CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

PRABHUPĀDA TRAVELED BY train from Bombay to Mathurā. Brahmānanda carried him in his arms from the train to a waiting car, and within fifteen to twenty-five minutes Prabhupāda was back in Vṛndāvana.

The devotees at the Krishna-Balaram Mandir were upset to see that Prabhupāda’s condition had deteriorated so much in the one month he had been away. His room was as he had left it, except for the addition of a large double bed. He lay down, and they closed the curtains and dimmed the lights. For about five minutes he lay still, with his eyes closed.

“Now you are home, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

Still Śrīla Prabhupāda lay quietly, not moving. Then slowly he brought his hands to his chest, clasped them together, and said, “Thank you.” He seemed relieved.

“Now you are in the care of Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

Śrīla Prabhupāda smiled and nodded slightly. “Yes,” he said. “Kṛṣṇa tvadīya-pada-paṅkaja-pañjarāntam,” indicating King Kulaśekhara’s prayer to Lord Kṛṣṇa: “My dear Kṛṣṇa, please help me die immediately so that the swan of my mind may be encircled by the stem of Your lotus feet. Otherwise, at the time of my final breath, how will it be possible for me to think of You?”

Although Śrīla Prabhupāda was in a precarious state, he remained completely fixed in thought of Kṛṣṇa in one way or another – Kṛṣṇa’s name, His form, His pastimes, or His devotional service. Prabhupāda suggested going to see Kṛṣṇa and Balarāma at nine-thirty, just as he had done before, but his servants advised that he rest today and begin that program tomorrow. “Whatever you desire, I will do,” Prabhupāda said.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked Prabhupāda if he wanted the kavirāja to come.

“As you said, Prabhupāda, for better or worse, some husband must be there.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda nodded. “Now manage everything,” he said, “and let me think of Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma.”

A little before four in the afternoon, while devotees were reading aloud from Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, Prabhupāda asked if the temple bell had rung the hour. Ever since the temple opening in 1975, he had insisted that the bell at the front gate be rung every hour to signify the hour and once every half hour. At first, the temple president had been unable to get a watchman who would remain awake through the night and ring the bell regularly. But Śrīla Prabhupāda had insisted so strongly that the temple management had finally established the bell-ringing. For Śrīla Prabhupāda, it was more than just a good standard; it was a symbol of the entire temple management’s effectiveness. If they couldn’t even arrange that the bell be rung regularly, then how could they manage everything else? Now Śrīla Prabhupāda was saying he thought he heard the bell ring at the wrong time. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa explained it might have been a different bell, and the devotees continued reading Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. But Śrīla Prabhupāda again asked about the bell in the temple dome. As Hari-śauri rose to go out and check, the bell began loudly ringing – one… two… three… four – properly sounding the hour.

“That is my concern,” said Prabhupāda, “that such a huge establishment is properly managed. If not properly managed, then everything will be finished.”

“I don’t think that that’s going to happen,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “We are too much indebted to you to allow what you have established to become spoiled.”

“Please see to that,” said Prabhupāda.

Nevertheless, Śrīla Prabhupāda called for Akṣayānanda Swami and, as soon as he came into the room, inquired from him, “Will the bell ring or not?” Akṣayānanda promised to diligently see to it, taking the instruction very seriously, as perhaps his last order from his spiritual master.

The pūjārī entered and gave Prabhupāda a large, fragrant tulasī garland from Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma, and Prabhupāda returned to listening to the reading.

Later in the day, he confided to Tamāla Kṛṣṇa about the past few weeks. “I must thank you,” he said, “that you took me to London and again brought me here without any difficulty. That is a great credit for you. For that I am thanking you. In this condition, a bundle of bones – still you did it. Kṛṣṇa will bless you.”

Hari-śauri had obtained another detailed astrological chart on Śrīla Prabhupāda from Delhi. This astrologer recommended a mantra to Lord Śiva to be chanted by ten brāhmaṇas for twenty-one days.

“We have the mahā-mantra,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “There is no need of others.” He spoke disapprovingly of the suggestion.

“Are these astrological charts very much applicable for devotees, Śrīla Prabhupāda?” asked Hari-śauri.

“No,” said Prabhupāda. “Don’t waste money for this astrology.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s faith was only in kīrtana. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested they again have continuous kīrtana, and Prabhupāda said, “That is real business. These astrologers are karmīs. We have nothing to do with the karmīs.”

