswami, one of the first G.B.C. men to arrive, told the others how he had said to Prabhupāda that on the one hand he felt sad that Prabhupāda was departing, but also joyful that he would be able to leave this nasty material world and rejoin Kṛṣṇa. Prabhupāda had approved the sentiment, adding that although his Guru Mahārāja had become disgusted at the end of his life due to the misbehavior of his leading disciples, he did not feel that; rather, he liked the company of his disciples and felt they were doing their best in carrying out his order. But he also warned them not to spoil ISKCON and become another Gaudiya Math by splitting up.

The ISKCON leaders formed small groups and took turns in being with Prabhupāda and chanting and reading to him. He would often be sitting up in bed in his main room downstairs, and the high-ceilinged room with its black stone floor would be very dimly lit, though decorated with flowers and framed pictures of ISKCON Deities. His room was comfortable, despite the oppressive heat, because of the air cooler and overhead fans.

Sometimes Prabhupāda would clap his hands softly to the kīrtana, and he was always ready to hear and evaluate reports of his disciples’ preaching. The main difference about Prabhupāda was his physical appearance. As one G.B.C. man put it, he looked like one of the great ascetics depicted in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, grown extremely thin like Dhruva Mahārāja or Rantideva, who performed great austerities while rapt in meditation on the Absolute Truth.

Śrīla Prabhupāda would alternately sit up in bed or lie down while hearing kīrtana or Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. Now he was always surrounded by concerned disciples and he seemed happier. Some of the devotees who had been with him in Vṛndāvana just before all the G.B.C. secretaries had arrived could see that he felt more encouraged; perhaps by the sincere prayers of all the devotees a dramatic change might come.

Bhavānanda Goswami and Jayapatāka Swami brought reports from Śrīla Prabhupāda’s beloved Māyāpur project. Bhavānanda said the temple was filled with transcendental activity, and the gurukula boys would chant Hare Kṛṣṇa even while sweeping the roads. Work was just beginning on a new residence for Śrīla Prabhupāda; it would be surrounded by fountains, a terrace, and a big pond.

“It has not yet begun?” Śrīla Prabhupāda asked. Jayapatāka Swami replied that the plans had been drawn and that the architects said it would be no problem. They could build right through the rainy season.

“How long will it take?” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked on Śrīla Prabhupāda’s behalf.

“Six months.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “I think you are tied to this planet by the love of your devotees.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda uttered a thoughtful “Hmmm. All right.”

Although Śrīla Prabhupāda had indicated a will to live by saying, “All right,” to Bhavānanda he said, “There is no hope of life. Therefore I have called the G.B.C. If I can die in Vṛndāvana … . Kṛṣṇa can accomplish anything, but from the physical condition there is no hope.”

“But Kṛṣṇa is Parameśvara,” Bhavānanda said.

Prabhupāda laughed. “That is another thing.” If Kṛṣṇa liked, then he would live. But Prabhupāda wanted his disciples to understand the critical state of his health. “The brain is working,” he said, “but the body is not allowing. Don’t worry. Everyone will die today or tomorrow. I am also an old man. There is nothing to be regretted. It is up to Kṛṣṇa.”

Dropping his reassuring stance and pleading as a helpless student, Bhavānanda asked, “What can we do, Śrīla Prabhupāda?”

“You can pray to Kṛṣṇa,” Prabhupāda replied. “Kṛṣṇa is all-powerful. And one of the most important things is that when I am gone, don’t spoil it. Keep it, Māyāpur.”

Jayapatāka Swami gave glowing accounts of his recent preaching to both Hindus and Muslims in Dacca. “There have been no sādhus in Bangladesh for years,” said Jayapatāka, speaking strongly and victoriously, though sitting like a child at the foot of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s bed. “People are eager to hear about Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Ten thousand people gathered. It was the biggest function in the history of the colony, either Hindu or Muhammadan. The Muhammadans are also interested. They don’t know anything about Lord Caitanya. Many ask if we have any books on the life of Lord Caitanya. They like to read.”

“That book Teachings of Lord Caitanya,” Śrīla Prabhupāda interjected in a voice hoarse but full of life and interest.

Jayapatāka said they had prospects of getting a temple there. “Many young men are coming and asking very intelligent questions,” he said. “They ask questions about our Deity worship, about guru, about hari-nāma. Very intelligent questions. There is no CIA rumor. There is no type of any bad talk about us. No envy at all. And because they are a little oppressed, they are always being challenged about believing in Kṛṣṇa – so that is why they are eager to understand.”

“What about the Muhammadans?” asked Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“At one place,” said Jayapatāka, “when Prabhaviṣṇu lectured in Dacca, a Muhammadan heard and came to him and said, ‘What you are preaching is very applicable to the modern day. In my district there is nearly a majority of Hindus, but when they have their sādhus come and preach there, I find it very old-fashioned and very unacceptable. But your preaching we find enthusing.’ So he arranged a program. Ultimately every Muhammadan that I have met has become interested, just because it was presented in a way that was acceptable to them. They say, ‘You are Hindu?’ We say, ‘No, we are Vaiṣṇava. Vaiṣṇava means we believe in only one God. There is no one equal to Him. So you believe in the same thing.’ ”

“That is a fact,” said Prabhupāda. “Asamordhva. There cannot be anyone equal to God or greater than Him.”

“Many young men, both Hindu and Muhammadan, will join,” said Jayapatāka Swami. “I am sure. But right now we are getting the society registered and getting our place.”

“You did not get that yet?” Prabhupāda asked. “Get the place and get the society registered.” Prabhupāda added that Jayapatāka should do everything very seriously. “It is increasing,” he added approvingly.

When Rāmeśvara Swami came into the room for his kīrtana, he brought Śrīla Prabhupāda the newest editions of the Kṛṣṇa book trilogies and reported on how the various books were selling.

“Keep your health very nice,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said. “Live as many years as possible. Be Kṛṣṇa conscious. Then next life you go back to home – permanent life. There is no cheating, no politics, no personal ambition to fulfill. There is not any tinge of any personal salvation. Now can anyone point out that here is personal sense gratification? Can anyone? Can you say, ‘Here is my personal sense gratification’? There is no such thing in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. This is our desire – that we live with devotees and execute the mission of our predecessors. This is our ambition. Without ambition no one can live. Our real self-interest is to execute Kṛṣṇa’s desire. So do it very carefully, and if one fourth of the Americans become Vaiṣṇavas, then the whole world will change. … ”

“In America now,” Rāmeśvara said enthusiastically, “the book selling has surpassed last year. We are trying to double. We have not yet doubled, but it has gone beyond last year.”

“It is going to double,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“By your mercy,” Rāmeśvara added.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “Be doubly blessed.” At these words the devotees laughed happily.

Śrīla Prabhupāda then turned to Kīrtanānanda Swami. “So New Vrindaban is developing. Be happy.”

“We can’t be happy if you are not there,” Kīrtanānanda said.

“I am always there,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “When I see that everything is going nicely, then I am happy. Even with this body. Body is body. We’ll have next body.”

“Wasn’t it Puru who gave his father his youth?” asked Kīrtanānanda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda nodded. “King Yayāti traded his old age.”

“And you can do that,” said Kīrtanānanda.

“No, why?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “You are my body. Then you can do it. There is no difference. Just like I am working, so my Guru Mahārāja is there, Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī. Physically he may not be, but in every action we do.”

“In the Bhāgavatam,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “you say that for whoever follows the guru, the guru lives with him eternally.”

“So I am not going to die,” said Prabhupāda. “Kīrtir yasya sa jīvati. One who does something substantial, he lives forever. He doesn’t die. One has to accept another body according to his karma, but for a devotee there is no such thing. He always accepts a body for serving Kṛṣṇa, so there is no problem.”

Rāmeśvara Swami informed Prabhupāda that the last volume of the Ninth Canto was at the printer, and the first volume of the Tenth Canto would follow in two weeks. Śrīla Prabhupāda inquired about whether it was more economical to print the Hindi books in India or America, and they discussed.

“Internationally all conditioned people are suffering,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “But you devotees are above all dangers. Kīrtanānanda Mahārāja knows that very well. He has no danger, sticking to that New Vrindaban program. There is always improvement. They eat first-class nutritious food. And what is that place in Pennsylvania?”

It was like old times, with Śrīla Prabhupāda hearing reports and correcting and inspiring his leaders to do more and more, assuring them that Kṛṣṇa would help them.

Rāmeśvara Swami described for Śrīla Prabhupāda’s pleasure the great volume of Kṛṣṇa conscious literature being distributed. “At the end of this year,” he said, “we will have sold at least sixty-five million books on Kṛṣṇa. Every year we are selling at least fifteen to twenty million books now.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “They ask, ‘Why are you stressing so much on Kṛṣṇa?’ But that is the only message. It will increase more. People will be inquisitive.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda continued to talk, but with occasional reflections on his present condition. “What is the problem?” he asked. “We are talking about Kṛṣṇa. So if all of a sudden I collapse, then what is the problem? Kṛṣṇa tvadīya-pada-paṅkaja … .* Ordinary dying is kapha-vāta-pitta, choking. But if in the kīrtana you die, oh, it is so successful. Not the injection and operation – that atmosphere. But in kṛṣṇa-kīrtana. That is glorious. Not oxygen, gas, dying, and so much trouble. Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa – bas. And let me die, Kṛṣṇa. Never be disturbed. Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. For chanting you have got so much material. Now read something from this book.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda reached over and opened Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and handed it to Rāmeśvara, who began to read.

One after another the G.B.C. men arrived. Atreya Ṛṣi brought pomegranates and sweet lemons from Iran, as well as good news of the ISKCON restaurant there. Śrīla Prabhupāda listened with intense interest to Atreya Ṛṣi’s report and then spoke for a while about the Middle East and how to best present Kṛṣṇa consciousness there. Kīrtanānanda Swami had brought milk products from New Vrindaban, and a sannyāsī came from Thailand with fruits and flowers.

When Ādi-keśava Swami came in, Prabhupāda beamed. He heard with great pleasure Ādi-keśava’s report of the impact of the New York court decision on Indians around the world. When Svarūpa Dāmodara arrived he showed Prabhupāda the manuscripts for three pamphlets proving scientifically and mathematically that Kṛṣṇa consciousness is the Absolute Truth. After each report and greeting, Śrīla Prabhupāda would ask that the kīrtana be continued, and he would become silent, as the devotees sang softly, hour after hour: Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. A very small pair of karatālas, the only instrument, produced a soft, pleasant ringing The voices of the chanters were subdued, but their minds were firmly fixed in devotion to Śrīla Prabhupāda and the holy name, concerned that Prabhupāda could hear the mahā-mantra without interruption.

The devotees who were chanting experienced their own realizations while intimately associating with Śrīla Prabhupāda in this way. They could understand this was a most important connection with Śrīla Prabhupāda, to come into his presence and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa and jaya śrī-kṛṣṇa-caitanya and read to him from Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to hear the transcendental sound, yet he was simultaneously teaching his disciples. After his departure, they would retain the deep impression of the significance of the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, and they would go on giving the mercy to others. He was teaching them how to become pure devotees. He was sharing himself with them by having them chant very simply and read his books without speculation, so that later, when preaching Kṛṣṇa consciousness, they would remember. Śrīla Prabhupāda would always be with them as they went on chanting simply and preaching without speculation. Whether he would depart now or later, he was preparing them.

Sometimes during the chanting Śrīla Prabhupāda would communicate unspoken feelings with his disciples. He might simply glance at one of the devotees, but that devotee would feel a surge of loving emotion and realization. Suddenly he would understand better how pure and compassionate Śrīla Prabhupāda was. And the devotee might recall how Śrīla Prabhupāda had come and saved him, bringing him to Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Thus the G.B.C. men, while chanting and becoming purified, were rededicating themselves, hoping that Kṛṣṇa would accept them as surrendered souls. They asked that Kṛṣṇa bless them and make them fit for whatever happened.

“Do not leave me,” Prabhupāda said at one point.

“Are you feeling better?” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked.

