Gargamuni

CHAPTER ONE: SETTING THE SCENE

It was 1965 and my brother, Bruce, was attending New York University and I was
finishing up High School. He was taking courses in Eastern philosophy and religion and had
already become a vegetarian, and it was he that got me interested in Eastern spirituality. The
previous year he had taken a break from the university to work on a cargo ship that went to
Bombay. After spending a few weeks there, my brother flew back home. It was in Bombay that
Bruce became interested in Indian religion and philosophy. Later on, he received his BA in
English by writing a paper on the Bhagavad-gétä. After returning from India, Bruce gave me a
book called Thus Spake Ramakrishna, which I read. He was regularly going to see Swami
Nikhilänanda at the Ramakrishna Mission in an upscale area of Manhattan.
My brother had been searching for an Indian guru and Swami Nikhilänanda was the only
one he knew of at the time. Being influenced by Swami Nikhilänanda’s teachings, Bruce was
about to become his initiated disciple, even though the guru wore a dress shirt and tie so that he
looked more like a corporate man than a sädhu. Then one day Swami Nikhilänanda offered my
brother chicken “prasädam” and this disgusted him so that he gave up the idea of taking
initiation. After all, he was already a vegetarian. Swami Nikhilänanda’s Ramakrishna Mission
thereafter became derisively referred to by us as the “Chicken Mission.”
A little later, a friend told my brother about a Swami who held classes in a storefront in
the Lower East Side, a poorer section of Manhattan. Just as Swaméjé had met his spiritual master
by the insistence of a friend, Narendra Mullick, so my brother met his spiritual master on the
advice of his friend. And just as Swaméjé became initiated whereas his friend did not, so it was
with my brother.
The other swamis in New York lived uptown and attracted mostly older and richer
followers. One such yoga guru was Dr. Mishra, who had invited Swaméjé to come to New York
and had given him a room in his apartment. Later, Swaméjé was moved to Dr. Misra’s yoga
studio, and because it had no shower or kitchen, Swaméjé had to go to Dr. Mishra’s apartment to
cook and bathe. Dr. Mishra was not well and hardly knew how to cook. Swaméjé was an
excellent cook, for he had learned the art from his mother. Dr. Mishra later told Swaméjé that his
cooking had practically saved his life.
My brother saw that Swaméjé wore the traditional dress of a sannyäsé, or one in the
renounced order of life, and that he observed strict principles. He could understand that Swaméjé
had not compromised his principles to blend in with American society, but instead had continued
to exhibit the pure life of a saintly person even in a materialistic society. My brother met
Swaméjé in August 1966, which was about a month after the International Society for Kåñëa
Consciousness was incorporated by Swaméjé on July 13.
After High School, I attended a business school in Colorado, but within a few days I felt
strongly within my heart that this was not where I belonged. I wanted to find a spiritual
alternative to materialistic life. At this time 100,000 hippies were gathering in San Francisco, and
this became known as the Gathering of the Tribes. American society was in turmoil because the
youth were protesting the Vietnam War and were taking part in the Civil Rights Movement while
rejecting the hackneyed lifestyle of their parents. They wanted love and peace, and not war, and
they wanted truth and not artificially cordial social interaction. Finding emptiness in the
traditional American values and religions, the youth looked for a better way of life that would
give them freedom from the 9-5 jobs that mainstream America offered. At this time there was a
burgeoning interest in Eastern philosophy and mysticism, and this gave the youth hope for
answers to life’s fundamental questions that even the universities had failed to provide.
Being swept up in the counterculture, I called my brother and told him that I was going to
drop out of school and go to San Francisco to join those searching for a liberating lifestyle. My
brother said, “No, don’t go there. I have found this amazing swami and so I want you to come
back to New York right away.” I sold all my stuff so that I had enough money to fly to New
York, and I never told my parents about this. When I informed the school administrators that I
was leaving, they threatened me, saying that they would inform the draft board so that I would be
drafted into the army, sent to Vietnam, and die. At that time the United States Congress had
ordered that whoever was not in school or was not employed would be drafted into the military
and sent to Vietnam. During that war, 60,000 American soldiers died. The Judeo-Christian
religions preached that America were fighting the war to carry out the will of God but the youth
didn’t accept this. I told the school administrators, “Go ahead. I’m not going to stay here.” I am
sure that from within I was being directed toward something sublime that I did not understand at
the time.
The next day, after returning to New York, I went with my brother to see Swaméjé at his
storefront at 26 Second Avenue in the Lower East Side. The storefront had previously been a gift
shop, and the sign “Matchless Gifts” prophetically remained above the window, wherein there
was an announcement that Bhagavad-gétä classes were being held on Mondays, Wednesdays,
and Fridays. On that notice Swaméjé’s name appeared as A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami. He was
called “Swaméjé” by his followers, but in 1968 it was decided that he should henceforth be
addressed by the more honorific title of “Çréla Prabhupäda.” This was appropriate because it
indicated that Çréla Prabhupäda was acting as the bona fide representative of the Supreme
Personality of Godhead. He was the master at whose feet all other masters sit.
Çréla Prabhupäda had arrived in the U.S. from India in September of 1965, and had first
gone to stay with his sponsor, Gopal Agarwal, in Butler, Pennsylvania. Once, while preaching in
Agra, he had met Gopal’s father and expressed his desire to go to America, although at that time
he didn’t have the means to do so. Mr. Agarwal had assured Çréla Prabhupäda that his son in
America would send him the documents needed to get a tourist visa. Mr. Agarwal was concerned
because his son had not written to him and so he wanted Çréla Prabhupäda to inform him of his
situation. Çréla Prabhupäda returned to Våndävana and forgot about his conversation with Mr.
Agarwal, and then, one day, the required documents arrived from Gopal Agarwal. In those days
there was a strict limit to the number of tourist visas issued, and although he was not sponsored
by a university or corporation, but simply by an ordinary Indian man, Çréla Prabhupäda was able
to get his visa.
While Çréla Prabhupäda was preparing for his journey to America, a gentleman in
Bombay gave him an introductory letter to a yoga teacher in New York, Dr. Ramamurti Mishra.
When Çréla Prabhupäda left Butler, Pennsylvaia, and arrived in New York, Dr. Mishra gave him
a room in his apartment on Riverside Drive. However, when this became inconvenient, Dr.
Mishra moved Çréla Prabhupäda to a room in his yoga studio, which was on the third floor of an
office building at 100 West 72nd Street. However, Çréla Prabhupäda did not have an opportunity
to preach since Dr. Mishra’s yoga session coincided with the kértana session of Çréla
Prabhupäda.
There can never be agreement between the impersonalists and the Vaiñëavas. While on
the morning walk of March 19, 1976 in Mayapur, Çréla Prabhupäda related how he had sternly
responded to a nonsense statement made by Dr. Mishra’s female secretary.
Çréla Prabhupäda: An American woman, she was Dr. Mishra’s secretary, said, “In India,
women are treated as slaves. We don’t want that.” So I told her that it is better to become the
slave of one person than to become the slave of hundreds. The woman must become a slave, and
so instead of becoming the slave of so many persons, it is better to remain satisfied as the slave
of one person. She was stopped. Our Vedic civilization says nari-rüpaà pati-vratam: “the
woman is beautiful when she remains as a slave to the husband.” That is her beauty, and not
personal beauty.

After some time, Çréla Prabhupäda rented a room on the third floor of the same building
as the yoga studio so that he could begin his preaching. This was also an office and there was no
kitchen and shower and so Çréla Prabhupäda continued to walk the three or four blocks to Dr.
Mishra’s apartment to cook for the two of them. Now guests could come in the evening to his
room and hear his chanting and preaching because it did not conflict with Dr. Mishra’s program,
which was also in the evening.
It was here that Çréla Prabhupäda spent his first Gaura Pürëimä in America. On March 6,
Çréla Prabhupäda wrote in his diary: “According to Mayapur Panjika today is Adhivas day of
Gour Purnima. Devotees at Vrindaban and Nabadwip are enjoying the celebration. I am here
alone without any devotee companion. But I have come here to serve the Lord and not for
personal happiness. I am prepared to live in hell even if I am able to serve the Lord. Sri
Chaitanya Mahaprabhu wanted that His mission should be propagated all over the world and that
is my objective. I do not mind the inconvenience personally felt.”
Çréla Prabhupäda never thought small. Never mind that his present facilities were
extremely limited, Çréla Prabhupäda’s vision was always expansive. Adjoining the office
building was a small two-story building, selling for $100,000, which Çréla Prabhupäda thought
to buy. He wrote to a leading industrialist in India with whom he had friendly relations and asked
him to send the money, but the reply was that the government would not allow it. Çréla
Prabhupäda also wrote to Sally Agarwal, Gopal’s wife, because she always answered his letters
whereas her husband did not. Çréla Prabhupäda suggested that if she and her husband could give
$20,000 or $30,000, he could secure the building and they could open an Indian restaurant. His
idea was that the restaurant would be in the storefront while his temple would be above it on the
second floor. The Agarwals didn’t have that kind of money and so Çréla Prabhupäda gave up the
idea of getting the building, although he constantly thought about having a permanent center in
New York.
While on the morning walk of March 12, 1976 in Mayapur, Çréla Prabhupäda talked
about his activities while living in that office building. He told how he would rise early in the
morning and then go at 9:30 to Dr. Mishra’s to cook. After cooking, he would bathe and then the
two would eat together.
Revaténandana was on that morning walk and he told Çréla Prabhupäda that a
Godbrother, Dharmädhyakña, had been going to Dr. Mishra’s classes before joining ISKCON.
Dr. Mishra had told him, “Swaméjé had saved my life. He taught me how to eat properly.”
Çréla Prabhupäda said that after eating, he would go for loitering on Fifth Avenue. He
only cooked once in a day. While wandering, he would study how the American people were
shopping.
Satsvarüpa said: One time you said that you were happier then, maintaining yourself,
than having thousands of disciples.
Çréla Prabhupäda: Yes. There was no chance of finding fault. (laughter) Now I have to
find fault.

In the summer of 1976, ISKCON acquired a 13-story building on 55th street. On the
morning walk of July 12, 1976, Çréla Prabhupäda, accompanied by his disciples, came to the
building where he had stayed with Dr. Mishra. Çréla Prabhupäda took the opportunity to say
something about the hardships he had endured before moving to 26 Second Avenue.
Çréla Prabhupäda described how he lived on the third floor of the building, and how a
Jewish gentleman was his friend. He then pointed to the Westend Superette, where he would
purchase food for cooking at Dr. Mishra’s. Çréla Prabhupäda remarked how they charged
twenty-five cents for a little chili powder, which in India would cost just one anna (An anna was
a coin previously used but had been phased out long ago due to inflation.)
When asked why he didn’t cook in his room, Çréla Prabhupäda explained that he was
living in an office with no kitchen or shower—only a sink and toilet. He said that he was paying
$72 a month, and sometimes he would bathe in the bathroom at a nearby subway station. When
asked if there was a bed, Çréla Prabhupäda explained that there was no bed, but that he put
cushions down on a platform to sleep.
After hearing this, Tamäla Kåñëa exclaimed, “You are the most bold person in the whole
world, Çréla Prabhupäda!”
Çréla Prabhupäda: “I was alone and then gradually two boys began to come.”
Rüpänuga: “That’s amazing. How long were you there?”
Çréla Prabhupäda: “About six months. Then my things were stolen. A boy named Paul
Murray was coming and he invited me to stay with him in his loft on Bowery Street.”
Tamäla Kåñëa: “You must have felt very bad when your things were stolen.”
Çréla Prabhupäda: “Yes. I felt a little disappointed, but some friend offered me, ‘Never
mind, you take my typewriter,’ and somebody else, ‘You take my tape recorder.’ So there was no
difficulty. I got these from friends.”
Hari-çauri: “Paul Murray was the boy that was crazy?”
Çréla Prabhupäda: “Yes, he was an LSD man.”
Tamäla Kåñëa: “He tried to attack you?”
Çréla Prabhupäda: “Not attack, but he showed some ferocious mood. So I left
immediately and kept my things with Mukunda.”
 Tamäla Kåñëa: “Wow! Your Godbrothers could never believe this! I think, Çréla
Prabhupäda, that your exploits here are no less great than Lord Caitanya going into the
Jharikhaëòa forest and making the animals dance. You are the modern-day representative of
Caitanya Mahaprabhu.”
Çréla Prabhupäda: (laughs) “Yes.”

Tamäla Kåñëa’s statement is befitting, because, just as Lord Caitanya had made the wild
animals dance in ecstasy while traveling through the Jharikhaëòa forest, Çréla Prabhupäda came
to the jungle of New York City and made the wild animal-like humans to dance in Kåñëa
consciousness. I hope that everyone can appreciate this most befitting statement of Tamäla
Kåñëa which indicates that Çréla Prabhupäda was a çaktyäveça-avatära, empowered by Çré
Caitanya Mahäprabhu to spread His saìkértana movement throughout the world.
While staying in the office building, some of the people, mostly older ladies that attended
Dr. Mishra’s yoga studio, also came to visit Çréla Prabhupäda. Sometimes there were as many as
10 or 11, sitting on the floor. Çréla Prabhupäda would perform kértana and record it with his
tape recorder. I don’t know if any of those tapes have survived. It was in that small office that
Çréla Prabhupäda recorded the Introduction to Gétopaniñad, which was used as the introduction
to the Macmillan Bhagavad-gétä As It Is. He recorded it over a number of days because it was
three hours long and was 30 pages in the published book. That was in February 1966.
Word got around that there was a new swami in town and so many came to see him in his
rented office. One person was an artist who later became Haridäsa. He painted the first ISKCON
painting, a watercolor of Lord Caitanya dancing in saìkértana. In the video Matchless Gifts, you
can see how that painting was placed in the front window of the storefront. It was Haridäsa that
invited Çréla Prabhupäda to stay in his loft because he was going to San Francisco. That’s how
Çréla Prabhupäda came to share the loft on the Bowery with Paul Murray.
In another conversation, Çréla Prabhupäda mentioned how Paul Murray had been
working on the docks, getting $25 a day. However, after Çréla Prabhupäda moved in with him,
Paul stopped working so that Çréla Prabhupäda had to pay the $125 a month rent to the landlady.
When Çréla Prabhupäda left Paul Murray’s loft, he called Mukunda. Mukunda didn’t have a
place for Çréla Prabhupäda to stay, but he arranged for him to stay for a few days with another
early disciple, Karl Yeargens, who became Karläpati. In the meantime, Mukunda searched for a
permanent place for Çréla Prabhupäda. Çréla Prabhupäda saw that Karläpati kept meat in his
refrigerator for his cat.
Upon his arrival at Boston Harbor in 1965, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote a poem expressing
his doubts that anyone in America would accept his preaching. He thought that when he said “No
meat eating, no illicit sex, no intoxication, and no gambling,” the people would say, “Please go
back home.” For almost a year, Çréla Prabhupäda was practically alone with no permanent
center and so naturally he sometimes became discouraged and would go to the Scindia
Steamship Navigation office and inquire about the next freighter returning to India. He never
went, though, because he was determined to fulfill the order of his spiritual master, His Divine
Grace Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura, to preach Kåñëa consciousness in the West. He
had unflinching faith in his spiritual master’s order and so he tolerated all kinds of difficulties,
awaiting the time when his master would be merciful and make his mission successful.
 We should meditate upon the extreme hardships that Çréla Prabhupäda underwent, not
only to fulfill the order of his spiritual master, but to fulfill the prediction that Lord Caitanya’s
name would be chanted in every town and village of the world. It is only because Çréla
Prabhupäda’s heart was filled with compassion for the fallen conditioned souls who were
spoiling their valuable human form of life that he endured such hardships. Because Çréla
Prabhupäda underwent such severe austerities to inaugurate the Kåñëa consciousness Movement
in the West, he was given great respect when he returned to India with his American disciples.
Çréla Prabhupäda appreciated America’s freedom of speech and freedom of religion because
these enabled him to establish the Kåñëa Consciousness Movement. Sometimes he said that
India was his motherland and America was his fatherland.

CHAPTER TWO: 26 Second Avenue 1966-67

It was September 19, 1966 when I went to see Çréla Prabhupäda with my brother, Bruce.
Bruce told me that in three or four days, on the auspicious day of Rädhäñöamé, he was going to
take initiation from Çréla Prabhupäda.
When I first saw Çréla Prabhupäda, I was immediately attracted to him. He was 70 years
old with round, caring eyes, and he appeared very scholarly. I saw him surrounded by a golden
aura, and when he spoke it seemed that he had the answers to every question imaginable. I had
never taken LSD and was not on drugs when I met Çréla Prabhupäda, and yet he appeared as if
he had descended from another realm. His appearance was nothing like that of anyone else I had
previously met, and just being in his presence made me feel that he was genuinely in touch with
a higher reality.
Except for my brother, Çréla Prabhupäda’s followers appeared strange to me. I had never
taken drugs and I was a virgin. Some of the people in the storefront appeared to be gay, and
some had a drugged look in their eyes. It was mostly the gayness that I didn’t like. I was young
and had lived a protected life.
I was born Gregory Scharf in 1948 in a wealthy family in Port Chester, a suburb of New
York City. We later moved to a huge estate with a house having twenty rooms and eight
bathrooms, and we had servants. I didn’t have many friends because we lived in a secluded area.
We had a swimming pool and all other luxuries, but I had little human contact. By nature, I was
distrustful of strangers.
When I met Çréla Prabhupäda, he was with his small group of followers. He knew that I
was Bruce’s brother and so he asked my name and if I would also like to take initiation. I said,
“My name is Greg and I don’t want to take initiation right now. I’ll wait.” Çréla Prabhupäda
responded, “That’s all right.” I was attracted to Çréla Prabhupäda, but I first wanted to feel
comfortable with his followers.
I will tell you about the first question that I asked Çréla Prabhupäda. I was new, and I saw
that whenever he entered the storefront, everyone bowed down to him. I didn’t bow down
because I had never bowed down before anyone. I asked Çréla Prabhupäda, “I notice that
everyone bows down when you come, but I don’t have that kind of feeling. Should I bow down
along with all the others, or should I wait until I have the feeling that I would like to bow down?”
 I didn’t want to be a hypocrite; doing something that I really didn’t believe in. Çréla
Prabhupäda said, “Yes. You should bow down and the feeling will come.” I began to bow down
and sure enough, the feeling soon came so that I could not imagine not bowing down before
Çréla Prabhupäda.
I took initiation during the third initiation ceremony, one month after my elder brother.
The first initiations were on Janmäñöamé, in August. Mukunda, who had found the storefront
temple for Çréla Prabhupäda, took initiation, as did Haridäsa, who had painted the first picture of
Lord Caitanya. The second initiation ceremony was on Rädhäñöamé, when my brother became
initiated as Brahmänanda däs. It was held in Çréla Prabhupäda’s apartment, which had been
lavishly decorated for the occasion. In the middle of the room was a mound of earth adorned
with fruit and flowers. There was to be a fire sacrifice, and the four who were going to be
initiated—Keith, Chuck, Bruce, and Steve—appeared to be wearing bedsheets. I later learned
that these were the traditional Indian dress called dhotés. On their foreheads were markings of
fuller’s earth, which they called tilaka.
One by one, the new initiates sipped water from a spoon placed in a cup and came
forward with a garland of 108 bright red plastic beads which they had strung. Çréla Prabhupäda
sanctified the beads by chanting one round on them. Each new initiate was given a new Kåñëa
conscious name. Keith became Kértanänanda däs, Steve became Satsvarüpa däs, Bruce became
Brahmänanda däs, and Chuck became Acyutänanda däs. Däs in Sanskrit means “servant.” These
names indicate that we are all servants of our spiritual master and Kåñëa, the Supreme
Personality of Godhead. At the time of initiation, all of the new disciples promised to chant 16
rounds of Hare Kåñëa Hare Kåñëa Kåñëa Kåñëa Hare Hare/ Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama
Hare Hare on their beads.
After this, the sacrificial fire was ignited so that room soon became filled with smoke.
Çréla Prabhupäda chanted Vedic mantras, beginning with oà apavitraù pavitro vä sarvävasthäà
gato’pi vä yaù smaret puëòarékäkñaà sa bahyäbhyantaraù-çuciù, having his new disciples
repeat after him. Bananas were offered into the fire along with the chanting of svähä. At the end
of the fire sacrifice, Çréla Prabhupäda stood up and asked everyone to also rise.
All of this was totally new for me, and while the fire sacrifice was going on, I thought to
myself, “Bruce, what are you getting yourself into? Are you surrendering yourself as a disciple
of Çréla Prabhupäda for the rest of your life?” While thinking in this way, I saw a familiar face
in the crowd and it took me a moment to realize that it was my mother!
At the end of the initiation ceremony, Çréla Prabhupäda motioned for my brother and
asked him to go and bow down before his mother. After Brahmänanda bowed down to his
mother, Çréla Prabhupäda said to her, “Your two sons have joined this most important
movement and so would you kindly make a donation to help us cover our expenses?” This must
have been a bit too much for my mother. She responded, “Donation? I have already given to you
my two sons! What more do you want?”
Çréla Prabhupäda simply smiled, for he had artfully arranged for my mother to verbally
admit that she had donated her two sons for his service. Çréla Prabhupäda vividly remembered
this incident and talked about it during the morning walk of July 1, 1975 in Denver, Colorado.
 Çréla Prabhupäda: Here your parents are accusing me, “This rascal is converting our sons
to become mendicants without any material enjoyment,” and in India the caste brähmaëas are
accusing me, “This rascal is giving the sacred thread to the mlecchas and yavanas.”
Viñëujana: Is that why you keep traveling, Çréla Prabhupäda, so they won’t catch you?
Çréla Prabhupäda: Narada Muni was accused by Prajäpati Dakña that “You are a most
sinful man for you have turned my sons to the renounced order of life to become beggars,
without any material enjoyment.” So that accusation is always there, beginning from Närada
Muni down to us. . .
Brahmänanda: A parent is coming to see you today.
Çréla Prabhupäda: Oh, to accuse me? (laughter)
Brahmänanda: No, she is very favorable. She’s the mother of Parékñit.
Çréla Prabhupäda: Your mother was very angry at me. You know that? When she came
to see me, I said, “Mrs. Bruce, can you give me some money?” (laughing and imitating an angry
woman’s voice) “I have given you my two sons and still you want money?”
Tamäla Kåñëa: You asked him to bow down to her?
Çréla Prabhupäda: I gave her proper respect. After all, she is a fortunate mother that
produced two nice sons, and so I offered her respect. All of your mothers and fathers are very
fortunate, and you are giving the best service to the family.

After the initiation ceremony, Çréla Prabhupäda gave a lecture. I could hardly understand
anything except that there was going to be a feast. This was always a most attractive part of
Kåñëa consciousness—Indian vegetarian delicacies without onion and garlic offered with love to
Lord Kåñëa and thus spiritualized and karma-free.
Fire sacrifices were always held in Çréla Prabhupäda’s apartment, and the smoke created
by the burning ghee and bananas filled the room and billowed out the open windows. Once,
during a fire sacrifice, firemen came with their hose and banged on the door because someone
had called the fire department after seeing smoke pouring out from our windows. We explained
to the firemen how we were performing a religious sacrifice and so they departed. As you can
imagine, the landlord didn’t like us having sacrificial fires in the apartment, but it was necessary
for performing the initiation ceremonies.
At that time Brahmänanda and I were living in an apartment a few blocks away, but it
was infested with bedbugs so that we could hardly sleep and so at last we decided to move into
the storefront. When Brahmänanda surrendered to Çréla Prabhupäda in August, he said, “I have
a job with the New York City public school system, but I think that I should quit and just become
your disciple.” Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Oh, you have a job. That’s very good,” and explained
how one can perform bhakti-yoga by working and giving the fruits of one’s labor to Kåñëa.
Brahmänanda asked, “How can I give my money to Kåñëa?” Çréla Prabhupäda said, “You can
give the money to me and I will give it to Kåñëa.” Hearing this, everyone present laughed.
Acyutänanda also moved into the storefront a bit later when the ceiling of his apartment
caved in. All the buildings in this area were very old; perhaps they were built 100 years ago.
Acyutänanda didn’t like the fact that all of us slept on the floor, and besides that, there were huge
rats. Some nights the rats would jump on our stomachs while we were sleeping. Sometimes we
would feel their whiskers brushing against our mouths, and at such times we would wake up
screaming. Acyutänanda didn’t like that and so he mostly stayed with Kértanänanda, Hayagréva,
and Umäpati at their apartment on Mott Street. For that reason, I didn’t see him spending too
much time at the temple. He did come to Tompkins Square Park, and Çréla Prabhupäda
frequently mentioned how it was Brahmänanda and Acyutänanda that first danced while he
performed kértana there. Acyutänanda then went to India, where he was given asylum so that he
could avoid being drafted in the army and sent to Vietnam.
I was initiated during the third initiation ceremony, which coincided with the first
printing of the Back to Godhead magazine. Raïcora was also initiated at that time, and, because
there were two mimeograph machines, he and I printed the first Back to Godhead magazine.
Raïcora only occasionally came to the temple, and because he was not properly trained, his work
with the mimeograph machines was too fast and sloppy and so a lot of expensive paper was
wasted. Seeing this, Çréla Prabhupäda stopped him and put me in charge of the printing. I
worked carefully and didn’t waste paper and so Çréla Prabhupäda was pleased with my service.
Raïcora’s name remained on that first Back to Godhead, because to put my name would have
meant retyping the whole stencil. My official title was Circulation Manager.

One day prior to my initiation, Çréla Prabhupäda asked me to accompany him. Dressed in
a t-shirt and with my red japa beads hanging around my neck, I accompanied Çréla Prabhupäda,
along with Kértanänanda. We borrowed a van and drove to a country club in Queens. They
wanted to sell their two AB Dick mimeograph machines, and we met the manager. The man
asked $150 each but Çréla Prabhupäda replied, “We are mendicants and want to print our
literature, which is meant for the welfare of the world.” Çréla Prabhupäda bargained and finally
purchased both machines for $150. Raïcora had previously donated $500 and the mimeograph
machines were purchased with that money.
The mimeograph machines had been made in the early 1950s, and when we returned to
the temple, we realized that they were in need of repair and so I called the AB Dick company. A
service man came so that the machines were restored to working condition. The mimeograph
machine was the precursor to the photocopy machines of today. It was invented at the end of the
19th century by Albert Blake Dick.
Once the mimeograph machines were ready, we began printing our first issue of Back to
Godhead, a magazine that Çréla Prabhupäda had begun printing in India in 1944. Räyaräma was
the editor of Back to Godhead, and he did the typing on the stencils; 22 or 23 pages. The
procedure was that you had to type on the stencil, cut out the letters, and then tear it off and wrap
it around the drum of the mimeograph machine. Then, by turning the ink-filled drum, ink would
be forced through the holes of the stencil and onto the blank paper.
We were so excited to begin printing Back to Godhead, but we didn’t realize that we
were taking part in a historic event, for this was the first literature printed by the Hare Krishna
Movement in the Western world. I am sure that Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura was
very pleased to see this. The machine worked both manually and electrically. Çréla Prabhupäda
was present when we ran the machine for the first time, and I was tense. Raïcora turned on the
motor and the drum started rotating and the papers came flying out too fast. Raïcora stopped the
machine and Çréla Prabhupäda examined the printed papers. It was not printed properly and
much paper was wasted.
 Çréla Prabhupäda looked up from the printed papers and said, “Gargamuni, you do it.” I
was so happy! I decided to operate the machine manually so that by controling the speed, no
paper would be wasted. And it turned out that by rotating the drum carefully, all of the copies
came out perfectly. I didn’t want to waste any paper and risk being chastised by Çréla
Prabhupäda. I continued printing into the night. Then, while stapling the printed pages to make
the magazine, I looked up and saw Çréla Prabhupäda standing before me, smiling. He told
everyone to continue working and we all felt like we were being washed in waves of
transcendental ecstasy. Çréla Prabhupäda went to the stack of stapled magazines and said,
“ISKCON Press.”
We usually printed 500 copies of our magazine. After printing the pages, I stacked them
on the floor, collated them, and finally put the cover on and stapled the magazine with three
staples. Generally, I did this all by myself because there was nobody around to help me. The
cover wasn’t printed by the mimeograph machines because it had to look nice and so we had it
professionally printed outside on an offset press. We couldn’t afford to print the entire magazine
on an offset press and so we only printed the cover. In the beginning, we sold Back to Godhead
for 15 cents, and later we increased the price to 25 cents. In the winter of 1966, I also printed on
the mimeograph machines Çréla Prabhupäda’s introduction to Gétopaniñad, which he had
recorded before moving to the Bowery.
At night I would go out and sell the Back to Godheads, carrying as many as I could, say
30 or 40. New York is a very cultural city with Broadway shows, poetry readings, and concerts
every night. Taking advantage of this, I was able to approach many people, giving them the
magazine for a donation. Generally, people would give a quarter and I wouldn’t give them any
change.
I would return to the temple late at night. I told the devotees, “Keep the door open until
11 o’clock” because that is where I slept, along with a few others. There was no shower in the
storefront, only a sink, and so every morning I would bathe from the sink, washing the nine holes
of my body. Çréla Prabhupäda had told me, “If you wash the nine holes of your body; that is as
good as taking a bath.” Then I would report to Çréla Prabhupäda and he would ask, “How many
did you distribute?” I would reply, “Oh, I did 30 or 50 or 40 or whatever.” In response, he would
say, “Very good!” Çréla Prabhupäda was really pleased because this was the first time his Kåñëa
conscious literature was being distributed on the streets of America.
Çréla Prabhupäda encouraged all the devotees to write articles for Back to Godhead
expressing what they had realized by engaging in the temple activities and hearing from their
spiritual master. Çréla Prabhupäda’s lectures were recorded, and someone would transcribe them
so that they could be included in the magazine. To transcribe a lecture was very tedious and
time-consuming. Disciples would write articles and compose poems, and these were printed only
after being approved by Çréla Prabhupäda. He would never allow a poem to be printed if it
didn’t contain the name of Kåñëa.
My brother, Brahmänanda, composed thirteen poems that were printed in Back to
Godhead. He had gotten a BA in English literature and was now working as a teacher in the
public schools. When Çréla Prabhupäda rented the storefront and apartment, he didn’t have a
regular income. He had saved $200 from the sale of Çrémad-Bhägavatams that he had brought
with him from India, and he used that for the first month’s rent. Who knew how the next month’s
rent would be paid?
Brahmänanda was earning $400 a month and after moving into the temple, he gave the
entire amount to Çréla Prabhupäda. With the arrival of Brahmänanda, Çréla Prabhupäda said,
“My financial difficulties are now over.” $200 went for the rent and the rest was used to pay the
electricity, phone, and gas bills. Additional money came from my sales of Back to Godhead.
Çréla Prabhupäda gave responsibilities even to new disciples because he wanted them to
use all their energy in Lord Kåñëa’s service under his direction. Çréla Prabhupäda was always
active and didn’t waste a moment. He wanted active and productive followers because in his
mind there would soon be a worldwide movement with competent disciples managing it.
Çréla Prabhupäda kept a diary, and by reading it, one can get an idea of his daily
activities; especially his income and expenditures. He was meticulous and kept track of every
penny. In his dairy for the day of my initiation, October 23, 1966, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote,
“Gargamuni is being initiated with Raïcora.”
When I was initiated, I didn’t have a job, and I was 18 years old. Only four or five
devotees came in the morning at 7 o’clock for the temple program because most of them had
jobs. Some would come and then leave early to go to work. Çréla Prabhupäda would begin the
program with a kértana, and then we would all chant one round on our beads. After chanting,
Çréla Prabhupäda would talk until 9 o’clock, or a bit later.
Although we were initiated, we didn’t understand much beyond the chanting of sixteen
rounds and the four regulative principles—no illicit sex, no gambling, no intoxication including
coffee and tea, and no eating of meat, fish, or eggs. Then one day we saw three notices posted on
Çréla Prabhupäda’s door which he had handwritten and signed. There were the four regulative
principles, the ten offenses to the chanting of the holy names of the Lord, and the twenty-six
qualities of a devotee. When I read the twenty-six qualities, I thought, “I am a devotee, but I
don’t have any of these qualities.”

