CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

April 1973

ŚRĪLA PRABHUPĀDA WAS staying in Bombay. Besides his own preaching and his translating of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, he was also pursuing the long, drawn-out case to secure the land at Juhu Beach. It was a time in his life that he spent mostly in India, with frequent trips to the West. The Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement was growing rapidly under Śrīla Prabhupāda’s direct supervision, and his visits inspired devotees in ISKCON centers around the world.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had only recently come from Hyderabad. There Śyāmasundara, Prabhupāda’s secretary for over two years, had become involved in a business venture. Several men had persuaded him to buy shares in a ruby mine. Śyāmasundara had begun digging up rough corundum to bring back to the West and sift for the valuable clear rubies. When devotees asked Prabhupāda what he thought of Śyāmasundara’s new business, Prabhupāda replied, “If he wants to do it, let him do it.” Śyāmasundara had rendered him significant service, as his secretary and in helping to pioneer Kṛṣṇa consciousness in England; and Śrīla Prabhupāda, as Kṛṣṇa’s representative, was grateful. But he did not seem much impressed or interested in the mining prospects.

On his way to Zurich, Śyāmasundara, carrying about ninety kilos of rough corundum to sell, visited Śrīla Prabhupāda in Bombay. When Śrīla Prabhupāda expressed his desire to rest for a couple of weeks from his traveling and management, Śyāmasundara described a perfect two-week stay for Prabhupāda at St. Moritz, the famous ski resort in southern Switzerland. It was off-season, he said, and tourists would not be there. The clean mountain air would be very healthy and pleasant. He even showed Śrīla Prabhupāda postcards of mountainsides covered with wild flowers. Śrīla Prabhupāda agreed.

But when they arrived in Switzerland, it was as cold as winter. Prabhupāda, Śyāmasundara, Śrutakīrti, and Pradyumna took a luxury train up the mountains, curving and circling along the mountain paths, to the resort. Śrīla Prabhupāda’s servant, Śrutakīrti, watched out the window, remarking at the beauty of the snow and mountain peaks. Everything was white. Prabhupāda was silent but finally asked, “What do they call this place?”

Śrutakīrti replied, “St. Moritz, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

“They may call it St. Moritz,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “but I call it St. Hellish.” He then pointed out that the “beautiful” snowscape was lifeless. He did not like seeing “simply branches of trees and snow.” It was only emptiness, without variety. Where were the advertised wild flowers and green hills and beautiful climate? It was as if Śrīla Prabhupāda had somehow been tricked on a pretense to come to a very cold, wintery mountaintop, a place useless for his purposes – St. Hellish.

Prabhupāda wrote Girirāja in Bombay, tropical Bombay, Juhu Beach, a truly important place that drew Śrīla Prabhupāda’s thoughts and desires.

Immediately after their arrival, it began to snow, although unusual at this time of year. With ironic disgust, Prabhupāda remarked, “I have come to Switzerland to stay in the snow.” Śrutakīrti could find no dāl or rice for Śrīla Prabhupāda. All he could find was farina. Prabhupāda said he would show him how to make a farina capātī but Śrutakīrti’s attempts were unsatisfactory. There was no question in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s mind of staying two weeks at St. Moritz. He would leave as soon as possible. He asked Śyāmasundara to arrange to immediately get them out of St. Hellish.

Śrutakīrti: One morning Prabhupāda wanted to go on his usual morning walk, but it was snowing out. The room had sliding glass doors, opening from the living room onto a veranda. So Prabhupāda said, “We shall go out for a morning walk? Let us see how cold it is.” He opened up the sliding door, and a big blast of ice-cold air came in. “Ooooh, it is much too cold,” he said. “We can walk in the hallway here.” So myself, Pradyumna, and Prabhupāda went out into the hallway, and Prabhupāda started his morning walk. He would walk back and forth a few hundred feet down this long hallway with just a whole bunch of doors going to the different rooms and an elevator. It was set up electronically so that whenever a door to a person’s apartment would open, the light would go on automatically and stay on for like thirty seconds. After thirty seconds, the lights would go off automatically. Whenever you pushed the elevator button, the lights would go on and the door opened. In this way they were conserving energy. The lights were only on when they were needed. It was expected that you would walk out of your room, the lights would go on, you would walk to the elevator, get in, and then the lights would go off. There was no waste of electricity. So we were walking up and down the hall for our morning walk. It was a half-hour walk. They had these light switches along the wall. We would walk along, and whenever we would come to a button, I would push it. And that would keep the lights on for about thirty seconds. We were walking back and forth, and I was regularly pushing the buttons. Then Pradyumna went inside. It was just Prabhupāda and myself. We were walking along, and I had to keep regularly pushing the button or we would be in darkness. Then Prabhupāda told me he wanted to eat. He was feeling hungry because it was very cold. He said, “You can make halavā this morning.” I said, “All right, Śrīla Prabhupāda. Do you want to wait until after your walk, or should I go now?” He said, “No, I will walk. You can go make the halavā.” I said all right and went inside, but then I realized that the lights were going to be out. So I told everyone inside the room, and we came to the door. We looked outside, and there was Śrīla Prabhupāda walking up and down the hall pushing the light buttons to keep the lights on while he chanted Hare Kṛṣṇa on his beads.