“Yes, I am feeling a little better. Go on administering this medicine.” At Śrīla Prabhupāda’s request, the devotees staying with him between 1:30 A.M. read to him from Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Personality of Godhead. He would usually be on the roof then, sitting up in bed. A few bare bulbs would light the darkness, and all would be quiet and still except for the sound of the devotee reading. After one such reading, Śrīla Prabhupāda asked Rūpānuga about the preaching in Washington, D.C. Rūpānuga replied briefly, and then he and Balavanta began talking about deprogramming. Then Rūpānuga said he had written “A Prayer to The Higher Authorities,” and asked if he could read it to Śrīla Prabhupāda.

A sannyāsī disciple read aloud a prayer he had written, petitioning the Supreme Lord for Prabhupāda to live for a hundred years. On hearing this, Śrīla Prabhupāda opened his eyes wide and smiled. But again he pointed out that he was not afraid of death. Wherever he was, he said, he was in Vaikuṇṭha. Especially being in Vṛndāvana and being surrounded by the kīrtana of his disciples was Vaikuṇṭha.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami told Prabhupāda that he had offered a prayer in the temple that morning while standing before Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. Kṛṣṇa has done so many miracles, he said, so it would not be very amazing if He kept Prabhupāda alive. And Balarāma, who was supporting all creation, would not be weakened if He gave Śrīla Prabhupāda a little strength. “In this way,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa said, “we may all pray to Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma to save you. We are not very important, but still They may hear.”

“No,” Prabhupāda said. “You are all pure devotees with no other motives.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda regarded the petitions of his disciples as expressions of sincere affection, not at all improper spiritually. But he pointed out that it was ultimately up to Kṛṣṇa. He had His plan. In any case, Prabhupāda said that he would be all right. He told the story of a sage who blessed different persons in different ways. The sage blessed a prince to live a long life, since after death he would be punished for his sensual life. The sage also blessed an ascetic to die at once, so as to be relieved of the suffering of his austerities and receive his pious rewards. But when asked to bless a pure devotee, the sage said that because the devotee had already obtained the lotus feet of Kṛṣṇa, his condition would be the same, whether he lived or died.

Prabhupāda knew, even better than his disciples, that there was much he could do if he remained in the world, but he simply wanted to see what Kṛṣṇa desired. He saw strong evidence, however, that his life was about to end, at least according to the condition of his physical body, and this in itself indicated that Kṛṣṇa’s desire was that he soon leave this world.

The G.B.C. men met and decided that aside from Prabhupāda’s will, which would secure the ISKCON properties, and aside from making all the bank accounts within ISKCON secure, there were also a few questions which they should put before Prabhupāda before it was too late. These questions, such as how future disciples would be initiated, would have to be answered; otherwise they would become a source of speculation and havoc after Śrīla Prabhupāda’s departure.

A selected committee from the G.B.C. came before Śrīla Prabhupāda as he sat up in bed in the main room downstairs. Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami was to be the spokesman, but he felt shy and uneasy. To come directly before Śrīla Prabhupāda and ask about what should be done after his passing away might seem impertinent.

But it was necessary. Śrīla Prabhupāda himself had requested that the G.B.C. come to Vṛndāvana to take care of exactly this kind of business. Besides, for a disciple to feel foolish and awkward before Śrīla Prabhupāda was normal. And certainly the mission of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples continuing his movement was so grave that its importance transcended the awkwardness of the moment. Nevertheless, Śrīla Prabhupāda was Śrīla Prabhupāda, and even though apparently invalid, he was as awesome as ever. If he were displeased with the questions, then it would be frightening.

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Satsvarūpa, “we were all asked by the rest of the G.B.C. to come to ask some questions. These are the members of the original G.B.C. as you first made it out. Our first question is about the G.B.C. members. We want to know how long should they remain in office?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke slowly and deeply. “They should remain for good. Selected men are chosen, so that they cannot be changed. Rather, if some competent men are found, they should be added.” Śrīla Prabhupāda took the opportunity to recommend that Vasudeva become a G.B.C. member representing Fiji. “Add him,” said Prabhupāda. “But the G.B.C. is not to be changed.”

Satsvarūpa asked what to do if a G.B.C. member gave up his post, and Prabhupāda said that the G.B.C. body should elect another man.

“Our next question,” Satsvarūpa proceeded, “concerns initiation in the future, particularly at that time when you are no longer with us. We want to know how a first and second initiation would be conducted.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “I shall recommend some of you. After this is settled up, I shall recommend some of you to act as officiating ācārya.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa interjected, “Is that called ṛtvik ācārya?”

“Yes,” Prabhupāda said, “ṛtvik.”

“Then what is the relationship of that person who gives the initiation?” asked Satsvarūpa.

“He is guru,” said Prabhupāda.

“But he does it on your behalf,” said Satsvarūpa.

“Yes, that is formality. Because in my presence one should not become guru. So on my behalf, on my order – āmāra ājñāya guru. He is actually guru, but on my order.”

“So they may also be considered your disciples,” said Satsvarūpa, referring to those persons initiated on Prabhupāda’s behalf by the ṛtvik ācārya.

“They are their disciples,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. Now he was speaking of initiations after his passing away. “They are the disciples of the one who is initiating. And they are my granddisciples. When I order you to become guru, you become regular guru, that’s all. And they become the disciples of my disciple.”

The G.B.C. members present were satisfied that Śrīla Prabhupāda’s reply to the intricate inquiry was clear and conclusive. Later, he would select “some of you,” and whoever he selected could become an initiating guru. What he had already described many times throughout his Bhaktivedanta purports was now being implemented: his disciples would become gurus and accept disciples of their own.

Satsvarūpa next asked about the BBT. “At present,” he said, “no translated works are to be published without your seeing and approving them. So the question is, is there any system for publishing works in the future, works that you may not see?”

“That we have to examine expertly,” Prabhupāda replied. He accepted the principle that future works could be translated from Sanskrit, but he cautioned, “But amongst my disciples, I don’t think there are many who can translate properly.”

“Therefore, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Kīrtanānanda Swami, “we think that you cannot leave us very soon.”

“I don’t want to,” said Prabhupāda, “but I am obliged. What can I do?”

“If you don’t want, then Kṛṣṇa won’t want,” said Kīrtanānanda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda went on to describe the special qualifications for translating Sanskrit Vaiṣṇava literature. It would take a realized soul, he said. “Otherwise, simply by imitating, A-B-C-D, it will not help. My purports are liked by people because it is presented as practical experience. It cannot be done unless one is realized.”

“It is not a matter of scholarship,” added Bhagavān.

“Lord Caitanya says,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “āmāra ājñāya guru. One who can understand the order of Caitanya Mahāprabhu, he can become guru. Or one who understands his guru’s order in paramparā, he can become guru. And therefore I shall select some of you.”

By repeating himself, Prabhupāda emphasized his point – he would select who would be guru. And he also repeated his other point: “So there is no question of changing G.B.C. Rather, one who is competent, he can be selected to add by the vote of G.B.C.”

“Of course, if someone falls away,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa proposed, “just like in the past G.B.C. men have fallen down …”

“They should be replaced,” said Prabhupāda. “They must be all ideal ācārya. In the beginning we have done for working. But now we should be very cautious. Anyone who is deviating, he can be replaced.”

Their few questions answered, the G.B.C. men sat silently before Śrīla Prabhupāda, awaiting any further instructions but anxious not to tire him with their presence.

“So, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “there is a chanting party ready to do some kīrtana. Maybe they can come in?”

Even while the G.B.C. was gathered to make a thorough draft and make the will legal, Śrīla Prabhupāda received a visit that made him anxious over his ISKCON society. One of the Gosvāmīs of a Vṛndāvana temple visited and praised Śrīla Prabhupāda. But in the course of the conversation, the man asked, “After you, who will take charge of the property?” As soon as the gentleman left, Śrīla Prabhupāda called for Gopāla Kṛṣṇa. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and Bhavānanda also gathered.

“In India you can understand there is an undercurrent,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“Undercurrent,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa repeated.

“An undercurrent is going on,” said Prabhupāda, “that after my demise it may be taken away from your hands.”

“Whew! You understood that from this discussion?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“I understood it long ago,” said Prabhupāda. “How are you going to guard yourselves?” Once again, it was Prabhupāda who had to make them aware of worldly wisdom.

“You ordered that we form a trust property with life-long trustees,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “Actually this property is the envy of all India. They are the best properties.”

“They envy our prestige,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “our position – everything. Everywhere we are first class.”

For Śrīla Prabhupāda, a will meant protection for his ISKCON. As Śrīla Prabhupāda had explained, a devotee has not a tinge of self-interest – everything is for Kṛṣṇa. But in his purity he must not be naive. ISKCON was a large, growing organization of properties and monies intended one hundred percent for use in the devotional service of Kṛṣṇa. Śrīla Prabhupāda called on the G.B.C. to be vigilant.

While his G.B.C. men discussed privately the details of the will, Śrīla Prabhupāda lay in bed, anxiously concerned about ISKCON’s properties. He didn’t attempt to eat, and Upendra had to massage his chest. Later that day, while surrounded by a sweetly chanting group of devotees, he again brought up the threat. “There is a big plot going on,” he began. “They are very troublesome.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, who knew what Prabhupāda was talking about, said, “This should be done immediately – make a trust property.”

“This shall be done,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Very nice.” What Prabhupāda was asking was not unusual. But it had to be done soundly, expertly. And that meant Śrīla Prabhupāda would have to do it himself. He wanted no more management, but could his disciples assure him on this point of greatest anxiety, that the institution’s properties and monies would be protected?

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa spoke up to assure Prabhupāda of the G.B.C.’s competence to deal with this. “This shall be done for all the properties,” he said, “but especially here in India.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Bhavānanda Goswami, “the trustees should be designated.”

“Trustee without designation,” Prabhupāda replied. “Where is trustee? I have already made one draft of trustees – for the Book Trust. In that style make it.”

“Yes,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “So we will make up a draft on that style. And after the draft is approved, you can tell us which trustees you want.”

“Oh, you can select among yourselves,” said Prabhupāda. “Why you are taxing me?”

When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa mentioned that the three places in India – Bombay, Vṛndāvana, and Māyāpur – were the most important, Śrīla Prabhupāda replied, “Everywhere.” Then he added, “Among yourselves there is no strong man. That is the difficulty.”

“That is a fact,” admitted Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“All my child,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda – a statement of love but not of relief. “And it requires a very strong man. That is lacking. In every minor detail I have to open my mouth. Anyway, whatever you have got, sit down and select trustees, and that format is there. Make it a trust. Among you Rāmeśvara is a little intelligent. Anyway, do your best. Otherwise, there is a very, very big undercurrent. They are waiting for your program.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa assured Prabhupāda that they would immediately have a meeting – “We will discuss these points.”

“Oh, discussion I have already given you,” said Prabhupāda. “Do it.”

“What I meant,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “is we will execute it.”

“All right,” said Prabhupāda. “Don’t delay.”

At times like this, it became especially clear that the day was approaching when Prabhupāda’s children would have to grow up and lead, manage, protect, and expand his society on their own. These might well be their last chances to learn directly from him and to be close with him for chanting the holy name and dedicating themselves utterly to carrying out his desires for ISKCON. Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed to be doubting whether his children would rise to the occasion, and that expressed doubt impelled them not to discouragement but to determined action to prove themselves loyal and competent.

That evening a G.B.C. committee reported back to Śrīla Prabhupāda that the will had been drafted, with provisions for the protection of all ISKCON properties through specified trustees. Rāmeśvara read the will before Prabhupāda, who made only a few comments.

“This will make it impossible for anyone to cheat,” said Rāmeśvara.

“Yes,” Prabhupāda agreed, “as far as I can see.” Even regarding matters of utmost concern to him, he sometimes remained quiet. He had directed his G.B.C. men as far as possible, now he mostly wanted the medicine of the holy name. But what they had done was all right, and he was satisfied. As the committee was leaving his room, he softly exclaimed, “Jaya future directors of ISKCON!” And later, when alone with his servants, he shed tears and said he could now leave peacefully.