I thought that Ekädaçé meant fasting and so I didn’t show up for lunch, thinking that I
would fast at least until evening. In this way I believed that I would become spiritually advanced.
Then on the second or third Ekädaçé after I had joined, Çréla Prabhupäda asked, “Where is
Gargamuni?” The devotees brought me before Çréla Prabhupäda, who said, “Ekädaçé means
feasting and not fasting, and so you should come for the feast on Ekädaçé.”
In those days, Ekädaçé was a kind of feast because we had preparations that we didn’t
have during the week—various chutneys, fruit salad, potatoes with sour cream, and others. Çréla
Prabhupäda made pineapple chutney and raisin chutney, and they were delicious with potatoes.
In this way, I stopped fasting on Ekädaçé, for I understood that nothing should be done
whimsically, or independently. Everything should be done in consultation with the spiritual
master and done under his direction.
Most of the devotees were working and living outside and so they didn’t regularly come
for prasädam. Brahmänanda and I were living in the storefront and so we only ate prasädam and
nothing else. In the evenings, if there was some leftover prasädam, I would ask Çréla
Prabhupäda, “Can I take these leftovers?” We always asked permission from Çréla Prabhupäda
for whatever we did because, after all, we were living with him. Of course, he would always say,
“Oh yes! Go ahead.” In this way we lived completely under the care and protection of Çréla
Prabhupäda.
Because the other devotees had jobs, I was the only one present during the day and so I
had to do all the odd jobs. One day, Kértanänanda approached me and said, “Greg, your service
will be to clean Çréla Prabhupäda’s toilet.” I said, “Me?” He said, “Yeah, you. You are the only
one staying back at the temple. You have to do some service.”
I didn’t know how to clean a toilet because our family had servants that did all the
cleaning. I wondered, “How do you clean a toilet?” I was determined to serve my spiritual
master as a menial servant and so I entered the toilet, rolled up my sleeves, and looked for a
brush. After I cleaned the toilet, I washed Çréla Prabhupäda’s clothes, although I had never
washed clothes before. I also washed the cooking pots and pans in the kitchen. In the early
1950’s my father bought the house of the chairman of General Electric. At that time we were the
only house having an electric garage door. Our kitchen had been used in General Electric
television commercials.

Kértanänanda began the cooking by boiling the potatoes and däl. Çréla Prabhupäda
would then come out from his little room and do the spicing and other finishing touches. We
were not only attracted to Çréla Prabhupäda the divine personality, and the perfect philosophy
that he taught, but also to the wonderful samosas and kachoris that he cooked, offered to Lord
Kåñëa, and distributed to us.
Beginning with his stay with Dr. Mishra, Çréla Prabhupäda’s cooking was always in
demand. He was a most expert cook and this was appreciated by all. During a room conversation
in Bombay on April 16, 1977, Çréla Prabhupäda talked about his cooking.
Çréla Prabhupäda: I was cooking with my own hands. I was cooking for not less than ten
to fifteen men. Everyone wanted some food prepared by me.
Tamäla Kåñëa: All of the devotees in the early days.
Çréla Prabhupäda: No, not devotees. When I was going here and there, like at Dr.
Mishra’s place.
Tamäla Kåñëa: He was very fond of your cooking.
Çréla Prabhupäda: He got a good cook without paying. (laughs) And I had no alternative.
I liked it.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Was he paying for the foodstuffs?
Çréla Prabhupäda: Oh yes. He was giving his place and foodstuffs. I was preparing and
eating and giving them. He was paying for everything. . . I have gone through a variety of stages
of life so that I have had full experience of this material world. I don’t want it. That
determination is there. Society, family, love, friendship, these nonsense, everything—out! I have
tasted. I am no more interested with this material. That is niñkiïcana. Finished.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Distaste for all worldly things.
Çréla Prabhupäda: That I am realizing, that Kåñëa pushed, dragged me through all
circumstances, that “These are useless.” Niñkiïcanasya bhagavad-bhajanonmukhasya . . . That is
required.
 The apartment, which was across the courtyard from the storefront temple, was small.
Çréla Prabhupäda’s room was perhaps twelve feet by twelve feet, or maybe smaller. The living
room was larger. We called it the Deity room because we had made an altar there. There were no
Deities, only pictures, and Çréla Prabhupäda would offer the food that was prepared. We were
poor and so there were rarely real flowers on the altar—only plastic flowers. We had to buy the
cheapest rice; Uncle Ben’s. The rice was so thick that if you stuck a spoon in the middle, it
would remain standing and not fall down. The rice was so starchy.
We couldn’t afford vegetables and so we generally ate only potatoes. In the summer we
would buy watermelon and give it to Çréla Prabhupäda. We would give him the red inner part
and save the green outer part, which we would cook as a sabji. Do you do that in India? Do you
eat the green watermelon? No? You throw it away. Right. We ate it. We cooked it as a sabji
because we rarely could afford vegetables in those days.
Our stainless-steel cooking pots were mostly secondhand, purchased from a restaurant
supply company that sold used equipment. The apartment didn’t even have a stove and so we
bought a secondhand gas stove for $20. The building had a gas connection so we called the gas
company and they came and connected our stove. Every month we got a gas bill. Even our
clothes were secondhand. I bought a big winter coat at the Salvation Army thrift store for $5.
We lived in the poorest section of town—near the Bowery. It was mostly an industrial
area but somewhat residential. There were 30,000 alcoholics living on the Bowery; many on the
street. If they could afford it, there were hotels called flop houses where they could stay for the
night for $2. Just imagine the hardship that Çréla Prabhupäda had to endure while living in this
area! Before getting the storefront at 26 Second Avenue, Çréla Prabhupäda sometimes had to
step over the alcoholics sleeping in the entrance to his building.
Even at 26 Second Avenue, alcoholics sometimes entered the temple to use the bathroom,
and their dirty clothing gave off such a stench! I remember how once, while Çréla Prabhupäda
was lecturing, a man entered the temple, smelling so bad. He quickly approached Çréla
Prabhupäda and so Brahmänanda got up to stop him. The man stopped and Çréla Prabhupäda
told Brahmänanda to sit down. He then reached in his pocket and took out a roll of toilet paper,
which he gave to Çréla Prabhupäda and then left. Çréla Prabhupäda was not the least disturbed
as he accepted the man’s gift.
At birth, Çréla Prabhupäda had been given the name Abhay, which means “fearless.”
Çréla Prabhupäda was unafraid although Brahmänanda was ready to tackle the man. We must
know that despite his most fallen condition, that drunkard will be greatly benefited by his gift
offered to a pure devotee of the Lord.

Previous to my arrival and the arrival of my brother, Çréla Prabhupäda had decided to
incorporate his fledgling society. Hayagréva and Kértanänanda suggested that he call it the
International Society for God Consciousness so that it would appeal to the Christians. And yet,
Çréla Prabhupäda insisted that the institution be named “International Society for Kåñëa
Consciousness” because “God” is a vague term whereas “Kåñëa” imparts a precise
understanding of what it means to be the Supreme Personality of Godhead. If the Westerners
didn’t know that Kåñëa is the Supreme Person, then the International Society for Kåñëa
Consciousness would inform them. Çréla Prabhupäda laughed playfully and said, “We shall call
our society ISKCON.” It was he and not us that established the acronym that within a few years
would be known throughout the world.
ISKCON was incorporated on July 13, 1966, but you could say that the society existed
only on paper. Çréla Prabhupäda had all those present sign their names to the document as
trustees of his new society. These included some of Çréla Prabhupäda’s early followers and
others who were nothing more than acquaintances. That is why I say that at that time ISKCON
simply existed on paper and not yet as a fully organized institution. Just imagine! There was only
a small storefront in a poor section of town, and only a few followers, and yet Çréla Prabhupäda
envisioned an International Society. It is safe to say that not only was he setting the groundwork
for an International Society, but he knew for a fact that it would soon manifest.
The first officers of ISKCON were appointed by Çréla Prabhupäda in October 1966. Up
until that time, there was practically no missionary work. We were simply living in the äçrama
and not really doing much to manifest Çréla Prabhupäda’s vision. We were sitting in Çréla
Prabhupäda’s room, only five or six of us, when he asked, “Who should be president?” Everyone
looked at the others and then Brahmänanda suggested, “I think that Kértanänanda should be the
president because he was the first to join.” There were other suggestions but Çréla Prabhupäda
didn’t approve of them and said, “No. I think that Brahmänanda should be the president.” Why?
Because he was maintaining the temple by giving his entire paycheck of $400 a month. All the
other working devotees had apartments and so they couldn’t give much. Brahmänanda became
the first president of the temple and Satsvarüpa was appointed as secretary. I, Gargamuni däs,
became the treasurer.
Çréla Prabhupäda had an uncanny way of knowing how to engage his disciples in various
services according to their natures. I was sure that Çréla Prabhupäda chose Brahmänanda
because he was a natural leader. He had been the president of his senior class in High School,
and he was captain of the football team. He had a natural tendency to lead. He had his own
private club called The Playmakers, and they had their own jackets which they wore to school.
He was a born leader and Çréla Prabhupäda understood this just by looking at him. He made
Satsvarüpa the secretary because he was an intellectual—an excellent writer and editor. He made
me the treasurer because I was by nature a businessman.
When I was a little boy I played with my father’s business mail. I made my own toy post
office out of cardboard. I was always interested in business. When I was ten I started my own
business selling cherry bombs (a powerful kind of firecracker) at school. The kids would buy
them and blow up mailboxes. The police were called and they found out that I was the culprit,
but because I was only ten, they couldn’t do anything. I never told Çréla Prabhupäda about my
business activities, but he knew my nature just by looking into my eyes. It is a common
understanding that the eyes are the window to the mind. I didn’t know anything about
accounting, but Çréla Prabhupäda taught me everything I needed to know. If you look at the
diary which Çréla Prabhupäda kept in New York before moving to 26 Second Avenue, you will
see that he meticulously kept track of every income and expenditure.
My office was in the room where Çréla Prabhupäda typed, and he taught me to be very
careful with Kåñëa’s money. I had to show him everything that I entered into my ledger book,
and when he approved, he wrote “ACB” on the page. Everyone had to sign a voucher for
whatever money they took, and they would have to bring back the receipt and any change. Later,
Çréla Prabhupäda gave me the nickname Gargamoney, not because I had money, but because I
managed Kåñëa’s money.
When I became the temple treasurer, I was 18 years old and had never had a bank
account. If I wanted some money, I took it from my father. Our bank was two blocks up the
street from the temple. I accompanied Çréla Prabhupäda when he went to the bank, and he taught
me how to fill out a deposit slip and deposit money into the account. If we wanted to take money
from the bank, we had to write a check. The checks were small so that there was only a little
place for the signers. When I had to sign a check for withdrawing money for the first time, I
signed close to the top so there would be enough space for Çréla Prabhupäda’s signature, which
was large. I gave Çréla Prabhupäda the check and then we went to the bank together. After
returning to his apartment, Çréla Prabhupäda told me that in the future I should always sign
below the äcärya, and never above him. Because I was ignorant, he said this in a pleasant
manner and not as a chastisement. Çréla Prabhupäda was teaching me everything, both spiritual
and material.
Next, we had to get tax exemption, but to do that, we needed to be recognized by the
Federal Government. On November 14th we filed for tax exemption from the IRS, the Internal
Revenue Service. For this we needed to be recognized not simply as a nonprofit organization, but
as a nonprofit religious organization. We had to provide all the required documents, including a
copy of our lease, and the form was signed by Stephen Goldsmith, our lawyer. The trustees
weren’t very genuine trustees because they were the original trustees listed on the state filing of
the corporation, many of whom were mere acquaintences or followers who had left. The trustees
were Michael Grant (Mukunda), Jan Osland (Jänaké), James Greene (Jagannätha), Paul Gardner
(the landlord), Donald Chapdelaine (a French speaking guy who smoked marijuana in the
storefront), Raymond Marais (Räyaräma), Karl Yeargens (Karlapati), Raphael Balsam (who was
not initiated), Robert Lefkowitz (Ravindra-svarüpa, who soon thereafter left. He was not the
Ravindra-svarüpa who became a GBC member.) I told Çréla Prabhupäda about the marijuana
smoker and he asked him to go. These were the trustees, and the officers were listed: Bruce
Scharf (Brahmänanda), Steven Guarino (Satsvarüpa) and Gregory M. Scharf (me).
We eagerly awaited the reply and I vividly remember how when the letter finally arrived,
I was nervous while carrying it up to Çréla Prabhupäda. It was addressed to me and so I opened
it. When I read that we had been accepted as a religious society, Çréla Prabhupäda was pleased.
This document was exceedingly important because we were now recognized by the
federal government as a bona fide religion, and not simply a concocted cult. If anyone gave a
donation, it would be exempted from taxes. We showed this letter to the draft board, saying that
if we were drafted, we would have to act as religious priests, and not combat soldiers. They
accepted this and never drafted us. The last thing the army wanted was a bunch of guys walking
around chanting Hare Kåñëa to the soldiers. This document also helped Çréla Prabhupäda get a
residential visa because at that time his visa was a tourist visa and couldn’t be changed. After he
got his residential visa, Çréla Prabhupäda was recognized by the government as a minister of
religion.

Previously, Acyutänanda and I were drafted into the army and were told to appear for our
physical examination. Congress had passed legislation that those who were not students, or were
not employed, were drafted into the army, and those who did not comply were jailed. And yet,
Çréla Prabhupäda told me, “Don’t worry. They will not take you.” How did Çréla Prabhupäda
know this?
I went to the physical and waited in line, very nervous, because I didn’t want to go to
Vietnam and kill women and children along with enemy soldiers. First, they took my height and
weight. Then, as I was waiting, the loudspeaker announced, “Gregory M. Scharf, come to the
office.” I thought, “Oh. Why are they singling me out?” I went and sat in the office. I had my big
red japa beads around my neck, and the man looked at me as if I were crazy. He went through
my file and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Scharf, but the army cannot use you.” I was so happy and the
man was shocked because he thought that I would be disappointed. I found out why I was
rejected. When I was 12 years old, I had a knee operation and my cartilage was removed, and
besides that, I had asthma. Çréla Prabhupäda had known that I would not be accepted and so I
became even more convinced that he could see everything—past, present, and future.

I went to bookstores and asked them to sell our books and Back to Godhead magazine.
There were the three Bhägavatams that Çréla Prabhupäda brought with him from India, as well
as his Easy Journey to Other Planets. Very few bookstores carried books on Eastern religion and
philosophy. One was The Orientala, which was owned by an elderly grey-haired lady. She would
buy my books, but she was somewhat nasty. I think that she was rude to me because she was an
impersonalist and I was only interested in bhakti, devotion for God. She had her books in
sections and so when I came, I asked for the bhakti section. She said, “Oh! You are not interested
in anything else?” I said, “No. I am only interested in bhakti and nothing else.” That made her
distraught.
I looked through the bhakti section and found a book entitled The Divine Name, written
by a brahmacäré. I also found a complete Caitanya-caritämåta in English, but just the verses. I
gave this to Çréla Prabhupäda and he used it as a reference. He gave it to Hayagréva when he
was editing Teachings of Lord Caitanya.
I stole a cart on wheels from the fashion district. It was at least six feet long and had a
frame for hanging clothes. I pushed it for 40 blocks back to the temple so that it took more than
three hours. I bought plywood and made it suitable for displaying and distributing our literature.
I took the cart to Washington Square and other places, and sometimes the police would question
what I was doing. I had a letter from Mayor Lindsay’s secretary, praising our activities of getting
young people off drugs, and so they always let me go.
During a room conversation in Våndävana on July 2, 1977, while remembering his
struggle during the early days at 26 Second Avenue, Çréla Prabhupäda mentioned that cart.
Prabhupäda: The beginning (of BTG) was three hundred, and Gargamuni, he took away
somebody’s hand cart.
Tamäla Kåñëa: He what?
Prabhupäda: It was on the street.
Tamäla Kåñëa: He took a hand cart.
Prabhupäda: And he was putting the magazines on the hand cart, selling near cinema and
other crowded places. That is very good . . . So it was a hard struggle in the beginning.
 One weekend, I went to Dr. Mishra’s country äçrama. We stayed for the weekend along
with Dr. Mishra and his 30 followers. It was a big estate and you can see it on Yadubara’s set of
CDs Following Çréla Prabhupäda. Kértanänanda did all the cooking.
During the day, I spent much time with Çréla Prabhupäda in his room. Most of his day
was spent typing, but he wasn’t a fast typist; he typed with his two index fingers. I thought,
“With this kind of typing, it’s going to take a long time for Çréla Prabhupäda to print even one of
his books.” After typing, Çréla Prabhupäda would give the manuscript for editing to one or two
devotees who were living outside. After editing, the manuscript would be retyped. I thought,
“This is so cumbersome. It will take years for a single book to be printed. Çréla Prabhupäda is 70
years old and typing all day like this must hurt his fingers.”
Çréla Prabhupäda’s typewriter was a small cheap model, and I had to keep replacing the
ribbons. I thought, “I must do something to help Çréla Prabhupäda,” but I was 18 years old and
had no idea of what I could do. I spent a lot of time in Çréla Prabhupäda’s room working with
the accounts and I would disturb him with my endless questions. I asked, “How come we wear
ponytails (çikhäs)?” Çréla Prabhupäda said, “The guru pulls you out of the material world at the
time of death by your ponytail.” For that reason I always kept a long ponytail, thinking that if it
was short, Çréla Prabhupäda might not be able to grab hold of it. After some time, I moved my
office down to the storefront so that I wouldn’t bother Çréla Prabhupäda while he was
translating.

I was 18 years old and a virgin, and I had never taken LSD or any other drugs. Most of
the others had had numerous illicit connections and had experimented with LSD and other drugs.
Several devotees told me that unless I took LSD, I would not be able to understand what Çréla
Prabhupäda was saying. I went to Çréla Prabhupäda and asked, “Is it true that I won’t be able to
understand you unless I take LSD?” He smiled and said, “No, you are by nature Kåñëa
conscious. It only has to be awakened.” I was relieved because I didn’t want to take LSD, even
though some were trying to encourage me to do so.
One day, Alan Ginsberg brought Timothy Leary, who had propagated the LSD
movement, to meet Çréla Prabhupäda. When Çréla Prabhupäda met such persons, he never
criticized their ways or made them feel uncomfortable. He was never condescending or critical
of their personal lives. Çréla Prabhupäda was always charming and hospitable, and he would
request whoever he met to help him spread his Kåñëa consciousness movement. Generally, we
tend to see only the faults of others, but Çréla Prabhupäda would see the good in others and try to
fan the spark of any tendency to engage in Kåñëa consciousness so that it might catch fire.

Çréla Prabhupäda protected and nurtured us. We, the youth of America, had broken away
from the establishment, and Çréla Prabhupäda had also broken away from stereotyped Indian
traditions. In India, it was believed that a sannyäsé could not travel across the ocean, could not
perform marriage ceremonies, and could not initiate those who were mleccas, or outside the
Vedic social system of varëäçrama. Çréla Prabhupäda exhibited the compassion of a pure
Vaiñëava, feeling sympathy for the conditioned souls struggling in material existence, hoping
against hope to become happy in this miserable world. He left India at an advanced age and
came, penniless, to a foreign country, overcoming all obstacles, with the intention of delivering
the most fallen people from the mire of materialism.
One day, I said, “Çréla Prabhupäda, you are doing everything for us. You are feeding us,
you are giving us a place to stay, you are engaging us in the service of Lord Kåñëa, and you are
taking care of us in every way. What are we supposed to do for you?”
Çréla Prabhupäda said, “The duty of the disciple is to assist the spiritual master in his
service.” Çréla Prabhupäda didn’t give any specific order, but left it up to me. That is the nature
of pure devotional service; it is performed out of spontaneous love. We are not robots simply
carrying out orders, but are expected to use our intelligence to understand how best to engage
ourselves for the satisfaction of the spiritual master.
I thought about what I could do to assist Çréla Prabhupäda, but I couldn’t type and so I
wondered what I could do. Later on, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote to me saying that to donate money
for printing a book is as good as writing the book. Brahmänanda gave $3500 that he received as
an insurance payment, and I gave $1500 and someone else gave $500 so that Çréla Prabhupäda
could print Teachings of Lord Caitanya. This was a very important thing for me to understand,
and I could appreciate how merciful Çréla Prabhupäda was to say such a thing.
Meanwhile, I was selling the Back to Godhead magazine to perhaps ten book shops. I
would sell the magazine for ten cents and the shops would sell it for fifteen cents. One day, while
walking to check on how the stores were selling the magazines, something caught my eye in a
store window. I don’t know why, but I just turned and looked at something that appeared to be a
small tape recorder. Çréla Prabhupäda had a tape recorder and in those days, they were huge, like
a big suitcase, and it weighed 50 pounds. This was a time before the cassette tape, and so what to
speak of personal computers and CDs. Perhaps to some of the younger readers, this sounds like
ancient history.
Brahmänanda would bring the tape recorder down from Çréla Prabhupäda’s closet, and it
was my job to set it up before the morning and evening classes. Çréla Prabhupäda was insistent
that every class must be recorded, so much so that when a tape would run out, he would pause
while I threaded a new one. At that time we didn’t understand the importance of recording Çréla
Prabhupäda’s classes, but now we very well realize how valuable his recorded classes are. In
those days we had very little money and reel tapes were expensive. I would write on the tape box
the date and the verse that Çréla Prabhupäda spoke on. Only when Çréla Prabhupäda came down
from his apartment would he announce the verse and I would write it on the tape container
before the class began.
The device in the store window caught my attention (being inspired from within by the
Supersoul, I am sure) and so I went inside to inquire about it. It was a shop selling Grundig
products. Grundig was a prestigious and expensive German electronics company. I asked, “What
is that little tape recorder in the window?” The salesman said, “That is not a tape recorder; it is a
Dictaphone.” I asked, “What is a Dictaphone?” because I had never heard of such a thing. The
salesman explained, “The Dictaphone is used by lawyers and doctors to record their patients or
clients.” I asked, “Can an author use a Dictaphone?” He said, “Oh, yes. He doesn’t have to write
a book, he can speak it into the Dictaphone and record it.” The man showed me how to work the
Dictaphone, making it start, stop, go forward, and reverse, by using a foot pedal connected by a
cable. It took him forty minutes to explain everything, because to me it seemed very
complicated.
I bought the Dictaphone for $150 and thought, “Wow! Now I can help Çréla Prabhupäda!
He won’t have to hurt his fingers typing five hours a day anymore. I’ve got to show this to Çréla
Prabhupäda.” I was proud, thinking, “I am helping Çréla Prabhupäda. He’s going to love this.”
Later I read a transcription of a conversation wherein Çréla Prabhupäda told someone
that while in India, before coming to America, he had dreamt of a machine that could record his
voice so that someone else could type it. He didn’t know the name of the machine, but he had
dreamt of it and had hoped that one day he would have it. I bought the Dictaphone and while
walking back to the temple, thought, “Çréla Prabhupäda is from the village of Våndävana. How
will he learn how to use all the switches that control the microphone and direction of the tape?”
I returned to the storefront and was excited to show Çréla Prabhupäda the Dictaphone.
Opening the box, I said, “Çréla Prabhupäda, I have something that will help you with your work.
You won’t have to type anymore. You can simply speak your books.” When I started to show
Çréla Prabhupäda how to operate the Dictaphone, he interrupted me, saying, “That’s all right. I
know how it works.” I was shocked because I hardly knew how to operate the Dictaphone even
after receiving 40 minutes of instruction, and here Çréla Prabhupäda was saying that he knew
how to operate it without any instruction. In fact, he picked up the microphone and immediately
began using it. Satsvarüpa and Hayagréva tried to use the Dictaphone for transcription, but had
trouble coordinating the foot pedal, which controlled forward and reverse, with their typing.
The Dictaphone tapes were expensive; $5 each, and sometimes we didn’t even collect $5
during the day. Çréla Prabhupäda was recording two or three tapes a day, but the problem was,
who was going to transcribe them? Once a tape is transcribed, it can be used again. One day soon
thereafter, a boy named Neil came to the storefront. He was from Antioch College in Ohio and
had come for a school assignment, which was to join a religious society for two months and
write about his experiences. He asked if he could stay and we asked him if he could type. He said
that he could type 60 words a minute and so we asked him if he knew how to use a Dictaphone.
He said, “Yeah, that’s easy.” We all felt that Kåñëa had sent Neil to us when we needed an
expert typist. Otherwise, why did he choose ISKCON when he could have gone anywhere? We
were confident that Kåñëa was in control of our society and that there was no such thing as
coincidences. Kåñëa was guiding ISKCON and Çréla Prabhupäda, and Çréla Prabhupäda and the
Supersoul were guiding us.
Neil used Hayagréva’s typewriter, which was an old model but good. The problem was,
we didn’t have a desk. We told Neil, “We want you to start right away. Don’t worry, we will
cook something for you to eat.” How to get a desk? We didn’t have the money to buy one and so
I went to a grocery store and stole eight heavy milk boxes. I used two boxes for each of the four
legs and bought some plywood for the desktop. Plywood was cheap, only a few dollars. So that
Neil could start typing right away, we took the folding chair from Çréla Prabhupäda’s closet
which was used when a guest came who could not sit on the floor. Neil was so fast that we
couldn’t believe it! He finished the first tape in about half an hour and brought the typed papers
to me with a big smile. Neil followed our principles, went with us to the park to chant, and slept
with us in the storefront. He was impressed by our philosophy and lifestyle.
 Satsvarüpa and Hayagréva were also good typists and while Neil was with us, they
learned how to use the Dictaphone so that the work would continue after he returned to college,
and we wouldn’t have to buy so many tapes. Çréla Prabhupäda still used his old typewriter to
write letters to his Godbrothers in India. To save money, he would use aerograms, for they were
much cheaper than letters sent in envelopes. I still have one of those aerograms; they have not
been used for many years. At that time it cost twenty-five cents to mail an aerogram to India. I
also have all of Çréla Prabhupäda’s letters to Brahmänanda, and some of them display his unique
handwriting.

Çréla Prabhupäda recorded his books on the Dictaphone at night while all of us were
sleeping. Being a nitya-siddha, or an eternally perfect devotee, Çréla Prabhupäda never slept the
way we do. I do research to see how Çréla Prabhupäda spoke about various subjects in his letters
and conversations. His books give general instructions that are meant for everyone, but
sometimes in his letters and conversations he speaks more confidentially to his intimate
disciples.
Çréla Prabhupäda sometimes gave very liberal definitions of a pure devotee, but
sometimes he defined a pure devotee as one who thinks of Kåñëa twenty-four hours a day.
Hundreds of times Çréla Prabhupäda spoke of being engaged in Kåñëa consciousness twenty-
four hours a day. This means that even while sleeping, a perfectly pure devotee is not actually
sleeping; he’s in samädhi. Even while supposedly sleeping, Çréla Prabhupäda was fully
conscious, and not in an unconscious state like us. When I sleep, I don’t think of Kåñëa. When
you sleep, do you think of Kåñëa? Sleeping means ignorance, or forgetfulness of Kåñëa, but
Çréla Prabhupäda was always alert, even while supposedly sleeping.
There is a nice story in this connection told by Gurukåpä. Once, when he was in Hawaii,
he was talking with Çréla Prabhupäda and after some time saw that he had closed his eyes.
Thinking that Çréla Prabhupäda had fallen asleep, Gurukåpä tippy-toed out of the room, but as
he was leaving, Çréla Prabhupäda asked, “Where are you going?” He was not sleeping, but was
in samädhi, thinking about Kåñëa.
After eating his mid-day meal, Çréla Prabhupäda would rest for about an hour, and when
he got up, he would chant or continue his dictations. He also told us that we should rest after
lunch.
Çréla Prabhupäda had no privacy; nor did he have a private life different from his public
life. This distinguished him from all the other so-called gurus, yogis, and sannyäsés, and so what
to speak of ordinary university professors and politicians. Çréla Prabhupäda always left his door
open, even while sleeping. Besides, there was a window between his room and the living room,
which we called the Deity room. You could always look through the window and see Çréla
Prabhupäda at work. Later, we decided to put a curtain in the window so that Çréla Prabhupäda
could have some privacy.

Çréla Prabhupäda had brought a brass three-tiered cooker from India, which was so small
that it only cooked enough for one person. He had cooked for himself with this cooker in Butler,
Pennsylvania, and then at Dr. Mishra’s apartment. He used this cooker while living in the
Bowery, and he continued to use it at 26 Second Avenue. In the beginning he cooked for himself
—däl, rice, and a subji—all made in the three levels of the cooker. Several times Çréla
Prabhupäda personally told me, “If you cook by your own hand, you’ll never get sick.” He
showed by his personal example how a sannyäsé should not be dependent upon others.
The cooker was made of brass, and was tin-plated inside. Çréla Prabhupäda would place däl and
water in the bottom container, rice and water in the middle container, and cut vegetables and water in the
top container. The däl would take longer to cook and for that reason it was placed in the bottom
container. After everything was cooked, Çréla Prabhupäda would put the boiled vegetables in the
top of the cooker, which doubled as a frying pan, along with spices and ghee to make his
vegetable preparation. Then he would make a chaunce and add it to the däl. In this way, Çréla
Prabhupäda made rice, däl, and subji. In the beginning, Çréla Prabhupäda ate alone in his room,
but by the time I had joined, the devotees were eating with Çréla Prabhupäda in his apartment.
Later, Çréla Prabhupäda got a larger cooker that would make enough for three persons.
We took prasädam in what we called the Deity room. Çréla Prabhupäda would perform
ärati, and we called this ceremony “bells,” because we didn’t know the word “ärati.” While
performing the ceremony, Çréla Prabhupäda would ring a bell. Everything was new to us—the
food was new, Çréla Prabhupäda’s clothes were new, the mantras he chanted were new, and
indeed, the entire lifestyle was new.

Across the street from the storefront was a man who carved tombstones. Çréla
Prabhupäda sent me with Brahmänanda to see if the man could carve Deities. The man said that
he only carved words and didn’t know how to carve statues. In March 1966, while speaking at
his office room in the building where Dr. Mishra had his yoga studio, Çréla Prabhupäda talked
about how there would one day be Deity worship in America.
After offering the food, Çréla Prabhupäda bowed down and offered obeisances to his
Guru Mahäräja, Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura. Then we would all sit in a circle,
because the Deity room was spacious, unlike Çréla Prabhupäda’s room, which was tiny, and the
pots of prasädam were placed in the middle. The kitchen was also tiny so that only two people
could stand in it at a time. We ate off secondhand glass plates, purchased from the Salvation
Army thrift store, and Çréla Prabhupäda’s plate was a large aluminum platter; perhaps meant for
serving pizza. At that time Çréla Prabhupäda had a large appetite and so a big pile of rice was
stacked on his plate, with däl and subji placed in bowls. The people of Bengal and South India
eat a huge quantity of rice, but not chapatis. We would cook 50-60 chapatis because for us the
meal was däl, subji, and chapatis.
Çréla Prabhupäda would sit with us in our circle. Can you imagine how intimately we
were associated with the personality that would soon be recognized as the world-conquering
äcärya? Çréla Prabhupäda would direct Kértanänanda, who served the prasädam, watching
everyone’s plate. As soon as someone finished a chapati, Çréla Prabhupäda would tell
Kértanänanda to give him another. There were about ten of us sitting there. We didn’t have
spoons, because, following Çréla Prabhupäda’s example, we ate with our hand. Later on, Çréla
Prabhupäda began using a spoon, but at that time he didn’t.
Naturally, we would put our fingers, along with the prasädam, in our mouths, but Çréla
Prabhupäda told us that this was not proper. Çréla Prabhupäda had a way of mixing the däl and
subji with the rice and then throwing a lump into his mouth without touching his mouth with his
fingers. The first time I tried to imitate Çréla Prabhupäda by throwing a lump of food into my
mouth, it landed on the wall behind me. Everyone laughed and so I went back to putting my
fingers in my mouth.
The däl was hot (spicy) because of the chilis. Sometimes someone would take a mouthful
and then make a distressful sound and run into the bathroom to fill his mouth with cold water.
We used to call those chilis “sharks” because they were often hiding in the bottom of the däl. We
would tell new people, “Watch out for the sharks!” We would pick out the large pieces of chili
because they were easy to see. Çréla Prabhupäda liked chili and never seemed to be affected by
them.
Çréla Prabhupäda did all the spicing and so the food was very tasty compared to bland
American vegetable dishes. Now we were vegetarians and our appetites were huge. Our chapatis
were big, but still, we would eat 6 or 7 at a time. We made at least 50 chapatis for ten people.
When some people came to eat lunch but were not interested in attending Çréla Prabhupäda’s
lectures, because they only wanted a free meal, we decided that Çréla Prabhupäda should eat
alone in his apartment while we eat in the storefront.