In response to Śrīla Prabhupāda’s call, the twenty-three G.B.C. members again began gathering in Vṛndāvana. They arrived heavy-hearted, yet on coming before Śrīla Prabhupāda they were pleased to give him progress reports on their preaching on his behalf. Śrīla Prabhupāda was happy to hear the reports and was as encouraging as ever to his leaders, despite his condition.

Haṁsadūta Swami was one of the first to arrive, from Sri Lanka. Śrīla Prabhupāda instructed him to develop farm projects there, as Kīrtanānanda Swami had done in New Vrindaban. “Sometimes when preaching,” said Haṁsadūta, “I tell them, ‘What kind of country is this? The land is of the rājarṣis, and some lady is running the government!’ ”

“Do not touch politics,” Prabhupāda warned. “We are cultural and philosophy.”

Prabhupāda began dealing with Girirāja over bank matters. The local Vṛndāvana bank was reluctant to allow a withdrawal from an ISKCON fund, and Śrīla Prabhupāda had to be called in for advice. He gave keen, practical strategy for solving the problem, but he asked to be spared these things in the future. Devotees in the room were amazed to see Prabhupāda still dealing expertly with such affairs. When Girirāja apologized to Prabhupāda for involving him, Prabhupāda replied, “Therefore I said, do the needful.”

Actually, Prabhupāda’s calling the G.B.C. men together had been so they could chant for him. Now, more than ever, he wanted the medicine of the holy name, not of the doctors. When he heard that his friend Dr. Ghosh was coming to Vṛndāvana to open a clinic and that he could prescribe treatment, he refused the offer. “These doctors will come and give something to try and save,” he said. “I don’t want to be saved. Dr. Ghosh may come for the clinic he wants to develop, but not for my treatment.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked if they could at least call in some local Vṛndāvana doctors.

“No,” said Prabhupāda. “Let us take your advice for kīrtana only.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa agreed that kīrtana was best, because in that way they were pleading for Kṛṣṇa’s help.

“Better you don’t pray to Kṛṣṇa to save me,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Let me die now.” Prabhupāda then asked to sit up. “If Haṁsadūta is not tired,” he said, “he can continue singing.”

“This is not the kind of mood we are trying to create here,” the devotee explained.

“What? Are you crazy?” exclaimed Harikeśa. “Books are Prabhupāda’s life and soul!” He went in and showed Prabhupāda the seven new books. Immediately Prabhupāda took the first volume of the Kṛṣṇa trilogy and held it up, looking at the cover painting of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. Prabhupāda began crying and reached out, trying to stroke Harikeśa’s head. Harikeśa reached out and held Śrīla Prabhupāda’s hand, thinking himself unworthy of being patted.

“He was rotting here, typewriting,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, referring to when Harikeśa had been his secretary, just before going to preach in Europe. “I said, ‘You go.’ I had ten servants. You thought that I was degrading you by sending you away. No. Now you understand?”

“Yes, I understand,” said Harikeśa, sobbing.

“Here is an intelligent boy, I thought,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Why should he rot here, typewriting?” Prabhupāda looked at each book. “Printing and everything is first class,” he said. He asked how many had been printed, and Harikeśa replied, “One hundred twenty thousand Kṛṣṇa trilogies, sixty thousand Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam Second Cantos, and ten thousand Īśopaniṣads.”

“Can you distribute that Īśopaniṣad?” Prabhupāda asked. Harikeśa assured him that they could definitely distribute the book in Yugoslavia.

“Then print more,” said Prabhupāda. They continued discussing book production. Books were indeed Śrīla Prabhupāda’s life and soul. From Harikeśa’s entering with the new books, Prabhupāda had felt a profound ecstasy that had spread to Harikeśa and all the devotees present. Everyone was keenly aware that what they were experiencing was transcendental, a special reciprocation with Śrīla Prabhupāda, and as long as they were sincere it would not die.

“Now you just have to become better,” said Harikeśa. “More healthy.”

“Healthy?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “I have nothing to do with this body.”

“With Nava-yogendra,” Prabhupāda said in a hoarse whisper, “the both of you. South Africa also. There gradually the people are taking. Try to bring Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa back. He is very competent. So jointly organize Africa. Have saṅkīrtana. All Europeans, Americans, Africans. Tulasī dāsa is very competent also. United Nations under Caitanya Mahāprabhu’s flag. It is possible. Otherwise, that United Nations will be simply false attempt.”