Meanwhile, Śyāmasundara had invited Balī-mardana from New York to join them. Śyāmasundara had information that the price of gold was rising, and they had planned to invest some of their money in gold. They intended to buy gold one day, sell it the next, and thus make a big profit. Bali-mardana arrived.

When Śrīla Prabhupāda heard that Bhagavān dāsa was preaching in nearby France, Prabhupāda asked to see him. Bhagavān received Prabhupāda’s message by phone, and before coming he had the French devotees prepare a big feast for Prabhupāda. It was evening when Bhagavān arrived, and Prabhupāda was sitting on his bed, preparing to take rest. He smiled broadly to see Bhagavān, and when Bhagavān said, “Śrīla Prabhupāda, I’ve brought a nice feast of prasādam,” Prabhupāda left his bed to take the prasādam. One by one he tasted all the cooked preparations and then distributed the remnants.

But late that same night, after midnight, Śrīla Prabhupāda came out of his room into the room where the devotees were sleeping. With his foot he prodded Bali-mardana and told him to wake up. Prabhupāda said he wanted to see everyone. They all rose and came into Prabhupāda’s room. Everyone could see that he was in a grave mood. He began by reproaching Bali-mardana and Śyāmasundara for risking so much money in gold speculation. The money Bali-mardana had brought was to buy a building for ISKCON New York, and Śyāmasundara’s money was also for purchasing a building, in England. It was not right to risk Kṛṣṇa’s money in this way, Śrīla Prabhupāda said. Śyāmasundara and Bali-mardana both spoke up confidently, trying to convince Śrīla Prabhupāda it was a secure investment. Prabhupāda cut them off. “If you try to speak in this way, then how will I be able to teach you anything?”

And thus Śrīla Prabhupāda stopped the gold scam. Staying up almost all night, Prabhupāda lectured to them in his room. While it was true that anything could be used in the service of Kṛṣṇa, Prabhupāda admonished them that this gold market speculation was actually gambling. It should not be indulged in. Submitting like young boys, his followers agreed to return the money to the proper ISKCON accounts and not to again speculate as if they were high financiers in the international market.

The next day snow still fell. It was so cold that Śrīla Prabhupāda could not leave his room. He looked out the window and remarked, “It is a white hell only.” Finally their departure tickets arrived, and Śrīla Prabhupāda left for New York.

New York
April 5–11, 1973
  Rādhāvallabha: Seeing that it was such a hellish place, it was always wonderful when Prabhupāda would come to Brooklyn. The neighbors! The Italians hated us, and the Puerto Ricans liked us but wanted to rob us. It was just an abominable, dark, filthy neighborhood, full of hate.

When Prabhupāda would come, the devotees would fill the streets. They would line the steps of the Brooklyn temple, all cheering, with their arms in the air, as Prabhupāda would walk through. He was always pleased to come to Brooklyn, to see all the devotees in that horrible place, to see the press, and to see the new paintings. He always appreciated seeing Rādhā-Govinda, offering his obeisances to Them, leading kīrtana, and giving lectures in that Brooklyn temple.

Daivī-śakti: Myself and another big book distributor were invited to go on a morning walk with Prabhupāda. We went to the park. Brahmānanda Swami and Bali-mardana were there. Prabhupāda began the conversation saying, “I had a dream.” So everyone was listening very intently, and Prabhupāda continued. “I dreamed that we had a boat, and there were twenty-five of us on the boat, twelve sannyāsīs and twelve brahmacārīs and myself. We went all over the world, and in each port we had saṅkīrtana.” When Prabhupāda described this ecstatic dream, Bali-mardana and Brahmānanda Swami both began telling Prabhupāda about their boat experiences. They said they were boatmen and would try to help Prabhupāda, and he was pleased to hear it.