After Çréla Prabhupäda gave his evening classes, he would cut an apple and distribute a
piece to everyone. He would put the pieces in a basket and it would be passed around so that
people could give a donation. Çréla Prabhupäda would also eat a piece of apple, but he would
never eat the skin. About five feet from his seat was a sink for washing hands. While everyone
watched, he would spit out the skin so that it would land in the sink without fail. He never
missed. We were amazed! We thought, “Wow! Who can do this?” One quality of a pure devotee
is that he is expert. Çréla Prabhupäda was expert in everything, even spitting apple skin into the
sink.

When Çréla Prabhupäda was living in the office building, he had bought a tape recorder
to record his lectures. That was stolen, but a friend had given him another. At 26 Second
Avenue, after recording Çréla Prabhupäda’s lecture, I would bring the tape recorder up to his
room. Sometimes he would play the tape and say, “Oh, what a wonderful philosophy!” We may
have wondered why he listened to his own lectures, but he told us, “I am not speaking. Kåñëa is
speaking through me.” That is the understanding of why Çréla Prabhupäda enjoyed listening to
his own lectures. There were many times that we sat with Çréla Prabhupäda and listened to his
lecture again, and he would add additional comments.
Çréla Prabhupäda would finish in the storefront at about 9:30 in the evening and go
upstairs to take hot milk with honey and bananas, along with us. Sometimes we would talk with
him until midnight. We were so happy to hear from him because he seemed to know everything;
not only of spiritual topics, but of science, space travel, economics—everything. He was a
walking encyclopedia. We were awestruck by how much Çréla Prabhupäda knew, and we would
continue to sit and listen to him.
Çréla Prabhupäda was not simply interested in holding classes and giving initiations. He
had come to New York with a mission to deliver the people of the Western world from its
godless civilization. He knew that, forgetting God, people’s valuable human lives were being
wasted. Being bereft of a God conscious leader, the masses of people were being led into the
darkest regions of material existence. He wanted to inaugurate a spiritual revolution that would
change the course of the misguided modern civilization and thus bring people to a life of peace
and prosperity.
It was Lord Caitanya’s prediction that His name would be chanted in every town and
village of the world, but it was only Çréla Prabhupäda’s spiritual master, Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta
Sarasvaté Öhäkura, that dispatched someone out of India to do this. Unfortunately, this was to no
avail. Previously, no äcärya in any sampradäya had attempted to take the Vedic culture out of
India for the welfare of the world. It was only Çréla Prabhupäda who fulfilled the desire of his
spiritual master to preach the messages of Godhead in the English language to the people of the
Western world.
The revealed scriptures declare that the religion for this age is the congregational
chanting of the holy names of the Lord—Hare Kåñëa Hare Kåñëa Kåñëa Kåñëa Hare Hare/ Hare
Räma Hare Räma Räma Räma Hare Hare. To bring this sacrifice for the present age of Kali to
the masses of people, Çréla Prabhupäda first went to Washington Square Park on the West Side
of Manhattan. This was before I joined, and later, he went regularly to Tompkins Square Park on
the East Side.
On October 16, 1966 an article appeared in the New York Times, perhaps the most
widely read newspaper in the world. There was a big picture of Brahmänanda and Acyutänanda
dancing at Tompkins Square Park while Çréla Prabhupäda chanted and played a small drum. A
nice article accompanied the picture, and when Çréla Prabhupäda saw it, he said, “Now my
movement has begun.” Because of this article, many curious people came to see Çréla
Prabhupäda because he was obviously different from all the other swamis and gurus that came to
New York dressed in suits and ties.
While staying at Dr. Mishra’s, Çréla Prabhupäda had met Swami Nikhilänanda, who had
advised him to wear a suit and tie if he wanted to become successful in attracting followers.
Generally, the yogis and gurus that came to New York were worshipers of Goddess Kälé, and
they ate meat, drank alcohol, smoked, and engaged in illicit sex. Swami Nikhilänanda told Çréla
Prabhupäda, “I can show you how to get these older American ladies. Many are widows having
millions of dollars. I’ll show you how to befriend them so that you can take their money.” Of
course, Çréla Prabhupäda was not interested in cheating old ladies, or anyone else. While Çréla
Prabhupäda was staying at Dr. Mishra’s yoga studio on 71st Street, he saw that it was mostly
elderly ladies that attended his classes.
During the morning walk of January 31, 1977 Çréla Prabhupäda told about an interesting
experience he had before establishing ISKCON.
Prabhupäda: “Vivekänanda was a rascal number one. He brought (to India) three women
with whom he had intimate connection. It is very easy to make intimate connection with woman
in America. With money also. He brought (the women) and their money. Aurobindo also, the
same thing. With woman’s money they became rich, not like me, with hard labor of writing
books and selling them. I could also have done. There was a chance, but this is not my business,
to make intimate relation with woman and get money. I could have done. There was a chance.
When the attempt failed, the man who introduced that woman to me one day said, ‘I have seen
many swamis, but none like you.’ (laughter)”
Gargamuni: “The other swamis advised you to grow a beard and wear a Western suit.”
 Our neighborhood, the East Village, was populated by those who were poor, as opposed
to the West Village, which was inhabited by the well-to-do. You could rent an apartment in the
East Village for as low as $50 a month. In one part of the East Village there were mostly Puerto
Ricans and other Spanish speaking people, and in another part, or ghetto, there were mostly
Russians, Polish, and other Eastern Europeans. If you see the black-and-white video “Matchless
Gifts,” you can get an idea of the people living in the East Village.
Every Sunday we would go with Çréla Prabhupäda to Tompkins Square Park to perform
saìkértana. Çréla Prabhupäda would sit on a mat that we brought from the storefront. He had a
small drum and would begin with a slow beat while chanting Hare Kåñëa Hare Kåñëa Kåñëa
Kåñëa Hare Hare/ Hare Räma Hare Räma Räma Räma Hare Hare. Gradually, others would join
in the chanting as a crowd gathered, attracted by the mystic chant. The first devotees to stand up
and dance were Brahmänanda and Acyutänanda, and others soon followed. Çréla Prabhupäda
would pick up the tempo while the dancing devotees did the “swami step” and others tapped
their feet. As the kértana picked up speed, devotees would raise their arms as they had seen in
the picture of Lord Caitanya dancing with His associates. After the kértana, Çréla Prabhupäda
would stand up and give a short talk while I distributed “Stay High Forever” leaflets which I
printed on the mimeograph machines. In that leaflet, there was the photo of Çréla Prabhupäda
sitting and smiling with his hand on his head. People would look at that photo and say, “Wow!
He’s so high from the chanting that he has to place his hand on his head to keep himself down.”
While distributing the leaflet, I would invite people to come back with us to the temple for the
Love Feast.
One Sunday, I met a filmmaker while distributing the pamphlets. Richard Witty and his
wife, Susan, had recently returned from a Peace Corps assignment in the Philippines. I met
Richard, and after he read the pamphlet, he became interested in making a documentary about
Çréla Prabhupäda because Çréla Prabhupäda was the most unique person he had ever seen. He
said that it appeared to him as if Çréla Prabhupäda had descended from a higher planet into the
East Village. Naturally, I agreed, on the condition that he would give us a copy of the film after it
was completed. This was in either late October or early November because I remember that it
was not yet cold. The movie was entitled “Matchless Gifts,” and it was the first movie about the
Hare Kåñëa Movement.
When we finished chanting, people would follow us back to the temple, where they
would be given prasädam. There was a growing interest in us because people had never seen a
saintly person wearing traditional sannyäsa garments, and they had never experienced meditation
on the repetition of transcendental sound.
Another Sunday, the publisher of the East Village Other, an underground newspaper
widely read by the hippies which was published in the East Village, was present at Tompkins
Square Park while we were chanting with Çréla Prabhupäda. After seeing us with Çréla
Prabhupäda, he excitedly ran to his office and said, “Hold the press! We must add an article!”
One of the editors, Peter Leggieri, came to the temple and interviewed Çréla Prabhupäda. About
a week later, the paper was printed with a photo of Çréla Prabhupäda on the front page, standing
beneath the tree and speaking, and it was accompanied by a highly favorable article.
 Alan Kallman, a record producer, read the article in the East Village Other. He made
records of famous people giving speeches, and he wanted to record the Hare Kåñëa kértana. I
must have given him a Stay High Forever pamphlet at the park and so he called the temple and
said to Brahmänanda, “I would like to come to your temple and record the Swami singing your
song.” This was November of 1966.
When Alan came to the temple, he met Çréla Prabhupäda and expressed his interest in
making a recording of the kértana. Çréla Prabhupäda was not too keen on the idea because he
thought that since people listen to so many records, they would simply hear the chanting and
then go on to something else. What would be the benefit? Mr. Kallman said, “Along with the
kértana you can speak something about your movement.” After considering this, Çréla
Prabhupäda agreed, for he liked the idea of presenting the philosophy to a wider audience.
A date was fixed in December for the recording, but we didn’t have any musical
instruments. Çréla Prabhupäda was an expert mådaìga player but we didn’t have one yet. Then
the night before the recording session, an African man came to the temple with a large wooden
drum resembling a mådaìga. It was about three feet long! We asked if we could borrow the drum
for the recording, and the man agreed. We were not a professional group, but the recording came
out nicely with everyone singing devotionally.
Now we had a couple thousand records, but what to do with them? At first, I went to the
record stores and books stores, asking them to keep it. It sold for $3 and we sold it wholesale for
$2. It cost us $1.50 and so our profit was fifty cents. We knew that for a record to become
popular, it would have to be played on the radio. WBAI was a radio station popular with the
hippies. During the 1960s it played an important role in spreading the counterculture. It was only
on the air at night, from midnight until 6 or 7 in the morning. Their transmission antenna was on
top of the Empire State Building, which was the tallest building in the world at that time, and so
their signal could reach Europe and South America.
One evening, I left the storefront at 11 p.m. and took the subway to their office at 120
Wall Street, carrying our record. When I entered the studio, I saw that everyone was high on
drugs and laughing. Practically, there was no air, only marijuana smoke. Just from the smell of
the marijuana, I felt somewhat dizzy. I introduced myself to the manager and showed him the
record while telling him about Çréla Prabhupäda. I said, “This is a recording of transcendental
sound vibrations and so it is nothing like anything you have heard before.”
The manager was impressed and brought me to a smoke-filled studio. I described the
mahä-mantra to the DJs there as they took the record and began playing it. Due to the
transcendental potency of the Lord’s holy names, the DJs, under the influence of marijuana,
began singing along with the record. I was overjoyed to see how they were blissfully absorbed in
the chanting, and I knew that there must be thousands of people listening—truck drivers, party
people, and all other sorts of night owls. It was about one in the morning and I had told the
devotees back at the storefront to leave the front door unlocked.
I had never smoked marijuana, and because the DJs were puffing smoke while chanting,
it began to affect me so much that while seated, my head dropped onto the table as I went into a
swoon. When I woke up, groggy-eyed, I had to remember where I was. Was I back at the temple,
or somewhere else? I looked at the clock and it was 7 o’clock in the morning and yet Çréla
Prabhupäda’s chanting still filled the studio.
 Lord Caitanya had predicted: påthivéte äche yata nagarädi gräma/ sarvatra pracära
haibe mora näma: “In every town and village on the earth My holy name will be chanted.” I felt
elated to understand that this prediction was now beginning to come true.
I asked, “Did you play the record all night?” The reply was, “Yes, we loved it.” “Did you
tell the people that they can get the record at our temple?” They said, “Yes, and we also said that
they can inquire from us at the radio station.”
I returned to the temple with hope swelling in my heart. A week later, a courier came to
the temple with a large box. I opened the box and it was filled with letters requesting our record.
With mailing, the price of the record was $3.50. We got hundreds of requests and later I found
out from Mr. Kallman that George Harrison of the Beatles had ordered 300 records. This was
before the devotees went to London.
During this period, Çréla Prabhupäda was working on his Bhagavad-gétä As It Is.
Various devotees were transcribing his dictations and typing the manuscript. Çréla Prabhupäda
put Brahmänanda in charge of getting the book published. Brahmänanda sent the manuscript to
numerous book publishers but no one was interested. Then, one day, we got a letter from an
accountant at Macmillan, one of the leading book publishers, asking for the record. He had heard
about the record and had sent $3.50 for it to be mailed. Brahmänanda showed the letter to Çréla
Prabhupäda because, even though it was only from an accountant, it was on Macmillan
letterhead. Brahmänanda was going to send him the record by mail, but Çréla Prabhupäda
insisted that he deliver it by hand. Brahmänanda thought that since the accountant had nothing to
do with the publishing of the books, there would be no use in meeting him, but Çréla Prabhupäda
said, “No. Just go there and you will see.”
Brahmänanda had a shaved head with a small çikhä, and he taught at a Catholic school.
They were concerned and asked him why he had shaved his head. To avoid complications, he
replied, “I had to shave my head because of a skin disease.”
At Macmillan, Brahmänanda found the accountant in a glass enclosure within a large
room, and just as he was talking to him, one of the editors, Mr. Wade, happened to come there.
He was curious about Brahmänanda’s presence and when he saw the record, he was appreciative.
Brahmänanda mentioned that he had a manuscript of Bhagavad-gétä written by his guru and
when the editor heard this, his eyes became wide with astonishment. He said, “I’m in charge of
the department of Asian literature, and I have been looking for a Bhagavad-gétä for us to
publish. Bring the manuscript and let me look at it.”
That is the story of how Macmillan came to publish Çréla Prabhupäda’s Bhagavad-gétä
As It Is, first in an abridged version and later, when it sold beyond expectations, in the
unabridged form. From the time that Brahmänanda first met Mr. Wade to the actual publication
of the abridged Bhagavad-gétä As It Is was about a year. It turned out to be the best selling book
in Macmillan’s Asian catalogue. They reprinted it perhaps thirteen times, and each time they
printed at least 25,000 copies.
We may take it as a lucky coincidence that while Brahmänanda was talking to the
accountant, the editor for Asian studies happened to walk by. But we should know that these are
all Kåñëa’s arrangements so that apparently unrelated things play their parts in concert to
produce wonderful results. Another example is how, soon after renting the storefront, while
Çréla Prabhupäda was walking outside, Howard Wheeler, who had been to India in search of a
guru, happened to see him. He approached Çréla Prabhupäda and asked, “Are you from India?”
Çréla Prabhupäda invited him to come to his classes and soon thereafter, Howard Wheeler,
holding a Masters Degree in English and teaching at Ohio State University, became Hayagréva
däs, the editor of the Bhagavad-gétä As It Is published by Macmillan. These are all Kåñëa’s
arrangements to assist the mission of His pure devotee.
While giving a lecture on the disappearance day of his spiritual master, Çréla Prabhupäda
said, “In 1896, Bhaktivinoda Öhäkura wanted to introduce this Kåñëa consciousness movement
by sending this book, Shree Chaitanya Mahäprabhu, His Life and Precepts. Fortunately, that
year was my birth year, and by Kåñëa's arrangement, we came in contact. I was born in a
different family, my Guru Mahäräja was born in a different family. Who knew that I will come
to his protection? Who knew that I would come in America? Who knew that you American boys
will come to me? These are all Kåñëa's arrangement. We cannot understand how things are
taking place.”
Sometimes Çréla Prabhupäda said that his disciples were sent by his spiritual master to
assist him. There is no such thing as luck or coincidence, and our coming to Kåñëa
consciousness is not accidental. Those who in the past could not complete their Kåñëa
consciousness are given a chance in their next life to finish up their business in this material
world. In a letter to me dated May 5, 1968 Çréla Prabhupäda wrote:
“My Dear Gargamuni,
“Please accept my blessings. I am in due receipt of your very nice letter dated 4/27/68,
and the sentiments expressed in that letter by you gives me more pleasure that you are
appreciating the importance of our movement. I am sure that you must appreciate like that
because I am always of opinion that both you and your elder brother are the result of a good
mother. So I very much appreciate both yours and your brother’s activities and it appears that
both of you were in your previous birth advanced in this line of Krishna Consciousness, and here
is another chance to complete it. So by the Grace of Krishna you have got good intelligence, you
are born of a great nation, and good family; just utilize the opportunity to finish the business of
Krishna Consciousness, without waiting for further incarnation.”

We got 20 or 30 letters a week ordering the record, and Brahmänanda and I responded to
all of them. Çréla Prabhupäda was extraordinarily patient while answering questions so that
sometimes the classes would last for more than two hours. I was never afraid to ask Çréla
Prabhupäda questions, and he always was happy to answer them. When the classes went on for
two hours because of the questions and the tape ran out, I generally wouldn’t put on a second
tape because they were expensive.
I remember how once a very beautiful woman, a model, had spoken after seeing a
painting on the wall. She said, “Rädhä and Kåñëa are so beautiful. Why did God create a world
which is so terrible and full of suffering?”
These were troubling times because of the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement.
In some places, black people couldn’t eat in restaurants meant only for white people, and they
had to sit in the back of buses. There were a lot of questions about the hotly debated issues of the
day. Çréla Prabhupäda responded, “You are a beautiful lady and you are intelligent because you
have asked such a nice question. You wear nice clothes and you appear to be very beautiful, but
still, you pass stool and urine. Even though you look so nice, you do these dirty things.”
Çréla Prabhupäda compared this material world to the stool and urine of Kåñëa. It is not
that Kåñëa is nasty, but the material world is a nasty place. Sometimes people were challenging
and Çréla Prabhupäda would argue with them. Later on, when someone was argumentative,
Çréla Prabhupäda had a disciple deal with that person. It is one’s duty to ask questions of a
saintly person, but such inquiries should be respectfully made and not challengingly.
The first girl to regularly come to the storefront was Jaduräëé, an aspiring artist. At this
time a devotee went to the Library of Congress and found a book written by an Englishman
entitiled Mathura, the Land of Kåñëa, written in 1880. There was a photograph of the Madana-
mohana temple in Våndävana in that book and so the devotee made a photocopy and brought it
to Çréla Prabhupäda. Çréla Prabhupäda touched it to his head and told Jaduräëé to make a
painting of the Madana-mohana temple.
It is interesting to note that although Çréla Prabhupäda had kept a diary during his year of
struggle in New York, with every income and expenditure detailed, after November 4th he
stopped. Why did he stop writing in his diary? The answer is that Çréla Prabhupäda’s movement
was taking off, and this has been wonderfully described by Hayagréva Prabhu in his book, The
Hare Krishna Explosion. As a result of the chanting in Tompkins Square Park, the newspaper
articles, the record, and our other endeavors to reach out to the public, Çréla Prabhupäda had
become a famous personality, and this kept him busy. Because he was constantly dictating his
books while simultaneously meeting countless people during the day, Çréla Prabhupäda
discontinued writing in his diary.

CHAPTER THREE: Serving in Separation. Çréla Prabhupäda in San

Francisco. Çréla Prabhupäda’s stroke.

Mukunda and his wife, Jänaké, had gone to San Francisco and, along with some friends,
established a storefront temple at the epicenter of the Gathering of the Tribes. Many people were
coming and the devotees had organized a Mantra Rock Concert to raise funds for the temple.
They sent Çréla Prabhupäda an airplane ticket, inviting him to come. Çréla Prabhupäda was
happy that his Kåñëa Consciousness Movement was expanding and so he happily accepted the
invitation. This was a shock for us, and we wondered how we would continue in Çréla
Prabhupäda’s absence.
Brahmänanda beautifully summarized our feelings: When Çréla Prabhupäda left to go to
San Francisco, all of a sudden those of us in New York thought, “Who is going to give the
lecture?” Çréla Prabhupäda had given every lecture. “Who is going to play the drum?” We were
standing around not knowing what to do. “All right. Why don’t you try?” “Okay. I will give the
lecture.” We just started doing it.

Çréla Prabhupäda flew to San Francisco on January 16, 1967, and it was the first time he
had flown in an airplane. I wrote a letter to Çréla Prabhupäda, expressing how much we missed
him. Just three days later, Çréla Prabhupäda replied, addressing the letter to Brahmänanda,
Hayagréva, Kértanänanda, Satsvarüpa, Gargamuni, Acyutänanda, and Jaduräëé. He wrote: “I
understand that you are feeling my absence. Krishna will give you strength. Physical presence is
immaterial; presence of the transcendental sound received from the spiritual master should be the
guidance of life. That will make our spiritual life successful. If you feel very strongly about my
absence you may place my pictures on my sitting places and this will be a source of inspiration
for you.”
This was the first time that we were authorized to worship Çréla Prabhupäda’s picture.
No one had a camera and so we didn’t have a photograph of Çréla Prabhupäda. Brahmänanda
wrote to the San Francisco devotees, asking for a nice photograph and Guru däsm a good
photographer, sent us a photo of Çréla Prabhupäda sitting on the vyäsäsana with his books. We
enlarged the photo to make it poster-sized.
Even during his manifest presence, Çréla Prabhupäda authorized the worship of his Deity
form. The Kåñëa-Balaräma temple in Våndävana was opened in 1975, and there are Deities of
Çréla Prabhupäda and his spiritual master. Çréla Prabhupäda wrote to Sudämä, saying that he
could worship his Deity in his house. Previously, this had never been done, for the äcärya’s
mürti was traditionally worshiped only after his disappearance. This is the transcendental nature
of Çréla Prabhupäda’s position as an empowered incarnation of the Lord; that he can act
independently of the injunctions pertaining to traditional etiquette.
Çréla Prabhupäda always kept in touch with his leading disciples to encourage them in
their services. This was especially important now that his New York devotees were serving him
in separation. He sent a letter to me from San Francisco dated February 3, 1967.
“My dear Gargamuni,
“Please accept my blessings. I am in due receipt of your letter with enclosures and have
seen the balance sheet. I have seen also the check account. Thank you very much. I think you are
now expert account keeper may Krishna bless you for talents and sincere endeavour for service
of the Lord. The more you serve the more you become expert in everything.”

These words of Çréla Prabhupäda kept me enthusiastically engaged in my service. I kept

a little preaching table in the back of the storefront with a stock of Back to Godheads. I not only
had the current issue, but also reprinted back issues in case people wanted more than one. After
the Easy Journey to Other Planets that Çréla Prabhupäda brought with him were sold out, I
reprinted it, as well as some essays, such as Who is Crazy?, The Peace Formula, and Reservoir
of Pleasure. We handed out thousands of The Peace Formula during peace demonstrations
protesting the Vietnam War. We would go and chant Hare Kåñëa during the demonstrations and
freely hand them out. I also printed Çréla Prabhupäda’s Introduction to Geetopanisad, which he
had recorded in February while staying in the office building where Dr. Mishra had his yoga
studio. The printing was done on our mimeograph machines. The Introduction to Geetopanisad
was thirty pages and so I had to buy a better stapler to make the little booklet. The Back to
Godheads were twenty pages and my stapler worked for that, but it did not work for thirty pages.
So there was enough literature for people to buy, and I also sold incense and finger cymbals.
At that time there were no karatälas and so people bought these small finger cymbals.
Later on, Näräyaëa Mahäräja sent a pair of karatälas from India. Çréla Prabhupäda had wanted
him to send many, but he sent only one in the beginning. I would buy incense and bells from a
Sikh gentleman, originally from Rawalpindi, named Sajjan Singh Sarna, who had a shop. He had
a company called Bells of Sarna, and he became a millionaire selling bells to the hippies. The
boys wore them around their necks and the girls wore them around their ankles. He made them in
India and shipped them to America. He also sold Indian musical instruments, including sitars and
tampuras. I bought finger-cymbals from him for $3 and sold them for $6. I had a very friendly
relationship with Mr. Sarna because I was his good customer.
By operating my shop, I contributed to the temple. Every Monday, Wednesday, and
Friday there were classes, and I made at least $20 each evening, and sometimes $50, or even
$100. One night, we got a phone call from Mr. Sarna, asking us to come to his apartment, saying
that he had something for us. I went with Brahmänanda and Rüpänuga, and it took over half an
hour by subway. We were on the Lower East Side and Mr. Sarna’s apartment was on the Upper
West Side. I really liked Rüpänuga because, unlike the others, he had never taken drugs, he was
a family man, and he had a good job. Rüpänuga, Brahmänanda, and I were good friends, and we
often passed our time discussing the philosophy.
When we got to his apartment, Mr. Sarna welcomed us. Although a Sikh, he didn’t wear
a turban and didn’t have a beard. He was about 60 years old, but he was very lively and jovial.
He took us to a back room of his lavish apartment where we saw a big black marble Deity of
Lord Kåñëa, and he gave it to us. It was heavy and so Brahmänanda carried the Deity. It was
January and very cold, and although we had come by subway, we thought it best to return to the
storefront by taxi. Çréla Prabhupäda was in San Francisco at that time and so we called him and
informed him of the Deity’s appearance. He said that we should keep the Deity in his closet. We
put the Deity in Çréla Prabhupäda’s closet and covered it with a cloth. Çréla Prabhupäda named
the Deity Madana-mohana. Madana-mohana was the first Deity in Våndävana and so Çréla
Prabhupäda named the first Deity of ISKCON Madana-mohana.
Later, sometime in the 70s, Brahmänanda was preaching in Africa and I was in Bombay.
When Brahmänanda came to see Çréla Prabhupäda in Bombay and the two of us entered his
room, Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Here is Rüpa and Sanätana.” For a long time I could not
understand why Çréla Prabhupäda had called us Rüpa and Sanätana, and then I understood that
since Brahmänanda had carried the Madana-mohana Deity to Çréla Prabhupäda, he was like
Sanätana, who had installed Madana-mohana in Våndävana. Because I was Brahmänanda’s
younger brother, I was therefore Rüpa. How fortunate we were to be instruments in Çréla
Prabhupäda’s pastimes!
One weekend, while Çréla Prabhupäda was in San Francisco, I went with Kértanänanda
and three or four other devotees to Dr. Mishra’s country äçrama. We started a kértana, chanting
responsively, and some of Dr. Mishra’s followers chanted “Oà. Oà,” harmonizing with us. It was
kind of funny to see them chanting Oà while we chanted Hare Kåñëa. It became a kind of
competition; who would win, Kåñëa or Oà? Of course, Kåñëa won. Hayagréva had a very loud
voice and Räyaräma also had a loud voice. We were pleased to drown out the Oà chanters.
While in San Francisco, Çréla Prabhupäda initiated some disciples and installed the
Deities of Jagannätha, Baladeva, and Subhadrä. These were the first installed Deities in
ISKCON. He also took part in the Mantra Rock Concert with Alan Ginsberg. At this time,
Janärdana, along with Kértanänanda, started a temple in Montreal.
After staying in San Francisco for the months of January, February, and March of 1967,
Çréla Prabhupäda returned to New York on April 9th, and we were overjoyed to see him. I
remember that on May 30, 1967, Memorial Day, Çréla Prabhupäda was to continue lecturing on
Çré Caitanya-caritämåta in the morning class. I always attended the morning classes because I
slept in the temple room. I had to get up at 6 every morning because the class was at 7. We were
all sitting in the temple room, awaiting Çréla Prabhupäda’s arrival. He was always punctual and
so when he didn’t come on time, we became concerned and ran across the courtyard and up the
stairs to his apartment. Opening the door, we found Çréla Prabhupäda lying on the floor,
apparently paralyzed. A tremendous wave of shock and fear overcame me, and my entire body
became stunned. Only Brahmänanda knew what to do and he immediately took charge. Because
this was the Memorial Day weekend, no doctor was available because they had all gone away for
the weekend.
Finally, Brahmänanda called the emergency number of the New York City medical
department. A doctor that was available came, and after examining Çréla Prabhupäda, he said,
“He has suffered a stroke and should be admitted into a hospital.” He also said, “I think the old
man is praying too much. He should get some exercise. He should go out for a walk in the
morning.” I can’t remember if Çréla Prabhupäda was conscious, but when I first entered the
apartment, it appeared that he was not. We were completely dependent upon Çréla Prabhupäda,
and so this was a terrible shock.
Brahmänanda called for an ambulance, and we brought Çréla Prabhupäda to Beth Israel
Hospital, where we kept a 24-hour-a-day vigil of constantly massaging his transcendental body.
My turn was from 3am until 7 in the morning, and thus I had the great fortune of massaging
Çréla Prabhupäda. I felt hesitant to touch Çréla Prabhupäda’s body, however, because even in
those early days, I could understand that it was absolutely pure.
In the purport to Çré Caitanya-caritämåta (Ädi 9.11), Çréla Prabhupäda wrote: “A
Vaiñëava is always protected by the Supreme Personality of Godhead, but if he appears to be an
invalid, this gives a chance to his disciples to serve him.” I can now understand that this was
actually a transcendental pastime meant to bring us closer to Çréla Prabhupäda. Previously, our
relationship with Çréla Prabhupäda was that he was our teacher and we were his students. But
now we began treating Çréla Prabhupäda as our father, feeling that by all means we must take
care of him. From the relationship of teacher and students, we had become elevated to the
relationship of father and sons and daughters.
After perhaps two days, I was present in the room when a nurse came in and told Çréla
Prabhupäda that it was time for a test. Çréla Prabhupäda was sitting up now and said, “No
needles.” The nurse assured Çréla Prabhupäda that there would be no needles. They brought in a
gurney and Çréla Prabhupäda was moved from his bed to the gurney. When they took him out of
the room, I followed. We took the elevator to the ground floor where there were laboratories.
The nurse took Çréla Prabhupäda into a room with a cloth partition and we waited. Çréla
Prabhupäda was seated like a yogi, chanting on his beads. The nurse came from behind the
partition with a syringe with a long needle. I didn’t know what was happening, but later on, Çréla
Prabhupäda said that they wanted to take part of his brain to make an experiment.
After all, this was a Jewish hospital and Çréla Prabhupäda was attracting many Jewish
young people. Perhaps they wanted to find out how this was possible. Seeing the needle, Çréla
Prabhupäda was furious because the nurse had assured him that there would be no needle. I knew
that I had to do something to protect Çréla Prabhupäda and so I went between him and the nurse
and said, “You can’t do that. If you try, you will first have to go through me.”
Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Take me back to my room” and so I immediately wheeled the
gurney out the door. The only problem was that I couldn’t remember which was Çréla
Prabhupäda’s room. There were only three or four floors and so we took the elevator, and when
we got off on a floor, Çréla Prabhupäda looked in all the rooms to see which one was his. He was
still seated like a yogi on the gurney. Finally, we found Çréla Prabhupäda’s room and he told me,
“Call Brahmänanda. I want to leave right away.” I went to the nurse’s desk and called
Brahmänanda, telling him to bring the car because Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to leave. I
explained about the long needle and the proposed experiment.
Brahmänanda came with the car. Çréla Prabhupäda couldn’t walk and so Brahmänanda
got a wheelchair. As we passed through the lobby, the doctors and nurses shouted, “Don’t do
this! You are killing the old man!” But Çréla Prabhupäda said that he wanted to leave and so we
put him in the car and drove back to the temple. We had to help him up the stairs to his
apartment.
Brahmänanda rented a cottage on the seashore in New Jersey for Çréla Prabhupäda to
recuperate. Although it was June, it was still a little cool with ocean breezes and so Çréla
Prabhupäda wore a coat. Truthfully, although Çréla Prabhupäda went to that cottage only ten
days after leaving the hospital, it appeared to me that he had already almost fully recovered. It
was a miracle! Çréla Prabhupäda’s paralysis was gone, and he appeared fine. There are 25
million strokes each year and most people either die or are left with a debilitating condition.
There is no doubt that Çréla Prabhupäda’s supposed disability was not the result of material
causes, but was enacted to increase our attachment for him. A nitya-siddha pure devotee is never
in a diseased condition. This pastime was enacted so that our attachment for him would become
elevated to a higher platform.

CHAPTER FOUR: Çréla Prabhupäda’s return to India, and my failed

marriage.