“You said that when you first came to New York,” replied Brahmānanda, urgently recalling his first days with Śrīla Prabhupāda, “you went to the United Nations. The very first day I came to the kīrtana there in New York. The next day you went for that peace vigil outside the United Nations, and you were chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa and saying that this Kṛṣṇa consciousness is the only method for making United Nations.”

“That is a fact,” said Prabhupāda. “Try for the protection of Caitanya Mahāprabhu, and things will be successful. Others, they will simply waste time and be disappointed and change the body and suffer.” Prabhupāda changed the subject, but Brahmānanda was satisfied. He had been given enough service for many lifetimes.

“So, why don’t you find out some bride?” Śrīla Prabhupāda remarked, and the devotees’ sudden laughter broke the room’s solemn mood. Accepting the ring on his finger, Śrīla Prabhupāda said someone should take care of the other valuables.

Kulādri said he had also one request to make on behalf of Kīrtanānanda Swami: “Kīrtanānanda Mahārāja said that you have asked us to pray to Kṛṣṇa before. But he says he doesn’t feel qualified to pray to Kṛṣṇa. So he is asking that you please pray to Kṛṣṇa for us, because we cannot pray to Kṛṣṇa directly. We don’t know Kṛṣṇa. But if you ask, Kṛṣṇa must be sure to fulfill your desire. So would you please pray to Kṛṣṇa to stay with us? We want you to come to the palace that we’re building in New Vrindaban, Śrīla Prabhupāda, if it is possible.”

“I wish,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “But unless I become a little strong, how can I go?”

“We’ve also brought some sweets and ice cream,” said Kulādri. He knew that Prabhupāda could not take it, but he asked if he could just at least take a little taste. Prabhupāda agreed, and a small piece of the ice cream was put on his tongue. “First class,” he said.

Later Kīrtanānanda arrived, and Prabhupāda asked for a report on New Vrindaban.

“Everything is going very nicely, Prabhupāda,” said Kīrtanānanda. “Your palace is almost finished. Already many people are coming every day to see it. It will be finished in a couple of months. The other day a lady went in, and she turned to one of her boys and said, ‘I cannot tell you what I am feeling. It is so wonderful.’ ”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “It is wonderful in that quarter.” He paused, reflecting. “Hmm … Let us see which palace I am going to.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda asked Kīrtanānanda to take back his valuable gifts and use them for New Vrindaban. “You require money,” said Prabhupāda, “so you take back and utilize it there. That is my request.”

“Thank you very much,” said Kīrtanānanda. “Most of all we want you, though.”

“Yes, I also,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “And if I survive, I have a strong desire to go where you are and live there. It will be a great pleasure.”

Kīrtanānanda had pictures of the palace, and Prabhupāda sat up to see them. “You are fulfilling my dream,” he said. “New Vrindaban. I dreamt all these things. Wonderful things he has done. He is the first student – from the very beginning. When I was in the storefront, he was bringing carpets, bench, some gong, some lamps.”

“Do you think this movement can go on without me?” Prabhupāda asked. Girirāja was astounded that Prabhupāda had called him in the middle of the night to ask him this.

“I think,” said Girirāja, “that as long as we are sincere and go on chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa and follow the principles, the movement will be successful.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was silent. When he spoke, each word seemed to come with great effort. He uttered the word organization. Then he said, “Organization and intelligence. Is there anything else?”

Girirāja felt within his heart that he wanted to cry out, “Śrīla Prabhupāda, stay with us.” But instead he said, “No.”

“All right,” Prabhupāda said. And Girirāja offered obeisances and left. Outside Prabhupāda’s room, Girirāja continued to reflect on Prabhupāda’s words – “organization and intelligence.” Prabhupāda seemed to be demanding much more love and commitment; not that ISKCON could survive on organization and intelligence alone. Girirāja was thinking that perhaps these might be the last words Prabhupāda would ever speak to him.

“We’re always feeling your presence very strongly, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Paramānanda. “Simply by your teachings and instructions. We are always meditating on your instructions.”