A few days later the final version of the “Declaration of Will” was notarized in the presence of a lawyer. The document began, “The Governing Body Commission (G.B.C.) will be the ultimate managing authority of the entire International Society for Krishna Consciousness,” and went on to cover all the points of concern regarding ISKCON properties and management. Most of the twenty-three-member G.B.C. body was still gathered in Vṛndāvana, but their immediate business was completed.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s health appeared to be slightly improved, a blessing the devotees and Prabhupāda attributed to the constant chanting. Śrīla Prabhupāda even ate (and digested) some fried food. He also spoke of attempting to resume his early morning translating work. The G.B.C. men, each of whom had pressing leadership and administrative duties within their respective zones, began to feel the need to return to their posts. Aside from their chanting shifts in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s room, usually for three hours twice a day, they had no other service in Vṛndāvana. The weather was also unbearably hot, up to 120 degrees. When some of them expressed their plans to return to their areas of work, Prabhupāda gave his permission. They had been together for a week, and now, one by one, they began to disperse. Within another week most of them had left Vṛndāvana. Śrīla Prabhupāda and his small staff remained, and the constant chanting continued, performed by the devotees of the Krishna-Balaram temple.

As June came in Vṛndāvana, the weather remained very hot. The sky, which had been a clear blue, turned hazy as the first moisture arrived. Between noon and four P.M., the ground was too hot for bare feet, and the residents of Vṛndāvana would stay home, confining most of their activity to either the morning or the late afternoon and evening. Even eating was excluded from the midday, since the heat killed the appetite. The Yamunā was shallow and hot, giving little relief. The cows were gaunt from lack of grass and feed, and occasional hot, searing winds raised dust clouds. Flies and mosquitoes died in the air. One of the few pleasant features of summer was the fragrance of bel flowers that climbed along the walls around Prabhupāda’s garden, somehow thriving in the dry heat.

In the first days of June, Śrīla Prabhupāda experienced some hope of recovery. He asked to resume his morning rides, and when being brought down to the car, he said, “Soon I will get down and walk myself.” His old friend from Allahabad, Mr. Ghosh, came and diagnosed his disease as anxiety for the devotees and the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Śrīla Prabhupāda agreed. But he didn’t follow the doctor’s orders, since they included having his blood pressure checked regularly, and taking various medicines and special treatments. But by receiving massages from his servants, he felt he was improving At this rate, he said, he would be all right after a month and a half. But he stressed, “I am not leaving Vṛndāvana until I am well.”

One morning Śrīla Prabhupāda asked to go and see the Deities, and his men promptly moved him in his rocking chair before Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma. Sitting in his chair beneath the tamāla tree, Prabhupāda looked up at the transcendental brothers, while many tears glided down his cheeks. “They are dressed very nicely,” he said. While he basked in the presence of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, he enjoyed the soothing shade of the tamāla tree. “The contractor wanted this tree cut down,” he said, “but I would not allow. There are not many tamāla trees left. These worldly men do not know.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda started coming down regularly each morning to see the Deities, an event that gradually grew to become a daily temple function involving ISKCON devotees and guests alike. Prabhupāda would sit in his rocking chair under the tamāla tree, and a devotee would lead kīrtana, while Prabhupāda and all the other devotees chanted responsively. For Prabhupāda’s disciples, chanting with him in the courtyard of his temple in Ramaṇa-reti, Vṛndāvana, was the essence of the spiritual world.

Although Prabhupāda’s body was apparently sick, he was still as alert as ever, and every morning he would notice who was there and who was not. The devotees grew to love this special opportunity to associate with Prabhupāda as he sat in his rocking chair, gazing at Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma. Vṛndāvana residents and pilgrims would also gather around Prabhupāda, often offering money, which they would place at Prabhupāda’s feet. While the energetic young gurukula boys danced before Prabhupāda, and the pilgrims continuously flowed in and out, offering obeisances and rupees at his feet, and while one of his secretaries fanned him with a large cāmara whisk, Śrīla Prabhupāda sat gravely yet simply, with his attention fixed on Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma.

Sometimes he would go sit in the private garden adjacent to his main room. A devotee had built a plaster fountain there in the shape of a large pink lotus, and while Prabhupāda sat in the little alcove, surrounded by flowering vines, the splashing of the fountain pleased and soothed. An occasional monkey would come over the wall into the garden, looking for something to steal, and Prabhupāda would have it chased away. Otherwise he sat silently, conversing only occasionally with one or two disciples.

One day in the garden Śrīla Prabhupāda was recalling the simple but civilized life he had known as a child. He mentioned the various ceremonies his mother had observed during pregnancy to allay the dangers connected with childbirth. Though his voice was soft and weak, he was still inclined to speak. “So much care was taken for the children,” he said. “Now these rascals are killing children. Most uncivilized life. Two-legged animals. Even in these days, in India in the interior villages, their life can be peaceful. They have enough grains, enough milk to live peacefully and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. And they are going there to give this sterilization.” (Śrīla Prabhupāda was referring to Indira Gandhi’s policy of compulsory sterilization.)

One of the devotees present had just come from West Bengal, where he had been traveling on a boat down the Ganges, preaching and distributing prasādam in the villages. Śrīla Prabhupāda began describing to him how in the villages they make a simple bread ball from attar (whole wheat flour) and bake it beside an open fire. “The same fire. It is called khāndi fire, using cow dung chips,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said. “They put one pot upon this fire and use it for dāl. Then after some time, you see if it is boiled – very nice. Then this ball should be cooked in ghee. It will be first class.”

While the fountain splashed gently and the pigeons and green parrots fluttered and chattered, Prabhupāda continued to talk freely. He recalled his horoscope at birth: “After seventy years this man will go outside India and establish so many temples.” He said he hadn’t understood at first that he would actually have to go, but when he had finally gone to the U.S., he had had no intention of ever returning. Except for the stroke he suffered in the United States in 1967, he said, he would not have come back. “That means Kṛṣṇa desired,” he said. “Otherwise, I had no plan to come back. Therefore I took this permanent residency.”

“Do you regret having come back to India?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami.

“No,” said Prabhupāda. “My plan was like that, to stay. But Kṛṣṇa’s plan was different. When I was coming back [in 1970] I was speaking to Dvārakādhīśa [the Kṛṣṇa Deity in ISKCON’s Los Angeles temple], ‘I came here to preach. I don’t know why You are dragging me back.’ That was when I was leaving Los Angeles. I was not happy. But He had His plan.”

“Pretty nice plan,” commented Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

Śrīla Prabhupāda continued, “Kṛṣṇa said, ‘Come, I’ll give you a better place in Vṛndāvana. You were retired in Vṛndāvana, and I asked you to leave. Now you have to come back. But I will give you a better place.’ So He has given me a temple a hundred times better than any other place. Is it not so?”

So was Śrīla Prabhupāda “seriously ill” or “better”? “I may live or die,” he said, “in either case I am with Kṛṣṇa.” But he confided, “I asked Kṛṣṇa to give me enthusiasm to continue up to death. A soldier should die fighting on the battlefield.”

These letters were almost as valuable as Śrīla Prabhupāda’s, since they were often filled with direct quotes from Śrīla Prabhupāda.

One evening Śrīla Prabhupāda called for all the available sannyāsīs. He said he was feeling tired, but like a father happy to have his children with him, he said, “You should all come to be with me like this, and I feel better.”

One day while sitting with Śrīla Prabhupāda, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa began to describe the pastimes of Kṛṣṇa as depicted in the painting hanging to the right of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s prasādam table. The painting showed Kṛṣṇa and His cowherd friends eating lunch. Śrīla Prabhupāda looked at the painting and then, closing his eyes and thinking of the līlā, said, “This is the highest perfection of life. I have concluded that whatever is done without Kṛṣṇa is simply a waste of time. What will they think of this?”

Prabhupāda’s moods moved and varied within the realm of transcendental emotions and attitudes. To some of the disciples attending him, he said, “I am thinking, ‘I am a worthless person, taking so much service. There is no way I can repay you. I am poor in every respect, financially and spiritually.’ ”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa protested, “our only desire is to serve you.”

“I know,” Prabhupāda replied, “and it is the only reason I am living. All over the world things are going on by your sincere service.”

But occasionally Prabhupāda would still reprimand an errant disciple. When, in dressing Prabhupāda, Upendra gave him a luṅgī that was too small, Prabhupāda called him “a fool and a rascal.” And when Tamāla Kṛṣṇa did not attend Prabhupāda one morning, due to having a cold, Prabhupāda was critical. “I was never neglectful about my duty in any field of activity,” he said, “even business. Dr. Bose loved me very much. He was giving me checks to sign for forty thousand rupees. I was never lazy or neglectful in duty. I would do it honestly and try to make it perfect. Only I was neglectful when I was involved with my young wife. Then I neglected my studies. That was due to circumstances. And then later I neglected my wife. My father said I was fortunate not to like my family. Kṛṣṇa saved me through so many circumstances. This material life is checkered.”

Early one morning Śrīla Prabhupāda awoke suddenly. “I had a dream,” he said to the devotees attending him. “There was a big assembly of drunkards and chanters. The drunkards were madmen. Some of the drunkards were becoming chanters. They cannot stop fighting. The drunkards were so crazy.”

“Were you there also?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“Yes, I was standing there also.”

“Were some of the chanters becoming drunkards?”

“Chanters cannot fall down,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Their names are listed – back to home, back to Godhead. They are in Kṛṣṇa’s family.”

Thoudam had grown up in Manipur but after graduating from high school had come to America to continue his education at the University of California. He had been attracted by the devotees chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa on the streets of Los Angeles and had visited the temple. When he met Śrīla Prabhupāda, he became convinced that he had met a genuine spiritual leader. At first Thoudam had maintained his stance as a representative of the world of empirical scientific knowledge, and Śrīla Prabhupāda had invited him for morning walks on Venice Beach.

Day after day, Śrīla Prabhupāda would draw Thoudam into arguments about the origin of life. When Śrīla Prabhupāda was ready to argue, he would glance around and ask, “Where is the scientist?” And on catching sight of Thoudam, he would ask, “So, what do they say?” Thoudam would then argue that life had arisen by chance through chemical evolution, and Śrīla Prabhupāda would smash the argument with a stunning display of logic and common sense.

Thoudam, by regularly associating with Śrīla Prabhupāda and by reading the Bhagavad-gītā As It Is, had become more inclined to Kṛṣṇa consciousness than to material science, and eventually he had become Prabhupāda’s initiated disciple, Svarūpa Dāmodara dāsa. With Śrīla Prabhupāda’s encouragement, Svarūpa Dāmodara had soon received his Ph.D. and pledged to serve Śrīla Prabhupāda through scientific lectures and writings against the theories of modern, atheistic science.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was well aware of the powerful sway science held over people everywhere, and he was out to combat their godless propaganda. He knew that Bhagavad-gītā was the highest science, and he saw how outrageously prejudiced many modern scientific assumptions were. For all their high technical jargon and faith in the scientific method, the scientists were actually ignorant of the origin and purpose of life.

Svarūpa Dāmodara and a few other devotees holding graduate degrees had formed the Bhaktivedanta Institute and were working within academic circles to establish the scientific basis of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Śrīla Prabhupāda had been especially pleased when at a large meeting of scientists Svarūpa Dāmodara had challenged a Nobel Prize–winning scientist who held that life was a phenomenon that occurred at a certain level of chemical complexity. “If I give you the required chemicals,” Svarūpa Dāmodara had asked him, “will you be able to produce life?” And the embarrassed scientist had replied, “I don’t know.” Repeatedly Śrīla Prabhupāda had referred to that incident in his conversations and lectures.

Śrīla Prabhupāda often praised the work of Svarūpa Dāmodara and the Bhaktivedanta Institute and assured them that the BBT would provide funds for their printing, research, and building projects. He had given them the arguments, and they were developing them with scientific language.

Now Svarūpa Dāmodara had come for more association with Śrīla Prabhupāda, and after offering obeisances, he presented Śrīla Prabhupāda with several pink lotus flowers. Śrīla Prabhupāda took one in his hand and opened the petals; the others he gave to his secretary for presenting to the Deities. Svarūpa Dāmodara had also brought several ripe pineapples, and Prabhupāda immediately asked for a glass of fresh pineapple juice.

Svarūpa Dāmodara was arranging for a conference of scientists in Vṛndāvana to discuss “The Origin of Life.” He had been meeting with various scientists and professors, many of whom had shown interest in Svarūpa Dāmodara’s approach and in participating in the conference. Svarūpa Dāmodara read Prabhupāda the prospectus he had prepared announcing the upcoming conference. Prabhupāda listened silently and at the end said, “All glories to Svarūpa Dāmodara!” Later in the afternoon they spoke again. It seemed that Prabhupāda was never too tired or too indisposed to speak with Svarūpa Dāmodara about defeating materialistic science.