At the end of June, Çréla Prabhupäda returned from the New Jersey shore to 26 Second
Avenue and then flew to San Francisco. After his arrival, he went to stay at Stinson Beach to
facilitate his recovery, and at that time, in San Francisco, the first ISKCON Rathayäträ was
celebrated. The situation at Stinson Beach was not to Çréla Prabhupäda’s liking. There was no
place to walk, it was far from the temple, and the weather was terrible. The drive on the winding
road to Stinson Beach made Çréla Prabhupäda dizzy because his brain was already prone to
dizziness after his stroke. It was while at Stinson Beach that Çréla Prabhupäda made up his mind
to go to India, where the climate and the Äyurvedic medicine would help him regain his strength.
Çréla Prabhupäda returned to New York and then flew to New Delhi, arriving on July 24, 1967.
In Çréla Prabhupäda’s absence, I was still the temple treasurer. Çréla Prabhupäda had
sometimes called me Gargamoney, and so I knew that my foremost duty was to bring money to
the society. Before Çréla Prabhupäda left for India to recover from his stoke, I had asked him
whether or not I should get married. He asked me, “Do you have a job?” I said, “No, Çréla
Prabhupäda, I work for you; I do everything for you.” He asked, “Do you have a house to live
in?” I said, “No, I sleep on the floor of the storefront.” He asked, “Do you have money to buy
särés and bangles?” I said, “No, I give all the money to you.” Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Then how
can you get married?” After hearing that, I gave up the idea of getting married.
While Çréla Prabhupäda was in India, a girl named Karuëämayé was regularly coming to
the temple. She was a bit older than me and she kept looking at me and smiling. I was a virgin
and had never taken much interest in girls, not because I was gay, but because I was always busy
in the temple. Çréla Prabhupäda had said that a woman’s eyes are dangerous. Karuëämayé
seduced me with her charming smiles and glances, and Çréla Prabhupäda was not there to protect
me. I was a virgin and she didn’t entice me sexually, but the subtle attack of mäyä was very
strong. I decided on my own to get married, and when I wrote to Çréla Prabhupäda, he gave me
his permission. Acyutänanda performed the fire sacrifice.
I was the first devotee in the temple to get sick. Somehow, I got jaundice and had to go to
the hospital. Jaundice comes from dirty living conditions and so the doctors thought that I must
have come down with it because of our communal lifestyle, and because we did not properly
wash our dishes. I was only in the hospital for a few days, but it was a shock for me to get
jaundice. This happened while Srila Prabhpada was in India. He wrote me a letter from Delhi
dated September 15, 1967.
“My Dear Gargamuni,
Please accept my blessings. I was very much anxious about your illness, but I've received
news from Brahmänanda that you are improving. Now whatever condition it may be I advise you
to take rock candy as much as possible always keep a piece in your mouth. So far as eating is
concerned, take ripe papaya as much as you can, also if possible boil green papaya, this will be
your diet and medicine. Besides this take sufficient rest and chant Hare Krishna; so long as we
have got this material body we have to undergo these situations, if we increase our love for
Krishna we shall be able to get out of this maya. People who are therefore not exerting to
improve Krishna Consciousness are simply wasting there valuable time and human life. Their
human life is a chance to be out of the entanglements of material bodies. We get material bodies
according to our activities, doggish men get the bodies of dogs in the next life, men in Krishna
Consciousness get bodies like Krishna, so developed consciousness of human life is to
concentrate on Krishna Consciousness so that we may be out of the clutches of material
entanglement. These truths should be preached all over the world and those who are intelligent
enough will take to Krishna Consciousness very seriously. You will be cured very soon rest
assured, but after you get out of this diseased condition please keep fit with regular habits at least
once a day take your bath and timely eat, drink and sleep. Now you are married man you have
got facility for sex life, but also this should be regulated. Increased Krishna Consciousness will
reduce the propensity of sense gratification and too much sense gratification is the cause of
obtaining material bodies. So there may not be bodily disturbance it is necessary to maintain a
regulated life and easily prosecute our Krishna Consciousness. I shall pray to Krishna for your
quick recovery.”

Çréla Prabhupäda was always concerned about the health of his disciples, and later on he
asked Brahmänanda to make a health fund, saying that each temple should contribute so that
when devotees become ill, they would be properly taken care of. Although this was Çréla
Prabhupäda’s instruction, it was never carried out. We knew very well that Çréla Prabhupäda
was not only looking after our spiritual welfare, but our physical wellbeing as well. After all,
without being in good health, how can one actively and enthusiastically engage in devotional
service?
Brahmänanda rented a seven-room apartment, and my wife and I had one tiny room.
Çréla Prabhupäda had instructed the householders to only have sex for the purpose of producing
good children, and that before engaging in sex, devotees should chant 50 rounds. How long does
it take to chant 50 rounds? I have a tape of Çréla Prabhupäda chanting 16 rounds and it took him
two hours and forty minutes. At that rate, it would take more than eight hours to chant 50 rounds.
Who is going to chant for eight hours? When we tried to chant 50 rounds, we ended up falling
asleep. Çréla Prabhupäda had mentioned that a Vaiñëava gåhastha would only have sex life two
or three times in his life because he would engage in sex only for producing children and never
simply for sense enjoyment. Why get married to have sex two or three times and then endure so
much anxiety for maintaining wife and children?
Why should we make life more complicated than it already is? My marriage wasn’t
peaceful because I was surrendered to Çréla Prabhupäda and Karuëämayé had personal
ambitions. I am sure that if Çréla Prabhupäda had been in New York, our marriage would never
have taken place. Finally, Karuëämayé said that she was going to San Franciso, whether with me
or without me. Looking back, I see this as Kåñëa’s arrangement because without her saying this,
I would have remained in New York and not be present when Çréla Prabhupäda returned to
America from India. What is apparently negative from a material point of view turned out to be
positive from a spiritual perspective.
I left New York with Karuëämayé towards the end of September, 1967. I had arranged
for an apartment in San Francisco, as well as articles on consignment to sell in a shop that I
planned to open from two Indian men in Rhode Island. The drive to San Francisco was hell. In
those days, people were flocking to California because of the mild climate, and many paid
someone to drive their car while they flew. That was called a drive-away car, and I arranged for
one and was paid $200 plus expenses.
Gaurasundara and Govinda däsé went with us, and Gaurasundara wouldn’t let me drive.
He drove too fast and when we got to the mountains, there was a blizzard and the car skidded off
the road into a big pile of snow. Just imagine how the car was buried in snow and Govinda däsé
was crying. I must say that Gaurasundara was crazy. A tow truck came and pulled us out of the
ditch so that eventually we were able to continue our journey. I was terrified the entire trip.
Gaurasundara kept driving without stopping, and he wouldn’t let anyone else drive.
We finally made it to San Francisco, but my married life continued to be a source of
anxiety and disturbance. My wife never performed the duties of a wife. She didn’t cook; I
cooked; and I worked in the shop that I opened next to the temple.

CHAPTER FIVE: Çréla Prabhupäda’s Return from India

I was always busy and my wife didn’t do anything to help me. Eventually, I found out
that she was taking drugs and hanging out at a hippie commune. Two boys that later became
initiated as Tamäla Kåñëa and Viñëujana were living in a house together and dealing drugs. They
had previously met Çréla Prabhupäda at Morning Star Ranch on his first visit to San Francisco.
Thereafter, the two moved to San Francisco. I went to their house keeping a knife in my pocket
because it is the Vedic injunction that one who steals one’s wife should be killed. However, they
were submissive and asked very nice questions and so I never brought out the knife. Instead, I
preached to them for eight hours, because they appreciated Çréla Prabhupäda and Kåñëa
consciousness. Çréla Prabhupäda had returned to San Francisco from India in December of 1967,
and this was early 1968.
Çréla Prabhupäda was unhappy when he saw Karuëämayé with the two boys. I remember
sitting in a lecture at the storefront when the two boys and my wife came in. Çréla Prabhupäda
stopped his lecture and looked at them with a displeased expression. She was dressed like an
ordinary American woman. I had been angry with my wife for not engaging in any service at the
temple, and not performing any duties as a wife, so that finally I kicked her out. Having no place
to go, I can’t blame her for going to the hippie commune, and so it was in that sense my fault. It
was a bad marriage that only lasted four months. I should have waited for Çréla Prabhupäda to
return from India before getting married.
A few months later, I received a letter from Çréla Prabhupäda written from Boston dated
May 5, 1968. He wrote: I think that your separation from Karuëämayé is Krishna’s desire. So
don't be sorry for it. In this connection I may tell you my personal life experience. When I was
married at the age of 21 with a wife who was only 11 years old, practically I did not like my
wife. And as I was at that time very young man, and an educated college student, I wanted to
marry again, in spite of my wife being present. Because amongst the Hindus one can accept more
than one wife (of course the law is now changed). So, when everything was all ready for my
marriage with another girl, my great father, who was a great devotee of the Lord, called me and
instructed me in the following words:
"My dear boy, I understand that you are trying to get yourself married again, but I would
advise you not to do this. It is Krishna’s Grace that your present wife is not just according to
your liking. This will help you not to become attached with wife and home, and this will help
you in the matter of your future advancement of Krishna Consciousness.''
Now, I accepted my father's advice, and by his blessings, only, I was never attached to
my wife or home which resulted in my complete liberation from worldly attachment and devote
myself fully in Krishna Consciousness. Therefore I think your separation from Karuëämayé is
also the same opportunity for your being cent per cent engaged in Krishna Consciousness.

During a room conversation in New York on April 12, 1969, I told Çréla Prabhupäda
how I had met someone in San Francisco who confirmed that the loss of my wife was my good
fortune.
Gargamuni: There's an Indian fellow in the San Francisco temple. He comes very often.
He’s a student, and his name is Vinode.
Prabhupäda: Vinode.
Gargamuni: Yes. And he helps us cook prasädam. And he cooks in the kitchen and oh,
he says, “Kåñëa is my only life.” He says he was so happy to find a temple here.
Prabhupäda: Very good.
 Gargamuni: He mentioned to me that he’s married and that he has a child in India. And
he asked, “Oh, were you married?” And I said, “No. My wife was taken away.” And he came
over and he hugged me. “Oh,” he said, “you are so lucky.” (laughter)

In New York in 1966-67 we never went for street saìkértana because we only had a few
devotees, and many had jobs. Çréla Prabhupäda had Brahmänanda and I go to wholesale book
distributors as a means for distributing his literature. They would take some books and
magazines and sell them to all the shops. But that didn’t work out because we gave the books
and magazines on consignment. Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Consignment means no sale,” because
if the books didn’t sell, they would be returned and many would be damaged with torn covers.
So the real beginning of the distribution of literature was the advent of street saìkértana.
In San Francisco, I convinced Tamäla Kåñëa and Viñëujana to give up their practice of
selling drugs. Tamäla Kåñëa didn’t shave up, but he cut his long hair and began working in a
photography studio. Viñëujana maintained himself by making and selling bamboo flutes. Tamäla
Kåñëa complained that the chemicals used to develop film irritated him and so I encouraged him
to quit his job and work for me in my shop. I paid him $1.50/hour to manage the shop while I
went out to service my accounts. Viñëujana came to the shop because it had a kitchen, but when
he burnt the bamboo he used for making his flutes, it created a stink. Viñëujana sold his flutes on
the street and was called a Pied Piper because he always had about ten women following him.
I purchased glass beads made in India, and I had a group of devotees going out and
selling them to the tourists as “hippie beads.” From Haight-Ashbury, where the temple was, all
the way to downtown, there was a ten-mile line of cars stuck in traffic. Hippies wore these beads,
which cost me just seven cents, and I sold them for a dollar. I would sell the beads to the
devotees that didn’t have jobs for fifty cents, and they would approach the tourists in their cars as
they gazed at the extravagant hippies strolling by and sell them as souvenirs. We sold thousands
of them.
Later, when Viñëujana and Tamäla Kåñëa moved into the temple, we thought that it
would be better to chant in the streets, distribute Back to Godheads, and get donations, because
Çréla Prabhupäda had always encouraged us to go for street saìkértana. I remember buying cloth
so that everyone would wear dhotés so that they looked authentic on saìkértana. At that time
nobody had dhotés from India. We bought cloth by the yard and brahmacärés and sannyäsés
dyed the cloth saffron while householders dyed theirs yellow. The first day, the saìkértana party
collected $12 in donations. We told this to Çréla Prabhupäda and he was pleased.
Hanñadüta had previously started saìkértana in New York and so we were the second
street saìkértana party in ISKCON. Later, when I opened a temple in Seattle, along with
Upendra, Tamäla Kåñëa and Viñëujana brought their saìkértana party, which consisted of about
ten devotees, and were able to make many devotees.
When Çréla Prabhupäda returned from India in December of 1967, he brought a small
harmonium called a Dulcatina, which had a very sweet sound. In San Francisco, I would visit
Çréla Prabhupäda in his room and enjoy informal talks with him. One day, he started playing
melodies on the Dulcatina and then began singing a bhajana. We were amazed because we had
only heard Çréla Prabhupäda leading kértana while we chanted responsively. We had never
heard Çréla Prabhupäda play the harmonium, and he was expert because he had learned to play
as a child.
The first time I recorded Çréla Prabhupäda singing and playing the harmonium was on
March 13, 1968. There is a transcription of our conversation on the VedaBase, but it mistakenly
says that the recording was done in a studio. It was done in Çréla Prabhupäda’s house. Here are
parts of that conversation.
Prabhupäda: What is this maker, the trademark?
Gargamuni: Concord.
Prabhupäda: Concord, yes. Concord is a famous tape recorder company. (tapping
microphone) It is all right?
Gargamuni: Yes.
Prabhupäda: You also like that?
Yamunä: Oh. (Prabhupäda chuckles) If it isn’t too much energy, Swamiji, that would be
very beautiful.
Prabhupäda: All right.
Gargamuni: Also, when you used to sing in New York, Vande’haà, you would add on
Cintämaëi. Govindam ädi-puruñaà.
Prabhupäda: I shall pray that?
Gargamuni: Oh yes, that’s nice, that one.
Yamunä: What does that mean, Swamiji, that new prayer?
Prabhupäda: Cintämaëi . . . That is a description of Kåñëaloka.
Yamunä: From the Brahma-saàhitä?
Gargamuni: Yes.
Prabhupäda: You have it?
Yamunä: Yes, I have a copy of it.
Prabhupäda: Sit down? Why do you keep there?
Gargamuni: So it’s not too loud.
Prabhupäda: Oh. (Prabhupäda chants Cintämaëi and other prayers)

I recorded Çréla Prabhupäda singing, and generally, when he would record a bhajana, he
would also give the purport. At first I wanted to take all the bhajanas recorded by Çréla
Prabhupäda and put them together on a tape without the purports so that I could listen to them
uninterupted. Çréla Prabhupäda said, “No, no, no, you cannot do that. Your have to listen to the
bhajana along with the purport, otherwise it will simply be sentiment.”
Now, whenever I listen to Çréla Prabhupäda sing, I always listen to the purport, even if
I’ve heard it a hundred times. One song I listen to every day because it is appropriate for my
present condition. It’s the prayer of King Kulaçekhara. I play it every morning. Çréla
Prabhupäda often quoted this prayer. In his purport to Bhagavad-gétä 8.2 Çréla Prabhupäda
wrote: Mahäräja Kulaçekhara says to the Lord, “Now my mind is undisturbed, and I am quite
healthy. If I die immediately, thinking of Your lotus feet, then I am sure that my performance of
Your devotional service will become perfect. But if I have to wait for my natural death, then I do
not know what will happen, because at that time the bodily functions will be disrupted, my throat
will be choked up, and I do not know whether I shall be able to chant Your name. Better let me
die immediately.”
When I listen to Vibhävaré Çeña by Bhaktivinoda Öhäkura, I always listen to the purport
wherein Çréla Prabhupäda explains how the intimate pastimes of Kåñëa with the gopés are
misunderstood by the general populace as being like the affairs of ordinary boys and girls. In that
song it is mentioned that Kåñëa once stole the clothes of the gopés while they were bathing.
Çréla Prabhupäda says that such pastimes should not be discussed publicly because they appear
to be contrary to the moral codes practiced in India. In Vedic culture, a woman can only be seen
naked by her husband, and not by any other man. Due to a misunderstanding, people now want
to imitate Kåñëa’s pastimes. The Vedic injunction is that one should never try to imitate the
activities of the controllers, for if one does so, it will lead to one’s destruction. Therefore, the
bhajanas describing Kåñëa’s intimate pastimes with the gopés should only be sung in the
association of advanced devotees, and never for the entertainment of the public.
Bhäradväja was a talented singer and he once asked Çréla Prabhupäda if there were other
bhajanas we could sing in the morning. Çréla Prabhupäda gave two—jiva jägo and näma
saìkértana. If we bypass Çréla Prabhupäda’s instructions and want to sing the bhajanas
describing Kåñëa’s intimate pastimes with the gopés, then we will become sahajiyä, or those
who take things cheaply. Çréla Prabhupäda gave a definition of sahajiyä, saying that it means to
manufacture and concoct.
I had bought a new tape recorder, not one of those big ones, but a much smaller one of
excellent quality. On March 20, 1968, I was the first to record Çréla Prabhupäda on a morning
walk. That was at Stow Lake. I was the first because previously there were no tape recorders that
could run on batteries. Mine was perhaps the first battery operated tape recorder. This was before
the advent of the cassette tape and so my recorder was reel-to-reel, and although small, it was
quite heavy. You can see in the Vedabase that the first morning walk transcription was on March
20, 1968.
Çréla Prabhupäda’s lectures were mostly recorded, and the first recorded room
conversation was with Hayagréva in San Francisco on April 5, 1967. Hayagréva wanted to write
a drama about Lord Caitanya, and for two days he talked with Çréla Prabhupäda extensively
about how it should be composed. When Çréla Prabhupäda was a young man, he had played the
part of Advaita Äcärya in a drama, and he told us that everyone was moved by the performance.
Once, while Çréla Prabhupäda was in San Francisco, he was invited to be interviewed on
a radio program. I stayed back because I knew that the interviewer would ask for people to call
in with questions. Generally, the people who called in asked stupid questions, such as “Why do
you dress like this?” and “Why do you shave your heads and have a ponytail?” They rarely asked
philosophical questions and so I stayed by the phone and waited. In those days, there were no
mobile phones. I dialed quickly and was put on hold, and was the first to ask a question. I asked
three or four intelligent questions but finally the interviewer said to Çréla Prabhupäda, “I think
that these are your disciples calling in,” because he knew that others would not ask philosophical
questions. This gave Çréla Prabhupäda the chance to answer such questions as “Who am I?”
“Where have I come from?” and “What is our relationship with God?” Çréla Prabhupäda
couldn’t understand that it was I who was calling because from the speaker, my voice sounded
different. After me, a female devotee called so that we were able to control the interview.
 On another occasion, I went with Çréla Prabhupäda to a television interview and sat in
the audience. There was also a famous jazz musician dressed in African clothing waiting to be
interviewed. When Çréla Prabhupäda entered, the man stopped what he was doing and said,
“Oh! Your holiness, I understand that you worship a God who is black.” Çréla Prabhupäda said,
“Yes, He is black, but He is not black like you.” We all laughed when we heard this most clever
response.
I always asked Çréla Prabhupäda questions. Çréla Prabhupäda gave a class on Bhagavad-
gétä 7.2 in San Francisco on September 11, 1968. When he asked for questions, I said, “In the
Gétä it says that when Kåñëa comes, He comes to achieve a certain mission and then He leaves.
In the Bhägavatam it says that after the disappearance of Lord Kåñëa, everything fell down,
everyone was dejected, and Arjuna was crying. Well, if He comes to achieve a certain mission
and then when He leaves it all falls down again . . .
Çréla Prabhupäda: Not immediately. Just like here, nature is working in that way. You
build a very nice house. Gradually, nature’s course is that it will become old and it will fall
down. This is the way of nature here. You cannot keep anything fresh always. So long as Kåñëa
or God is present, or His representative is present, the affairs of the world go very nicely. But as
soon as they disappear again the same system begins, dwindling. It is just like how so long as the
sun is there, there is no darkness, but as soon as the sun is away from your sight, at once
darkness comes. Because the whole atmosphere is darkness.
It is by artificial means that we are keeping it light. This room, if at once the electric fails,
oh, it will be dark, because its nature is darkness. Therefore the Vedas say, “Don't keep yourself
in this darkness. Just get out of this. Come to the light.” Tamasi ma jyotir gama. Just come to the
light. That is the spiritual kingdom.

Lord Caitanya is famous as the deliverer of Jagäi and Mädhäi, but Çréla Prabhupäda
delivered thousands that were lower than them. Jagäi and Mädhäi never ate the meat of cows, nor
did they take drugs. Çréla Prabhupäda knew that we were coming from a background that was
lower than that of Jagäi and Mädhäi and so he understood that we would not be able to follow
everything perfectly. Sometimes people think that the earliest disciples of Çréla Prabhupäda
were liberated souls, but that was not the case.
Çréla Prabhupäda knew that there would be falldowns and mistakes, and he never
rejected his disciples even when they deviated. Çréla Prabhupäda quoted a Bengali saying, ati
bhakti corera lakñaëa, meaning that when one makes a big show of devotion, it indicates that he
is a thief. Sometimes people joined the movement and made a big show of devotion but later on
revealed their ambitious motives.
There was a crazy guy coming to the temple in San Franciso. He danced wildly and
bumped into people. This was a disturbance. I asked Çréla Prabhupäda, “What should we do
with this person?” Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Our process is to reform and not reject. It’s your duty
to reform him. Teach him how to chant and reform his life.” Then one day, in the middle of a
kértana, he ran out of the temple and we never saw him again. It’s as if Kåñëa drove him away
because he was such a disturbance.
I had a store next to the temple and one night, someone broke in and stole all my things.
That was the impetus for my going to Seattle with Upendra to open a temple there. I was in
Seattle during the fall of 1968 when Çréla Prabhupäda came there from San Francisco because
someone had broken into an apartment below his. His apartment was in a nice area, but it had
been taken over by the hippies. At first it was all “love and peace,” but gradually, the area
became infested with drugs and crime so that it was dangerous to live there. One week there
were seven murders. While the apartment below was broken into and robbed at night, there was a
lot of noise of breaking windows and so Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to leave the next morning. I
was in Seattle when I received a phone call informing me that Çréla Prabhupäda would arrive the
next morning.
I wondered, “Where is Çréla Prabhupäda going to stay?” It was 4 in the afternoon and all
the real estate agents were closed, but somehow I found a furnished apartment that would serve
as Çréla Prabhupäda’s residence until I could find something better. The next morning, Çréla
Prabhupäda arrived with Jayänanda, and when we opened the door to his apartment, the first
thing he did was go to the curtains and open them. I had not looked into this and when the
curtains were opened, all that we could see was a brick wall blocking the view so that there was
no natural light. Çréla Prabhupäda always wanted sunlight to come into his rooms, wherever he
might be. I felt so bad.
Çréla Prabhupäda turned to me, smiled, and said, “So, Gargamuni, you have put your
spiritual master into a dungeon?” I didn’t laugh because I was embarrassed. Jayänanda had come
with Çréla Prabhupäda, and the next day he and I found a nice cottage and Çréla Prabhupäda
moved there. Later, when Tamäla Kåñëa and Viñëujana brought their saìkértana party to Seattle,
they stayed in the rented house that served as the temple, and it was in a perfect location close to
the university with its 30,000 students. It was a short walk for them to go to the university. Many
young people were attracted and we brought them back to the house. After hearing Çréla
Prabhupäda speak, many became devotees.
I took Çréla Prabhupäda for his morning walks to a beautiful park wherein there was a
lake with ducks. One day, Çréla Prabhupäda told me to bring some prasädam so that he could
feed them. The next day, I brought some prasädam, halavä I think, and Çréla Prabhupäda sat on
a park bench feeding the ducks. I am sure that by receiving Çréla Prabhupäda’s mercy, those
ducks will attain human births in their next lives. We should know that a pure devotee like Çréla
Prabhupäda is not only merciful to human beings, but to all the other life forms as well.
It was at this time that Çréla Prabhupäda’s sannyäsa guru, Bhaktiprajïäna Keçava
Mahäräja, passed away. Çréla Prabhupäda wrote a letter of condolence and had all of us sign it.
Çréla Prabhupäda gave wonderful lectures in Seattle and Nara-näräyaëa built a little altar and a
vyäsäsana in Çréla Prabhupäda’s house. We installed Deities of Jagannätha, Baladeva, and
Subhadrä so that it became a very nice center in a good location.
During this time, Çréla Prabhupäda sent me and Upendra to Vancouver because he had
received a letter from a Gauòéya Math devotee living there who had a big house. He wrote that
he would like to sponsor Çréla Prabhupäda to come and give lectures. Upendra and I first went to
Vancouver to meet the man, and we found that he only wanted to talk about philosophy and had
no interest in kértana. We wrote to Çréla Prabhupäda, telling him that we thought it was not a
good idea to associate with this man.
Çréla Prabhupäda’s Godbrother, Bon Mahäräja, had been sent to London to preach in the
1930s and Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura had sent him the equivalent of $1000 a
month, because staying there was very expensive. Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Mahäräja
was anxious to know how the preaching was going on but Bon Mahäräja only sent him photos of
him playing the harmonium. There was no saìkértana, and no devotees were made, and so Bon
Mahäräja was called back. Çréla Prabhupäda sent three householder couples to London, and by
performing public saìkértana, they became highly successful and many devotees were made and
temples were established.
You can see how many times in Çréla Prabhupäda’s lectures and conversations he
mentioned how Lord Zetland had asked, “Can you make me a brähmaëa?” Bon Mahäräja had
replied, “Yes, if you agree to give up meat eating, illicit sex, all kinds of intoxication, and
gambling.” Lord Zetland had exclaimed, “Impossible!”
When Çréla Prabhupäda arrived in Boston after traveling on the Jaladuta for over a
month, he composed a poem wherein he expressed his doubts whether the American people,
whose lives were based upon these four pillars of sinful life, would hear him. It was Çréla
Prabhupäda’s incomparable accomplishment as an empowered representative of Lord Caitanya
that he converted, not one or two, but thousands to a life of devotion to Lord Kåñëa and the
renunciation of these four pillars of sinful life.

CHAPTER SIX: Managing My Father’s Business and Return to 61 Second

Avenue

While in Seattle, I received news that my father wanted me to take over the management
of his two factories now that he was getting old. I informed Çréla Prabhupäda of this, and he said
that I should take over the factories and use the profits for spreading Kåñëa consciousness. He
said, “I’m sending you back into the fire of material existence.” I asked, “Çréla Prabhupäda, I
just came out of that fire and you are sending me back?”
Çréla Prabhupäda must have had faith that I was determined to remain in his service and
never leave, even while being tempted by mäyä. I went back to New York, but it didn’t work out.
My father knew very well how I had dedicated my life to Çréla Prabhupäda. He tried to take me
away from Kåñëa consciousness in various ways. I went to his house for dinner, and since he
knew that I was a vegetarian, he secretly put meat in my soup. I knew what he had done, but I ate
it so that he would hand over his businesses to me.
On the weekends, I would go to the temple. Later, when Çréla Prabhupäda came to New
York, I explained to him that my father had given me meat and he said that I should tolerate it,
just as Prahläda had tolerated all the tortures administered by his father. I was staying in my own
apartment and late at night, someone knocked on my door. Some of my father’s factory workers
were glamorous Puerto Rican women. He sent one of them to my apartment for becoming my
intimate friend. She would knock on the door and say, “Your father has sent me to be with you.”
I said, “I’m a young man and my father is an old man. I think that he needs your services more
than me.”
Finally, I could understand that my father was not going to give me his businesses unless
I engaged in the illicit activities meat-eating, gambling, intoxication, and illicit sex. In my
apartment, I had a small altar, and when my father saw it, he became demoniac, saying, “Why
are you doing this nonsense?” At last Çréla Prabhupäda called me back to him, saying that I
should forget about my father and that he will be my father.” In this way Çréla Prabhupäda
officially became my father, and as a father, he taught me everything, material and spiritual.
During a room conversation in Våndävana on November 2, 1976, while talking about the
charges of brainwashing that were being made in America, Çréla Prabhupäda said that these
boys (his disciples) have taken to Vaiñëava principles, but their parents have tried to take them
back and induce them to eat meat and break the other regulative principles. They deny. I have
many disciples, they are coming from very rich family, rich father. So one of the fathers called
his son (Gargamuni däs) that “I am an old man, the business is dwindling, you come and take.”
So I told him that “You go. Why not take your father’s business and use it for Kåñëa?” So he
went, on my order. The father wanted him to eat meat. So he denied that “I cannot do that. I can
help in your business, but I cannot accept your way of life. That is not possible.” Then the father
saw, “Then he is lost, useless. If he’s not adopting our life.” So that was one father, now all the
fathers have combined that “Our children are now lost. They do not come home, what to speak
of adopting again our way of life.”

While I was in San Francisco, the New York temple moved to 61 Second Avenue
sometime during the winter of 1968. The new temple was just a few blocks up the street from 26
Second Avenue. 26 Second Avenue was between 1st Street and 2nd Street and 61 Second Avenue
was between 5th Street and 6th Street. The new temple had a nice floor that had hexagonal marble
chips. It was previously a tailor’s shop that catered to the Mafia. During the 1930s and 1940s, all
the big Mafia men would come there to have their suits made. It had a large room with mirrors
and wood paneling. There was an alcove that was used as a fitting room, and it was perfect for
Çréla Prabhupäda’s vyäsäsana.
Previously, we had acquired a Madana-mohana Deity, which was kept in Çréla
Prabhupäda’s closet. Çréla Prabhupäda displayed that Deity in the new temple. There is a video
made by Dämodara Prabhu that shows this temple very nicely.
After the fiasco of trying to manage my father’s businesses, which lasted about a month
and a half, I moved into the temple at 61 Second Avenue in January of 1969. At that time, Åñi
Kumära was the treasurer, and he was doing a good job. To get to the temple room, you had to
walk up a flight of stairs. The entrance had a big window and the temple was three times the size
of the one at 26 Second Avenue so that it could seat fifty people. We kept Çréla Prabhupäda’s
apartment because it was just three blocks away, at most a ten minute walk to the new temple.
The new temple also had a much bigger kitchen. I set up a store at the temple entrance so that
whoever came would have to pass by the store first. This helped with the sale of books,
magazines, and paraphernalia. I named the shop “The Spiritual Sky Gift Shop” and Çréla
Prabhupäda appreciated this name in one of his letters.
After a few months, I went to see Çréla Prabhupäda in San Francisco for a few days. In
Mayapur, in 1975, Çréla Prabhupäda recited the first 34 verses of Çrémad-Bhägavatam Canto 1
Chapter 2 and explained their meanings. At the end, devotees asked questions and I also asked a
very important question.
Gargamuni: Well, how can we begin to serve you so that you’ll be pleased?
Prabhupäda: (laughs) That I shall tell you later on. (laughter) Do you think I am not
pleased?
 Gargamuni: I don’t know.
Prabhupäda: Oh, you must know it. How can you say that I am not pleased? How you
know it that I am not pleased?
Gargamuni: Well, we cause you so much anxiety and everything.
Prabhupäda: Huh?
Gargamuni: We cause you so much anxiety due to our faults.
Prabhupäda: Therefore I am pleased with you. Why I have given up all my anxieties of
the sons and daughters who is born from my body, and why I am taking anxieties for you? That
means I am pleased with you.