“Thank you,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “That is the real presence. Physical presence is not important.” Paramānanda had brought a letter from his wife, Satyabhāmā. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked if he should read it, and Prabhupāda agreed. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa read on.

“Thank her,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, and he reached for the shawl. “Made with our wool.”

“So you’ll take rest now, Śrīla Prabhupāda?” suggested Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“Umhm,” said Prabhupāda. “This can be on the foot.” And he gestured that the saffron-colored shawl be put as a blanket on his bed. Tears came from his eyes as he lay back.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was becoming more and more in favor of departing from the world. When Tamāla Kṛṣṇa remarked that Prabhupāda was not drinking much, he replied that he had no inclination.

“I don’t know what to say, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “It’s certainly bewildering. I can only expect somehow Kṛṣṇa will have to do something.” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa requested again that they bring a doctor. “Still some husband must be there, you said,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa reminded. “We should have a doctor’s help. I still believe that. After all, we are not doctors.”

“No,” said Prabhupāda, “but we are already taking help of doctor, Āyur Veda – that is Yogendra-Ras.”

“You’re just beginning that now, of course,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “Tomorrow you might give it up. Then what will be our position?”

“Widow,” said Prabhupāda with a laugh. Then he added, “Actually, Kṛṣṇa is the ultimate husband.”

The devotees with Prabhupāda found it very difficult to adopt his mood of looking forward to his passing away. Once during a kīrtana, Upendra asked if Prabhupāda wanted something to drink. When Prabhupāda refused, some of the devotees began to cry, thinking that if Prabhupāda didn’t eat or even drink, he would not remain with them much longer. The devotees were trying to be submissively resigned to Prabhupāda’s will, and they accepted that his direction was more and more toward leaving. They were coming to accept it, surrounding him with kīrtana and not causing him any inconvenience with their problems or demands. Whatever he wanted, they should want. But the idea of his passing away was still almost unbearable.

In their resignation, the devotees became philosophical. Rūpānuga said Prabhupāda could be likened to an ambassador in a foreign country. He may have many affairs in the foreign country, but finally he’s called back. Jayādvaita said that Prabhupāda had taught his disciples everything and that now he was teaching them how to die. Another devotee said that Prabhupāda had better friends in the spiritual world. In their talks, the devotees stressed the importance of their cooperating with one another, and they discussed how ISKCON would continue in the future. But it was all depressing.

Nevertheless, they kept returning to the unpleasant but unavoidable realization that Prabhupāda would very soon leave them. With Prabhupāda so clearly indicating that he had decided to definitely leave, the devotees were becoming despondent. At best, a solemn mood prevailed.

Then Śrīla Prabhupāda said they should consult Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, a disciple of Prabhupāda’s sannyāsa-guru, for details on how to conduct the ceremony for a departed Vaiṣṇava. He also described where his samādhi should be located and asked that after his departure, a feast be served in all the main temples in Vṛndāvana, with ISKCON bearing the expense. On one level, everything seemed to go on as usual. The October weather was very pleasant. The gurukula boys were continuing with their routine, and the Deity worship went on as usual. But in front of the temple, workmen began clearing a space for Prabhupāda’s samādhi.

“Let me drink hari-nāma amīya vilāsa,*” said Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“Jaya Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Hari-śauri. “Hari-nāma is the sweetest nectar.”

“Nivṛtta-tarṣair upagīyamānād bhavauṣadhāt,*” Prabhupāda quoted. “This is bhavauṣadha, hari-kīrtana.”

Jayādvaita completed the verse: “Bhavauṣadhāc chrotra-mano-’bhirāmāt.”

“Ah,” Prabhupāda acknowledged. “And caraṇāmṛta – diet. Diet and medicine. Let me depend on these.”

Although he was fasting, Śrīla Prabhupāda inquired about the prasādam being served to the devotees. Now a hundred or more extra devotees were at the temple, and more were expected.

“This time, what do they supply?” asked Prabhupāda.

“What they supply?” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “You mean prasāda? Of course, today is the day after Ekādaśī, so they had some cereal made with gur and some fruit salad made with guavas and bananas. That was all this morning. Lunch is usually substantial, very good. This is the best prasādam that we have had in many years in India. The cook, Ayodhyāpati, is doing very nicely. Do you want to know what he cooks for lunch?”

Prabhupāda nodded slightly.