Svarūpa Dāmodara was getting hope from his conversations with scientists. He told Prabhupāda, “I think they’re interested in the program we are making. Otherwise they wouldn’t take time to discuss. Some of them feel our approach is unique.”

“There is no other such proposal,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “They have taken God as something mystical. Especially this rascal Darwin’s theory. They have become like animals, and they are seeing everyone as animals. This rascal has convinced them, ‘Your grandfather was a monkey.’ How could they become the son of a monkey? But this is going on. A grand rascal, this Darwin. And his theory is taken as the greatest principle of anthropology in the whole world. So scientists by combined meeting should speak out against this Darwin’s theory.”

On the day of Svarūpa Dāmodara’s arrival in Vṛndāvana, the first rains also arrived, indicating the end of summer and the start of the monsoons. Heavy rains beat down while Prabhupāda and Svarūpa Dāmodara continued talking. Prabhupāda said that the Vedic evolutionary theory had been presented in the Padma Purāṇa thousands of years before Darwin.

“If we can get some big scientists on our side,” said Svarūpa Dāmodara, “at least a few, that will be enough.”

“That I am asking,” said Prabhupāda.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa figured that Śrīla Prabhupāda would be tired after two hours of talking, so he interrupted, “Would you like a kīrtana party now, Śrīla Prabhupāda?”

But Prabhupāda corrected him. “This is kīrtana now going on. People have to understand what is kīrtana. Any topics on Kṛṣṇa, that is kīrtana. Śukadeva Gosvāmī became perfect by kīrtana, but what kind of kīrtana did he do?”

“He was speaking the Bhāgavatam,” answered Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “You are simply thinking drums and karatālas is kīrtana. But anything we do here is kīrtana. There is no material connection here. We are not talking how to increase our business and enjoy women and wine. That is not our aim. Ka uttamaśloka-guṇanuvādāt. We are trying to establish Kṛṣṇa – that is kīrtana. Śravaṇaṁ kīrtanaṁ viṣṇoḥ. Do you know this?”

Taking this remark as his cue, Svarūpa Dāmodara went on to speak about scientists he had met who were interested in the proposed “Origin of Life” conference. “I am thinking of the title of our conference,” he said, “as a Bhaktivedanta Vijñāna Conference in Vṛndāvana.”

“No,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “They will take it otherwise, thinking that Bhaktivedanta is not a jñānī. They will take it lightly because Bhaktivedanta Swami is not a scientist.” One of the devotees said that “Bhaktivedanta” actually indicated the highest science, and Śrīla Prabhupāda agreed. But to understand bhakti, he said, was very difficult for the ordinary man.

“Why not ‘Life Comes From Life’?” asked Prabhupāda. And Svarūpa Dāmodara immediately agreed.

“Make something extraordinary,” said Prabhupāda. “We are not just some magicians like the other yogīs. There is money, intelligence, and I can give you inspiration.”

The devotees working closely with Śrīla Prabhupāda did not think he was deteriorating; no matter how he appeared, he was just giving them another opportunity to serve him. If he wanted to eat or didn’t want to eat, if he was pleased or displeased, if he appeared well or ill, they would respond accordingly, out of duty and love. This mood was becoming increasingly prominent as Śrīla Prabhupāda more and more depended on his disciples to help him carry out all his functions. He had said he was remaining in the world only to satisfy his disciples’ sincere desires to serve him. Yet he continued to emphasize that their service to his physical form was not as important as their following his instructions.

When two of Prabhupāda’s sannyāsīs were taking leave of him, he smiled pleasingly and said, “I may stay or go, but in my books I will live forever.” When he heard that forty thousand hardbound books had been distributed in one week, he said, “If book distribution increases, I will never die. I will be living for centuries.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa remarked that the book distribution reports were one kind of news that didn’t give Prabhupāda a headache, and Prabhupāda smiled broadly. “No!” he said. “It is my life!”

But one day while sitting in the garden with Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, Svarūpa Dāmodara, and others, Śrīla Prabhupāda became very disturbed when he detected a mistake in one of his already printed books. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa was reading aloud a verse from the First Canto which began, “Munayaḥ sādhu pṛṣṭo ’ham.” Śrīla Prabhupāda had him read the synonyms.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read: “munayaḥ – of the sages; sādhu – this is relevant; pṛṣṭaḥ – questioned … ”

“Munayaḥ?” asked Śrīla Prabhupāda. Thus he uncovered a thoughtless mistake made by the Sanskrit editors. “This is an address. Here the verse translation properly reads ‘O sages,’ but someone has changed the word by word translation to ‘of the sages.’ ” Śrīla Prabhupāda became very angry and denounced the “rascal Sanskrit scholars.” “A little learning,” he said, “is dangerous. Immediately they think they have become big scholar, thinking, ‘I shall arrange!’ And then they write all nonsense.” He continued speaking about the mistake for half an hour. He was disturbed. He ordered Tamāla Kṛṣṇa to write at once to the BBT and stop these speculations by his disciples – changing his books in the name of editing. The devotees were startled to see Prabhupāda so angry; he was supposed to be peacefully relishing a Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam reading here in his garden. Such a change was very serious, he said, because it changed the meaning. “Even if the authorized ācāryas would make a mistake,” he said, “it would not be changed. This is ārṣa-prayoga. In this way the ācāryas are honored.”

By Śrīla Prabhupāda’s strong reaction to this one printed mistake, he was again stressing the great importance of his books. “Whatever I have wanted to say,” he explained, “I have said in my books. If I live, I will say something little more. If you want to know me, read my books.”

Prabhupāda had said that the only real medicine for him was kīrtana. And kīrtana, he had explained, included preaching around the world. And for Prabhupāda, who was taking so little food, the chanting of the holy name and the kīrtana of preaching reports from his disciples seemed to be not only his medicine but his sustenance as well.

On the evening of the day Prabhupāda received Ghanaśyāma’s letter, he learned that Gopāla Kṛṣṇa had arrived with copies of several newly published Hindi books. Prabhupāda had been lying in bed, but on receiving the good news, he raised his eyebrows and said, “Bring them immediately!” Gopāla Kṛṣṇa entered with the books, and Prabhupāda immediately sat up in ecstasy.

By June 1977, the gurukula building in Vṛndāvana was near completion, and the devotees managing the gurukula were contemplating opening the building in the near future. They were discussing how the rooms should be used, including which rooms would be for staff offices and residences. Although Śrīla Prabhupāda had not been consulted on these details, he seemed to know what was going on, and one morning he told his secretary he would like to see the new building from top to bottom. After taking darśana of Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, he was carried in his chair for a tour of the new building.

Pleased with the construction, he remarked, “By Kṛṣṇa’s grace everything has been done very nicely.” The second floor was one continuous wide veranda with many connecting rooms. “The persons in charge,” explained Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “have one room for residence and one for an office.”

“Very comfortable,” Prabhupāda remarked. He heard and observed everything, occasionally making suggestions – there should be a flower garden and a fountain in the central courtyard. “I think there is no other building equal to this in Vṛndāvana,” he said. As they came to the first floor, Akṣayānanda Mahārāja, one of the temple managers, pointed out to Prabhupāda, “I want to keep my office here.”

“That’s nice,” said Prabhupāda. “But because we have got a big enough place now, we should not think, ‘I shall keep one leg in one place and one leg in another place,’ and then the whole thing is mismanaged. Don’t do that. Don’t misuse even one inch.”

“You were saying you wanted five hundred students,” said one of the gurukula teachers. “So we should keep as much space as possible for the students on the floors.”

“Yes, yes,” said Prabhupāda. This was the point he wanted stressed.

But then another devotee remarked, “We are going to have administrative offices mixing here, both for the temple and the gurukula.”

“No,” said Prabhupāda, “you have to invite children here. Otherwise what is the use of building such a big building? Not that we have three dozen managers and four students.”

Although Prabhupāda’s soft voice was sometimes lost amid the noise of construction, and although his comments were made intermittently while being carried from place to place, his message was strong and clear. “Now we have a big facility,” he said. “So bring students. That is the first principle.”

“We have to get the ISKCON students first,” said one of the teachers.

“ISKCON or FISKCON,” said Prabhupāda, “bring students.” Prabhupāda’s word play made the devotees laugh. But he was serious.

“It is a rākṣasa* civilization,” said Prabhupāda. And he began mimicking the cry of a typical street vendor: “ ‘Do rupyā! Do rupyā – and no knowledge. Kṛṣṇa says, tathā dehāntara-praptiḥ, but all they can understand is two rupees, four rupees. Where they will go in the next life they do not understand. They do not understand eternal life, only how to enjoy this life. They don’t understand one line of the Gītā, yet they say, ‘I read Gītā.’ This darkness is going on, and people are kept in darkness in the name of so-called university education. So our gurukula will be successful. It may take time.”

After touring the gurukula facility, Prabhupāda had the devotees place his chair down once more before returning to his own rooms. With most of the resident devotees of the Krishna-Balaram Mandir, including gurukula students, gathered around him, Prabhupāda made his emphatic point. “You are thinking of management,” he said, “ – this manager and that manager and what rooms to utilize. But my question is, ‘Who will you manage?’ Bring that person. In Bengali there is a superstition that you should not lie with your head toward the northern side. So one man said, ‘But I have no head. For me what is the question of keeping it to the northern or the southern side?’ So your contemplation about management is like that. First of all, who will you manage? Simply considering office manager and this and that is not good. First thing is bring students. Then it will be successful.”

That afternoon Śrīla Prabhupāda said he would speak to the gurukula staff. They gathered in his room, and he instructed them as only he could – he who was empowered to lead the world organization of Lord Caitanya’s movement. “Our next business,” he began, “is to approach the well-to-do businessmen and tell them, ‘Children of your family are expected to be educated with good behavior, good character, and devotion. Cāṇakya Paṇḍita says, “What is the use of begetting children like cats and dogs?” They must be learned and follow the bhakti-mārga. We will teach your sons these things.’ Canvass like that.”

In the present society, he said, even the prime minister’s son may be a debauchee. The demon Hiraṇyakaśipu hadn’t wanted his son Prahlāda to be a devotee but to be like himself, a cheater and a diplomat; and today’s society was comprised of little Hiraṇyakaśipus. “But our idea is to create Prahlādas,” Śrīla Prabhupāda continued. “At least 250 students can be accommodated nicely. Throughout India and the whole world you cannot bring 250 students? What kind of managers are you? I say bring five hundred. Canvass like this: ‘I fall down at your lotus feet. I flatter you one hundred times. Kindly hear me!’ In this way canvass. You have to bring students. Not just rooms for management.”

Prabhupāda said that if the gurukula was successful and if ISKCON got more standing in the future, the government could take guidance from ISKCON and not allow people to cheat, claiming to be a brāhmaṇa or kṣatriya without the training. “These things are now a dream,” Prabhupāda admitted, “but it should be done. I am thinking of so many things. But my life is ending. So keep these ideas. You especially, because you are young men.”

July brought the rainy season to Vṛndāvana. Clouds began building from the beginning of the month, and by mid-July it would be raining daily. The perfumed odor of the kadamba flower was heavy in the air, and after a rain, the nīm blossoms would give off their onionlike aroma. The peacocks, with their full-feathered tails, became ecstatic, dancing, cooing, and calling. Sometimes a sudden rainstorm would come even while Śrīla Prabhupāda was sitting on his bed or at his dictating desk in an unsheltered part of the veranda, and his servants would rush out to move him inside as quickly as possible. Sometimes when rain prevented his using the garden he would recline instead on the little porch overlooking the garden. But at least the 120-degree heat was broken, and the days became more bearable.

Prabhupāda quietly rested and continued his day’s routine, waiting to see what Kṛṣṇa desired. He would often wake about six A.M. and open his eyes to see Tamāla Kṛṣṇa at his bedside. He would then extend his hands, indicating that he wanted to sit up in bed. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa or another servant would then lightly stroke Śrīla Prabhupāda’s back while Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke his mind.