After Çréla Prabhupäda suffered a heart attack in June 1967, he returned to India for
Ayurvedic treatment. Kértanänanda had accompanied Çréla Prabhupäda and had been awarded
the renounced order of life in Våndävana. When he wanted to return to America, Çréla
Prabhupäda asked him to stop in London, and he gave him someone’s name and address that
could help him establish a center. However, Kértanänanda didn’t stop in London, and after
returning to New York, he began causing a disturbance by telling the devotees that it was not
good to wear tilaka, shave their heads, keep a çikhä, and wear Indian-style clothing. In addition,
he preached a lot of nonsense and said that Çréla Prabhupäda was not going to return to America.
But Çréla Prabhupäda had written to us, saying that he would surely return, and when he heard
of Kértanänanda’s nonsense, he ordered that Kértanänanda not be allowed to preach in any
ISKCON center.
Kértanänanda and Hayagréva then bought some land in the hills of West Virginia, hoping
to start their own spiritual movement, and they named it New Våndävana. That was their name,
and it was not given by Çréla Prabhupäda. When Kértanänanda and Hayagréva found that no one
wanted to come and help them because Çréla Prabhupäda had forbidden his disciple to go to
New Våndävana, they came back to ISKCON. Being a pure devotee, Çréla Prabhupäda accepted
them, and when they invited him to visit New Våndävana, I drove Çréla Prabhupäda there from
New York in September 1968. I rented a small car, a Volkswagen, because it was cheap. When
we arrived, the car couldn’t make it up the bumpy dirt trail and so Çréla Prabhupäda had to walk
the two miles to the property. Hayagréva and Kértanänanda surrendered to Çréla Prabhupäda,
who then requested them to develop New Våndävana, saying that he would assist them with
manpower, but not money. At that time there was no electricity. Çréla Prabhupäda asked them to
put the land in the name of ISKCON, but they never did. Çréla Prabhupäda stayed at New
Våndävana for two days and then returned to New York.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Spiritual Sky Incense. Los Angeles, ISKCON World

Headquarters

I wanted to manufacture and sell incense and so Brahmänanda and I came up with the
name Spiritual Sky, and the motto: “Krishna Makes the Best Scents (Sense).” I began making
stick incense and resin incense in the basement of the 61 Second Avenue temple. The only
problem was that there were big rats that would sometimes come and smell my feet. I was
always afraid that they would bite me.
 I had met a 90-year-old Russian Eastern European man who made frankincense, which
was burned in the churches. He had varieties of fragrant resins and I bought these. When you put
these resins on self-igniting charcoals, they create a wonderfully fragrant atmosphere. I sold the
incense to stores, and because this was before daily saìkértana, it became the main income for
the temple.
That was the start of Spiritual Sky, and it was a one man show. Then I was invited by
Tamäla Kåñëa to come to Los Angeles. He was now the president of the temple on La Cienega
Boulevard, which had formerly been a large Mexican church. There was a lot of space and there
were 75 devotees so that some of them could help me. After receiving Çréla Prabhupäda’s
permission, I went to Los Angeles in July 1969. In New York there was really no dress code, and
it was only when I went to Los Angeles that I shaved up for the first time. Çréla Prabhupäda
never told me that I had to shave my head, although I did cut my hair shorter. Çréla Prabhupäda
wasn’t in Los Angeles at that time, but since everyone else had a shaved head, I also shaved
mine so that I wouldn’t look out of place.

Çréla Prabhupäda returned from India in December 1967, and after spending some time
in San Francisco and Los Angeles, he went to Montreal to get permanent residence in America.
Rupänuga had a Volkswagen bus and I drove to Montreal with him to give a report to Çréla
Prabhupäda, but I only stayed a few days. The car broke down on the way, but somehow we
made it. The temple had formerly been a bowling alley, and it was being remodeled. While
dancing in kértana, I sprained my ankle on one of the gutters.
Previously, Brahmänanda had gone to lawyers to get Çréla Prabhupäda permanent
residency in America, but nothing came of it. The lawyers simply took money. Because India
and Canada are both Commonwealth nations, Çréla Prabhupäda got permanent residency in
Canada without difficulty. Then, when he went to the US embassy to ask for permanent
residency, they gave it to him because he was already a permanent resident of Canada. Çréla
Prabhupäda somewhat humorously asked Brahmänanda to give him back the money wasted on
lawyers in New York because in Canada, he got permanent residency for nothing.

I sometimes cooked for Çréla Prabhupäda while staying at the temple on La Cienega
Boulevard. Perhaps I cooked for Çréla Prabhupäda when the regular cook was sick, and he
taught me how to make perfect chapatis. My chapatis were so good that Çréla Prabhupäda ate
many. In those days, there were no Indian grocery stores selling chapati atta and so we had to
buy whole wheat flour. There is husk in whole wheat flour and so it must be sifted so that only
the fine powder remains to be used. Çréla Prabhupäda taught us to never waste anything and so
the husk was added to the subji.
Çréla Prabhupäda taught me to start early in the morning, making the dough and
kneading it for a long time. Then the dough should be covered with a damp cloth for two hours
so that it naturally rises from the moisture. When the dough is properly made, if you press it with
your finger, it will naturally return to its original shape. Çréla Prabhupäda taught me that. Then,
when you cook the chapatis, they will naturally puff up and be soft. In fact, the chapatis I made
were so soft that you didn’t have to chew them—you could just swallow them.
 Let me tell you how we served Çréla Prabhupäda. He had a little bell in his room and
when he wanted his servant, he rang it. Tamäla Kåñëa rolled the chapatis and I cooked them.
Çréla Prabhupäda rang the bell and so Tamäla brought him a chapati and returned. Then we
heard the bell again. Again and again we brought Çréla Prabhupäda a chapati. Just see how Çréla
Prabhupäda loved those chapatis; he ate more than twenty-two of them! Çréla Prabhupäda told
us that he had learned to cook by watching his mother, and I learned to cook by watching him at
26 Second Avenue in 1966.

Näräyaëa Mahäräja had sent small brass Rädhä-Kåñëa Deities to Çréla Prabhupäda,
which he carried with him while traveling. When he brought Them to Los Angeles, he
inaugurated a new function by having the Deities act as vijaya-vigraha. In temples, the large
Deities are never moved, but the small vijaya-vigraha Deities can go out of the temple in
procession. Nara-näräyaëa built a palanquin with the help of four other devotees and we took the
Deities on a walk around the neighborhood. Devotees knocked on all the neighbors’ doors but
most of the people simply slammed the door in our faces when they saw us. We would invite the
neighbors to come to the Sunday feast, and a few actually came. At that time, the former church
was kept as a church with an organ.
Initially, Çréla Prabhupäda had no intention of installing Radha-Kåñëa Deities in the
temples in America. His spiritual master had told him that Westerners should worship Lord
Jagannätha instead. Rädhä-Kåñëa worship is very strict, whereas Lord Jagannätha is worshiped
even by fish eaters in Puri. They don’t offer fish to the Deity of Lord Jagannätha, but they mix
fish with the Jagannätha prasädam. Çréla Prabhupäda told us that all of the püjärés do that. He
said, “That is why they have lost their intelligence and cannot discriminate who is a Vaiñëava
and who is not.” Çréla Prabhupäda was referring to how his Western disciples were not allowed
to enter the Jagannätha Temple in Puri. Çréla Prabhupäda explained that when you eat a dog, you
are only responsible for eating a dog, but since a fish eats anything and everything, when you eat
a fish, you are eating hundreds of varieties of flesh. Fish even eat human flesh if a dead body is
thrown in the river or ocean.
Later, when hundreds of devotees were living in the big temples, Çréla Prabhupäda
installed Rädhä-Kåñëa Deities because there was enough money for flowers and food offerings,
and there were many women who could sew clothes and engage in the Deity worship. Deity
worship was an excellent way of engaging numerous people throughout the entire day. Only
when a temple had at least ten brähmaëas to perform the Deity worship would Çréla Prabhupäda
install Rädhä-Kåñëa Deities. That is why the first installed Deities were the Deities of Lord
Jagannätha, Subhadrä, and Balaräma in San Francisco.

Soon I was mass producing Spiritual Sky incense, and this greatly increased the
distribution of Back to Godhead. The chanting parties had been going out and devotees had tried
to distribute Back to Godhead as people walked by, but most people would walk by the
saìkértana party and not stop to look at the magazine. I remember how one of the Back to
Godheads had a picture of four-handed Lord Visnu, and the American passers-by would think it
was a picture of a four-armed lady and wonder, “What is this?”
 The devotees began putting a pack of incense on top of the magazine while handing them
out, and because the pack had a little hole, it emanated a nice fragrance. When devotees handed
people the magazine, they were attracted to the fragrance and this gave them an incentive to buy
the magazine. They were actually buying the incense and getting the magazine for free. The best-
selling packs of incense were the fruit fragrances—strawberry, cherry, pineapple, coconut,
orange, and tangerine. I bought the sticks from a Chinese man; there were 10,000 sticks in a big
box for $20 or $30. I asked the Chinaman, “What are these sticks made from?” He told me that
they were made from pigs’ dung. They were called punks and were used to light fireworks. I told
this to Çréla Prabhupäda and he said that it was all right.
I would dip the sticks in big beakers of essential oils that I bought from the biggest
essential oil company in America. I purchased sandalwood oil, almond oil, and fruit oils, and dip
the sticks in them. Then I would spread the sticks out on 20-30 foot long tables, and keep them in
the sun to dry. Every morning there would be 50-60 devotees packaging the dried incense while
listening to tapes of Çréla Prabhupäda’s classes and kértanas. I made the incense all by myself,
but the packaging was done by others.

There is proof that even a crazy fellow can be recified simply by chanting the holy names
of the Lord and honoring prasädam. While I was making incense in Los Angeles, a boy came to
the temple who approached the devotees and talked all kinds of nonsense in their faces. This was
a disturbance. Devotees would be chanting and he would walk up to them and talk in a crazy
manner. He was on some kind of drug and after he had come for a few days, I asked Çréla
Prabhupäda what I should do. Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Put him in a room and have him
continually chant the Hare Kåñëa mantra, and give him plenty of prasädam. Don’t let him go
with the other devotees on saìkértana. Watch him carefully.” I put the boy in a room near the
kitchen because I was packing my incense in the area just outside the kitchen. I also had him
pack incense, and if he would stop chanting, I would make him start again. When he was hungry,
I gave him a big plate of prasädam. After two or three days he became sane, and later on, he
took initiation. I’m talking about Jayatértha. So our process is to reform, and not to reject. We
are all in the prison house of the material world and for some the reformation may come quickly,
whereas for others it may take some time.

By giving incense with the magazine, our sales went up 20 times. Many people bought
more than a single pack, sometimes even ten. They would ask, “How much?” and we would
request a donation. In this way they would often give us ten or twenty dollars. The sale of Back
to Godhead quickly went up from 20,000 a month to 60,000 or 70,000. In Los Angeles we were
selling 30,000 or 40,000 magazines. In 1977, two million Back to Godheads were printed every
month.

When I first came to Los Angeles from New York, Tamäla Kåñëa was president of the
temple on La Cienega Boulevard, but when he left, I took over as president because I was the
oldest devotee. Everyone else was new. In that building there was no space for my office and so I
had to climb a ladder to where the church bell was located. There was a little space there which I
could utilize. After some time, I rented a room nearby. As president, I became overburdened by
others’ problems. There were thirty ladies and they all came to me with their problems. There
were separate living quarters for the men and women, but because they were coming from an
unregulated life of free mixing, there were always conflicts. Even while I was chanting in the
temple, devotees would walk up to me and talk about their problems. I couldn’t tell them not to
bother me because the last thing a temple president wants is for a devotee to complain to Çréla
Prabhupäda. I felt that I must satisfy all the devotees so that they don’t complain about me to
Çréla Prabhupäda.
There was never a complaint because I would always stop whatever I was doing and
pacify whoever approached me. Finally, I wrote a letter to Çréla Prabhupäda, saying that my
mind was disturbed because there were so many problems that only I could deal with. Çréla
Prabhupäda replied from London on October 29, 1969.
“My Dear Gargamuni,
“Please accept my blessings. I beg to acknowledge receipt of your letters dated October
17, and October 24, 1969 and have noted the contents carefully. I am glad that you have
deposited $2,000 in my savings account. Regarding your business and spiritual practices, I give
you special permission as follows: You find out of 24 hours at least one hour conveniently for
chanting Hare Krishna with great attention, either by the Deities or any place, without being
disturbed by anyone else. So you have 23 hours for other things. Now these 23 hours, whatever
you do in them, either eating or working or sleeping, you always try to think of Krishna. That
will keep you intact of Krishna Consciousness. If one is always careful about falling down and
prays to Krishna that he may not fall down on account of greater strength of Maya, then Krishna
will give him special protection. This was advised to Arjuna by Krishna Himself. Arjuna was a
great fighter, statesman, and at the same time a great devotee. A statesman and military
commander has very little time to perform the routine work of devotional service, but Krishna
advised him especially to be engaged in his occupational duty, and at the same time always be
thinking of Krishna. This is the secret of not being a victim of Maya.”

Just see how I was the only devotee who Çréla Prabhupäda authorized to chant less than
16 rounds a day. He wrote that I must arrange for one hour to chant without disturbance. How
many rounds can you chant in one hour? Not so many.
For me, the highest service I could perform was to put money into Çréla Prabhupäda’s
book fund. While in London, on November 11, 1969, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote me a letter
appreciating my service.
“My Dear Gargamuni,
Please accept my blessings. I beg to acknowledge receipt of your letter dated November
6, 1969, and I thank you very much for your bank deposit receipt. Practically you are the only
hope who is filling up the gap in my Book Fund deposit account. Recently I have issued one
check for $4,000 from my Book Fund to the Iskcon Press account. Out of that, you have already
fulfilled the amount of $2,500. So I thank you very much. Regarding your business, Krishna will
surely help you, and He is already helping you. We want to show the world that Krishna’s
service is not stereotyped, one-sided. Krishna can be served from any position, provided one is
willing to serve Him.”
 Once, while Çréla Prabhupäda was in London, I needed dental treatment for my wisdom
teeth. I wrote to Çréla Prabhupäda and he replied on December 15, 1969 that he was giving me
health insurance. He wrote: “I am so sorry to learn about your wisdom teeth affair. These
wisdom teeth are a good example of Maya's tribulations to us. In my younger days, by Krishna's
Grace I had no such trouble, but I saw in my eldest sister this suffering from the wisdom teeth
problem, and her gum was also operated upon. That I saw, and I saw how much she was
suffering also. This is the way of material existence. So Lord Krishna has advised in this
connection that we have to learn tolerance. Your example of dedicated life is very noble. You are
handling thousands of dollars for Krishna, but you ask your mother for helping your personal
needs. I very much appreciate this example, but it is my order that whenever you are in such
trouble, you should not minimize any expenditure. You must have the best kind of treatment
available, and you can spend from the money you are collecting on behalf of Krishna. Your
mother's assistance is welcome, and as a child you can very affectionately ask her for such
assistance. But in case of denial or inability, you should not hesitate to spend from Krishna's
money. You can take it from me. By this contribution of your mother out of her affection, your
mother has benefited undoubtedly. She is already benefited to have two such nice sons, and she
will be more and more benefited. Not only your mother, but also your father and all family
members will be benefited by your dedication of life for Krishna's sake. Be rest assured. Krishna
Consciousness is so nice.”

At the end of the first year, the owner didn’t want to extend the lease of the La Cienega
Boulevard property and so I began looking for another church for sale. This was a time when
Americans were turning away from religion, and as a result, many churches were for sale. I
found churches that were merging their congregations so that two properties were available. I
informed Çréla Prabhupäda and first we went to see a church that was about two miles from the
present Watseka Avenue temple. The building was small, but there was much land. Çréla
Prabhupäda envisioned building a Vedic temple and so he really liked this property. Then we
went to see the other property. Both were almost the same price. The second property had four
joined buildings with many trees and much grass. Those trees have been cut and much of the
grass is now cement.
Çréla Prabhupäda preferred the first property, but I told him that since we had almost a
hundred devotees, the building was too small. The Watseka Avenue buildings had many
classrooms that could be made into rooms for the brahmacärénis, because there were many
ladies in the movement. Although Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to build a temple, he considered the
needs of the devotees and so finally chose to purchase the Watseka Avenue property.
To secure the property, we had to put $50,000 down. Çréla Prabhupäda offered to give
$20,000 from his book fund, but I said, “No, Çréla Prabhupäda. I cannot take anything from my
guru. My duty is to serve and not take.” He was pleased by this statement. It was the same when
I had started Spiritual Sky. Çréla Prabhupäda knew that I would always be successful in business
and so he offered to give me some money to start my incense business. I refused, but instead
borrowed $500 from my father, which I never paid back. It is because of this that my father took
me out of his will so that when he died, I got nothing.
 We needed a $50,000 down payment to secure the Watseka Avenue temple but I had only
saved $25,000 from the profits of Spiritual Sky and donations received on saìkértana. How did I
get the rest of the money? When I told Çréla Prabhupäda that I didn’t have enough money, he
told me to call the other temples and ask them to help. I told Çréla Prabhupäda that no one will
give me money, but he insisted, saying, “No. They have to give you money.” I asked, “Why?”
Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Because you are Gargamoney. That’s why they have to give you
money.” I said, “Can I repeat what you have said?” Çréla Prabhupäda said, “Yes,” and so I
called Madhudviña in San Francisco and told him, “Çréla Prabhupäda said that my name is
Gargamoney and that you must give us some money so that we can purchase a new building in
Los Angeles.” Madhudviña gave me a loan of $15,000, which I gradually paid off by giving him
incense.
Çréla Prabhupäda had told me that I could only make a 25% profit selling incense and so
you can just imagine the amount of incense that I was selling at that time. Next, I called Boston,
but they were poor. I think they gave me $2,000. Then I called my brother in New York. He gave
me $3,000. Somehow or other I collected all the money for the down payment. After acquiring
the building, we had to build Çréla Prabhupäda’s quarters. We made Çréla Prabhupäda’s quarters
with four rooms. There was Çréla Prabhupäda’s bedroom and a room for him to translate. There
was also a room for Çréla Prabhupäda’s personal servant. Everything, including the bathroom,
cost $30,000. Originally, Çréla Prabhupäda had offered to give me $20,000, which I refused, but
to renovate the building and make nice quarters for Çréla Prabhupäda, I finally accepted
$11,000. It was a tremendous task to construct Çréla Prabhupäda’s quarters, and all the work was
done by the devotees. Çréla Prabhupäda was very pleased with his quarters and wrote in his
letters that these were the best facilities in all of ISKCON.
When the agreement for purchasing the property on Watseka Avenue was prepared, Çréla
Prabhupäda, myself, and Dayänanda, who had a job with IBM, signed as guarantors. We moved
in on April 1, 1970, and this became ISKCON’s world headquarters. Çréla Prabhupäda walked
through all the rooms and told us what each should be used for. What is now the temple room
with three altars was not the temple room chosen by Çréla Prabhupäda. He had a vision which
was not our vision. The main building had been a Methodist church and Çréla Prabhupäda
wanted mainstream Americans to come, keep their shoes on, and hear our Bhagavad-gétä
lectures and kértana. Because it had been a church, the room was filled with pews, and Çréla
Prabhupäda wanted us to keep them. His vyäsäsana was placed where the pulpit had been. Çréla
Prabhupäda said, “Don’t touch anything.” Viñëujana played the church organ while singing Jaya
Rädhä-Mädhava. Çréla Prabhupäda sometimes played the church organ—can you imagine that?
Çréla Prabhupäda knew that people were becoming disenchanted with their churches and so he
said, “Now I will enchant them with Kåñëa consciousness.” American people were inclined to
attend church services and so Çréla Prabhupäda thought, “Let them come to church and hear
Bhagavad-gétä and kértana.” Çréla Prabhupäda was thinking about mainstream Amerians, and
not hippies. Our vision was that everyone should come to the temple, shave up, and become
äçrama residents, but Çréla Prabhupäda’s vision was that people should remain in their positions
as lawyers, doctors, politicians, and so on, and practice Kåñëa consciousness at home.
Although Çréla Prabhupäda was actually doing everything, he would give us the credit.
During his lecture for the opening of the temple, while saying the prema-dvani, Çréla
Prabhupäda said, “All glories to Gargamuni.” He said that because I was instrumental in getting
the temple. He was giving me credit, but I now know that it was actually Çréla Prabhupäda who
had obtained the temple. Sometimes devotees forgot this and thought that they were working
independently; that they were the doers, but actually Çréla Prabhupäda was working through
them. It is just like how in the Bhagavad-gétä, Kåñëa said that He was actually killing the
enemy, but Arjuna could act as His instrument and get the credit. I became very emotional when
Çréla Prabhupäda said, “All glories to Gargamuni,” because at that time, I thought that I was the
doer, and not Çréla Prabhupäda. It was always wonderful to be with Çréla Prabhupäda because
we knew that he would never cheat us.
Los Angeles was the wealthiest temple at that time. One day, I bought three new vans and
two new cars. Çréla Prabhupäda had told me, “Never buy second hand. If you do, you will
always have trouble, and you will have to spend more and more money.”
I bought the vans and cars from a Jewish car dealer. By birth, I was also Jewish. He liked
us. We would go to Hollywood Boulevard and Sunset Strip to perform saìkértana because these
were the places where all the movie stars and tourists congregated. For this, we always got good
reports in the newspapers, and the car dealer said, “I love the way you guys sing and dance.” I
gave a down payment and gradually paid off the balance. One of the cars was for Çréla
Prabhupäda’s personal service. In the video of the 1970 Ratha-yäträ, you will see Çréla
Prabhupäda riding in a car decorated with a lotus flower symbol. I did many firsts in ISKCON,
and I bought Çréla Prabhupäda his first car.
I printed a handbook for new devotees at ISKCON press in Boston. It was a study guide
that had all the prayers, devotional principles, the 26 qualities of a pure devotee, and so on.
Whenever someone wanted to join a temple, they were given that book to study. On the cover
was a picture of the world headquarters on Watseka Avenue in Los Angeles. I oversaw the
activities of ISKCON on the West Coast, Brahmänanda on the East Coast, and Tamäla Kåñëa
was given charge of London, Paris, and Germany. The devotees gave us the nickname “BTG”
for Brahmänanda Tamäla Kåñëa Gargamuni.
After Guru däs, Çyämasundara, and Mukunda began preaching in London, they wrote six
or seven letters to Çréla Prabhupäda saying that they wanted Viñëujana to join them. But Çréla
Prabhupäda wrote back, saying that Viñëujana had to stay on the West Coast to train the
brahmacärés. At that time we had 30 new brahmacärés in Los Angeles. Viñëujana was
undecided, wondering whether he should go to London or stay, and so I convinced him to stay,
saying, “They are all meat eaters over there, and there are no sweets.” Viñëujana loved the
maha-prasädam sweets and so I saved them for him because he went on saìkértana ten hours a
day and needed a tremendous amount of energy.
Viñëujana would leave for saìkértana at 2:00 in the afternoon and come back at
midnight, or even two in the morning. On saìkértana, Viñëujana continued to be a Pied Piper so
that all the temple ladies practically fought with one another to go out with him each day.
Sometimes Çréla Prabhupäda secretly had me drive him to Hollywood Boulevard or Sunset Strip
to see the devotees performing saìkértana. Two o’clock in the morning was the best time for
distributing incense and Back to Godheads to get donations. Why? The people were intoxicated
after drinking in the clubs and when they wanted to give a $1 donation, they couldn’t see
properly and sometimes gave $100. Of course, we didn’t simply want to take their money. In
return we would give them packs of incense and whatever literature we had.
Sometimes we went a little too far, though. How was that? Sometimes the saìkértana
party went into bars and chanted while the people were drinking. The bartenders didn’t mind
because they considered our presence to be entertainment for the customers. The people would
give donations and we would give them incense and literature. Eventually, Çréla Prabhupäda
stopped the night saìkértana. Why? Because we weren’t getting up in the morning. If you go to
sleep at 2:30 or 3 in the morning, how can you get up at 4? In the beginning, there was no
maìgala-ärati or even guru-püjä, but gradually Çréla Prabhupäda introduced the morning
program that we are now accustomed to.
At that time, Stoka-kåñëa was the treasurer, and we were collecting thousands of dollars a
day. There were so many coins that we had devotees sitting on the floor and putting them into
wrappers.
In Los Angeles in 1970, Çréla Prabhupäda introduced many of the standard practices that
we take for granted today. The Deity worship was the best in the movement and Çréla
Prabhupäda set the standard for having three altars in the larger temples. We had Guru-Gauräìga,
Rädhä-Kåñëa, and Lord Jagannätha. In a video made in 1970 you can see how Çréla Prabhupäda
entered the temple after his morning walk, greeted the Deities, and then sang Jaya Rädhä-
mädhava to begin the Bhägavatam class. The guru-püjä was introduced later.
Çréla Prabhupäda called the Watseka Avenue temple in Los Angeles ISKCON’s World
Headquarters. He sent a newsletter to all the temple presidents in America, saying that they
should come to Los Angeles to see the best example of how temples should be managed. We
also established the standard by which the Sunday Love Feasts should be conducted.
Çréla Prabhupäda always stressed the importance of prasädam distribution as a means for
bringing people to Kåñëa consciousness. In a room conversation in New York on April 12, 1969,
devotees told Çréla Prabhupäda how it was the prasädam that had hooked them. It is also to be
noted how, in the beginning, Çréla Prabhupäda honored prasädam along with his disciples and
did not remain aloof.
Prabhupäda: Begin, begin. (eating) Yes. Gargamuni, you distribute this puré.
Gargamuni: Made some curry.
Prabhupäda: Everything hot.
Brahmänanda: Yes.
Prabhupäda: Before Kåñëa consciousness, was there any puré manufactured here? No.
(laughs)
Gargamuni: No. None of this.
Brahmänanda: When I first came to Kåñëa consciousness, I’d only been coming I think
maybe two days to Kåñëa consciousness, and then Mukunda had his wedding. Oh, that hooked
me. Nice wedding and nice feasting. I was hooked.
Räyaräma: That was the day after our initiations. They initiated the night before. We had
two days feasting.
Devotee: I came into San Francisco looking for a spiritual teacher and I came to
prasädam and I never left.
Gargamuni: I think that's what hooked all of us. (laughter)
 Prabhupäda: Prasäde sarva-duhkhänäà hanir asyopajäyate.

During the Los Angeles love feasts, devotees wouldn’t honor the feast along with the
guests, but would sit with them and make sure that they had sufficient prasädam, and of course
preach to them. We were the only temple doing that. In all the other temples, devotees would eat
along with the guests, but Çréla Prabhupäda wanted the guests to understand the value of what
they were eating. Çréla Prabhupäda said, “When one takes prasädam, he must know that we
don’t eat prasädam, we honor prasädam.”
For this reason, I don’t approve of the programs in India where they use hired cooks for
the distribution of prasädam at schools. They don’t explain the transcendental nature of
prasädam, and there is no chanting of the holy names of the Lord. It is done simply on the
mudane level of food distribution to the needy, as is done by the Ramakrishna Mission and
others.
In the beginning, only a few devotees wore dhotés. There is a conversation where Çréla
Prabhupäda said, “I never said that you had to wear a dhoté; you wanted to wear dhotés.” In the
beginning, Çréla Prabhupäda introduced the principles gradually so that Westerners could take
their time to come to the proper standard. Now, in Los Angeles, we were an organized
movement and so we needed to have a uniform to distinguish ourselves from others. On
saìkértana, we wore dhotés and särés so that everyone could see, “Oh, here are the Hare
Kåñëas.” Just by seeing us, they would think of, or even utter, the holy name of Kåñëa. Our
saìkértana parties became a familiar sight in the major cities of America so that Hare Kåñëa
became a household word.
Çréla Prabhupäda was the center of all our activities and I felt most fortunate to be taking
part in his transcendental pastimes. In Los Angeles, devotees became expert in making
innovative sweets. One of the favorites was call “Rädhä Red,” which was a raspberry chutney
which Çréla Prabhupäda enjoyed. We added cashews, almonds, and coconut to the Simply
Wonderfuls. Later, when I was the president of the Calcutta temple, I gave Çréla Prabhupäda
some chocolate sandeça from Ganguram’s sweet shop, and although he normally prohibited us
from eating chocolate, he liked it very much. I always did things out of the ordinary.
Çréla Prabhupäda affectionately called me Gargamoney, not because I had a lot of
money, but because I managed Kåñëa’s money very nicely. I was the temple president in Los
Angeles, I managed Spiritual Sky, and I also managed Çréla Prabhupäda’s Book Fund. In a letter
to Çyämasundara in 1970, Çréla Prabhupäda said that Los Angeles was the best managed temple
in ISKCON.
Later on, I used the profits from Spiritual Sky to open temples in Santa Barbara, Denver,
and San Diego. I would send five or six devotees with incense, paintings, and some money and
tell them to go start a temple. All they had to do was find a storefront and begin preaching. From
Los Angeles, many new temples were opened.
George Harrison donated $19,000 for printing KÅÑËA Book, but the manuscript wasn’t
ready and we were constructing Srila Prabhupäda’s quarters at the new Watseka Avenue temple.
It cost $30,000 to construct Çréla Prabhupäda’s quarters, and there was no plumbing or
bathroom, and while the work was going on, I told Çréla Prabhupäda that I could rent him a
house in Beverly Hills, which was where all the Hollywood actors lived. There were houses for
rent and today they would cost at least $10,000 a month. It was a peaceful place where Çréla
Prabhupäda could concentrate on his writing, although at that time he was getting up to 50 letters
a day. I didn’t depend on the saìkértana parties for the money to construct Çréla Prabhupäda’s
quarters because I was earning $5,000 a week by selling Spirtual Sky incense to the shops. I had
an elderly man go to all the shops in Los Angeles, supplying them incense, and he brought me
the money, which I used to construct Çréla Prabhupäda’s quarters.
In those days, devotees never received a salary like many do today. Bhakti means to
render service without expectation of gain. Why would we expect a salary? We were eating nice
prasädam cooked in ghee, and never oil, and all other living expenses were provided by the
Society.
In his preaching, Çréla Prabhupäda strongly discouraged his disciples from getting
entangled in gåhastha life, but most of us didn’t heed this advice, including me. Most of the
gåhasthas at that time were preachers, and the husband and wife lived separately in the temple.
They went out together on saìkértana, but mostly avoided the sense gratification that the
gåhastha-äçrama gives a license for.
I asked Çréla Prabhupäda, “Should I remarry?” Çréla Prabhupäda made a face expressing
his disproval and told me not to do so. This time I heeded Çréla Prabhupäda’s advice and didn’t
remarry.
It was at this time that the devotees in London made a record with George Harrison that
became number one on the charts in some European countries. The first recording was of the
Hare Kåñëa mantra and the second recording was Yamunä singing the Brahma-saàhitä prayers.
They sent a copy special delivery to Çréla Prabhupäda, but we didn’t have a record player. I
went to a pawn shop nearby and bought a second-hand record player and brought it to Çréla
Prabhupäda’s room. When we played the record of Yamunä singing the prayers of Brahma-
saàhitä, Çréla Prabhupäda immediately went into samädhi. I was in the temple room at that time,
but I could hear Çréla Prabhupäda playing the record over and over for about four hours. He was
in ecstasy listening to that record. He wrote a letter to the London devotees, saying, “This record
has given me so much pleasure that tears came to my eyes.”
Çréla Prabhupäda instructed all of the temples throughout the world to play the recording
of Yamunä singing the Brahma-saàhitä prayers every day as the curtains open for greeting the
Deities in the morning.
Çréla Prabhupäda was pleased that George Harrison was helping the devotees in London,
and that George had donated for the printing of the Kåñëa Book. Çréla Prabhupäda wrote a letter
to Çyämasundara giving hints of songs that George Harrison could record. In a letter to Guru
däs, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote: “In our Vaiñëava literature there are hundreds and thousands of
nice purportful songs, and if those songs, under George’s supervision, are recorded, I think it will
bring a great revolution in the record making business.”
Çréla Prabhupäda didn’t initiate George Harrison, because he was not sure that he could
follow the four regulative principles, and so instead, he gave him the title “Son of Hari” as the
true meaning of his name, Harrison. Çréla Prabhupäda was supremely intelligent, and his use of
the English language was incomparable. He gave us the words “Supreme Personality of
Godhead” when we thought that God must be an old man sitting on His throne in heaven, angry
with us for our disobedience. We could hardly image that God played a flute and danced with the
gopés.
I bought Çréla Prabhupäda a car, which he used for going on his morning walks. After
walking, he would arrive back at the temple in time for greeting the Deities. As Çréla
Prabhupäda was arriving, the devotees would line up by the side of the walkway, the men on one
side and the ladies on the other. We had a basket of flowers ready for Çréla Prabhupäda to
distribute to the devotees. There are so many flowers in Los Angeles because of the climate, and
on our street there were magnolia trees. Magnolia flowers are very big, about five inches in
diameter, and wonderfully fragrant so that you become intoxicated by smelling them.
There is a video where you can see the devotees respectfully kneeling by the sidewalk
and Çréla Prabhupäda, holding a basket of flowers, giving one to each. When the basket was
empty, devotees put their flowers back in the basket so that everyone could get a flower. As far
as I know, this was the only temple where such a flower pastime was observed.
One day, I entered Çréla Prabhupäda’s room while he was chanting japa. On his altar he
had a picture of Rädhä-Kåñëa appearing as one and yet distinct. I offered my obeisances and
then he pointed to that picture and said, “This picture is very pleasing to me.” If you examine the
picture, you cannot clearly distinguish two separate bodies. Although They are one, They are
manifested as two separate identities. This exemplifies Lord Caitanya’s philosophy of acintya-
bhedäbheda-tattva; simultaneous oneness and difference. During a lecture on Çrémad-
Bhägavatam given in Våndävana on October 5, 1976, Çréla Prabhupäda talked about this
picture.
Çréla Prabhupäda: The wife is considered ardhäìginé. I think in English also it is said,
“better half.” Wife is considered half of the body. Perhaps you have seen the picture of Kåñëa
and Rädhäräëé, one body. The left-hand side is Rädhäräëé and the right-hand side is Kåñëa.
Çréla Jéva Gosvämé has explained this, rädhä kåñëa-praëaya-vikåtir hlädiné-çaktir asmäd
ekätmänäv api. Rädhä and Kåñëa are one, but for pastimes They have become two. Ekätmänäv
api bhuvi purä deha-bhedaà gatau tau. Again Rädhä-Kåñëa are united, caitanyäkhyaà
prakaöam adhunä tad-dvayaà caikyam äptam. So these things are there.