“He cooks an ālu-sabji with dāl sauce,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa continued, “and he makes bindi, very nicely spiced, and dāl, rotī, rice, apple chutney, and dahi-raitā every day.”

Prabhupāda asked who assisted Ayodhyāpati. He didn’t want any hired cooks.

“Only devotees are cooking,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “And it is very tasteful. And everybody – about 125 devotees – sits together and takes prasādam. And the guests from the guesthouse also take. Everyone takes together.”

“Everybody liked?” asked Prabhupāda, smiling.

“Yes, oh, yes,” was the combined reply of the devotees in the room. They all crowded close around Prabhupāda’s bed.

“That’s nice,” said Prabhupāda.

“You are the perfect father, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said one of the devotees. “You provide everything for us. A place to live, food to eat, everything. And you’ve trained us in spiritual knowledge.”

Prabhupāda uttered one of his deep sounds – “Hmmm.” Then he said, “Chant. All together.” And the assembled devotees gladly began a kīrtana.

Śrīla Prabhupāda began, “Śrīla Prabhupāda [Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī] said that we should preach in Europe, America. That was his desire. And his other desire was that we all would work together jointly to preach.”

“Yes, that is right,” said Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja.

“I didn’t waste a single moment,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “I tried my best, and it has been successful to some extent.” Śrīla Prabhupāda’s voice was choked with emotion. “If we work conjointly,” he continued, “then as Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu said, pṛthivīte* … Saṅkīrtana has great possibilities. My life is coming to an end. It is my desire that you all forgive me for my mistakes. My Godbrothers, when you are preaching at times there are some disputes, some misunderstandings. Maybe I also committed some offenses like that. Please ask them to forgive me. When I am gone, you will all sit together and decide how you can manage for some utsava, or festival for me. How much should we pay? What do you think of this?”

“Whatever instructions you give me,” said Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja, “I will follow them with absolute sincerity. I consider you my guru.”

Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja said that what Śrīla Prabhupāda had created should be protected, and it was everyone’s duty to do so. He pledged to help in whatever way he could. Śrīla Prabhupāda inquired if his Godbrothers who had temples in Mathurā-Vṛndāvana were present, and Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja replied that most of them were out of station.

Regarding Śrīla Prabhupāda’s asking his Godbrothers for forgiveness, Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja said, “They are all trivial things. In this worldwide preaching, if some little things go wrong here and there, what difference does it make? It is all right. Whatever you have done, you have done for the well-being of the entire human society. There is no individual interest. Everything was done in the interest of God.” He advised that Śrīla Prabhupāda not worry. His disciples were worthy and would maintain things; therefore Prabhupāda should now simply “think of the Lord.”

Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja then asked his assistant, Śeṣaśāyī Brahmacārī, to sing Śrī-rūpa-mañjarī-pada. While everyone listened in silence and Śrīla Prabhupāda lay still, Śeṣaśāyī Brahmacārī sang the song very sweetly. Next, Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja sang a bhajana, finishing with the refrain Jaya Gurudeva! Jaya Prabhupāda!

After a pause, Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja spoke again, this time referring to Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples. “They should be told that they should never get motivated by their own self-interest,” he said. “They should make your mission successful.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda turned his head slowly, looking over the devotees as they gathered in even more closely. Then slowly he lifted his hand, as if to call them all to attention, and said, “Do not fight among yourselves. I have given direction in my books.” He then lowered his hand.

Prabhupāda’s Godbrother Indupati entered the room. Śrīla Prabhupāda heard his greeting and repeated his request: “First of all I want to say forgive me for all my offenses. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but while preaching one has to sometimes say something that may offend others. Will you forgive me?”

“Yes, yes,” Indupati said.

“Mahārāja, you didn’t commit any offense,” said Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja. “We never thought that you did anything wrong. On the other hand, you bless us. We need it. You never did any wrong. If someone is offended by your actions, that is his fault.”

Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja then gently took Śrīla Prabhupāda’s right hand and felt his pulse. After a moment or two he said, “Pulse is all right. And your consciousness is perfect. If you have to go, by the will of the Lord, then you will go perfectly.” Promising to return again, Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja asked permission to leave, and he and Indupati and their party left the room.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples moved back and remained silent, not wanting to instigate any conversation to unnecessarily tax Prabhupāda. They appreciated Nārāyaṇa Mahārāja’s words, but it was another final goodbye. Before the atmosphere of despair could engulf them, they began again their soft, singing kīrtana.