Very few devotees were visiting Vṛndāvana, and guests were rarely allowed to see Prabhupāda. His health was not improving, nor did it seem to be at a crisis point as it had been in May. But because he was hardly eating anything, he was not building his strength. His main treatment consisted of hearing kīrtana, Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, and Caitanya-caritāmṛta.

And that was extremely difficult. Śrīla Prabhupāda admitted, “When I wrote this, I thought it will not be possible for me unless somebody else helps me.”

“How did you write it?” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked, and Śrīla Prabhupāda replied, “Kṛṣṇa helped me. I don’t know. [He laughed.] That somebody – Kṛṣṇa – helped.”

Inevitably the devotees asked, “But how will we explain it to the scientists?”

“We do not require to satisfy the scientists,” Śrīla Prabhupāda replied. “We have to describe according to śāstra. If they can understand it, then they’ll understand it. Otherwise, it is not our business to satisfy the so-called scientists. We are dealing with the real description.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that the planetarium would spell the downfall of Western civilization.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “I want to expose that they are cheating. Their only interest is to make money, and for this they cheat. If you can make this planetarium, it will be a grand success, triumphant.”

In early July, some of the devotees in Vṛndāvana were working on sketches of the universe according to the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. They were puzzled, however, about how to account for satellite photos of the earth, which seemed to contradict the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam’s description. Śrīla Prabhupāda’s reply was that the scientists were bound up by their own conditioning and could not go beyond a certain point. When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa reiterated that Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam’s explanation still didn’t agree with modern travel around the earth, Prabhupāda insisted that it did.

“You are prejudiced,” he said. “You’re conditioned with preconceptions of how everything is. It is just like a bull grinding, going around in a circle. He is tied up and simply going around. So everyone is tied up. They cannot go beyond a point, and they cannot move any way they like, just like the bull.

“They have cheated about going to the moon, so how can we believe them? They want to explain the whole universe, but how can we believe them? Once someone is shown to be a cheater, he will always cheat. A gentleman will say, ‘I don’t know.’ But they are not gentlemen. They are loafer class. How can we believe them? They said the world was flat. Then Galileo said it was round, and for this he was almost hanged. They didn’t know, and he didn’t know. But our knowledge doesn’t change, because it is perfect. As soon as there is change, it is not perfect.”

A few days later, the committee of devotees returned to Prabhupāda and said that the question was still unanswered regarding how the Bhāgavatam’s description of Jambūdvīpa could accommodate the fact of traveling west from Los Angeles and reaching India. In reply, Śrīla Prabhupāda stressed that they not concern themselves now with such a minor issue. And he referred to the Pacific Ocean as “a drop of water.” The descriptions in the Bhāgavatam could not be adjusted within the limits of mundane knowledge.

Prabhupāda gave the example of how after returning from Vaikuṇṭha, Nārada Muni had told a simple cobbler that Lord Nārāyaṇa was passing an elephant through the eye of a needle. “Oh, Nārāyaṇa is so great!” the cobbler had said. But an educated brāhmaṇa had said, “It is simply stories.”

Nārada had then asked the cobbler, “How can you believe that Nārāyaṇa was passing an elephant through the eye of a needle?” “Why not,” the cobbler had said. ‘I am sitting under a banyan tree. There are so many fruits, and each fruit contains so many seeds, which will each grow into a big banyan tree.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said that with experimental logic one cannot understand the inconceivable. “Everything is inconceivable,” he said, “and these rascals want to bring it as conceivable. Don’t be puffed up by your so-called education. It has no value.”

Suddenly a large peacock alighted nearby and spread his gorgeous purple, blue, and green feathers, as if posing for the pleasure of the devotees. While a brahmacārī continued steadily fanning him, Śrīla Prabhupāda sat silently. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, however, had some business which he thought would not be too demanding for Śrīla Prabhupāda. Sitting at his spiritual master’s feet, he broached an important topic.

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he began, “we are receiving a number of letters now from people who want to get initiated. So up until now, since you were becoming ill, we asked them to wait.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that since the guru has to take on the karma of his disciples, and since Śrīla Prabhupāda’s health was already weak, he should wait before accepting more disciples.

Śrīla Prabhupāda said nothing, and the Vṛndāvana peace was punctuated by the splashing of the fountain. Then he began to speak. He named three of his disciples and said, “So these three can do.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked if devotees in America should write directly to these men for initiation.

“Nearby,” said Prabhupāda, and he named three more disciples, leading devotees in Europe. “Five, six men may divide,” said Prabhupāda. “Whoever is nearest.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked whether this would apply to both first and second initiations. Prabhupāda said yes.

“So there is no need for devotees to write to you for first and second initiation,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “They can write to the man nearest them. But all these persons are still your disciples. Anybody who would give initiation is doing so on your behalf.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked if there was anyone in India that Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to do this, and Śrīla Prabhupāda added another name. Śrīla Prabhupāda asked to hear the names he had given, and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa recited seven names.

“That’s all, ” said Prabhupāda. “Now you distribute. For the time being, seven names.” Then he added two more. “So without waiting for me,” said Prabhupāda, “whoever you consider deserves. That will depend on discretion.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said nothing else, and after a few minutes Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked if Prabhupāda would like to hear a kīrtana. Śrīla Prabhupāda assented by a slight gesture, and the chanters, who had been waiting, came to join him.

The next morning Śrīla Prabhupāda added two more names, making a total of eleven disciples who would act as ṛtvik, or representatives of the ācārya. Śrīla Prabhupāda had not liked the idea of newcomers to ISKCON having to wait unnecessarily long to be initiated. Now initiations could continue regularly at the discretion of his eleven selected men.

July 10
  Tamāla Kṛṣṇa received a phone call from Gopāla Kṛṣṇa. The Māyāpur temple had been attacked by a gang of three hundred dacoits (hoodlums). Five devotees were wounded and in the hospital. Bhavānanda Goswami had fired a shotgun at the attackers, injuring two. The police, who didn’t arrive until two hours after being called, had arrested Bhavānanda and put him in jail. Śrīla Prabhupāda became disturbed. “If the dacoits attacked and we used our shotgun,” he said, “what is wrong?”

Later that day Prabhupāda heard The Hindustan Times’ version of the attack. According to the news report, some cows had wandered onto the ISKCON property, and the devotees had beaten the cows. This had angered the villagers, who on coming to the temple to complain had been shot at. Two had been injured. The article named Bhavānanda Goswami and at the end mentioned that the founder of the temple, A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami, had not been present.

Śrīla Prabhupāda heard the article, made a few comments, and went on with his afternoon’s writing and translating as usual. But late that afternoon he called for Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “I am afraid of a big conspiracy,” he said. “The last line of the article says that the founder-ācārya was not present. They were sorry. They would have arrested me and put me in jail.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa scoffed that the news article was one-sided. “That doesn’t sound right,” he said, “that the devotees beat the cows. Devotees don’t beat cows.”

Within a few days, a letter came from Gopāla Kṛṣṇa giving the facts of the Māyāpur incident. About fifty Muslim men were stealing crops from the ISKCON land. When Nitāi-cānda tried to stop them, they attacked him, cutting his head in three places. Later, while he was being treated in the temple infirmary, the men came and beat Nitāi-cānda and stripped one of the ladies naked. Meanwhile, another 250 men attacked, breaking the gates, cutting phone and electric wires, and destroying the water pumps. Wanting to scare the mob, Bhavānanda had fired a shot in the air, but when they did not disperse he fired another shot, injuring two men.

In the meantime, the attackers had broken both hands of one of the gurukula teachers and beaten many other devotees. Two hours later the police arrived and recommended the devotees go to Krishnanagar police station – twenty miles away – to file a complaint. When the devotees had reached the station, they had been arrested, and the two seriously injured devotees were denied medical treatment. Bhavānanda Goswami was still in jail. Prabhupāda said it was a plot to drive away the Hare Kṛṣṇa men. “They want that all Bengal be completely godless,” he said.

When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that this incident would hurt their village preaching, Prabhupāda replied, “No, it will be to our favor very soon. I think the central government will take action. This is the same as Kaṁsa against Kṛṣṇa – Kṛṣṇa must win. No one can defeat Kṛṣṇa. If I had been there, they would have charged that I ordered the shooting and arrested me. Now I am an old man, I cannot take an active stand. So you all must do everything carefully.”

Prabhupāda continued to think and comment on the incident. “The guṇḍā* class doesn’t like Caitanya Mahāprabhu,” he said. “They say Caitanya Mahāprabhu made people emasculated. In Orissa they say that after Mahārāja Prataparudra met Caitanya Mahāprabhu, he lost his kṣatriya strength. He was a very powerful king, but after he met Caitanya Mahāprabhu, he became effeminate.”

“What is our reply to that?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“What can you reply?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “If they conclude something like that, they have no idea of spiritual life. They say this is disruptive, Lord Caitanya’s saying, na dhanaṁ na janaṁ. We don’t want such things, and they want them. So how can you reply to such people? Everyone wants this, and we say that we don’t want it. How can you make a compromise with such people? In your country also they say, ‘What is wrong with illicit sex? What is wrong with intoxication?’ They say we are brainwashing. Is it not? It is very difficult to push on this movement. Still we are doing. That is Kṛṣṇa’s grace.”

Seeing that Śrīla Prabhupāda was disturbed, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested, “Will you try to translate this afternoon, Śrīla Prabhupāda?”

But Prabhupāda continued on the same point. “A young, beautiful woman comes at the dead of night to see Haridāsa Ṭhākura, to offer her body, and he denied. Who will appreciate this?”

“We appreciate,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“You appreciate,” said Prabhupāda, “but in the modern world, who will appreciate?” Prabhupāda continued pointing out the irrevocable split between the devotees and the nondevotees: “Their idea is that a young man cannot live without a young woman, and yet Caitanya Mahāprabhu says, ‘Oh, you are after a young woman? That is more dangerous than drinking poison!’ ”

As Prabhupāda spoke of the Māyāpur devotees who had been willing to sacrifice their lives for Kṛṣṇa, he became choked with emotion and began to cry. “Kṛṣṇa will give them protection,” he said, “our Māyāpur men.” He mentioned how Haridāsa Ṭhākura had also been put into jail and beaten and how Prahlāda Mahārāja had been tortured, until Lord Nṛsiṁha had appeared. “Don’t be worried,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, crying, and speaking as if all his Māyāpur devotees were directly in front of him. “Kṛṣṇa will protect you. We are doing our best as far as our intelligence goes. Caitanya Mahāprabhu wanted that in every nook and corner of the world this movement should be pushed. We are limited.”

In an attempt to ease Prabhupāda’s sorrow, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa started reading the latest report from Ghanaśyāma, who was distributing books in Eastern Europe. The report of extraordinary success drew Prabhupāda’s attention away from Māyāpur. He smiled and said, “That is dynamic.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa continued reading the report.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa looked up from the letter and commented, “He has been everywhere, Prabhupāda, and he says that your books are more appreciated in the Communist countries than anywhere else in the world.”

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “they are hungry.”

A few days later a full, on-the-scene report came in the mail from Jayapatāka Swami in Māyāpur. The local Hindus of Māyāpur were outraged at what had happened and were mobilizing mass petitions in support of the ISKCON temple. Although the newspaper reports were false, gradually people were learning the facts. Jayapatāka reported vivid details of Bhavānanda and other devotees being marched through Navadvīpa in chains on their way to court and the people of Navadvīpa offering them respects. The devotees were still in jail, he said, constantly chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa.

On the whole, the report was optimistic. Prasādam distribution was continuing in Māyāpur, book distribution in West Bengal was increasing, and the preaching parties were well received wherever they went. Śrīla Prabhupāda’s prediction was coming true: the incident was turning in the devotees’ favor. He commented that the enemies had thought they were digging up a garden snake by attacking Kṛṣṇa’s devotees, but they were finding that they had in fact unearthed a cobra.

Speaking into the hand microphone of his dictating machine, oblivious to his bodily condition, Prabhupāda described patiently and methodically how Nanda Mahārāja’s family priest, Gargamuni, performed the name-giving ceremony for baby Kṛṣṇa. In his purports, Śrīla Prabhupāda often spoke from his personal experiences and realizations.