Rädhä and Kåñëa again being united refers to Çré Caitanya Mahäprabhu. In this lecture,
Çréla Prabhupäda referred to the picture that he always kept with him while traveling. It is not
that the picture was just in his room in Los Angeles. Çréla Prabhupäda kept this picture in a
small white bag in which he kept his personal belongings while traveling. He was adamant that
only he would carry that bag, and no one else. No one even dared touch it.

While Çréla Prabhupäda was staying in Los Angeles in 1970, he became increasingly
aware of a conspiracy to minimize his position as Founder-äcärya of ISKCON. I will try to relate
as best I can the history of this conspiracy. Acyutänanda had gone to India to escape the draft,
and had stayed with some of Çréla Prabhupäda’s Godbrothers. They were also initiating spiritual
masters, and it was later on proven that they were envious of Çréla Prabhupäda’s success. Their
poison was administered to Acyutänanda, who then wrote letters to Brahmänanda and others in
such a way that undermined Çréla Prabhupäda’s authority. The gist of these letters was that Çréla
Prabhupäda wasn’t the only äcärya; there were others who were perhaps even more elevated.
During the manifest presence of Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura, Çréla Prabhupäda
was a gåhastha and so the leading Godbrothers, who were all sannyäsés, felt themselves to be
more important.
Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura had said that he was departing early because he
saw that he was only making neophyte devotees. A neophyte devotee sees everything from his
limited, materialistic perspective, tinged by enviousness. But Çréla Prabhupäda was not an
ordinary devotee, or even an ordinary spiritual master. In the room conversation of June 17, 1977
in Våndävana, Çréla Prabhupäda described how his spiritual master knew from the first meeting
that he would be the one to spread Kåñëa consciousness all over the world, without the
assistance of his godbrothers.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Your Guru Mahäräja had many disciples. Like you, he was very merciful.
You have so many disciples, we have lost count.
Prabhupäda: I have disciples all over the world. They (the disciples of Çréla
Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté) have got (devotees) especially in Bengal.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Your Guru Mahäräja knew that you would do this, Çréla Prabhupäda.
Prabhupäda: Hm. He foretold.
Tamäla Kåñëa: “Time will come he will do.”
Prabhupäda: That time I could not understand.
Tamäla Kåñëa: But he knew.
Prabhupäda: And in my horoscope there was written, “After seventieth year this man will
go outside India and establish many temples.”
Tamäla Kåñëa: Really?
Prabhupäda: I could not understand. "What is this; that I have to go outside India?” And
Guru Mahäräja foretold this. He told my Godbrothers, Çrédhara Mahäräja and others, that “He’ll
do the needful when the time comes. Nobody requires to help him.” He told that in 1935. And
after all, this was true. Guru Mahäräja told this. And in the beginning, first sight, he told, “You
have to do this.”
Tamäla Kåñëa: No one helped you. That's a fact. You asked Tértha Mahäräja for some
help, but he didn’t help at all. He wouldn’t even give a little place (in Mayapur).
Prabhupäda: Nobody. Everyone admits this.

CHAPTER EIGHT: The Conspiracy. Four Sannyäsés. 1970 New

Våndävana Janmäñöamé and Vyäsa-püjä.

The conspiracy had begun in Mayapur, where some of his godbrothers objected to him
accepting the title of “Prabhupäda”. Beginning in 1967, Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to acquire land
in Mayapur, and he gave this assignment to Acyutänanda. However, Çréla Prabhupäda’s envious
godbrothers did not want him to have land in Mayapur because they knew that the public would
be attracted by his foreign disciples and thus neglect their temples. They did very little preaching
and depended on the donations of pilgrims.
There was a godbrother who would visit Çréla Prabhupäda in Mayapur, but he mostly
talked about politics and so Çréla Prabhupäda didn’t like his association. Still, he would meet
with him just to be polite. Later it was learned that this man was working against Çréla
Prabhupäda behind his back. He sent a letter to Indira Gandhi and other politicians, saying that
we were fomenting communal unrest among the Muslims. None of Çréla Prabhupäda’s
godbrothers wanted him to be there, and so for four years they did all they could to stop him
from getting land. They employed tantrics to make Çréla Prabhupäda ill, and they threatened to
burn down anyone’s house who sold land to ISKCON. At that time, land was Rs. 600 a bhiga,
and we ended up paying Rs. 1,800 a bhiga because only in that way would the Muslims be
willing to take the risk of retaliation. How much is land today?
Later on, being instigated by Çréla Prabhupäda’s godbrothers, Naxalites formed a mob
and attacked our temple in Mayapur, forcing Bhavänanda to shoot his shotgun to disperse them.
That is a long story and Çréla Prabhupäda said that had he been in Mayapur at that time, the
government would certainly have arrested him. Çréla Prabhupäda called himself a one-man army
fighting against his godbrothers, against the Mäyävädés, and against the government people who
were spreading rumors that we were CIA agents. You would naturally think that Çréla
Prabhupäda’s enemies would be in the West, but his enemies were in India, where the culture he
was preaching had originated. Just see how fallen India’s leaders and holy men had become!
They were envious of Çréla Prabhupäda’s successes in preaching all over the world.
While Çréla Prabhupäda remained at the Los Angeles temple in 1970, The Nectar of
Devotion came from ISKCON Press in Boston, and when he opened the book, the binding broke
so much that the pages fell out. On the cover of a small book containing a chapter of the Second
Canto of Çrémad-Bhägavatam, Çréla Prabhupäda’s name was printed as merely “A. C.
Bhaktivedanta Swami,” omitting “His Divine Grace,” “Prabhupäda,” and “Founder-äcärya of the
International Society for Kåñëa Consciousness.” On ISKCON letterhead, Çréla Prabhupäda’s
name was always presented as His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedänta Swami Prabhupäda,
Founder-äcärya of the International Society for Kåñëa Consciousness.
Previously, Çréla Prabhupäda’s title was printed as “Äcärya.” But an äcärya can be
replaced by a successor, as was done in the Gauòéya Maöha. But a “Founder- Äcärya” can never
be replaced and so in the mid-70s Çréla Prabhupäda issued a statement that henceforward, on all
legal documents, his title should be given as “Founder- Äcärya.”
One day, when Çréla Prabhupäda returned from his morning walk and entered his room,
he saw that the person who had cleaned it had placed the picture of his spiritual master upside
down. Then another day, someone put salt in the caraëämåta instead of sugar. Çréla Prabhupäda
also learned that some of his mail was being withheld. In London, some devotees had allowed a
Mäyävädé to sit on Çréla Prabhupäda’s vyäsäsana to teach them Sanskrit. In India, Çréla
Prabhupäda’s godbrothers were attempting to steal his disciples, and in fact two of them wanted
to accept another spiritual master. All of these were symptoms of minimizing Çréla
Prabhupäda’s position as a bona fide äcärya.
During the 1970 San Francisco Ratha-yäträ, which was the first Ratha-yäträ with three
carts, Çréla Prabhupäda expected to sit on one of the carts but was told not to attend the
procession. Next to the temple were the “Diggers,” a social organization that was supported by
the Hells Angels, a notorious motorcycle gang that often got into heated arguments with the
devotees. They always took the temple’s parking spaces, and they distributed peanut butter and
jelly sandwiches while the devotees distributed sumptuous prasädam. They were envious of the
devotees, and Madhudviña, the temple president, had gotten word that they had threatened to
harm Çréla Prabhupäda during the Ratha-yäträ.
When we informed Çréla Prabhupäda that we didn’t want him to ride on one of the carts
because of the threat, he angrily said, “You stay here. I will go.” We considered Çréla
Prabhupäda to be a mere mortal, an elderly man who we must protect, and not an empowered
incarnation of the Lord and thus fully protected by Kåñëa. This was our defective thinking and
Çréla Prabhupäda saw this as another example of the conspiracy to minimize his position.
I drove Çréla Prabhupäda to the Ratha-yäträ and when he got out of the car, he began
dancing in the midst of the kértana. There were devotees sitting on the carts while Çréla
Prabhupäda danced in the kértana. While thinking that they were protecting Çréla Prabhupäda,
some of the leading devotees were actually insulting him.
Three months prior to the Rathayäträ, under Çréla Prabhupäda’s direction, a grand
Janmastami celebration was being arranged and Kértanänanda Swami was instructed to invite the
local dignitaries for sumptuous prasadam. Çréla Prabhupäda had wanted to attend the festival,
but Kértanänanda told him that this was not necessary and so should cancel his trip, giving no
specific reason. Çréla Prabhupäda understood this to be part of the conspiracy to minimize his
position as äcärya.
We were committing offenses by forbidding Çréla Prabhupäda to ride on the ratha and to
attend the Janmäñöamé celebration at New Våndävana. In various ways, Çréla Prabhupäda saw
abundant evidence of a conspiracy, and one day, while coming down from his room for his
morning walk, he said, “Brahmänanda Swami, you will now be Tridaëòi Swami Brahmänanda
Swami.” So many devotees were present. Brahmänanda was shocked and I was confused. I
asked Çréla Prabhupäda what I should do and he said, “You have a choice. You can remain here
as temple president or you can also take sannyäsa.”
I had to think about this. I thought, “This must be a reward and not a punishment, because
Çréla Prabhupäda had said that he never punishes his disciples. I followed my brother into Kåñëa
consciousness and so I think that it is my duty to follow him into his sannyäsa.”
Thus it came to be that four of us were awarded sannyäsa—Brahmänanda, Viñëujana,
Subala, and myself. This was in May or June. Thereafter, Çréla Prabhupäda went to Tokyo to
arrange for Dai Nippon to print Back to Godhead and some of his books.
There are four stages of sannyäsa—kuöécaka, bahüdaka, parivräjakäcärya, and
paramahaàsa. When Çréla Prabhupäda awarded a disciple sannyäsa, that person was supposed
to be immediately on the platform of parivräjakäcärya, which means traveling and preaching.
Sannyäsés should remain as parivräjakäcärya, and not try to jump to the highest platform of
paramahaàsa with a desire for adoration and distinction.
We four new sannyäsés went to Boston, where we performed saìkértana with the temple
devotees. While traveling, we each carried a book. Brahmänanda carried the Bhagavad-gétä, I
had the Nectar of Devotion, someone else carried the Kåñëa books, and the other one had Çré
Éçopaniñad.
We were invited to attend the Janmäñöamé and Vyäsa-püjä celebrations at New
Våndävana in 1970, and while there we created a huge controversy. Because we felt that we had
minimized Çréla Prabhupäda’s position, as a reaction we strongly emphasized the various
statements of çästra that the spiritual master is the external manifestation of Kåñëa and non-
different from Him. Brahmänanda, under the influence of his previous Mäyäväda understanding,
was more aggressive, simply declaring that Çréla Prabhupäda was God without understanding
the nuances of the statements found in çästra. I didn’t like how Brahmänanda was speaking so
brashly, and neither did Subala or Viñëujana.
To counteract the previous minimization of Çréla Prabhupäda that originally came from
his godbrothers in Mayapur, we preached that Çréla Prabhupäda was not a mere human being,
but was God. Unfortunately, we were immature and didn’t understand the precise nature of his
position. We should have understood that Çréla Prabhupäda was not Kåñëa, the Supreme
Personality of Godhead, but that he was an empowered incarnation, çaktyäveça-avatära; a
position which he acknowledged on occasion.
From a room conversation on August 21, 1976 in Hyderabad.
Prabhupäda: Yes. Even my teachers were attracted in school days.
Jayapatäkä: Recently some professor said that you are the veritable incarnation of
Vyäsadeva for Lord Caitanya.
Prabhupäda: Yes. Some have said like that.
Gargamuni: At least from the human standpoint, it is not humanly possible to have so
many books (150 books including the audiobooks in a span of ten years) in such a short time.
There is no other author, at least that we know of, except for Vyäsadeva.
Jayapatäkä: I showed your “As Brilliant as the Sun” (video) to Tarun Kanti Ghosh and
one other minister, and when they saw that, all they could say was how Prabhupäda is
empowered by Lord Gauräìga.
Prabhupäda: They said like that?
Jayapatäkä: Yes.

Besides declaring that Çréla Prabhupäda was God, Brahmänanda announced that Çréla
Prabhupäda had left ISKCON. I feel very emotional while talking about this. Actually, it should
not be discussed, and Brahmänanda should never have said this in New Våndävana. Three of us
were with Çréla Prabhupäda in his garden in Los Angeles—Brahmänanda, Devänanda, and
myself—when he said that he was going to leave the society because of the conspiracy and just
concentrate on writing books.
When the devotees in New Våndävana heard this, many of them cried because they had
dedicated their lives to Çréla Prabhupäda’s service and had no other shelter than him. I must say
that this was a terrible mistake committed by my brother, Brahmänanda. Although the
conversation is a fact, Brahmänanda never asked Çréla Prabhupäda if he should repeat it, and
thus he did so without authorization and the result was catastrophic. There was also a letter to the
GBC wherein Çréla Prabhupäda wrote that he wanted to retire to Våndävana and simply translate
his books. When news of this reached Çréla Prabhupäda, he emphatically denied that he had left
ISKCON.
In retrospect, I very well understand that we had acted on our own, without Çréla
Prabhupäda’s authorization or discussion. Whatever one does in Kåñëa consciousness should be
done under the direction of the spiritual master. A disciple should never think that he or she is
advanced enough to act independently. We never discussed with Çréla Prabhupäda what we
should say in New Våndävana. We just spoke what was on our minds according to our immature
understanding. That was another way of minimizing Çréla Prabhupäda’s authority, and at New
Våndävana we brought that to such a crescendo so that we made devotees cry instead of chant
and dance in ecstasy.
There were heated debates at New Våndävana and one result was that some devotees
branded me as a Mäyävädé. How is that possible? In 1968, my brother, Brahmänanda, came
under the influence of Mäyäväda philosophy in the association of Kértanänanda. Kértanänanda
had traveled with Çréla Prabhupäda to India in 1967 and was the first to be awarded the
sannyäsa order in India. However, as I previously explained, Çréla Prabhupäda had asked him to
stop in London on the way back to New York and gave him references that might help him start
a center. However, Kértanänanda didn’t stop in London but returned directly to New York while
Çréla Prabhupäda remained in India. Kértanänanda began preaching various kinds of deviations,
as well as veiled impersonalism, and somehow Brahmänanda came under his influence. It was I
who saved my brother and brought him back to the right path, as evidenced by this letter from
Çréla Prabhupäda dated October 19, 1967, which he wrote from Calcutta.
“My Dear Gargamuni,
“Please accept my blessings. I was very glad to receive your letter dated Oct. 13. I
congratulate you for your successful dealing with your good brother, Sriman Brahmänanda,
against His falling back a prey to Kértanänanda's recent propaganda. To save a man from
impersonal calamity is the greatest service to humanity. I also thank Rüpänuga & Räyaräma for
helping you in your very laudable action. Brahmänanda is very pure at heart. He might have been
misled by Kértanänanda for the time being but Krishna did not allow him to fall back. . . I do not
believe that Kértanänanda has gone to such an extent of ailing situation but if he does not rectify
himself immediately his future is very dark. If he is sincere in his concept of impersonal
Absolute he should enter into correspondence with me & I shall refute all his arguments; but I
understand that he could not answer you even when you hit him with some questions. I shall
request that you save this poor creature from impersonal calamity.”
In a letter to Brahmänanda written the same day, Çréla Prabhupäda confirmed that I was
never an impersonalist: “I am very glad that you are trying to understand this philosophy and
there is nothing to be sorry about your being misled by Kértanänanda. It is not in his power to
mislead a sincere soul such as yourself; but I must congratulate Gargamuni, the simple boy, who
never believed in impersonalism. He is your younger brother as important as Lord Laksmana
was younger brother to Lord Rama. I am very glad that that this simple & honest boy has saved
you from calamity. I am praying to Krishna to bless you, your brother Gargamuni, Rupanuga etc.
for their eternal life in Krishna Consciousness. Hope you are well.”
As I had explained at the beginning, before he met Çréla Prabhupäda, Brahmänanda was
attending the classes of Swami Nikhilänanda at the Ramakrishna Mission and had read their
books. In this way, my brother was steeped in impersonalism before meeting Çréla Prabhupäda.
I have described some of the external indications of a conspiracy to minimize Çréla
Prabhupäda’s position of absolute authority over ISKCON, but in this room conversation of June
17, 1977 in Våndävana, Çréla Prabhupäda explains the situation’s internal meaning.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Actually, when you intended to go to America, everyone was advising,
“Better not go. It is too dangerous for someone of your age. Do not go.” Someone even said that
you may not come back.
 Prabhupäda: I thought all this. I went to USA not to come back. I left here hopeless. I did
not want to come back. I went with determination that “If I do this job, I will survive.” So Kåñëa
helped me. I never desired to come back. . . You all helped, so I called you: “I want to return
back. There are so many secretaries (conspiracies).”
Tamäla Kåñëa: Yeah, you called me from France.
Prabhupäda: That “I want to go back. There is some conspiracy.”
Tamäla Kåñëa: You said, “Take me out of here. It has become like fire.” I remember.
August 1970, it was, Çréla Prabhupäda.
Prabhupäda: It was hint already that “I want to go back.”
Tamäla Kåñëa: Actually at that time we were massaging your heart and reading Kåñëa
book. And you developed a very bad cough.
Prabhupäda: I do not wish to recall that. It was intolerable. . . Otherwise I did not like to
come back. I would have stayed. I made my headquarters in Los Angeles. And they made a
conspiracy against me. That’s all.
Tamäla Kåñëa: I never understood that.
Prabhupäda: Otherwise I made it my own story? (pause)
Tamäla Kåñëa: Well, whatever the reason, by your coming here it was wonderful also.
Prabhupäda: That means Kåñëa desired. Otherwise I had no plan to come back here. . .
Therefore I took this permanent residency.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Do you regret having come back to India?
Prabhupäda: No, it is well. My plan was like that, but Kåñëa’s plan was different. When I
was coming back, I was speaking to Dvärakädhéça (The Deities in Los Angeles are Çré
Rukmiëé-Dvärakädéña), “I do not know. I came here to live. Why You are driving me away?”
While leaving Los Angeles I was not happy. But He had this plan.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Pretty nice plan.
Prabhupäda: Kåñëa wanted that “You left Våndävana. I'll give you better place in
Våndävana. (chuckles) You were retired in Våndävana. I obliged you to leave. Now you come
back. I’ll give you better place.” So He has given a temple hundred times better than Los
Angeles (Çré Kåñëa-Balaräma Temple, ISKCON Våndävana). Is it not?
Tamäla Kåñëa: There's nothing comparable in the three worlds.
Prabhupäda: Hm. So it is always by His desire.

CHAPTER NINE: Wandering Parivräjakäcäryas

After the New Våndävana episode, Çréla Prabhupäda instructed us four sannyäsés to go
out and preach, to open centers, and to make new devotees. From New Våndävana, we four
sannyäsés went to Detroit to preach. The University of Michigan at Ann Arbor had 30,000
students and we began our preaching there. There were some days when we had nothing to eat. I
remember how, one summer day, as we were sitting in the shade of a large tree, a little boy came
and gave us some milk and crackers. I guess somebody saw us sitting there and so had the boy
give us some food. In that way, Kåñëa provided.
One day, a student approached us who was interested and so we asked him to arrange a
program at his apartment. We had hardly eaten anything that day and so we told him that we
would cook a huge feast. He had gotten a $200 check for his maintenance from his father and so
I said, “Give me that check and I’ll buy all the food.” I spent it all on food and then cooked the
feast as I had learned by cooking for Çréla Prabhupäda.
At that program, I was the cook, Viñëujana performed kértana, and Brahmänanda
preached from the Bhagavad-gétä. That student later became Indradyumna Swami. He was the
first person that we brought to Kåñëa consciousness after leaving New Våndävana.
After some days, knowing that it would soon become cold, and since we had no fixed
residence, we decided to go to Miami. We didn’t have any money and so how would we get
there? We hitchhiked, which was a common practice in those days, but people were reluctant to
give us a ride because, after all, it appeared as if we were dressed in bed sheets and had perhaps
escaped from a mental hospital. And besides, there were four of us. Who was going to stop and
pick up four people? It was 2000 miles from Ann Arbor to Miami so there was no question of
walking all the way, although we did a lot of walking on the highways.
Finally, we devised a plan. Viñëujana would stand by the side of the road while we hid in
the bushes. Then, when a car stopped, we would come out of hiding. Many times when the
person saw us coming, they would simply drive away, but sometimes it worked and we got rides.
Many of the people that picked us up were Vietnam veterans. They had seen Buddhist monks in
Vietnam and so they thought that we were also Buddhists. They would stop and say, “Come on.
We were in Vietnam and saw you people there.” They enjoyed our association. Somehow or
other, we finally arrived in Miami.
After arriving in Miami, we walked aimlessly for some time and then a police car
stopped. The policemen got out and asked, “Where are you going?” We said, “We are simply
walking.” The policeman said, “Don’t walk here. This is a crime-infested area where even we
don’t go. If you continue this way you will be robbed, or perhaps murdered.” We considered that
Kåñëa had sent someone to warn us that we were entering a ghetto with gangs of criminals and
drug dealers. Considering us to be hippies, the policeman advised us to go to Coconut Grove so
that we could mix with our kind of people.
Somehow we got to Coconut Grove. We were accustomed to sleeping outside because we
didn’t have any money; sometimes at a construction site, sometimes in a park, and sometimes in
cars that were unlocked. There was no temple in Coconut Grove (Miami) at that time, and
sometimes people would invite us to their houses. They never gave us money, but at least we got
some food. We came to Peacock Park and began chanting there. After some people congregated,
Viñëujana or Brahmänanda spoke. We told the people that we wanted to cook a feast and so, as
the days passed, people donated vegetables, fruit, and other items. We needed pots, and people
brought them. We found some trees that gave us wood, and there were barbeque pits for cooking.
Some people gave us money so that we were able to buy spices and cooking oil. We kept
everything in cardboard boxes. This became our temple, although there were no walls.
We felt that we were following in the footsteps of the six Gosvämés of Våndävana, who
lived under a different tree every night. When it rained, we kept our things in a bathroom at the
park and went to the library or some other place. We bathed in the park bathroom sink. There
was even a newspaper article about us which I do not have. People were impressed that we were
renunciates living without money or accommodation. Many people began to come so that soon
we were serving a hundred plates of prasädam on paper plates. We didn’t have any books or
magazines but people were attracted to our chanting and preaching.
It got to be that on Sundays we would have three hundred people coming to attend our
program. Word soon got around and so a variety of yogis came there and set up their own
programs. Of course, we attracted the largest crowd because we had prasädam. In fact, people
were donating so much food that we didn’t know what to do with it. They were bringing boxes
and boxes of fruits and other things.
The Vietnam War was going on and people appreciated our openness, friendliness, and
compassion. Çréla Prabhupäda wrote a letter to us saying that sannyäsés should not stay in
groups, but should travel individually and open forty centers each. We contacted the GBC man
and he sent Çrédämä to take charge of the Miami center. He rented a house so that a temple was
established in Coconut Grove, near to Peacock Park. I went there in the early 1990s and saw the
marble çåìgäsana which had been donated by Çrématé Sumati Morarji and sent by ship from
India. That was her final service to Çréla Prabhupäda before passing away.
Leaving the other three sannyäsés and going alone was very difficult for me. I was 22
years old at that time. We thought about where each of us would go and decided that it was best
to go to where there were large universities. Viñëujana went to Austin, Texas, Brahmänanda
went to Tallahassee, and I went to the University of Florida in Gainesville. Notably,
Brahmänanda made Cyavana Swami a devotee in Tallahassee, and in Gainesville, I made many
devotees, including Amarendra, who became the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust lawyer, and Puñöa
Kåñëa Swami, who later served as Çréla Prabhupäda’s personal secretary. I started the prasädam
distribution at the university, which has grown into the famous Krishna Lunch.
In the beginning, it was very difficult. I didn’t have a place to stay and so I sometimes
slept on someone’s doorstep. Other times I would go to a church and sleep underneath the pews.
Finally, someone let me stay in a tiny outhouse that was just big enough for me to lay down in.
They let me come in the house to make Simply Wonderfuls, which I distributed at the university.
I didn’t have any books because ISKCON considered us four sannyäsés as outcasts. Çréla
Prabhupäda told them to send us books, but they refused to do so. Still, we opened centers and
made devotees without any books. We felt that we were being empowered by Çréla Prabhupäda.
It is a fact that when we follow the orders of the spiritual master, no material impediment can
check our service. That is the secret of success in Kåñëa consciousness.
In the beginning, we only had the books Çréla Prabhupäda brought from India; the three
volumes of the First Canto of Çrémad-Bhägavatam. We tried to read them but could hardly
understand the content and so you could say that Çréla Prabhupäda started this movement
without any books. That is why he was very eager to get Bhagavad-gétä As It Is published.
It was Çréla Prabhupäda who invented Simply Wonderfuls, because they had never been
made in India or anywhere else. I bought powdered milk, powdered sugar, honey, butter, and
dried fruits, and rolled them into balls. I put them in a big bowl and brought it to the Plaza of the
Americas at the University of Florida. This is a huge university with more than 40,000 students. I
kept the bowl a little distance and began chanting Hare Kåñëa Hare Kåñëa Kåñëa Kåñëa Hare
Hare/ Hare Räma Hare Räma Räma Räma Hare Hare with käratalas. I continued for about two
hours.
 The first time I did this, everyone was fearful, and no one took a Simply Wonderful.
Finally, a student bent over, picked one up, smelled it, and took a nibble. Then she put the whole
thing in her mouth. Seeing this, others came, and soon all the Simply Wonderfuls were gone.
Now, almost 50 years later, Krishna Lunch serves about 1200 plates of prasädam at that very
place.
I met Amarendra in Gainesville, and he invited me to stay with him in his house. I slept
in the living room. I went to the university and chanted Hare Kåñëa with my karatälas while
sitting underneath a tree. I was trying to follow in the footsteps of Çréla Prabhupäda, who began
by sitting underneath a tree in Tompkins Square Park. Soon I was serving prasädam to 70 people
daily from Amarendra’s house. Eventually, the Farmers Market donated boxes of food; so much
that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got help when girls from the university came and so I
taught them how to cook. We were then able to prepare a huge quantity of prasädam.

CHAPTER NINE: EAST PAKISTAN

One day I received a letter from Çréla Prabhupäda, requesting me to go preach in East
Pakistan (present day Bangladesh). Çréla Prabhupäda had been speaking with someone
representing a religious organization who challenged, “Why have you come here to India to
preach? We already know all of these things. Why don’t you go to Pakistan?” As a result, Çréla
Prabhupäda ordered me to go to East Pakistan and Brahmänanda to go to West Pakistan. Çréla
Prabhupäda gave us the most difficult services because he knew that we had unflinching faith in
and devotion for our spiritual master and Lord Kåñëa. It is a fact that we were prepared to go
anywhere and endure any conditions to satisfy Çréla Prabhupäda because we were living as
parivräjakäcäryas, completely depending upon Kåñëa.
I had no money, and in Gainesville, I never asked anyone for money. I simply asked for
donations of fruits and vegetables and other food items so that I could prepare prasädam for 70
people each day. After receiving this order from Çréla Prabhupäda, I wondered, “How am I
going to get to East Pakistan?” At that time there was an inquisitive student coming every day
and asking me questions. His name was Paul Dossack and later he became a leading devotee of
ISKCON, a sannyäsé, and Çréla Prabhupäda’s personal secretary. After initiation he became
Puñöa Kåñëa däs, and when he was only 22, Puñöa Kåñëa Swami. He was a pre-med straight
“A” grade student at the University of Florida and was going to graduate that year.
When I told Paul that I was going to East Pakistan, he immediately said that he would go
with me. I tried to discourage him, saying that he should first graduate and then join me, but he
insisted and so I finally gave in. He had $3,000 and that paid for our air fares.
We first flew to New York to get visas. I was dressed as a sannyäsé and he was dressed
as a brahmacäré. When I went to apply for our visas, it was winter and so I wore a thick coat so
that the Muslim officers wouldn’t think that I was a Hindu. We got our visas and flew to Dhaka
by PIA, Pakistan International Airlines. This was in January of 1971. When we got off the plane
and went through customs, everyone stared at us because the sight of an American sannyäsé in a
Muslim country was unprecedented. When we got out of the airport, we couldn’t get a taxi, and
we saw some cars burning. We didn’t know that a revolution was going on because we never
read newspapers.
 Çréla Prabhupäda learned that there was a civil war in East Pakistan and so he wrote to
me saying that I should not go there, but it was too late because I was already there. We walked a
couple miles to a hotel, and about 300 people followed us, and it was there that we learned that
the people of East Pakistan wanted independence from Pakistan because their Bengali culture
was totally different from that of West Pakistan. Most of the military men were Pathans from
West Pakistan. They were huge, more than six feet tall, whereas the Bengalis were generally
short.
We learned that there was a branch of the Gauòéya Maöha in downtown Dacca that had
been founded by Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura in the 1930s and had Deities of Çré
Rädhä-Kåñëa. Going there, we found that there were a few small buildings and a large steel
structure that remained unfinished and covered by tall grasses. It appeared as if it was intended to
be an äçrama of two or three stories, and we were impressed.
Paul and I stayed at the Gauòéya Maöha for a few months, and we held programs there in
the evenings. It had a large compound and sometimes 500 people came to attend our programs,
many of them Muslim students. We even went to Dhaka University, a Muslim university, and
chanted Hare Kåñëa and preached, and the students asked intelligent questions. Soon news of our
presence spread like wildfire because of coverage in the newspapers, and we got invitations to
have programs outside Dacca.
At this time there were protests, but war had not yet been declared. We received an
invitation to go to a city on the shore of the Gaìgä near Shylet province (East Pakistan), and we
had to take a long ferry ride to get there. The journey took a day and a half but we had a first-
class sleeping compartment and were provided vegetarian meals. While going, we came to a
place where I could not see land on either side and so thought that we must have entered the
ocean. I was a bit scared, and I saw dolphins swimming next to the ferry. I asked people, “Where
are we? This looks like the ocean because we cannot see any land.” The people assured us that
this was a wide section of the Gaìgä, and we were amazed. After all, this was the first time that
we had been out of America and so everything was new and strange. We were depending on
Çréla Prabhupäda and Kåñëa because we were like puppets in the hands of the people guiding
us.
We arrived at our destination and were led to a big hall for the program. We performed
our kértana and next, a professional sahajiyä group came and performed their kértana. It was a
great show with an artificial display of ecstatic emotions. Sometimes they fell to the ground,
crying, and the man playing the harmonium strapped to his body also continually cried. Ladies in
the audience stood up and fainted. I had never experienced such a thing, but this was how
kértana was performed in East Pakistan, imitating the ecstasies of Lord Caitanya and Lord
Nityänanda. They were very expert singers and musicians, however, and we were amazed to see
them perform.
After returning to Dacca, we held more programs in the evenings at the Gauòéya Math
temple, and the place was packed almost every night. During our stay, the resident brahmacäré
gave us prasäda, but we got sick, I think because we were not used to eating such oily food.
Besides that, there was no bottled water available and so we drank water from the tube well.
Who knows what was in that water? We had dysentery and vomited so it was a really tough time.
 I met some intelligent Hindu professors from the university. I found out that the masses
of people are generally very poor, but the intelligent class of men—doctors, lawyers, and
professors—were mostly Hindus. But even the Muslims that we met were very nice and
respectful. There was no craziness or fanaticism as is sometimes seen today. We even did
kértana at the university, but we presented ourselves as belonging to a cultural movement, and
not a religious one. Because we were Americans, the people didn’t think of us as Hindus.
I asked the professors to translate into Bengali the small books we brought with us; Who
is Crazy? and The Peace Formula. We were in Dacca for about three months, from January until
the beginning of April 1971. We were able to print two small Bengali books while we were
there, before war broke out. Then, bombs began falling from the sky, and there were murder
squads of Islamic fanatics. The local people would mark an X on the doors of Hindu doctors,
lawyers, and professors, and these murder squads would go at night and kill the whole family.
Just last year, the 94-year-old Mullah that organized these murder squads was hung.
After war broke out, no one came to the Gauòéya Maöha temple, and all the Americans
left except for some at the embassy. And because of the war, we were not able to distribute the
two books that we had printed. We wanted to leave, but at the same time, we were determined to
fulfill Çréla Prabhupäda’s order. Even my companion, the new brahmacäré, Paul, was fearless.
We got word that the temple was going to be attacked and the Deity destroyed and so we
thought that we must leave the country as soon as possible. We both had tickets. There was a
nighttime curfew and so during the day we somehow got a taxi that took us to the airport. Even
that was dangerous because there were soldiers everywhere. On the way to the airport, an army
truck with a machine gun honked for us to pull over. As the army truck passed, the man aimed
the machine gun at us but didn’t fire. We were terrified, but finally, after checking us out, the
truck went on until out of sight.
When we got to the airport and wanted to enter, we were given a paper with a number on
it. That number was our position on the waiting list of persons wanting to leave the country, and
our number was something like 15,000. We were told that there was only one flight a day with
200 passengers and so we were expected to camp out at the airport for two months before
boarding a plane. They wouldn’t even let us enter the airport.
I saw an army colonel sitting in an American Jeep and so I started to walk towards him. I
was still dressed as a sannyäsé and some guards came with guns pointed at me. These were
Pakastani military men and Pakistan was an ally of America and so I showed them my passport
and said to the colonel, “I am an American citizen and you are sitting in an American jeep. The
bombs you are dropping are also made in America. Please help us to leave.”
The colonel agreed to help us, but he took all our books and cassette tapes and destroyed
them because of the anti-Hindu atrocities going on. We had seen dead men by the side of the
road and had heard bombs go off around the city. The bombs had been made in 1945, and this
was 1971, and many didn’t explode. India was aligned with Russia at that time and so the
Pakistan military dropped bombs on the Bombay airport, but they didn’t explode.
In this way we got on the airplane while others got on with their goats and chickens. This
was a flight to Karachi in West Pakistan, but because the plane couldn’t fly over India, it first
flew to Sri Lanka, where it refueled, and then continued on to Karachi. The flight took 23 hours.
When we finally arrived at Karachi, we breathed a sigh of relief. My brother was there but I
didn’t know this, and he also didn’t know where I was. First, we thought of staying in a hotel,
but when we went to one, they wouldn’t let us stay because our dress looked Indian. I said,
“We’re Americans. We are your allies.” They said, “You have to take off these clothes.” I said,
“No, we can’t do that.” So they wouldn’t let us stay.
We went to the Christian Salvation Army, which does humanitarian work in Pakistan,
and they gave us a room. The receptionist said, “These people are crazy. We go to the villages
and give milk to starving children but they won’t drink it. They think that if they drink the milk,
they will become Christians.” I said, “Our spiritual master has sent us here and so we will see
what we can do.”
We considered it best to go to Karachi University, thinking that the people there would be
intelligent like the ones in East Pakistan. We were thinking like that, but we learned the truth
when we went there. We were going to the department of comparative religions because, after
all, they must study all the religions of the world, but first we chanted in a plaza, and students
began throwing rocks at us! They shouted, “Go back to India!” I said, “We are Americans, we’re
not Indians.” They said, “You are wearing Indian clothes.” They accused us of being agents of
Indira Gandhi, the Prime Minister of India.
In Pakistan we were accused of being agents of Indira Gandhi and later on, when we
were in India, we were accused of being CIA agents, but actually we were agents of Kåñëa. Even
my name was printed on the front page of a Calcutta newspaper as Gregory Scharf, Gargamuni
Swami, Head of CIA operations in Bengal. Of course, those who were a bit intelligent could
understand that this was a false allegation, but at that time Bengal was ruled by the communist
CPM party and so they made these accusations as their propaganda. They could not understand
that we were Kåñëa’s agents.
We tried preaching in Karachi but soon realized that it was hopeless and dangerous.
People walked around with big daggers. This is going on throughout the Muslim world, because
their emblem is a Koran in one hand and a dagger in the other.