“What is wrong if I don’t drink?” Śrīla Prabhupāda replied. “I feel no inconvenience.” Upendra added that if Śrīla Prabhupāda didn’t drink, his body would become dehydrated. Prabhupāda made no reply, and Upendra left the room.

“What about water?” Abhirāma asked.

Śrīla Prabhupāda thought for a moment and said, “So you discuss among yourselves and decide what you want me to do.”

Discuss? He seemed to be speaking of more than the merits of drinking water. “Discuss about recovery?” asked Abhirāma.

“I don’t want,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda.

“You say you don’t want recovery, Śrīla Prabhupāda?”

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. Abhirāma then went to the outer room, the secretary’s reception room, where some of the G.B.C. men were sitting together. He dutifully mentioned what Śrīla Prabhupāda had just said – to discuss among themselves about his recovery. But Abhirāma’s remark didn’t seem like news. The devotees were already well aware that Prabhupāda was making almost no attempt to carry on. They were resigned to it. Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to leave now, to “die peacefully.” They had been trying to encourage him to drink, but now he was determined to simply fast until the right time came. Whether they could accept it or not, it was happening. Therefore Abhirāma’s comment provoked no formal discussion.

That afternoon Prabhupāda called for Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, who was at that time taking his lunch. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa responded at once and entered the room along with several other G.B.C. men. They all came very close to hear what Prabhupāda wanted to say.

“If I want to survive,” he said, “of course I’ll have to take something.” His words came slowly, but with difficulty. “It is not possible to survive without taking any food. But my survival means so many inconveniences, one after another. Therefore I have decided to die peacefully.” His voice trailed off, and everyone was too stunned to speak. They sat looking almost blankly at him as he lay with his eyes closed. He occasionally made a noise like “ummm,” and only after several very long minutes did Tamāla Kṛṣṇa manage to ask Prabhupāda if they should continue with the kīrtana. By this time, more devotees, having finished lunch, were entering the room, and they began softly singing kīrtana. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa leaned forward and assured Prabhupāda about the stipend payments for his former family. Prabhupāda acknowledged.

“Don’t worry,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “I’ll see that each of them is satisfied. They won’t feel sorry in any way. You’ve provided for everyone, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

After a few minutes, Prabhupāda turned his attention to Hari-śauri, who was sobbing silently near Prabhupāda’s head. With some sternness in his voice, Prabhupāda asked, “Why do you want me to survive?” Hari-śauri could not speak. He felt that if he asked Prabhupāda to stay it would be an offense, since he had already decided to leave. Hari-śauri could not keep his emotions in check, and yet he did not want to say, “Stay and struggle.” Neither did he nor any of the others want Prabhupāda to leave. Somehow, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa had not caught Prabhupāda’s last remark to Hari-śauri, and so he leaned forward towards Prabhupāda, half questioning, “They want you to survive?”

“If I want to die,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “this is a very peaceful death. You go on chanting.”

As the kīrtana continued, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa asked to be excused. Prabhupāda asked why, and he replied he was going for discussion.

“For discussion,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “They want me to survive, and I want to die peacefully. I cannot make miracles. The physical body has to be maintained if I am to survive. But without taking food, how the physical body will go on? That is fanaticism.”

“Everything is in the hands of Kṛṣṇa,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s eyes had been closed, but suddenly he opened them and said, “Kṛṣṇa wants me to do as I like. The choice is mine. Kṛṣṇa has given me full freedom.”

These words struck some of the devotees as extremely startling and different. But Brahmānanda spoke up in the mood of resigned assurance. “It doesn’t matter whether you live or die, Prabhupāda,” he said. “You’ll always be with Kṛṣṇa, and we will always be with you, because we will follow your instructions.”

“Whether I live or die,” Prabhupāda said, “I will always be Kṛṣṇa’s servant. So if Brahmānanda has assured me that this movement will go on, then better let me die peacefully.” The devotees, who were only inches away from Prabhupāda, heard these faint words with dismay. After a few minutes of heavy silence, they resumed the kīrtana. Prabhupāda seemed to rest.