Sometimes sitting in the predawn open air on the second-floor veranda and sometimes in the humid heat of bright afternoon, Śrīla Prabhupāda worked, describing the limitless Vedic knowledge, just as his predecessors, the Gosvāmīs and Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja, had done when worshiping Kṛṣṇa and Lord Caitanya while living in Vṛndāvana. Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, was the first great ācārya to make Kṛṣṇa conscious literature available to persons of all countries throughout the world, regardless of birth status or previous character. Even as he composed the latest chapters of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, thousands of young men and women were working on his behalf to preach the Vedic message to the world. His disciples were, in fact, keenly aware of how Śrīla Prabhupāda was producing the Tenth Canto purports in Vṛndāvana, and they prayed to Lord Kṛṣṇa that he be allowed to continue for many years, so that he could complete the entire Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.

In explaining the infant pastimes of Lord Kṛṣṇa, Śrīla Prabhupāda described an entirely transcendental mode of consciousness, beyond material designations of babyhood or old age.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was now rendering a particularly sweet part of Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes, and with relish he described Kṛṣṇa’s stealing butter and feeding it to the monkeys and His showing the universal form to mother Yaśodā. In describing how the vision of Kṛṣṇa’s universal form was beyond mother Yaśodā’s comprehension, Śrīla Prabhupāda shed light on all incomprehensible situations – including his own.

Śrīla Prabhupāda made deep and joyful appreciations of the pure devotion of mother Yaśodā for baby Kṛṣṇa, and he described her as the emblem of all pure devotees of the Lord, especially the residents of Vṛndāvana, who love the Lord in spontaneous affection. “The pure devotees who inhabit Vṛndāvana,” he wrote, “do not possess any bodily conception.” Such pure devotees were fully dedicated to the service of the Lord in sublime affection, prema. This had been described by Lord Caitanya, he said, as the highest perfection of life, pure love in relationship with Kṛṣṇa. “And mother Yaśodā,” Śrīla Prabhupāda wrote, “appears to be the topmost of all the devotees to have attained this perfection.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was concerned that what he wrote be published and distributed; it was his service to his Guru Mahārāja. And he received great satisfaction in hearing that book distribution was still expanding all over the world. Harikeśa Swami, the G.B.C. of Northern and Eastern Europe, reported that he was printing a very large quantity of books in thirteen languages. After hearing only the beginning of this report, Śrīla Prabhupāda exclaimed, “All the blessings of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Mahārāja on you! You are the most important grandson of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī. Go on doing like this.”

In a similar mood, Śrīla Prabhupāda pushed his G.B.C. secretary for India, Gopāla Kṛṣṇa, to produce Hindi books faster and in greater quantities. Whenever Gopāla Kṛṣṇa came to visit Śrīla Prabhupāda without a new publication, Prabhupāda would reprimand him for his slowness. Gopāla Kṛṣṇa therefore began a policy of visiting Prabhupāda only when he had a new book to present. In mid-July, when Gopāla Kṛṣṇa brought a copy of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, First Canto, Part Two, in Hindi, Śrīla Prabhupāda accepted it happily and said, “Twice now unless he brings some book he won’t come, because every time I criticize him: ‘Where is the book? Where is the book?’ ”

July 20
  Abhirāma arrived and reported to Śrīla Prabhupāda about Māyāpur. There was nothing new in his report. Later, Śrīla Prabhupāda inquired from Tamāla Kṛṣṇa why Abhirāma had come. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa explained that Abhirāma had decided to take up business but was undecided which city to work in – perhaps Bangalore or Bombay.

Later, after Śrīla Prabhupāda had retired for the night and was laying in bed under his mosquito net, he again called for Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. Prabhupāda was concerned that Abhirāma not drift away from the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement on the plea of looking for business. Śrīla Prabhupāda said that he himself had lived independently in gṛhastha life and so had Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura. “But our aim was different,” he said. “When these neophytes remain aloof from the temple connection, without attending the functions, gradually they will be lost.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa replied that for that very reason he had suggested to Abhirāma that he make his business in Bombay. “Actually,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “I find the gṛhasthas have no desire to live independent of the temples.” He explained that in the Bombay temple the gṛhasthas could get apartments near enough to the temple so that they could attend the maṅgala-ārati and other functions.

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Unless these things are continued, the karmīs’ poison will spoil them. He can do independent business. There is no harm. But he must be connected with devotional service.” Śrīla Prabhupāda had not moved his body while talking, but he had turned his head slightly. Now he laid his head on the pillow.

“Just like Abhirāma constructed that house,” Prabhupāda continued. “That’s all right. It is within the campus. There is no harm. But if now he goes away after so much training and advancement, if they are lost, then that’s a great loss for the society. With great difficulty we make one Vaiṣṇava. And again if he goes, like Śyāmasundara, then it is a great loss. The whole idea is to give up attachment for the material world and increase attachment for Kṛṣṇa. That is perfection. Now according to one’s position, it can be done gradually. But this is the aim.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda told Abhirāma that by doing a business in Bombay, he could benefit by living near the temple. “Gṛhasthas should not be dependent on the society,” he said. “At the same time they should not be independent of the society.” Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed at the apparent contradiction. “This is the position,” he said. “Our society cannot take charge of a family. There will be so many numbers of families. How we will support? At the same time, if they remain independent of the society, without touch, then the karmīs’ poison will infect them.” Śrīla Prabhupāda concluded that the solution for the gṛhastha was either to get an apartment near the temple or to live in the temple, if possible. “They should not live completely independent,” he said. “That will be future danger.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said he wanted ideal Kṛṣṇa conscious gṛhasthas. “Just like Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura,” he said. “There are many. I was gṛhastha also. There was Deity worship, everything nice. I was publishing Back to Godhead as gṛhastha. So the aim of Kṛṣṇa consciousness was there. I could not leave family life because of certain circumstances. That is a different thing. But I must be in touch with devotional service as in the temple. If you live nearby the temple, it is easier. Or in the temple. But if he remains aloof, that is dangerous.”

When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa brought up some problematic details of gṛhasthas living in the temple buildings, Śrīla Prabhupāda stayed to his main point and said, “Anyway, these things have to be adjusted. You cannot follow very rigidly in the case of gṛhasthas. Somehow you have to adjust. We cannot allow them to be lost.” Prabhupāda saw with alarm that after much training, a gṛhastha couple could be lost simply because they disassociated themselves from the temple. It would be a great loss, and in an attempt to avoid it, he was instructing one of his G.B.C. representatives. Prabhupāda said unless this danger was curbed, “then the future of our society becomes hopeless.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s servant Upendra was also present, and he asked Prabhupāda about a man’s responsibility to maintain his wife and family. A man should not marry, said Prabhupāda, unless he had the power of maintaining his family. He should not expect the temple to. “Why should we maintain a gṛhastha?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “And where is the means? But these things are all to be adjusted. I can give you the idea.” Then Prabhupāda gave the example that if a gṛhastha was maintaining the Deity worship gorgeously in the temple, that was also preaching, and the temple could consider maintaining such a man’s family.

“So the guiding principle,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “should be that under no circumstances should anyone become lost.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “Or else, where is the preaching? It will be like Alexander the Great. He was conquering, but as soon as he went to conquer a new place, the last place was lost. Suppose I have conquered Bombay. Then I go to Karachi, but in the meantime Bombay is lost. That was being done by Alexander the Great. When there is no proper management … . Just like the British Empire was lost in that way. They could not manage.”

“So similarly we should not expand too quickly,” suggested Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “unless we have the proper management.”

“I am therefore stressing book selling,” said Prabhupāda. He wanted to impress upon his leaders the main outlines of his program, and it should be their duty to carry these programs out. “At least don’t make me Alexander the Great in my lifetime,” he laughed. “They say to me, ‘You are great, great, great.’ But don’t make it small while I am living.”

“Or after,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “We’ll never make you that way. We should never do that.”

“Then,” said Prabhupāda, “that’s my request. People recognize I am great. Don’t make me small. I’ll not give you much trouble, but I am now invalid. What can I do?”

“It seems like even if you are invalid,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “it gives us more opportunity to serve you.”

“Thank you,” said Prabhupāda. “What can I do?” He laughed softly and said, “I have to give you that opportunity.”

“It seems that it is your mercy to us,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“All right. Go on,” said Prabhupāda, dismissing them.

“Jaya, Prabhupāda. Thank you for all your merciful instructions.”

July 22
  In the morning, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa told Prabhupāda that on the following day Lord Jagannātha would travel down Fifth Avenue in New York City. “Lord Jagannātha is very kind to the mlecchas,” Prabhupāda said. “Oriyans are mostly mlecchas, but still they are made pūjārīs. One devotee criticized an Oriyan, and Lord Caitanya slapped him: ‘Why do you criticize My servants?’ Just see His kindness! I prayed to Kṛṣṇa, ‘Anyone who has given a little service, please bless him.’ And Kṛṣṇa actually does. He doesn’t forget any service done.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa inquired, “Doesn’t Rādhārāṇī also pray like that to Kṛṣṇa?”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “Rādhārāṇī says, ‘I am not sincere. Here is Your real servant.’ That is mahā-bhāva. Kṛṣṇa becomes a servant to His servant. Therefore a disciple’s first duty is to be submissive to his guru.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “all your devotees are very much grateful to you.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda suddenly became immersed in thoughts of his devotees, and he became very ecstatic. Closing his eyes and rocking his head, he spoke with a choked voice and tears. “Oh, your intense love for me. I am living for you. All over the world everything is going on – money is coming and being spent – and I don’t have to worry. I am so much indebted. And I am taking so much service from you all.”

“It is we who are indebted,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “There is no way we can ever pay this debt to you, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

“That is a bṛhad-mṛdaṅga,” said Prabhupāda. “I am beating from this room, and the sound goes ten thousand miles away. Our enemies are surprised: ‘How this man is still going on?’ ”

Śrīla Prabhupāda went on appreciating how people in so many cities were enjoying the Ratha-yātrā festivals, seeing Lord Jagannātha, and dancing and chanting. He remembered past Ratha-yātrās, such as in 1969 in San Francisco, when some of the devotees were dancing joyously around a tree. He began recalling many other past wonderful experiences in ISKCON.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa had been acting as Śrīla Prabhupāda’s personal secretary for six continuous months, and he had become Prabhupāda’s eyes and ears and his spokesman, especially in dealing with ISKCON management. And he had also become a personal confidant, assisting Śrīla Prabhupāda in his transcendental moods. As a sincere servant, he now began suggesting a different remedy. Śrīla Prabhupāda had recently been feeling and expressing intense devotion toward his disciples in their preaching. Taking this as a cue, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that if Prabhupāda could travel to the West and be with his disciples there, he would find new life.

“But if I die,” said Prabhupāda, “I want to do so in Vṛndāvana.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa replied that Śrīla Prabhupāda should not think of dying. If he would go on a tour of the West, see the devotees there, take prasādam made from food grown on the ISKCON farms, then certainly he would respond to such devotion and regain his appetite and strength. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa pointed out that when Śrīla Prabhupāda had been feeling like this in May and the G.B.C. had come, he had responded to their reciprocation of love by increasing his own desire to live.

“One thing you can do,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “In your daily routine, you can pray to Kṛṣṇa, ‘If You want him to stay, please cure him, and if not, please take him away. We are fully surrendered to You. Now it depends on Your desire to keep him alive or let him leave this world.’ ”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was pointing out that he was not a victim of some mundane moroseness robbing him of a will to live. He had already said that he would be with Kṛṣṇa in any case. Staying in this world or leaving it was not up to him, but up to Kṛṣṇa. He recited the prayer of King Kulaśekhara from the Mukunda-mālā-stotra: “My dear Kṛṣṇa, please let me die immediately so that the swan of my mind can be encircled by the stem of Your lotus feet. Now while I am still strong. Otherwise, at the time of my final breath, when my throat is choked up, how will it be possible to think of You?”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa persisted in his affectionate line, however, insisting that Śrīla Prabhupāda could not think of leaving. There was so much unfinished business for Prabhupāda in this world, such as personally seeing to the installation of the Deities of Rādhā-Rāsavihārī in the Bombay temple.