CHAPTER TEN: Reunion with Çréla Prabhupäda in Bombay

How to go from Karachi to India? At this time West Pakistan was preparing to wage war
against East Pakistan and so there were soldiers everywhere. Then we found out that there was a
Swissair flight once a day from Karachi to Bombay. That was the only flight and we were able to
get on it. Soon after that, all flights to India were stopped. We arrived in Bombay when the first
Cross Maidan Hare Kåñëa festival was happening. The day we arrived was Rämanavamé in
early April 1971.
I inquired from people about the ISKCON temple and was told that it was a four-room
apartment on the 30th floor of a highrise building named Akash Ganga on Bhulabhai Desai Road.
My meeting with Çréla Prabhupäda was an emotionally surcharged reunion because he had read
in the newspapers that four Hare Kåñëas had been murdered in East and West Pakistan. He was
afraid that my brother and I, along with our two assistants, had been killed and so when I arrived
unannounced, Çréla Prabhupäda jumped out of his seat, hurried to me, and embraced me. He was
overcome by feelings of love as he touched my face and hair and pulled my çikhä.
 That was the second time Çréla Prabhupäda pulled my çikhä. The first time was in New
York. After his stroke, when Çréla Prabhupäda was about to get in the car to go to the airport to
return to India, I opened the back door for him and before getting in, he embraced me. To be
embraced by Çréla Prabhupäda is an experience like no other. I could actually feel billions of
sinful reactions flying off my body. It felt so purifying, but at the same time, I felt ashamed and
contaminated and so I kneeled down and clutched his lotus feet. I wouldn’t let go and so he
could not get in the car. He tried to move, but I didn’t let go. My head was buried in his lotus
feet. Çréla Prabhupäda bent down, slapped me on the back and pulled my çikhä, saying, “That’s
all right. That’s all right.” Finally, I stood up, and every time I remember this, I begin to cry. So
when I met Çréla Prabhupäda in Bombay after coming from Pakistan, it was the second time he
pulled my çikhä.
I was shocked because Çréla Prabhupäda had literally jumped up from his seat and ran to
embrace me as if I were a long-lost son who had returned from a long absence. The devotees
present was astonished. Although it was a day of fasting, Rämanavamé, Çréla Prabhupäda
ordered his servant to cook purés and subji for me and Paul. Çréla Prabhupäda told me that he
would hear about our preaching adventures later, but for now we should honor prasädam and
then rest because we were exhausted and starved.
To show my appreciation for allowing me to risk my life for Kåñëa by going to East
Pakistan and then West Pakistan with the intention of preaching and hopefully opening a center,
I brought Çréla Prabhupäda a necklace of tulasé beads and gold. It was heavy and long and Çréla
Prabhupäda continued to wear it long after I presented it to him.
My companion, Paul Dossack, who later became Puñöa Kåñëa, remembered some more
details of our arrival in Bombay from Karachi: “Çréla Prabhupäda had just taken his bath and
was putting on tilaka when Gargamuni Mahäräja and I went into his room. He didn’t have a shirt
on. When he saw us, he was very happy. I offered my daëòavats and Gargamuni Mahäräja
introduced me to Çréla Prabhupäda, saying, ‘He has given up going to medical school to become
a devotee.’ He told Çréla Prabhupäda that we had just come from the East Bengal war zone.
Çréla Prabhupäda was very grateful. He said, ‘You’ve risked your life for me and for Lord
Caitanya.’ He asked me, ‘Do you like our books?’ I said, ‘Yes, Çréla Prabhupäda.’ He said,
‘Which book do you like the best?’ I said, ‘Bhagavad-gétä.’ He said, ‘Oh, very good.’ As time
went by, I went out of the room, and Çréla Prabhupäda said to Gargamuni Mahäräja, ‘I will
make that boy a sannyäsé.’ I was 21 years old and had met Çréla Prabhupäda for the first time.”
In conjunction with Çyämasundara, who had organized the Cross Maidan pandal
program, Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to hold a press conference highlighting me as the first
foreigner to come from East Pakistan who could give a firsthand account of the atrocities being
committed against Hindus. All the newspapers and news services were contacted, and journalists
came from around the world.
Çréla Prabhupäda intelligently arranged for this free publicity for his pandal program and
the next day, stories with our photos were on the front pages of all the newspapers. The stories
highlighted how Çréla Prabhupäda’s American disciples had preached in East Pakistan, a place
where Hindus were being persecuted by extremist Muslims. Before us, no one had dared to go
from India to preach there.
 The pandal program at Cross Maidan was hugely successful. Acyutänanda managed the
question-and-answer booth because he had been in India for several years and could speak Hindi.
Meanwhile, Çréla Prabhupäda was worried about Brahmänanda because he had not heard
anything from him, and I was also worried because no one knew where he was. Brahmänanda
arrived in Bombay three weeks later, and you can read about his amazing preaching experiences
in the book Swamiji compiled by Satyaräja däs.
I didn’t tell Çréla Prabhupäda about my experiences in East Pakistan at this time. He was
simply happy to see that I had come back alive. Then on January 19, 1977 in Bhubaneswar, as I
was conversing with Çréla Prabhupäda, the subject of the Gauòéya Math in Dacca came up and
this led to an extensive talk about my stay there.
Gargamuni: Also, Prabhupäda, I think I told you that when I was in Dacca, they were
willing to sign over that land to our society. It's a very nice plot.
Prabhupäda: Gauòéya Maöha.
Gargamuni: Yes. Because no one is maintaining it, and he has no followers, and he
knows that when he dies then there's nothing. And not only him, but his supporters were also
pushing him to sign it over. But then the war broke out and I left, and I think a lot of them have
been killed who were his main finance backers. He had some lawyers and doctors who were
donating, but I think they have all been killed. So now he has no one. Recently some of our men
have gone to Dacca for a visa to come back, and he's still interested, more so now.
Prabhupäda: He’s not killed.
Gargamuni: No. He survived.
Prabhupäda: (laughs) Long life.
Gargamuni: Yes. He’s very old. I think he’s eighty, eighty-five or something . . .
Prabhupäda: He was under whose control?
Gargamuni: Tértha Mahäräja. But they never gave him anything. They never gave him
men; they never gave him money, nothing.
Rämeçvara: Not even letters?
Gargamuni: No. They never even wrote to him. They didn't care. And there’s still a
foundation from 1948 of a building. I was very surprised because the building has a frame of
steel girders, not cement. I think it's a two-story building, say half the size of our Mäyäpura
building. I asked Païcaratna who went there if it was still there or whether it was blown away by
the war. He said, “No, it is still there.” So there's already a building. There’s a stone wall around
the property. I think it’s about three-quarters of an acre, and it's in the heart of the city. It’s in a
very populated area, but a very nice area also.
Prabhupäda: Yes. That was started by my Guru Mahäräja. We have to take it. Tértha
Mahäräja was planning to exchange that property with a Calcutta Mohammedan in the 1040’s;
that he would give him that property, and this Mohammedan would give him his property. I
approached the donor, a zamindar, that “You donated this temple and it is going to be in the
hands of a Mohamadan. Do you like it?” So he said, “No, I don't like it.” I said, “Make an
inquiry.” He inquired, and he immediately wrote Tértha Mahäräja that “You are contemplating.
This we do not approve. We are the donor.” So Tértha Mahäräja replied him that “It is no more
in the hands of the donor. I am the trustee. Whatever I like, I can do.”
Gargamuni: Ruthless.
 Prabhupäda: Then there was very strong correspondence, and Tértha Mahäräja could not
dare to do it. Otherwise he arranged like that, to give the temple to a Mohamadan and accept a
Calcutta property which belonged to the Mohamadan.
Gargamuni: So when he could not do that, he just left it.
Prabhupäda: Yes. He had no spiritual idea. Simply he wanted to exploit the property.
That’s all.
Gargamuni: So maybe we can save that place.
Prabhupäda: Yes. If we can do, it will be a great service.
Gargamuni: Because still there are fifteen million Hindus in Bangladesh.
Prabhupäda: Yes.
Gargamuni: When I was there, there were many doctors and lawyers, and I think all of
them have been murdered. I think the only Hindus that are left are the poor people. But while I
was there the most prominent lawyer was Hindu. Doctors, all educated men.
Prabhupäda: Dead.
Gargamuni: Yes.
Prabhupäda: Just see the policy.
Gargamuni: I think they annihilated anyone who had an education. Just like that boy who
was translating your books? They shot him in front of a firing squad. I printed a book there in
Bengali, I think, three thousand copies: The Peace Formula and Who is Crazy? It was about
fifteen pages. They gave me some donation. His name was Gopäla Kåñëa Brahmacäré. He also
gave me from his pocket. We had it translated in Bengali, but then . . .
Prabhupäda: He was killed?
Gargamuni: Yes, for translating. Not only him but this other brahmacäré, a young boy,
very nice boy. His name was Karuëämayé.
Rämeçvara: For translating it they did it?
Gargamuni: Yes, for translating. They wanted to annihilate anyone who had any literary
talent. That was their idea. Or anyone who had any education. So that after they left the country
there wouldn't be anything. Because they knew they had to leave one day because of the
revolutionary spirit. So they thought, “Let us ravage the whole country and then leave.” And
that’s what they did. Their main attack was the university. When I was there that was their first
attack because that university was a very old one.
Prabhupäda: Yes, Dacca University next to Calcutta University. Just see how human
beings are becoming less than ferocious animals.
Gargamuni: Even one man, he was making a plaque in your name in thankfulness for
preaching this Vaiñëava-dharma. He was making a wooden plaque, and he was a doctor of
physics at the university. And one night they came and shot him and his whole family. He was
very helpful to us while we were there.
Prabhupäda: Only fault that he was making some . . .
Gargamuni: No, his fault was that he had some education. This one boy who was
translating your books, he was a very educated person. He was about thirty years old.
Prabhupäda: Hindu.
Gargamuni: Hindu. Yes. He was a brahmacäré there at the äçrama. He was the chief
püjäré. He joined us and we toured a few areas, and he came with us and arranged for
everything. And he joined us, and he was translating. And we printed the book. I saw it. But then
the war broke out a few days after it was ready and so I had to leave all the copies there. When I
go there I will try and find it. Maybe it is still there. We spent about five hundred rupees.
Prabhupäda: What Pakistan has gained by this separation? Actually they have not gained.
Gargamuni: Of Bangladesh?
Prabhupäda: No.
Gargamuni: Or of India?
Prabhupäda: India.
Gargamuni: Oh, they haven't gained anything.
Prabhupäda: Karachi is finished. Nobody goes there.
Gargamuni: It’s a desert. I have been there. It’s a horrible place.
Prabhupäda: When you went there?
Gargamuni: When I came from Dacca there was only one flight a day because of the war.
They could not overfly India, so there was one flight a day Dacca to Ceylon to Karachi.
Prabhupäda: Oh, long distance.
Gargamuni: Yes. Very long flight. So I was number 15,000 on the list. Everybody
camped out at the airport. Because of the war, everyone wanted to leave. So there was a line of
15,000 people. They gave me my number. I was 15,000. So we waited at the airport. I said, “I
can’t wait here,” because the bombs were dropping and the tanks were coming and the troops
were coming. I said, “I gotta get out of here.” So I spoke with the commander and I played him a
tape of kértana. All the officers were Mussulmen from Pakistan, and they started clapping: “Oh,
kértana.” So I asked him, “Could you allow me to go on board before all the others? There's no
use in us staying here. Who knows what will happen? We are foreigners.” We were dressed as
sädhus also. So he allowed us to go on in front of everyone. So we managed to leave.
Prabhupäda: What was the condition at that time during the war?
Gargamuni: Where? In Dacca?
Prabhupäda: Yes.
Gargamuni: There was starvation immediately. There was no food in the whole city. I
was living on capatis. That’s all we had. Of course, we were very nervous so we couldn’t eat so
much anyway because there was so much going on in the city, bombings and firing.
Prabhupäda: And general public?
Gargamuni: And most of the army was imported from Pakistan. These men were six feet
tall.
Prabhupäda: Pathan.
Gargamuni: Yes. Very huge men.
Prabhupäda: Yes.
Gargamuni: So in comparison, the Bengalis were very small. So they were very fearful of
these fighters. The whole Pakistani army was made of these Pathans. So there was great fear in
the hearts of the people because they’re very small. And all of the equipment was imported from
America, all the tanks, the jeeps, all the planes—all American
Prabhupäda: Why American patronizes Pakistan?
Gargamuni: Because India is with Russia. When I was in Pakistan, they have great love
for the Chinese people. When I was there they liked the Chinese more than the Americans. I
went to the Karachi University because I thought we could start some preaching there. So I met
the professor of philosophy and he had agreed that we could give some lecture, but not on Indian
culture but on yoga or something. So the students there were always talking, “Oh, China.” China
is also opposed to Russia. So in this way the sides were taken. But it’s a hellish place there.
Prabhupäda: Karachi.
Gargamuni: Yes. Very hot. There was no place where we could eat, so we used to buy
fruit and nuts at the Empress Market, a very big market. They have very good grapefruits.
They’re very sweet there.
Prabhupäda: Yellowish or greenish?
Gargamuni: No. They’re pinkish inside. Yellow skin but pink inside and very sweet.

Just see how Çréla Prabhupäda worked behind the scenes to save the temple in Dacca
that was established by his spiritual master. I told Çréla Prabhupäda that I would return to Dacca
because there had been talk of donating the property to ISKCON, and Çréla Prabhupäda
encouraged me to do so. However, I could not get a visa for Bangladesh in time, and I had to
return to America to renew my passport and get a new visa for India.
After the disappearance of his spiritual master, Çréla Prabhupäda first tried to work with
the Gauòéya Math, but after meeting with frustration, he began working independently. He
preached to many of India’s most influential politicians, and was very friendly with Dr.
Radhakrishnan, who had been the president of India. After India gained independence, Dr.
Radhakrishnan told Çréla Prabhupäda that when he retired from politics, he would join him to
execute his mission.
Later, when Çréla Prabhupäda returned to India and opened the temple at Juhu in
Bombay, some Hindu nationalists criticized him for publishing books in English and not Hindi.
Çréla Prabhupäda replied that he wrote for the people of all countries, and everywhere educated
people speak and read English. Still, they pressed him, “But why not also in Hindi?” Çréla
Prabhupäda gave a very intelligent answer. He said, “Mahatma Gandhi, the father of the nation,
didn’t write in Hindi. He wrote in English. Sardar Patel and Pandit Nehru didn’t write in Hindi.
Dr. Radhakrishnan never wrote in Hindi. They all wrote in English because they were addressing
the international community. Similarly, I am also addressing the international community.”
In this way, the Hindu nationalists became pacified. Çréla Prabhupäda had all his books
translated into Hindi, but he never wrote in Hindi because he wrote especially for the educated
classes. In India, during the early days, if an Indian wanted to join the temple, it was the rule that
he or she must speak English. They had to learn English so that they could study our books.
Others could come as much as they liked but only those who understood English could move
into the temple. Why? At that time the devotees in the Indian temples were mostly Americans
and Europeans and so if people joined who didn’t speak English, how would they communicate?
Besides, in the beginning there were no Hindi books and so how would they learn the philosophy
if they couldn’t read English? Therefore, in the early days, many educated Indians joined, such
as Yaçomaténandana.
Another Indian devotee who joined early on was Haridäsa, who didn’t even know who
his father was because practically, he came from the street. Do you know the story of how he
joined? He had seen a picture of Çréla Prabhupäda wearing a gold watch and so he came with the
intention of stealing it. Later, he wanted to go to America and Çréla Prabhupäda wrote in his
passport application form that he was Haridäsa’s father.
Just see how Çréla Prabhupäda personally related to his disciples! They were like his
sons, and not just officially his disciples. I liked Haridäsa very much because he was always
ready to serve Çréla Prabhupäda. He was always active and never lazy. Çréla Prabhupäda told
him, “You do this, you do that” and Haridäsa would do it. He was very nice and we had a
friendly relationship.
Some time after coming to Bombay from Karachi, I returned to America to get another
Indian visa. When I returned to India, I first stayed at the apartment in the Akash Ganga building
in Bombay. Çréla Prabhupäda had inaugurated a Life Membership program as a means for
collecting donations and getting his books into the hands of the leading citizens of India.
How to enroll a Life Member? The membership fee was Rs. 1111. What is it now,
perhaps Rs. 20,000 or Rs. 30,000? A life member would give a donation of Rs. 1111, and in
return he would receive a lifetime subscription to Back to Godhead and some of the books. He
would also be allowed to stay three days free in any of the ISKCON centers that had guest
facilities. This would come in handy if a life member travelled abroad.
I would go to the offices of businessmen, who generally would see me without an
appointment because of the publicity Çréla Prabhupäda and his disciples had received from the
Cross Maidan pandal program. I would show pictures of our temples around the world, as well as
the Rathayäträ festivals, gurukula, and New Våndävana farm project, and request them to
become a member and thus support our efforts to glorify their sacred dharma, which at present
was being neglected. It was not difficult to preach to pious Indians because they already had
some understanding of Kåñëa consciousness.
From Bombay, Çréla Prabhupäda traveled extensively, going to Malaysia, Australia,
Moscow, Paris, several places in America, London, Paris, and Nairobi; all within 1971. In
October, Çréla Prabhupäda returned to India, and after Bombay and Calcutta, when he arrived at
the Delhi airport, he was respectfully welcomed by the mayor, Hans Raj Gupta. In Delhi, Çréla
Prabhupäda participated in a highly successful 10-day pandal program at the LIC grounds at
Connaught Place. Every evening at least 30,000 people attended, and I was also there.
Çréla Prabhupäda wanted everyone who attended the pandal program to be given
prasädam, but the hired cook didn’t show up. Çréla Prabhupäda asked, “Who will cook?” and so
I volunteered. He said, “No, you are a sannyäsé and so you should not cook.” I said, “I am not a
sannyäsé, I am your servant,” and Çréla Prabhupäda responded, “Oh! Thank you very much.” A
Vaiñëava is above the designations of varnäçrama and so I cooked for a day or two until the
hired cook arrived.
Çyämasundara and Mälaté’s daughter, Sarasvaté, was five or six at that time and Çréla
Prabhupäda was very much attached to her, so much so that his servant, Puruñottama, left the
movement out of envy. In a letter to me dated April 26, 1972, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote: “Our
Puruñottama däs brahmacäré was criticizing me for having little attachment with Sarasvaté, and
for that offense he had to leave the Society.”
This is a very instructive statement that everyone should carefully consider. The spiritual
master should never be considered to be an ordinary human being having the four defects of
conditional life. Of course, one may accept a spiritual master who is not yet completely freed
from the material impasse, but Çréla Prabhupäda was not an ordinary spiritual master. He was
especially empowered by Lord Caitanya to fulfill His prediction that His holy names would be
chanted in every town and village throughout the world. Therefore, one should be very vigilant
to never commit an offense by considering Çréla Prabhupäda to have the defects of conditional
life.
Çréla Prabhupäda’s attachment for Sarasvaté was not material; that is to say he was not
attached to her on the bodily or mental platform. He many times told how she would approach a
stranger and ask, “Do you know who Kåñëa is?” If the person didn’t know, she would exclaim,
“Kåñëa is the Supreme Personality of Godhead!” Çréla Prabhupäda often said that this was real
preaching. While on the stage of the Delhi pandal during the month of Kärttika of 1971, little
Sarasvaté had told the people in the audience to stand up and dance, and they did so. Çréla
Prabhupäda was not only attached to Sarasvaté; he was attached to all his sincere disciples, even
me. If not, then why had Çréla Prabhupäda jumped up from his seat to embrace me after I
returned from Pakistan?
Due to his offense, Puruñottama left the movement and became a Christian. I am sure
that he did this so that he could eat meat. Why else would one leave Kåñëa consciousness to
become a Christian? After all, there is really no difference because both believe in a Supreme
Person and worship Him with love and devotion. Both are in the bhakti line, but due to having
fallen from the injunctions of scripture, Christians generally eat meat. Çréla Prabhupäda never
tried to convert anyone from one religion to another. He simply advocated that people of all
religions follow their religious principles and develop love for God. While being interviewed by
a journalist in Los Angeles in 1968, Çréla Prabhupäda explained this very nicely.
Journalist: All right, but let me ask you this. How does your interpretation differ from the
basic Judeo-Christian ethic of the Ten Commandments?
Çréla Prabhupäda: There is no difference. But as I have told you, none of them are
strictly following the Ten Commandments. So I simply say, “Please follow God's
commandments.” That is my message.
Journalist: In other words, you’re asking them to obey those principles.
Çréla Prabhupäda: Yes. I don’t say that Christians should become Hindu. I simply say,
“Please obey your commandments.” I'll make you a better Christian. That is my mission. I don’t
say, “God is not in your tradition—God is only here in ours.” I simply say, “Obey God.” I don’t
say, “You have to accept that God's name is Kåñëa and no other.” No. I say, “Please obey God.
Please try to love God.”

At the pandal program, Sarasvaté went on the stage to chant and dance with the other
devotees, but soon she saw that the audience was not taking part enthusiastically. They were
simply sitting and clapping their hands. Sarasvaté wanted everyone to chant and dance and so
she went to the front of the stage, in front of Çréla Prabhupäda and all his disciples, and told
everyone to get up and dance. After seeing Sarasvaté, at least 10,000 people stood up and danced
with raised arms. Just think of how advanced Sarasvaté was to get thousands of people to chant
the holy names of the Lord and dance! She was more than a sannyäsé and Çréla Prabhupäda was
exceptionally pleased with her.
 From Delhi, Çréla Prabhupäda went to Våndävana. I was present, and this was a unique
time to be with Çréla Prabhupäda in Våndävana because he personally took us to the holy places,
including Barñäëä and Nandagräma. We also went to the Rädhä-Dämodara Temple and other
temples in Våndävana, but the problem was that a lot of us got sick because we were given
prasädam cooked with dalda, which is very hard for a human being to digest. Dalda is a kind of
hydrogenated vegetable oil made for poor people who could not afford ghee.
I didn’t go every day, but I went most of the time. Çréla Prabhupäda instructed me to
arrange for a big stack of Re. 1 notes to hand out to the numerous päëòäs that inhabit these holy
places. While at these holy places, Çréla Prabhupäda would direct me, “Give him Rs. 2” or
“Give him Rs. 3.” What do these päëòäs expect now? Rs. 200 or Rs. 300. Another example of
rampant inflation!
So by Çréla Prabhupäda’s instruction, I would give some donation to the päëòäs. These
päëòäs infest the holy places to feed off the pilgrims. Çréla Prabhupäda hardly talked at these
holy places because the päëòäs monopolized the conversations and Çréla Prabhupäda didn’t
interrupt them. I brought a tape recorder with me and so I was a bit disappointed that Çréla
Prabhupäda didn’t speak very much. I don’t know what happened to those tapes. The päëòäs
would talk in Hindi and the Indian devotees would translate into English for us Westerners.
Sometimes Çréla Prabhupäda narrated Kåñëa’s pastimes in a most animated and loving manner
that enthralled us.
At Barñäëä, we had Çréla Prabhupäda carried to the top on a palanquin carried by four
men, and I walked by his side. From there we went to Govardhana, and then Rädhä-kuëòa. Some
of the devotees jumped into the kuëòas that we visited, but Çréla Prabhupäda was displeased. He
told us that we should never enter Rädhä-kuëòa or Çyäma- kuëòa, but instead go down the stairs
and respectfully place some water on our heads. I don’t remember at which kuëòa, but
sometimes the devotees jumped in doing cannonballs, a kind of diving that makes huge splashes
of water. Çréla Prabhupäda explained that only mahä-bhägavata devotees can enter these
kuëòas, and that for us to do so is an offense. It is an offense for neophyte devotees to touch the
holy water with their feet. In those days, we were hardly even neophyte devotees because
everything was new to us—the language and the culture—everything. So we learned by making
mistakes and being corrected by Çréla Prabhupäda.
Every day a bus would come to take us to the holy places of Vraja, and Çréla Prabhupäda
went with us on the bus. Back in those days the roads were terrible. The asphalt would melt in
the sun and create ripples so that the bus bounced along the road. It was not a smooth ride. It was
tiring for Çréla Prabhupäda to travel on those roads by bus every day. Not all the devotees got on
the bus because, as I mentioned before, many were sick. At that time there was no bottled water
in India and so we had to be careful to see what kind of water we were drinking. We would look
at the water and see what was floating on top. Some even gave up drinking water and only drank
Limcas, which was a soft drink with a lemon/lime flavor. Even in the Limca bottles we
sometimes found dead ants floating. Most of us got sick, not just because of the oily food, but
also because of the water. Sometimes I spent days on the floor suffering from dysentery and
going to the toilet ten times a day.
One day, Çréla Prabhupäda went to bathe in the Yamunä, along with many of his
disciples. While coming out of the water, Çréla Prabhupäda’s reached out for support and so I
grabbed his arm, thinking that I was helping him to remain steady. Later, I understood the truth,
that it was always Çréla Prabhupäda’s mercy that allowed me to be steady in Kåñëa
consciousness.
While I was in Våndävana, Çréla Prabhupäda asked me, along with another sannyäsé,
Subala, to stay in his rooms at the Rädhä-Dämodara Temple because the sevaites were trying to
illegally occupy them, despite the fact that he had paid one year’s rent in advance, and had also
paid for repairs. When I went there, I put a metal sign above Çréla Prabhupäda’s entrance saying
“ISKCON Center. Branches all over the world.” I broke all the locks and put new ones. Çréla
Prabhupäda had a separate entrance because, before coming to America, he would frequently go
to Delhi for printing and return to Våndävana late at night. I remained in those rooms for two
months with nothing to do, but luckily, I had a typewriter.
In the room was a steel trunk filled with hand-written manuscripts. In those days, a
notebook was very expensive—five rupees. If you look in the Jaladuta Diary, you will see that
Çréla Prabhupäda spent only a rupee or a rupee and a half per day for his maintenance. Used
paper was available by the kilo and so Çréla Prabhupäda bought old newsletters printed by the
embassies. The print was on one side and the back side was blank, and he used that for his
writing. Çréla Prabhupäda chose the Russian embassy newsletter, and that’s where he got his
news, from which he wrote articles for the Back to Godhead magazine.
In that steel trunk I found manuscripts of Caitanya-caritämåta and Bhagavad-gétä, as
well as many articles, and so I passed my time typing some of them. The paper of the old
manuscripts had turned yellow, and at first, it was difficult for me to read Çréla Prabhupäda’s
distinctive handwriting. Just look at Çréla Prabhupäda’s signature! What an amazing signature
with incredible artistic flair! I sent those original manuscripts to ISKCON Press by airmail
special delivery. I typed an article entitled Message of Godhead, which was reprinted by Back to
Godhead in America.
From Våndävana, I returned to Bombay to assist Madhudviña, the temple president. We
were still in the Akash-Ganga building, which was near Marine Drive. We could see the Arabian
Sea from our windows, and there were cool breezes and so we didn’t require air conditioning. In
1972, Çréla Prabhupäda acquired the land at Juhu and so we moved there. You will find in other
books vivid descriptions of the incredible struggle Çréla Prabhupäda went through to get that
land, and so I will not dwell on it here. The difficulty was that the previous owner of the land,
Mr. A. B. Nair, wanted to cheat Çréla Prabhupäda. He had already sold the land to ten other
people and he thought that he could also cheat Çréla Prabhupäda. Being an ignorant materialist,
Mr. Nair didn’t realize who he was dealing with.
The ultimate result of Mr. Nair’s attempt to cheat Çréla Prabhupäda was that he died of a
heart attack. In fact, his heart exploded and so blood came from all the nine holes of his body.
Çréla Prabhupäda said that Lord Nåsiàha had made his heart explode. Even after the death of her
husband, Mrs. Nair was reluctant to hand over the conveyance deed of the land, but finally she
gave in and so the matter was peacefully settled.
The next problem was to get permission to build the temple. That took a couple of years
because there was so much political interference. One day, a wrecking crew from the
municipality came to destroy the makeshift temple, and as they were breaking it and approaching
the Deity room, a robust lady devotee, Maithilé, blocked their way, even though they almost beat
her with läöhis. At this precarious time, a well-wisher, Mr. Sethi, who was a contractor living
nearby, came with his gun. He had contacted some top politicians and upon his arrival, word
came for the wrecking crew to desist. I was present while this was going on. Çréla Prabhupäda
was in Calcutta. This happened toward the end of May, 1973.
While giving a class on Çrémad-Bhägavatam 1.16.26-30 in Honolulu on January 23,
1974, Çréla Prabhupäda revealed the inner reason for his prolongued struggle to acquire the land
in Juhu.
Çréla Prabhupäda: You do your best, but depend, for the result, on Kåñëa. That is
wanted. If somebody comes to attack you, you must also attack. You first attack. But you should
not think that “I am so powerful. I can gain victory over you.” Depend on Kåñëa, do your best.
Yudhyasva mäm anusmara. This is our policy. When there is question of fight, we have to fight.
Just like in Bombay, we fought, but for the result, we depended on Kåñëa. We have come out
victorious. There was no hope of getting that land. It was a regular fight. The whole Bombay city
became agitated. But we are victorious, because we depended on Kåñëa. I simply prayed to
Kåñëa, “My dear Lord, You are seated there on that place. If You are removed, then it will be
suicidal. You must remain there.” My only prayer was that “I don’t care for this land, but You
are seated there, I cannot tolerate this insult that You will be removed from there.” So Kåñëa
saved our face. He’s still remaining there as Çré Çré Rädhä-Rasabehari.