Rukmiṇī: One morning while he was walking in New York, Prabhupāda picked a flower from a vine and brought it back to the temple. It was a fragrant white flower. When he picked it and smelled it, he said, “This should be planted all around our Māyāpur complex.” Later I took that flower and found out that the name of it was Silver Lace Vine, or Fleece Vine.

Pañcaratna: I had just gotten videotape equipment, and it was the first time Prabhupāda was videotaped. After we made the tape, we brought it in to show him. It was of a lecture that Prabhupāda gave in the temple. At the end of the lecture he had gotten up and was looking at the Deities during the kīrtana. He was just about to leave when he became more attracted to the kīrtana and started clapping and dancing. While this was happening, I had been there all the time with the cameras, zooming in and zooming out. Then we showed it to Śrīla Prabhupāda, and he watched it very closely. When the kīrtana part came on the tape, Prabhupāda again started clapping and chanting. He said it was very nice.

Jāhnavā: Prabhupāda sat on his āsana in his large reception room beneath the picture of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī. Paintings were stacked all around the room to await his evaluation. Present were Jayādvaita, Muralīdhara, Parīkṣit, Jadurāṇī, Puṣkara, a photographer, and myself. Śrīla Prabhupāda was very businesslike and fairly aloof. Later, upon reflection, it seemed to me that this aloofness by Prabhupāda was actually a major step in weening the art department away from his constant supervision and their habit of always asking him questions during his visits and by letters.

There was one painting of Lord Kṛṣṇa, who was sitting and looking very sad because He couldn’t find Rādhārāṇī. Prabhupāda asked what the pastime was, but then he objected and said, “Kṛṣṇa doesn’t lament.” The artist, Jadurāṇī, appeared very discouraged to have misrepresented Kṛṣṇa. Prabhupāda continued discussing the other paintings, but then he turned to Jadurāṇī and remarked, “It’s all right. This painting can be used to show another pastime, when Kṛṣṇa had a headache.”

After Prabhupāda discussed the various paintings, I then showed Prabhupāda some drawings done by the gurukula children. One picture was done by Sarasvatī dāsī. On one side of the paper she had drawn a circle to indicate a face, two dots for eyes, a smile, and a peacock feather in the hair. On the reverse side of the paper she drew fine dots. Her explanation was, “If you hold the paper to the light, then you can see Kṛṣṇa appearing in the universe.” When Śrīla Prabhupāda saw this picture and heard her explanation, he became thoughtful, thinking of Sarasvatī. “If Sarasvatī would see someone,” Prabhupāda recalled, “she would ask, ‘Do you know who is Kṛṣṇa?’ Then she herself would answer, ‘He is the Supreme Personality of Godhead.’ ” As Prabhupāda said this, he gestured by pointing his finger, indicating the strength of Sarasvatī’s conviction.

Nayanābhirāma: When Prabhupāda came to New York in 1973, we were asked to put on a production of the Rāmāyaṇa. We had only one day to put it together. That was why we didn’t use dialogue; we couldn’t memorize the lines on such short notice. We performed for Prabhupāda with gestures, and a dialogue was spoken off the stage. The next morning, right after maṅgala-ārati, I was asked to go see Prabhupāda. It was still dark in his quarters, and he was sitting in his back room. He asked me if I was responsible for last night’s production. I didn’t know how to answer, because I didn’t know whether he was going to chastise me or praise me. Then he said it was good, but he had some suggestions for improving it. He said that instead of one voice narrating, we should have a different voice for each character who was to speak. Also, there was a controversy over using a guitar or a sitar as musical accompaniment. Prabhupāda said we shouldn’t play the sitar if we didn’t know how. It was better to play a guitar expertly than a sitar incompetently.

Rādhāvallabha: Prabhupāda was complaining that the books weren’t coming out. Later on, someone came over to the press and said that Prabhupāda had found a spelling mistake. It was a big mistake in the misuse of a single word. So I went and asked Prabhupāda where the mistake was. He said, “I don’t know. I think it was in that chapter there.” So I pulled out all the flats and looked for it. He said, “No, maybe it was that one.” I pulled out more sheets, and he said, “No, I think it was in that torn one.” Then after I had pulled out all the sheets, he said, “Never mind. Just print it!” At that point I could see that that was Prabhupāda’s attitude toward his books. I could see he wasn’t satisfied that we spent so much time trying to fix all the spelling and composing errors. In this case, he wanted to get the book out, even if it meant later he had to correct the mistake.