Śrīla Prabhupāda admitted it was so and added, “Another ambition I have is that the populace is suffering from agnosticism. The rascals are suffering, but they do not know why. I want to drive away agnosticism from the world.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa assured Śrīla Prabhupāda that if he were to go to the West, agnosticism would be driven out. The devotees were already working hard on Śrīla Prabhupāda’s instruction. But if they could have his physical presence, they would increase their preaching unlimitedly. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa no longer kept himself only in a passive role, waiting for the spiritual master to ring the bell and then waiting to hear what he wanted. Now he was trying to persuade Śrīla Prabhupāda to travel, and as Prabhupāda began to consider it, he became enthusiastic.

“When I am in Vṛndāvana,” said Prabhupāda, “it is transcendental. That much mercy Kṛṣṇa has shown me. And wherever there is our center, that is also Vaikuṇṭha – New York, Los Angeles, Paris, or London.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa offered an itinerary: a visit to London, staying at the Bhaktivedanta Manor, and also seeing Rādhā-London-īśvara; then to New York and seeing the devotees in the ISKCON skyscraper with Rādhā-Govinda; then to the farm in Pennsylvania; and then Los Angeles, where he could see the new dioramas of Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes.

“To remain in Vṛndāvana is a sentiment,” Śrīla Prabhupāda agreed. “In New York if I die you will have to entomb me on the roof,” he joked grimly. “There is no other room. If I die, as long as I die among you, you are all Vaikuṇṭha men. I had a dream that Vaikuṇṭha men came to take me. They were all white men with shaven heads. Your countrymen cannot believe how you have changed.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said that they should consult an astrologer to see whether it was auspicious for him to travel and whether he would be cured and how long he would live. “I was born in the evening at four P.M.,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “It was Nandotsava. You can consult an old Pañjikā to see the day. It was a Tuesday. I am prepared to go to the West.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa then quoted from the Bhagavad-gītā, Chapter Two, verse 37, where Kṛṣṇa tells Arjuna to fight: “Either you will die and achieve the heavenly planets or conquer and enjoy the earthly kingdom.” Śrīla Prabhupāda said the verse was appropriate. Throughout the night and the next day he considered the traveling proposal and mentioned to his other servants, “Tamāla is arranging a big party.”

“I was praying to Kṛṣṇa, ‘What is this slow death?’ ” Prabhupāda told Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “Then you quoted that verse. At least my disciples will know I came at the risk of my life. They are the future hope. I must enthuse them. Kṛṣṇa ordered Arjuna, and I am Arjuna’s servant. I am not so limited to think that this is my country. Everything is Kṛṣṇa’s. Why should I limit Kṛṣṇa?”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa gave encouragement: “When you get there, with so many devotees who are giving their lives for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness and assisting you, it will really be enthusing. And you won’t have to speak so much. It’s your presence – your seeing the devotees and them seeing you. So in that sense, it won’t be exhausting. It’s a good climate now, too – August – in London. It’s a very good time.”

Prabhupāda turned to Upendra and said, “His words are making me feel different. Just hearing, I become enthusiastic.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “by going West I know you will recover.”

“May Kṛṣṇa fulfill your words,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. He spent the rest of that afternoon hearing Caitanya-caritāmṛta readings from various devotees. At one point he began to express great bliss and said, “Read Caitanya-caritāmṛta always to me! These three books.* There is no comparison in the world. I may boast like this. I am fortunate to be able to present these books throughout the world, and people are accepting them even blindly.”

After a day had passed, Śrīla Prabhupāda considered the travel proposal more seriously and mentioned some of its defects. He said that wherever he went, his physical condition would go with him.

“But here you have not been translating lately,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“Who says I shall never again translate?” Prabhupāda countered. “Every action has some relaxation and then activity again.” Prabhupāda said that according to allopathic medicine, the only hope for him was to enter a hospital and undergo intensive medical treatment. According to Ayurvedic medicine, however, there were specific medicines. As Prabhupāda sat on his balcony speaking with his secretary, he wore sunglasses. He would wear them even late in the day or in a darkened room. To his disciples, this was another source of worry – that he appeared to be having problems seeing. Such things made the prospects of traveling to the West seem doubtful. Why couldn’t he just stay in Vṛndāvana, some of the devotees reasoned, where everything was arranged for his convenience?

The devotees had sent messages to three astrologers, and all the reports returned that same afternoon. Some of the reports offered absurd remedies without knowledge of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s position, but all of them agreed on one point: the next two months would be the most difficult of Prabhupāda’s life, and traveling should be avoided. One astrologer recommended Śrīla Prabhupāda wear a blue sapphire.

“So it is not hopeless,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said, after hearing all the reports. “At least for the next five weeks, keep me very carefully. For the time being, no travel. Secure this blue sapphire, and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa.”

“After all,” he said, “so long we have got this body, then janma-mṛtyu-jarā-vyādhi [birth, death, old age, and disease] we have to accept. This is the statement of Bhagavad-gītā. So the human endeavor should be to stop this repetition of birth and death. When Viśvāmitra Mahārāja went to see King Daśaratha, the king inquired, punar-janma-jayāya: ‘You are a great saintly person trying to conquer over birth and death. Is your process going on nicely?’ ”

Prabhupāda then used the example of his bodily condition in a different way, to illustrate the concept of varṇāśrama-dharma. He compared the brāhmaṇas to the head, the kṣatriyas to the arms, the vaiśyas to the belly, and the śūdras to the legs. “If they are all in good condition, then the health is all right,” said Prabhupāda. “Now at the present moment I am suffering because my belly department is not working. So we cannot neglect any department. There must be all departments, and they must be cooperative and healthy. This movement is meant for that purpose. It is the duty of government to give us protection.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda mentioned the devotees’ recent difficulties in Māyāpur and asked for protection. “We’ll do it no doubt,” Governor Patwari replied. “I’m meeting the prime minister tomorrow, and we are going to discuss that matter.” The governor acknowledged that the reports in the newspaper were distorted. He asserted that Madras had a good atmosphere for religious work, and he mentioned several svāmīs who were doing good work. Of one he said, “He is making good propaganda about Gītā everywhere.”

“There are many persons making propaganda,” said Prabhupāda frankly. “But if you don’t mind my saying so, all these men are in ignorance of what is the real meaning of Gītā.” Bhagavad-gītā, he said, should be understood as it is, and it should be adopted especially by the rājarṣis, or government leaders.

Again the governor said how nice it would be if Prabhupāda would come to Madras. Prabhupāda seemed to consider it seriously and thanked the governor. Finally, Prabhupāda requested help in getting the permanent residency in India for some of his disciples. “They will never do any harm,” he said. “They will never take part in politics.”

“I know it,” said the governor. “I know it.”

“So kindly try to help,” said Prabhupāda.

Later, when Prabhupāda mentioned he was fifty-percent decided to go to Madras, he and his servants began discussing the merits of travel to Madras and other places in the world. Although he could not move even a few feet without assistance, if Kṛṣṇa desired he was willing to travel.

July of 1977 was special for pious Hindus, and the people of Vṛndāvana spent extra time in reading scriptures and visiting holy places. So by the end of July, when the trees and bushes were freshening with green leaves, pilgrims came in crowds to Vṛndāvana and to the Krishna-Balaram Mandir. Despite the mud and the rain, many of the people were in a jubilant mood, relieved from the oppressive heat and anticipating Jhulana-yātrā, the swing festival of Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa. Jhulana-yātrā was Vṛndāvana’s biggest festival and would occur in mid-August this year.

The local newspapers were giving reports on Śrīla Prabhupāda’s health, and a genuine concern for his well-being prevailed throughout Vṛndāvana and surrounding villages. Therefore, because of the festival season as well as out of concern for Śrīla Prabhupāda, many people were coming to the Krishna-Balaram Mandir. Those who came around nine A.M. got to see Śrīla Prabhupāda when he went for his morning darśana of the Deities.

Śrīla Prabhupāda still had no appetite and had scarcely eaten during the past six weeks. He was no longer regular in his times for sleeping, taking massage, or sitting up and translating. Feeling himself to be at a critical period, he had given permission for the devotees all over ISKCON to recite a simple prayer: “My dear Lord Kṛṣṇa, if You desire, please cure Śrīla Prabhupāda.” He would regularly go before the Deities each morning. Wearing his dark sunglasses and sitting erect in the rocking chair, he would hold his palms together in a gesture of prayer, while two men, one in front and one behind, carefully carried the rocker from Prabhupāda’s room into the temple room. They would set the chair down first before the Deities of Gaura-Nitāi, then before Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma, and then before Rādhā-Śyāmasundara. Then they would carry him to a central spot in the courtyard, under the tamāla tree, and set his chair down on the black and white checkered marble floor.

Śrīla Prabhupāda would sit facing Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma, and the devotees would sit down around him and begin a kīrtana. As the kīrtana began, two gurukula boys would rise and come in front of him, where they would begin dancing with arms upraised, their cotton cādaras swinging back and forth. Prabhupāda would usually not speak or even smile, but after a few minutes would give his garlands to a devotee, who would place them around the necks of the dancers. Soon two other young boys would come forward, and the first boys would garland them with the garlands they had received from Śrīla Prabhupāda and sit down. For half an hour, the dancing and singing continued. Guests to the temple would gather, many of them offering money at Prabhupāda’s feet, which rested on an embroidered silk cushion.

“His main point, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Abhirāma, “was that for six months there is trouble, especially in the first week of September and then again on certain dates in October and November. The longevity is eighty-two years, five months, and eleven days, which means February 28, 1978. This is according to birth and stars arrangement. But he made it very clear that due to the hand of Kṛṣṇa this could be changed. And if you can pass through 1978, then he sees four or five years ahead clear.”

When the report was finished, Śrīla Prabhupāda was quiet for a few minutes and then said, “By calculation the age is finished. That doesn’t matter. Rather, if I am finished now, it will be glorious.”

“Living will also be glorious,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Let us see as Kṛṣṇa desires.” Other horoscopes also showed an inauspicious time ahead, due to the entry of Saturn into the eighth house. Śrīla Prabhupāda took this to indicate that his condition was most critical. In either case – whether according to the stars or according to Kṛṣṇa – who could change destiny? Everything was in Kṛṣṇa’s hands. But Śrīla Prabhupāda was still inclined to tour the West. “If I can work a little more,” he said, “our society will be very strong. I want to see that what I have done is made still stronger.”

Prabhupāda’s talk of travel, however, coincided with increasing weakness. He talked less. When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa tried to encourage him to translate, he replied, “When I get inspiration, I will take it up. Don’t try to force me. I am going through a difficult time and am now feeling restless. It is not mechanical.”

To Satsvarūpa, Prabhupāda said, “I like your magazine [Back to Godhead], especially the article ‘Śrīla Prabhupāda Speaks Out.’ ”

Śrutakīrti, who had come from Hawaii, showed Prabhupāda some candles they were producing and selling, and Prabhupāda laughed. “You Westerners,” he said. “There is no scarcity of money. But now I have taught you how to spend it.” For more than half an hour, Prabhupāda went on talking pleasantly.

Later, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa told the devotees that Prabhupāda’s outlook seemed to change, depending on the people around him and the news he received; and he told them of Prabhupāda’s plans to go to the West.

That evening, when Śrīla Prabhupāda called for “Tamāla and the others,” the devotees gathered and went up to Prabhupāda’s balcony, not knowing what to expect. Śrīla Prabhupāda was lying on his bed. “Sit down,” he said. “I want simply to see you all. It gives me vital force.” Mercifully and lovingly he looked upon his devotees as they sat around him. The air was filled with frankincense billowing from the pot of coals Upendra had prepared for keeping mosquitoes away. Evening ārati began in the temple, and the sounds of the kīrtana rose to the little balcony. One by one the men present began to massage Prabhupāda. Śrutakīrti and Satsvarūpa were each massaging a leg, while Tamāla Kṛṣṇa massaged Prabhupāda’s head. Another devotee fanned. Prabhupāda lay back with his eyes closed peacefully. “You are all Vaiṣṇavas,” he said. “Be merciful to me.”

“You are that one Vaiṣṇava, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Satsvarūpa.

“You become,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Each of you. Why not?”

“We can try,” said Gurukṛpā Swami.

“Yes, try,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “But follow. Do not imitate.”

“Today we have a letter about book distribution,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “the monthly report.”