Within a few minutes all the available G.B.C. men and senior sannyāsīs were gathered in the outer room. Brahmānanda was feeling very low that he had told Prabhupāda that everything would go on without him and that Prabhupāda had replied that he would therefore die. The devotees remained amazed at Prabhupāda’s statement that Kṛṣṇa had given him freedom to do as he liked. These words now struck like a thunderbolt. With these words, “Kṛṣṇa has given me the choice,” Prabhupāda turned all the devotees’ minds in a different direction. Abhirāma reminded them that Prabhupāda wanted them to discuss about his recovery, and now they were having that discussion. But they were confused and bewildered by the sudden change in Prabhupāda’s mood.

Kīrtanānanda Swami, the seniormost disciple, spoke up with clarity and logic. “If Kṛṣṇa has given Śrīla Prabhupāda the independence to choose, that means He also has given us the independence. So we should assert our independence and ask Śrīla Prabhupāda to stay.”

One by one, devotees spoke up in support of the decision to ask Śrīla Prabhupāda to stay. Yes, it was a fact that the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement would go on without Śrīla Prabhupāda’s physical presence; but it wouldn’t be the same.

“Yes, and Prabhupāda hasn’t finished translating the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam,” said Brahmānanda.

“Yes,” said another, “we should ask Śrīla Prabhupāda to stay for at least five or ten years.”

“Five or ten years? We should ask him to stay for one hundred years!”

“But not all of the G.B.C. members are here to decide.”

“Well, who in the G.B.C. is going to say that we shouldn’t ask Prabhupāda to stay?”

They were in agreement. They did want Prabhupāda to stay, and they should express their desire to him. The mood of the last few days had suddenly reversed. They were no longer in the depths of despair but were thinking positively and enthusiastically that Śrīla Prabhupāda would stay with them.

“Why should we think that there is no hope for him to become fit again?” said Kīrtanānanda. “Jesus could bring people back to life from the dead, and even mundane yogīs can do it. So Śrīla Prabhupāda certainly can if he wants.”

Now Brahmānanda spoke up with great strength. “We weren’t realizing that actually we need Prabhupāda! That should be the understanding. There is no question of allowing Prabhupāda out of our presence for a moment!”

It was about 3:30 P.M. when the twenty devotees entered Śrīla Prabhupāda’s room and crowded around his bed. Śrīla Prabhupāda lay with his eyes closed, motionless, but alert to their presence. Kīrtanānanda Swami had been chosen to be the spokesman, and as he leaned over to speak to Śrīla Prabhupāda, his lips began to tremble, his eyes filled with tears, and he broke down, sobbing, with his head at the side of the bed. Śrīla Prabhupāda reached out but could not find Kīrtanānanda.

“Who?” said Prabhupāda.

Many voices spoke, “Kīrtanānanda.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda then laid his hand on Kīrtanānanda’s head and gently rubbed it.

“Hmmm? So what do you want?” he asked. No one could say anything, as they were all waiting for Kīrtanānanda. Brahmānanda was rubbing Kīrtanānanda on the back to soothe him, and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa was encouraging him to try to say something. Finally, after another minute of emotional waiting, Kīrtanānanda raised his head. He looked at Śrīla Prabhupāda and pleaded, “If Kṛṣṇa gives you the choice, then don’t go! We need you!”

“So this is your joint opinion?” asked Śrīla Prabhupāda. “You have discussed?” He held his hand in the air and moved it around, so as to indicate all the devotees.

Brahmānanda Swami spoke up very emotionally but positively: “We have all met together, Śrīla Prabhupāda. We want you to remain and lead this movement and finish the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. We said that you must remain for at least another ten years. You have only done fifty percent of your work.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was listening very carefully without any movement, but when Brahmānanda said “fifty percent” he frowned and said, “No.” Finally he uttered a “Hmmm.” He was considering the proposal. His eyes were still closed, and he seemed to be consulting Kṛṣṇa from within himself. Several times he uttered “Hmmm,” and everyone was held in suspense, not able to speak or think or do anything except look intently at Śrīla Prabhupāda. Then with his eyes still closed, he yawned, and his gold teeth began to show. “All right,” he said.