Balavanta: I was in Atlanta, and we had just done political preaching by running for mayor of the city. Prabhupāda called me to come to New York and see him. When I went into his room, he wanted to talk politics. He had different arguments. He said, “So what do they say?”

I said, “Prabhupāda, they say it is not practical. Our program is not practical.”

Prabhupāda said, “It is not practical because they will not take to it. Otherwise, it is practical. It is the only solution.” Prabhupāda said the rascals would not take it, and yet if they did, it would solve their problems. He said we have no complicated political program, only one program. Our program is “Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. That’s all.” And if the people will meet together regularly and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa, they will be successful. I would give Prabhupāda all the arguments I had received, and he would always defeat them.

Kīrtirāja: I had to take Prabhupāda to the Indian consulate to arrange that they grant devotees visas. In the conversation with the consul, Prabhupāda raised his voice loudly and spoke strongly in Bengali. None of us had any idea what was being said except for the few English words throughout the conversation. But we could understand that he was speaking quite forcefully to the man. At the end of the conversation Prabhupāda told me to present the list of devotees going to India and arrange to gather their passports. He said that the consul agreed to grant them one-year visas. We finished the meeting and went out to the car. In the meantime, it had gotten dark and started to rain very hard. As we sat in the car, Prabhupāda said, “I spoke very strongly to him, didn’t I?”

I agreed, and then Prabhupāda looked at us again and said, “Yes, I can do this, but you cannot.” He said, “I am an old man. They don’t take me seriously. But if you were to speak to someone who was older than you or your age, and if you speak very strongly, they will become offended. But I am an old man, so I can do this. But you cannot.”

Then as we were driving through the rush hour traffic and the rain, I was nervous because Prabhupāda was in the car. It was difficult to see because the windows were fogging over. I was thinking it was such nasty, horrible weather, when all of a sudden Prabhupāda turned to me and said, “The rain is very pleasing. Without the rain, nothing on the earth could be.” I was shocked, because it was as if he were reading my mind. I had been cursing and condemning the weather, and Prabhupāda turned to me casually and said the rain was nice.

As we were driving, Prabhupāda asked us if we had noticed what was written on the plaque as we entered the Indian consulate. Although we had all stopped and glanced at it, we all had to tell Prabhupāda that none of us could remember. Prabhupāda then said that an intelligent man notices all of his surroundings. He even notices how many beams are in the ceiling above his head. He said one time one of his friends asked him, “Do you know how many cars there are in the Punjab Mail Express?” Prabhupāda said he told the man how many cars there were exactly, and that he was right.

Another time when Prabhupāda was in New York, he went to see a building on Park Avenue for sale. We were thinking of acquiring it for the New York temple. It was a very big building on the upper side of Park Avenue. We pulled up on the opposite side of the street in front of a small Spanish grocery store. We got out of the car and looked over at the building. The front doors of the building were open, and due to light from the front hall, a golden glow was coming out through the open doors into the evening darkness. Prabhupāda said, “Ah, Śrī Gaurāṅga Hall.” Prabhupāda and Bali-mardana were speaking about the possibility of buying this building, and the next thing I knew, Bali-mardana hit me in the arm and said, “Prabhupāda wants a 7-Up.” I looked at Prabhupāda and said, “Prabhupāda, 7-Up?” Prabhupāda nodded yes. But I repeated, “Prabhupāda, do you really mean 7-Up?” Again he nodded yes. I said, “You mean, it’s lemony with bubbles. Is that what you mean?” Prabhupāda again said, “7-Up.” So I went into the store and bought a can of 7-Up. I went out to the street and gave it to Bali-mardana, who popped open the top and gave it to Prabhupāda, and as we stood there on Park Avenue in our dhotīs, Prabhupāda held the can up and poured the drink straight into his mouth without touching the can to his lips. When we drove back to the temple, it was the biggest story of the day: Prabhupāda drank 7-Up on Park Avenue!

Rādhāvallabha: We could always tell that Prabhupāda was pleased that we were staying in that horrible place to preach his mission. We could always sense he felt New York was the important place to preach because he had first gone there, and that he was pleased that we were continuing where he had first brought Kṛṣṇa consciousness to the West.