“That is the real good news,” said Prabhupāda, and he listened with full attention as Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read the BBT newsletter. He was pleased and absorbed, sometimes shaking his head and smiling to hear the achievements of his disciples. Then he heard a long letter from Ghanaśyāma about his triumphant book distribution in Eastern Europe. When he heard a letter from Tulasī dāsa, who was developing a Kṛṣṇa conscious farm community in South Africa, he commented, “This letter makes my chest swell, that I have such disciples performing such activities.”

In another letter, a devotee wrote a prayer stating that all his Godbrothers were praying for Prabhupāda, and he hoped that Kṛṣṇa would respond. “Surely,” said Prabhupāda, “I am practically living on your prayers. I haven’t eaten in the last six months. So I must be simply living on your prayers.” And hearing in a letter from South America that devotees were praying for him, he said, “I think I will have to stay. Kṛṣṇa is very kind. He is bhakta-vatsala. So many devotees are praying, it cannot be frustrated. I think this is why I am feeling inspiration to go out. In this condition, anyone else would prepare for death, but I am going on a tour. I don’t think of it as sentiment. Kṛṣṇa is actually present as the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. I am not without Vṛndāvana wherever I go to our temples.”

Pañcadraviḍa Swami wrote that he would exchange his youth for Śrīla Prabhupāda’s old age. “We are the same age,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “The body has nothing to do with the ātmā. In the Vaikuṇṭha world, we are the same age. New life, new boys – nava-yauvana. The outward dress does not affect one.” As a further reply to Pañcadraviḍa, Prabhupāda dictated, “May Kṛṣṇa give you long life, and preach Kṛṣṇa consciousness. You are our future hope.”

For the devotees who had not been with Prabhupāda in months, it was like old times, sitting with him and hearing him answer letters and give advice for becoming victorious in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Hearing him discourse made everything all right. But as they were leaving his room, he said softly, “These are my last days.”

Haṁsadūta’s letter contained news of a debate he was having with a famous atheist in Colombo, a Dr. Kovoor. As soon as Tamāla Kṛṣṇa began to read the letter, however, Prabhupāda asked to hear Dr. Kovoor’s response. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa then began reading from a news clipping enclosed in the letter.

“Das and Swami asked whether scientists can make a chicken to come out of a plastic egg,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read. “I do not know whether they are aware that scientists have made over ten elements, such as fermium, plutonium, einsteinium – ”

Prabhupāda interrupted, “Rascal. You are simply producing empty sound. Where is the chicken, rascal? The chicken, the hen, is better than the scientist. She has produced another egg within a week. You simply say this and that, this and that, this and that, that’s all. What is your value? We don’t give you any value. You are less important than the chicken.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa resumed reading: “We have created over ten elements that even God – ”

Again Prabhupāda interrupted. “Who cares for your creation? Without your creation the egg is there.”

“No, he says,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa went back to reading the text, “even God could not create them, because He did not know the technology involved in making them.”

“God kicks on your mouth,” said Prabhupāda. “He doesn’t require to take your creation. Without your creation He can do everything. God kicks on your mouth with shoes. Talkative nonsense. Tell him like that.”

“I’m sure Haṁsadūta did,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “Next we’ll read his reply. Anyway, the scientist goes on, ‘Are these two men aware of the success of the Sri Lanka scientist Dr. – ’ ”

Prabhupāda: “Who cares of his scientists?”

“ ‘The Nobel Prize winner in synthesizing amino acids – ’ ”

“Nobel Prize winner,” scoffed Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Another rascal has given him a Nobel Prize. He is a rascal, and another rascal has given. Suri-sākṣī mātāla. In a liquor house the witness is a drunkard. If there is an incident within the liquor shop and the proprietor of the liquor shop has brought some witnesses, but all of them are drunkards – what is the value of that? As soon as you are drunkard, immediately you are rejected.”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read on, and Prabhupāda continued to interrupt him at almost every sentence. The devotees had not seen Prabhupāda so fiery in weeks. When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read Haṁsadūta’s reply, Prabhupāda was pleased to see how many of the same points his disciple had made. “He is putting very strong arguments,” said Prabhupāda. “This is preaching!”

But Prabhupāda found simply working up the will for travel, and then not going, and then deciding again to go, was exhausting. On hearing the latest news, that the U.S. Consulate insisted on an interview – which seemed to be a physical impossibility – he couldn’t rest. Lying on his bed for hours, he finally called Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and said, “I want to go. Can you arrange to carry me? Somehow or other take me. Here I don’t expect any good. Psychological enthusiasm is there. Don’t be afraid. I am not afraid. Either to die in the temple here or there – it is all Vaikuṇṭha.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked to first discuss this with a few of the G.B.C. men who were present, but when the devotees came into Prabhupāda’s room that afternoon, Prabhupāda said, “No discussions. I have made up my mind. Arrange immediately for going.”

But again there were complications. The doctor asked Śrīla Prabhupāda to wait another week, and Prabhupāda also did not want to leave India without his green card for the U.S. He sent Balavanta to Calcutta to try and get the green card. With so many matters unsettled, Prabhupāda remained undecided whether to go to England now or wait.

“I plan to stay in America,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said. “I will not come back until I complete the Bhāgavatam. I want to organize there. The American boys are so nice. If I make everything strong then the movement will endure. Let us go now. The doctor will say four days for the medicine to act, then wait a little longer. This is their method.”

Finally a report came from Abhirāma in Calcutta that the passport had been secured and the American Consulate in Calcutta would help in getting the green card. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa ran upstairs and told Śrīla Prabhupāda, “There is very good news.” Śrīla Prabhupāda was lying down in bed, but when he heard the news he began to slowly clap his hands, saying, “Give me good news and keep me alive!” He began to think ahead to London. “The Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa Deities there are so nice,” he said. “Rādhā-London-īśvara – an innocent boy, He is.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa reminded Śrīla Prabhupāda how they had obtained those Deities.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “it was unexpected. I was in a hopeless condition, but Kṛṣṇa said, ‘Here I am. Take Me.’ ” Śrīla Prabhupāda thought of the Bhaktivedanta Manor. “That lawn before my room is magnificent,” he said. “I think good time is coming. Madhudviṣa has come, and Gaurasundara has come – lost child has come. These are good signs.” As he spoke on, his voice, which had sounded at first small and weak, grew in strength. “Mistake there may be,” he said, referring to the fall of some of his disciples. “But it can be rectified. At the time be very careful not to commit mistakes. Kṛṣṇa never forgets a person who does a little service.”

“You also never forget, Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“How can I forget? You have all helped me to execute the mission of Lord Caitanya and my Guru Mahārāja. I always pray to Kṛṣṇa to give you strength. I am insignificant. I cannot do anything. But I pray to Kṛṣṇa to give you strength.” Prabhupāda recalled how after installing the Deities in Australia he had thought, “These mlecchas and yavanas, what will they do with the Deity?” Then the next time he went there he saw that they were worshiping nicely. “Try to do everything nicely,” he said, “and Kṛṣṇa will help. Whatever I have done has been done on this principle. Whatever my Guru Mahārāja taught me, I tried to the best of my capacity to carry out.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke on, carried by waves of transcendental emotion and carrying his loving disciples with him. “When I go to America,” he said, “especially Los Angeles and New York, I feel at home.”

At the mention of New York, he began to remember his first days there. “I was like a street boy,” he said. “I was going here and there, sightseeing. I was in New York City, but one morning I saw all the walls were white. ‘How have they become white? Who has whitewashed them?’ I thought. I went downstairs, and there was so much snow. I went with an umbrella and purchased a pack of milk in the snow. At that time I was living in a dungeon. It was always dark. But I didn’t care. Whatever difficulty, I didn’t care. I only wanted to preach. Sometimes people would touch me, like men on the Bowery, but no one was inimical. Everyone was friendly. Even the bums. When I went to enter my New York building, the bums would get up from where they were lying down and let me pass by. I couldn’t understand the difference between friends and enemies.”

Prabhupāda said a friend of his had been shocked to hear that he was moving to the Bowery. “Oh, Swamiji,” his friend had said, “you have gone to Bowery Street? It is a horrible place!”

“I passed through many dangers,” continued Prabhupāda, “yet I couldn’t understand that, ‘Here is danger.’ Everywhere I thought, ‘This is my home.’ ”

Śrīla Prabhupāda recalled random details of his first preaching endeavors at 26 Second Avenue. “I was working very hard,” he said. “Lecturing at seven in the morning and seven in the evening. Cooking and distributing prasādam to anyone who was coming. Do you remember, Satsvarūpa? You would bring some mango and fruit. Daily you would come. Those days are passed. Now I feel happiness remembering those days. Remember that boy Stryadhīśa? He would eat so many capātīs. He would never have enough. Every time he wanted more I would give him four capātīs at a time. Kīrtanānanda, Acyutānanda. Seventy-five people would attend that Sunday feast.”

Prabhupāda recalled the first San Francisco temple, the first Los Angeles temple, going to Seattle, pushing Gaurasundara to go to Hawaii, receiving a letter from Govinda dāsī in Hawaii who said that it was mango season, except that when Prabhupāda went there, “it was rat season, and all night the rats were running in the rafters.”

“This is a new life, this Kṛṣṇa consciousness,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “There is no doubt about it.” His thoughts returned to his upcoming tour, and he said he could sleep in three seats across in the airplane. But he cautioned the devotees to be careful that once he got to America he not get kidnapped. Previously he had considered that Kṛṣṇa may have been detaining him from going to the West so that he would not be disturbed by the demons. But now he would go in any case.

Prabhupāda was ready to leave, but the delays and anxieties persisted. Balavanta returned from Calcutta, but Śrīla Prabhupāda was not pleased to see him. Why, he demanded, had he come back without Abhirāma? Balavanta said he had wanted to be with Śrīla Prabhupāda and he thought that Abhirāma could handle the last steps of getting the green card. Prabhupāda reprimanded Balavanta, saying service to the guru was better than being with him.

Then Tamāla Kṛṣṇa left for Delhi to arrange for the tickets. When two days later Śrīla Prabhupāda learned that there might be a delay of several days before Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and the other Americans in the party could leave India, he said he could leave immediately, without them, taking Śrutakīrti as his servant.

Then Prabhupāda heard of an airport strike in London. And the night before his scheduled departure, his health worsened. Many devotees urged him not to go. But amazingly, the tickets and passport arrived, and at midnight on August 28, after a six-month stay in Vṛndāvana, Śrīla Prabhupāda and his party left from the front gate of the Krishna-Balaram Mandir and headed for Delhi in a caravan of cars.

Just as Prabhupāda was leaving, Bisan Chandra Seth, a friend of Prabhupāda’s in Vṛndāvana, had come and protested, “It will not be good if something happens and you leave your body outside of Vṛndāvana.” Prabhupāda told Mr. Seth that, because his disciples were so much in love with him, he could not easily refuse their request. If the trip became too difficult, he said, he would return immediately. He told Mr. Seth that he was simply depending on Kṛṣṇa.

Prabhupāda rode lying on a mattress in the back seat of his car, and after two hours of driving over roads greatly damaged by flooding, they reached Delhi airport. Śrīla Prabhupāda waited in the car. The early morning was warm, and the devotees opened the car doors. Bhavānanda Goswami, who had just been released from jail in Bengal, had arrived in time to see Śrīla Prabhupāda. Bhavānanda approached the car and placed his head on Prabhupāda’s feet.

“How are you?” Prabhupāda asked. Bhavānanda reported that everything was improving in Māyāpur. All the local sādhus and citizens were now siding with ISKCON against the hoodlums who had attacked the temple.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was moved to an airport waiting room prior to going through the customs formalities. About ten devotees were there to see him off as he left with his party of four: Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, Upendra, Pradyumna, and Pradyumna’s wife, Arundhatī. Śrīla Prabhupāda sat upright on the airport couch, silently fingering the beads in his bead bag. His bare feet, resting in his sandals, were slightly swollen, as were his hands. He looked to see who was present and slightly nodded to each disciple in recognition.

The devotees felt there was no need for Śrīla Prabhupāda to talk. Just being with him was wonderful and fully satisfying. He had already spoken to them fully and had given himself in his books in many other ways. So they chanted and looked lovingly at him, up until the last moment when he went by wheelchair onto the plane.