It was probably the most casual-sounding decision on life or death ever made. At that moment the devotees understood Śrīla Prabhupāda’s independent position; he could stay or go as he chose. They had become so faithless, however, that they were thinking that his passing away was inevitable and could not possibly be delayed, even by Śrīla Prabhupāda himself. Now he displayed his wonderful transcendental nature with a simple yawn – “All right” – as if choosing between life and death was the most unimportant thing in the world. Harikeśa gave a short laugh, the kind that he saved for when Śrīla Prabhupāda did something completely transcendental, incomprehensible, and inimitable. “Jaya, Prabhupāda!” he said.

Prabhupāda had again proven himself to be beyond understanding. The devotees laughed nervously, unsure what was appropriate. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry, they fell silent again to see what Prabhupāda would do.

“So give me something to drink,” he said, and all the devotees shouted, “Jaya, Prabhupāda!” He would stay with them. It was confirmed. Everyone was greatly relieved. “All glories to Śrīla Prabhupāda!”

“This is real affection,” Prabhupāda replied.

The atmosphere had changed. Śrīla Prabhupāda had changed. His servants lifted him up, and all the devotees watched as he drank a full glass of grape juice. Now, instead of withdrawing his energy, as he had done steadily for the last few days, he came back to life again. Then he lay back. “Thank you very much,” he said. “Hare Kṛṣṇa.”

And the devotees replied, “Hare Kṛṣṇa.”

So this was what Prabhupāda wanted. He was drawing out their emotions and increasing their affection for him more and more by putting them into a state of transcendental distress. Now they could understand, at least to a tiny degree, what the gopīs’ pangs of separation were like. Śrīla Prabhupāda was bringing his disciples to the extremes of devotional sentiments and showing that actually their lives were in his hands.

After a long pause he asked, “Strawberries, they have been brought?”

“Yes, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “very nice strawberries.”

“I will take some strawberries,” he said.

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa said, “you gave your word to Kṛṣṇa in Bombay that you would see Him sitting in His new big temple, and you have yet to keep your word to Him.” Prabhupāda smiled very brightly.

“You have fixed the date for the opening of Bombay,” said Brahmānanda. “January the first. So we would like to invite you to come, Śrīla Prabhupāda. It is your temple. You have asked Kṛṣṇa to come there. When we all gave up, you carried on the fight.”

“Yes, that was a great fight,” said Prabhupāda, smiling. “After so much fighting and then to construct a big temple is a great triumph.”

“I don’t think Kṛṣṇa will come into the temple,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “unless you are personally there, Śrīla Prabhupāda, to open the door.”

Prabhupāda was still smiling. “All right,” he said. “But chanting should not be stopped. Things should go on naturally.”

Turning to Kīrtanānanda, Prabhupāda asked, “Kīrtanānanda’s palace – when it will be ready?”

“In early spring,” Kīrtanānanda replied, “as soon as the weather is a little warmer. It gives you the chance to have a little time to recuperate, then go to Bombay and open the temple there, and then you can come open your palace. We have about seventy-five letters from all the devotees in New Vrindaban, and they are all begging you to come. They say their life is finished if you don’t come.”

“So let me take a little rest,” said Prabhupāda, “and then I shall take strawberries.”

Word spread quickly to the devotees throughout the world that Prabhupāda had decided to live. Especially in Vṛndāvana, where gloom had pervaded, the devotees were now light-hearted and thankful. They spoke more enthusiastically about preaching. All the devotees in Vṛndāvana agreed that everything Śrīla Prabhupāda had been doing was for instructing his disciples. Previously there had been discussion of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s teaching them how to die, but now there was more awareness that he was teaching them how to live – by love. He was doing this by increasing their love for him.

Some of the devotees felt that the instruction Śrīla Prabhupāda was giving now was his ultimate instruction, the motive for everything he did. The basis for Kṛṣṇa consciousness was, in fact, love. Śrīla Prabhupāda had written in his books, prema pum-ārtho mahān: “Love of Kṛṣṇa is the ultimate goal of life.” Only when a devotee developed pure, unalloyed love for Kṛṣṇa could he go to the spiritual world. Some of the devotees said that to bring all the devotees to a higher, purer love, Prabhupāda was remaining in the material world and offering his disciples the opportunity to serve him very intimately in Vṛndāvana. Other devotees, however, considered Śrīla Prabhupāda’s activities too grave for them to understand and simply accepted these pastimes as acintya, inconceivable. But everyone could at least understand, either by witnessing or hearing reports, that Śrīla Prabhupāda had responded to his disciples’ dependent cries of love by saying, “This is real affection.”