We must appreciate that Çréla Prabhupäda was acting on a platform inconceivable to us.
There was no question of material attachment. His two secretaries, seeing the situation
materially, considered the acquisition of the land to be impossible, and so they signed the land
back to Mr. Nair without Çréla Prabhupäda’s permission. I was in Bombay at that time and I
heard them say, “Çréla Prabhupäda has become overly attached to this land.” But in the
Honolulu lecture, Çréla Prabhupäda revealed the internal reason for continuing the fight for the
land against all odds; that he had installed the Deity on the land, and if the Deity was removed, it
would be, in his words, “suicidal.”
Along with Madhudviña, I started the first ISKCON gurukula with 20-25 students, which
included a young daughter of one of the tenants on the land, Mr. Warrier. He was a very pious
man and even invited me for breakfast sometimes because there was almost no temple
prasädam. At that time, we had no buildings and so we practically had to live outside, sometimes
sleeping on the roofs of the tenanted buildings with a mosquito net and plastic sheet covering.
In a letter to Giriraja, who was at that time in Calcutta, dated March 23, 1972, Çréla
Prabhupäda described the primitive conditions of those living on the Juhu property. “Please
accept my blessings. I beg to acknowledge receipt of your letter of March 13, 1972, and I am
very glad to inform you that today we have laid down the cornerstone for our Bombay Center
here in Juhu, and the ceremony was very wonderful with many important people attending. . .
Now Brahmänanda is in charge here, and there is a huge land and we are occupying it in tents
and small cottages like Mayapur cottage and the work is immense. So Gargamuni is collecting
also not less than two Life Members daily, but his collection goes toward our Vrindaban
construction work. So now things are not going very nicely in Nairobi because Brahmänanda has
left, so I shall have to send him back there tomorrow, therefore I wanted that you should come
here to assist Madhudviña.”
 There were no regular toilets for the devotees, only two outhouses, which means holes in
the ground surrounded by makeshift thatched walls. The only water tap was surrounded by green
slime-coated water. There was a hired cook who smoked biòis while cooking, and the food was
terrible. We did have one apartment in the tenanted buildings, but that was for Çréla Prabhupäda
and his personal servants. After some time, we got more apartments, but that was a gradual
process.
In India, the management was often very poor, or practically nonexistent. During a room
conversation on December 10, 1976 at the Hyderabad farm, Çréla Prabhupäda gave strong words
concerning the quality of prasädam.
Mahäàça: Some people I know, they said that yesterday the prasädam was not nice, and
there was . . .
Prabhupäda: Not nice, it is not eatable even by the dogs. But you are less than the dogs if
you (prepare) such thing. I was surprised. You allowed a sweeper to cook. I was surprised. We
have distribution of prasädam, not dog’s food. Such rascals as are here. You do not know. I do
not wish to discuss anymore on this point. You have murdered the whole thing in two days. Now
if possible, bring them first class prasädam, very palatable. Foodstuff means even one has no
appetite he’ll eat. That is food. Not that even one has got appetite, he’ll forget.

This was 1976, and so you can just imagine the situation in 1972 at Juhu. I went out
every day to enroll Life Members. Many movie actors had their bungalows in the Juhu/Vile Parle
Scheme not far from the temple and I made some of them Life Members, such as Manoj Kumar
and Dilip Kumar. The money that I was collecting was used for constructing the Kåñëa-
Balaräma Temple in Våndävana.
I became frustrated with the situation at Juhu and decided to try and open a center in
Kathmandu. I spoke to Çréla Prabhupäda about this and he encouraged me. At that time Nepal
was the last Hindu kingdom and so I thought that it would be easy to preach there. When I got to
Kathmandu, however, I found out that there was very little worship of Kåñëa or Räma. Most of
the people were devotees of Lord Çiva, and at that time they were celebrating Durgä-püjä by
sacrificing goats and keeping the bloody severed heads on the hoods of their cars. I saw
rickshaws filled with severed buffalo limbs and heads with blood dripping all over. I personally
saw a temple where they cut off a chicken’s head and squeezed the blood over the deity of
Goddess Kälé. Even after so many years, I can’t get these images out of my head.
When I went out for kértana, people called me a CIA agent, and even in the newspaper it
was reported that a CIA agent had come to Kathmandu. I was able to make a few Life Members,
but they were all Marwari businessmen, and not Nepalis. I rented a nice apartment near Indra
Chowk and thought that I could preach to the hippies, who were there in abundance. They were
mostly Europeans, from France and Germany, and at that time the Government shops openly
sold gaïjä and hashish because it was legal. I think that this was one of the main reasons why so
many hippies came to Kathmandu.
When I tried to talk to the hippies, I found them mostly incoherent because of being
continually intoxicated and so I remained satisfied to simply perform kértana.
 CHAPTER ELEVEN: Calcutta Temple President 1973-75

From Kathmanu, I was sent by Çréla Prabhupäda to Calcutta, to become the temple
president. The previous president, Bhavänanda, had taken sannyäsa and was going to
permanently stay in Mayapur and so the Calcutta temple was without proper management. The
temple in Calcutta at 3, Albert Road was established in 1970, and although it was just a large
apartment, there were Deities of Lord Caitanya, Rädhä-Govinda, and Jagannätha, Baladeva, and
Subhadrä. It was rented from a well-wisher, but he died and his son, who inherited the property,
hated us. I was president of the Calcutta temple for about two years, beginning in 1973.
Pürëaprajïa däs was the head püjäré who served the Deities, along with his wife, Näräyani. The
government only turned on the water a few minutes each day, and as a result, there was not
enough water in the bathrooms. Pürëaprajïa had to learn the art of bathing with just a few lotäs of
water because cleanliness is essential for a püjäré. The temple was across the street from a pond,
and many times devotees had to bathe there after pushing away the green slime that covered the
top of the water.
Another problem we had was overeating. In the early days, we were regularly invited to
Life Members’ houses for programs. After the chanting and the lecture, we were served
sumptuous prasädam at 10:00 at night. The women of the Life Members’ households were
expert cooks and so we were enthusiastic to taste the Gujarati or Marwari preparations. And the
Indian way of respecting sädhus is to feed them to their full satisfaction. We would eat, and even
when we were full, the hosts would come and put more on our plates and so we were forced to
eat too much. After all, if we left something on our plates uneaten, it would be an insult. Finally
we learned the trick of turning our katoris over when we had eaten enough, signaling that we
were not to be given anything more. Çréla Prabhupäda chastised us for eating too much, but it
was difficult not to do so because the hosts always insisted that we eat more and more and more.
That was their culture.
I’m trying to give you an idea of how difficult it was for us in the beginning, because our
American lives were relatively pampered. Another problem was the mosquitoes. All of the
devotees had mosquito nets, but somehow the mosquitoes would get inside and keep us awake.
Water-borne diseases were a big problem, and one day a gentleman told us to get black clay pots.
He said, “If you store water in a black clay pot, it will remove the impurities so that the water
will be tasty and fresh.” We did that and it worked. Now, of course, bottled water is available
everywhere.
Çréla Prabhupäda often stayed in the Calcutta temple while on the way to Mayapur or
after leaving Mayapur. There is a long veranda outside Çréla Prabhupäda’s room, and he would
chant japa there. Once, I slept just outside Çréla Prabhupäda’s room and when he came out to
chant japa, I quickly got up. Seeing me, he said, “Oh! This is sannyäsa, simply sleeping on a
straw mat on the floor.”
Çréla Prabhupäda liked his sannyäsés to be renounced and not enjoyers of material
comforts. In those days, all of the sannyäsés lived as mendicants. It was not that the mahä-
prasädam was given to the sannyäsés and so others got nothing, or just a bite. We shared with all
the other devotees. The sannyäsés didn’t have a superiority complex, even though they were
naturally given respect because of their varnäçrama status. Naturally, if there was a preaching
program, the sannyäsés would be asked to give the lecture. Sannyäsés were not members of an
elite club. Still, we were the leaders of the other devotees because of our experience in
devotional service. Sannyäsés were forbidden to have bank accounts because they were
considered to be beggars. The sannyäsé’s upper garment is meant for begging just enough for his
personal maintenance.
I had many intimate pastimes with Çréla Prabhupäda in Calcutta. One day, as Çréla
Prabhupäda was chanting japa on the veranda, an elderly man with a young boy appeared on the
street below, playing an ektara and singing for Çréla Prabhupäda’s pleasure. Çréla Prabhupäda
called for them to come upstairs. It was in the afternoon and the Deities were sleeping. They
were Bauls, a pseudo-spiritual group, and they sang about the miseries of material existence.
Çréla Prabhupäda had them seated, and he sat with them. They sang for him and he enjoyed their
singing, and although I was present, I couldn’t understand anything. Afterwards, Çréla
Prabhupäda asked me to give them some money. I was surprised, and at the same time I was
stuck with how merciful Çréla Prabhupäda was to the poor man and his son.
Thinking of the welfare of his disciples, Çréla Prabhupäda built a guesthouse in Mayapur
before constructing a temple. He was criticized for doing this by some of his Godbrothers.
Everything in the Mayapur guesthouse, now called the Lotus Building, was first-class. We spent
more on the bathrooms than we did on the Deities. Bathrooms are essential for cleanliness, and
there were hundreds of devotees in Mayapur for the festivals. We made the best bathrooms in
India, with good facilities for evacuating and showering.
The plumbing for the building was the greatest expense, and to save on electricity,
Jayapatäka and Bhavänanda made a gobar gas plant that would generate electricity. It worked
for some time but then something happened, I don’t know what, and the project was abandoned.
I organized the funds for constructing the first prasädam pavilion in Mayapur, which
could seat a thousand people. I had sent pictures of the Mayapur prasädam distribution to all of
the temples in America and Europe and the preachers there had used them to collect donations.
However, they were not sending the money they collected to me and so I complained to Çréla
Prabhupäda. Çréla Prabhupäda was disturbed and sent a newsletter to all the temples saying that
any money collected for Mayapur prasädam distribution must be sent to me.
In a letter to Rameçvara dated October 1, 1974 sent from Mayapur, Çréla Prabhupäda
wrote: “The Dollars 5,000 which you have collected for Food Relief may be sent for the
construction of the Prasädam Distribution Pavilion here at Mayapur temple. One thousand
people will be able to be fed at a time and it will cost Dollars 25,000. Gargamuni Swami has
pledged to provide one half of the funds. Hamsaduta Prabhu has just sent Dollars 4,000 for Food
Relief which will also be used for this project. Please send your money directly to Gargamuni
Swami's Calcutta account, with a separate letter to this effect.”
When the prasädam pavilion was finished, mostly local Muslims came. While they were
taking prasädam, loudspeakers played kértana. Everyone who takes prasädam should be
informed that they are honoring the mercy of the Lord. It is not ordinary food. By offering food
to the Lord, it becomes spiritualized so that it is not at all like ordinary food, the eating of which
produces karmic reactions. We must always act as directed by Çréla Prabhupäda and not concoct
something with our fertile brains, thinking that we have made an improvement.
 By 1973, Çréla Prabhupäda was getting up to a hundred requests for initiation a month.
How could he perform all these initiations, considering that he was constantly travelling? And
besides, it was expensive to send beads by airmail. That’s when he appointed the first ritviks. In
Çréla Prabhupäda’s books, the word ritvik always refers to a priest who performs fire sacrifices.
The first ritvik was Kértanänanda. He was authorized by Çréla Prabhupäda to perform the fire
sacrifice and play a recording of Çréla Prabhupäda chanting on beads. In this regard Çréla
Prabhupäda used the words, “I empower you.” We can just imagine what that means.
In the purport to Çré Caitanya-caritämåta (Adi. 1.46) it is stated that the äcärya is the
Supreme Personality of Servitor Godhead. Kåñëa is the master Supreme Personality of Godhead
and His confidential servant is the Supreme Personality of Servitor Godhead. In England,
Revaténandana was empowered to perform initiations on Çréla Prabhupäda’s behalf, and by
1976, there were many ritviks.
Çréla Prabhupäda wanted the Calcutta temple to be a separate trust, and the trustees were
Jayapatäka, Bhavänanda, and myself. During the time when I was president, Çréla Prabhupäda
wrote Gétär Gän, which contained all the verses of the Bhagavad-gétä written poetically in
Bengali in such a way as to be suitable for school children to sing it. We printed the book at a
cost of only 80 or 90 paisa and distributed lakhs for Re. 1. Most of the distribution was done by
Bhavänanda and his kértana party in Mayapur and surrounding villages. Çréla Prabhupäda
wanted the book introduced in the schools so that children would sing it. Bhakti-caru Mahäräja
made a recording of it with a professional singer. Çréla Prabhupäda was very proud of this book
and wanted it widely distributed.
When Çréla Prabhupäda left Los Angeles in July of 1970, he went to Japan, where he
negotiated a deal with Dai Nippon, a very large press, to print his books. Masterfully, he
negotiated a small down payment and promised to pay the rest soon after the books were
delivered. Many of those books were shipped to Bombay and stored in a godown (warehouse).
These books included the Kåñëa books, Teachings of Lord Caitanya, and some volumes of
Çrémad-Bhägavatam. But it turned out that these books were too expensive to sell in India,
where at that time the quality of printing was very poor. Because they were expensive, and
because Çréla Prabhupäda doubted that the Life Members would read them, only four or five
books were given when someone became a life member.
Over the years, the books in the godown became moldy and eaten by worms. They had
been placed on a damp cement floor, and as you may know, the humidity in Calcutta is torturous.
Of course, the godowns were not air conditioned. I don’t even remember if any of our life
members had air conditioning in their offices or houses at that time. Çréla Prabhupäda was
concerned about these books and asked me if I could do something. This was another challenge
placed upon my head by Çréla Prabhupäda. I thought, “How can I distribute these thousands of
books rotting in the godown?”
We had a very nice Life Member and well-wisher named Sitaram Daga. Every morning
he sent someone with buttermilk to the temple, because buttermilk aids digestion. One day, I told
Sitaram Daga about the books and he said, “You should go to all the libraries. They get money
from the government and its just sitting there. The money is floating in the air and so you should
grab it.”
 That is how I got the idea of forming a library party, although it wasn’t until 1976 that
this was done. In 1974 I thought of starting Spiritual Sky Travels and Tours. My idea was to
bring people to Mayapur from America, and also provide guided tours of Europe and America
for our Life Members in India so that they could stay in our temples while doing their
sightseeing. I contacted all the temples in Europe and America, but none of them responded.
Çréla Prabhupäda approved of my idea and he was disturbed when the European and American
temples didn’t cooperate.
An example of this kind of non-cooperation can be seen in a letter Çréla Prabhupäda
wrote to Haàsadüta, dated May 15, 1974: “Another thing, is that we have received a serious
criticism that one of our very important Indian life members, Mr. Brij Mohon, M.P. visited
Bhaktivedanta Manor, and was refused entry. He even had a letter from Tejyas das introducing
him. This has caused much concern and Gargamuni Swami is postponing his scheme to take life
members on a tour of many of our centers, thinking the centers are not ready to receive guests.
Please investigate this report of the turning away of a life member at the Manor and let me know.
There should always be one or two rooms available for a life member. In your report you say 450
Indians visited on Sunday, so how could one Indian be turned away? Who turned him away?”
I supported both the Calcutta and Mayapur temples when I was president of the Calcutta
temple, and our main preaching was Life Membership. Besides myself, there were only a few
others making Life Members and so there was a lot of pressure on my head. There were 60-70
devotees living in Mayapur at that time, mostly Bengalis, and I had to give them Rs. 5000 a
week for maintenance. That was a lot of money in those days because the exchange rate was
about Rs. 7 for one US dollar. Now, it is about Rs. 75. The head püjäré, Pürëaprajïa däs, went
out every day and made life members. We had an agreement that he must collect a certain
amount for the temple while the rest would go into a separate Deity account. That was his
inspiration and so he made many members while simultaneously improving the opulence of the
Deity worship. There were two brothers from Kerala named Mahäbala and Gopati who were also
very good at making Life Members, and they spoke very good English. Besides covering the
maintenance of the Calcutta and Mayapur temples, our Calcutta collections paid for about half of
the first building in Mayapur, which later became known as the Lotus Building.
That I was able to support both Mayapur and Calcutta was appreciated by Çréla
Prabhupäda, who noted this in a letter to Tamäla Kåñëa dated January 11, 1974: “Yes I know
very well that Gargamuni Maharaja is an expert collector and preacher. He is so expert in
collecting therefore I call him Gargamoney. Regarding the BBT debt of Calcutta, you can wait
for that. Not that the payment can be washed off, but we can wait. It is very good news that
Gargamuni Maharaja is supporting both Calcutta and Mayapur.”
The GBC for India at that time was Karandhara. He wrote to Çréla Prabhupäda saying
that Calcutta and Mayapur were the best managed temples in India. Çréla Prabhupäda noted this
in a letter to me dated August 8, 1974.
“My Dear Gargamuni Swami:
Please accept my blessings. I beg to acknowledge receipt of your letter dated 2/8/74 and
have noted the contents. You have not mentioned anything about receiving my letter dated
14/7/74 about purchasing the Pani Hati property. I want to know about this, so I am enclosing the
copy of the letter.
 Regarding Karandhara's comment that Mayapur and Calcutta were the best organized
centers in India, that I know. I have full faith in you, and also Bhavänanda and Jayapatäka
Mahäräjas.
I hope this meets you in good health.
Your ever well wisher,
A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami

I became expert at convincing the Marwaris to become life members. I’ll always
remember how I once made twenty life members in one night. I had gone to preach to a very rich
Marwari gentleman at his house in Alipur. Generally, as one would expect from businessmen,
when I would ask them to become a life member, they would give various excuses and say, “I
will think about it.” I was always ready with a counter-argument. I would say, “When you eat, do
you think about it? No, you simply eat. When you go to the bathroom do you think about it? No,
you go without hesitation. Similarly, you should not hesitate to give some of your hard-earned
wealth to Lord Kåñëa.”
This particular man responded by saying, “Oh, but my brother is already a life member.”
I retorted, “When you eat do you eat off your brother’s plate?” He said, “No.” I said, “You are
individuals, and so similarly, you have to donate for the cause of Kåñëa consciousness
separately.” Although I pressed this man again and again, he wouldn’t give in and so I finally
left. Then, when I was about to take rest for the night, the phone rang. I answered and a woman
said, “Swamiji, you must come here right away! My husband has had a heart attack and we need
your blessings. You must save him.” It was the wife of the man who had earlier refused to
become a life member.
Acyutänanda was in the temple and he spoke fluent Hindi and could recite numerous
Sanskrit mantras and prayers, and so I had him come with me. When we arrived at the man’s
house, we found him lying in bed, surrounded by family members. Acyutänanda recited the
Nåsiàha prayers and many others, and then, when we performed Hare Kåñëa kértana, the man
recovered. He said, “Please give me your blessings.” Acyutänanda touched his head and he
seemed much better. The family members told me to come the next morning and didn’t say why.
We returned to the temple and the next morning, I went to the man’s house and saw that there
were twenty family members lined up with checks in their hands. I think they believed that if
they didn’t become life members, they would all have heart attacks that night.
During the two years I was president of the Calcutta temple, I must have made almost a
thousand life members. The Marwaris lived as joint families, all together in large buildings. I
would go to one man and make him a life member and then go to all his relatives, saying, “Your
brother has become a life member and so you should also become.”
One of the richest Calcutta Marwari families was the Bangurs. They had chaukédärs to
keep people from entering their houses. One day, I went to the house of Narasingha Bangur.
Having never seen a white sädhu, the chaukédärs were fearful and so they opened the door and
let me walk right in.
I went to the Birla house and again the chaukédärs let me in and I got a Rs. 25,000
donation. The two brothers that were the owners of Oriental Fans each gave me Rs. 11,000. Of
course, today this sounds like a small amount of money but in 1974, Rs. 25,000 was about US
$3500. Today, Rs. 25,000 would only be US $320. Çréla Prabhupäda was always satisfied with
my service and was never displeased.
Naturally, in those days, I was always thinking of how to make more Life Members.
Çréla Prabhupäda didn’t like the idea of giving the Life Members many books for free and so I
got the idea of giving them beautiful framed color photos of the Deities, Çré Çré Rädhä-
Govinda. I had brought a Polaroid camera from the U.S. that took instant photos. This kind of
camera had never been seen in India and sometimes I used it to impress people. Some
uneducated people thought that I produced the photos so quickly by utilizing my mystic powers.
Being impressed, they would readily give donations to the temple. Pürëaprajïa däs regularly took
photos. At that time there was only one shop that made color prints, and because it was done
manually, it took days to receive them. The shop owner’s name was Vishnu Narayan, but he was
an atheist. When I went to a Life Member to ask for a donation, or when I would go to ask
someone to become a Life Member, I would place four or five photos of Çré Rädhä-Govinda in
chrome-plated frames on his desk and say, “Rädhä-Govinda have sent me here to give you these
photos.” After I said this, it was difficult for them to refuse.
Another way of enticing Life Members to give donations was to give them Australian
ghee. At that time, and perhaps even now, all that was available in the market in India was
buffalo ghee, which was white. Pure yellow and aromatic cow’s ghee was unheard of, and some
of the members would take off the lid and rub a bit of ghee on their hand and smell it. That was
the clincher.
Madhudviña had brought fifty 25 kilo tins of ghee from Australia for the festival so that
the devotees would not get sick as they usually did. Each devotee on the plane carried a 25 kilo
tin of ghee. The plane landed in Calcutta and I stored the ghee in Çréla Prabhupäda’s room at the
Calcutta temple. At that time, Çréla Prabhupäda was in Mayapur.
For the Gaura-pürëimä festival of 1975, I arranged for a professional group of Manipuri
dancers known as the Jhaveri sisters to come and perform in Mayapur. They only asked for their
air tickets, and otherwise didn’t charge anything, but performed in the spirit of bhakti. I had not
informed Çréla Prabhupäda of their coming until the evening of their performance. Çréla
Prabhupäda attended the program, which was of kåñëa-lélä performed during his kaiçora age,
such as His pastimes of stealing butter. During the performance, I carefully watched Çréla
Prabhupäda’s face to see if he was pleased or not. He was smiling and sometimes clapping his
hands, and the devotees were also pleased to see an artistic cultural performance.
Çréla Prabhupäda then gave a lecture wherein he talked about the Manipuri dancing on
March 29, 1975.
Çréla Prabhupäda: We are seeking after this pleasure of Kåñëa with the gopés or with the
cowherd boys. Kåñëa has got many associates, and the topmost associates are the gopés. So we
are seeking after that happiness, but we are being misled by the lusty desires. So I am very glad
to see the dance, Manipuri dance, but it should be properly utilized. It should not be utilized as
lusty dance. It is änanda-cinmaya, sac-cid-änanda-vigrahaù, His expansion.
So people are hankering after happiness because he’s part and parcel of sac-cid-änanda-
vigraha, Kåñëa. So naturally, we are seeking the same spiritual happiness, but we are being
misled by mäyä. That we should be very much cautious under the guidance of proper spiritual
master. . . So this Kåñëa conscious movement is meant for taking these misguided living beings
to the topmost perfection of life in the rädhä-kåñëa-praëaya-vikåti. This is the aim of the Kåñëa
consciousness movement, and in India still, in Manipur, the idea is being cultivated, and I shall
be very glad that you Europeans and Americans who are present here may catch up this idea and
introduce in your country. And actually they’ll be happy if they follow the principles that
vikréòitaà vraja-vadhübhir idaà ca viñëoù. . .
So this kind of dancing is very welcome all over the world if we do not misunderstand
Kåñëa. That should be the precaution. Otherwise it is very, very good. And our purpose is to
introduce these Kåñëa pastimes all over the world so that they may take lesson that they are
seeking after happiness; the happiness is with Kåñëa, not in the material world, then you’ll be
successful.

Çréla Prabhupäda had a vision for Mayapur and Calcutta, and of course, for the rest of
the world, that we could not imagine. Just consider how in July of 1966, while sitting in the
storefront at 26 Second Avenue with just a few ragtag followers, he had incorporated the
International Society for Krishna Consciousness. When the temples in America began
distributing Çréla Prabhupäda’s books in great numbers, he introduced the concept of
“transcendental competition,” indicating that the temples should compete with each other to see
who could distribute the most books. Unlike mundane competition, where each competitor tries
to push the others down so that he comes out on top, transcendental competition means to
encourage all others while trying to outdo their service. Similarly, Çréla Prabhupäda, after seeing
how his Godbrothers had failed to increase the missionary activities inaugurated by their spiritual
master, wanted to overshadow their efforts by displaying the enthusiastic preaching efforts of his
disciples.
In a letter to Rameçvara dated October 25, 1974, written by Çréla Prabhupäda’s
secretary, Brahmänanda Swami, we get a glimpse of Çréla Prabhupäda’s competitive spirit. In
the letter Çréla Prabhupäda was quoted as saying, “We should make a scheme so that everybody
will come here and not there. We are not competing with Yoga Pith but with the proprietor of
Yoga Pith. Actually the birthplace of the Lord is not as important as the place of His activities.
Kurukshetra is more important than Mathura, because the whole world knows the Bhagavad-
gétä. It is because of the activities of the Lord that people take interest in His birthplace. The
“karma” is more important than the “janma.” Even when Lord Chaitanya Mahaprabhu was
present people went to see him at Jagannath Puri, but they did not come to His birthplace,
because His activity was more important than His birthplace. To His birthplace we offer our
namaskars, but from the place of His activities we get inspiration. And, what was the Lord's
activitiy at Puri? It was preaching. Our temple must be active with preaching and not a dead
place.”
Çréla Prabhupäda wanted Mayapur to be self-sufficient. The devotees were growing jute,
which is a cash crop, but Çréla Prabhupäda did not like that and so said, “No more jute. Grow
rice and sugarcane.” Later on, the devotees made their own gur (jaggery). Çréla Prabhupäda
didn’t want the Mayapur project to purchase food, but instead grow enough rice and vegetables
so that eventually, it would no longer be dependent on Calcutta collections.
Çréla Prabhupäda didn’t want us to buy dhotés and särés. He wanted us to make our own
and so we bought three handlooms in Calcutta and engaged the Bengali devotees in making
them. I remember putting on the first handloom dhoté made in Mayapur. It was heavy cotton,
very thick, but soft. Çréla Prabhupäda wanted the temples in Europe and America to buy these
dhotés and särés but the särés were rather plain and so the ladies didn’t like them. I told Çréla
Prabhupäda that I had thousands of dollars worth of särés and needed to sell them to pay for the
supplies. Çréla Prabhupäda told me to contact Bhagavän in Paris, and that he would take them
all. I asked Çréla Prabhupäda how he was sure of this and he replied that they will take them on
his order. So I shipped all the särés to Paris and received the payment.
We also made mådaìgas, which are locally called khols. They are made of clay but the
heads and straps are made of leather. We went to the wholesale market in Calcutta and bought
animal hides. I remember that once I shipped 200 mådaìgas to Los Angeles. Some of them broke
in transit. Çréla Prabhupäda wanted us to manufacture karatälas, but I didn’t know how to do
that.
Jayapatäka grew tulasé plants, and I was the first to get beads made from their wood. I
brought my new beads to Çréla Prabhupäda so that he could sanctify them. I had soaked them in
sandalwood oil and mustard seed oil so that they became smooth and scented. Later on, everyone
made tulasé beads in Mayapur. I recently saw an instruction from Çréla Prabhupäda that if you
get new japa beads, there is no need for the guru to chant on them because he had already
chanted on the first set of beads. Still, Çréla Prabhupäda chanted on my new Mayapur tulasé
beads.
Çréla Prabhupäda never appointed a female GBC member. Once, during the Mayapur
festival, I was in Çréla Prabhupäda’s room with Tamäla Kåñëa when Çréla Prabhupäda remarked
that if Yamunä had appeared as a man, he would have appointed her as a GBC member. Just see
how much he appreciated her managerial skills. During the construction of the Våndävana
temple, she was the co-director.
Jayapatäka informed me that there was an old, unused airfield built during World War II
that was now overgrown with grass. I drove Çréla Prabhupäda there and he told me to go to the
government and try to get it, because in the future airplanes could land there daily to facilitate
people visiting Mayapur. Çréla Prabhupäda had a vision of Mayapur that none of us could even
imagine. I did approach government officials but nothing came of it. Dealing with bureaucrats in
India is generally a total waste of time because all they think about is their personal ambitions.
Çréla Prabhupäda also asked me to approach the government to let us make Victoria
Memorial our temple. The huge marble building was closed to the public because the
government couldn’t maintain it. Çréla Prabhupäda said, “We will take charge of it and maintain
it, and we can install our Deities there.” That also never worked out.
Across from the 3, Albert Road temple is a park with a lake, but it was not being nicely
maintained. Çréla Prabhupäda asked me to approach the relevant government officials and
request them to give us the park so that we could maintain it and build a temple in the middle of
the lake. That was Çréla Prabhupäda’s desire because, after all, Calcutta was his birthplace and
so ISKCON should have a glorious temple there. That was also never approved by the
government and the temple to this day remains where it was when I was president in 1973-75.
These were Çréla Prabhupäda’s desires, but dealing with politicians was always difficult
and frustrating.
 I drove Çréla Prabhupäda to various places for his morning walks. Many wealthy
Marwaris walked every morning at Victoria Memorial, which was near the temple, and so I
wanted Çréla Prabhupäda to also walk there so that they could see him. Many were our Life
Members and after seeing Çréla Prabhupäda at Victoria Memorial, they would come to the
temple to meet him. I also took Çréla Prabhupäda to the harbor where he had boarded the
Jaladuta to come to America. There is a very nice walkway there, perhaps two kilometers long,
and we would see military men jogging. Sometimes Çréla Prabhupäda would stop and gaze
across the river at the big fishing boats. I always wondered what Çréla Prabhupäda was thinking
about at such times, but I was too shy to ask him.
Once, a group of men came to the temple to invite Çréla Prabhupäda to attend a drama of
caitanya-lélä performed in an old hall with balconies on Chittaranjan Avenue. They gave the
invitation to me and I informed Çréla Prabhupäda. Çréla Prabhupäda was often invited to
functions and invariably he would not attend. I gave the invitation to Çréla Prabhupäda and he
said, “We will go.” I was shocked because I assumed that this drama was being performed by
sahajiyäs. I informed the people that we would attend and they reserved front row seats for us. I
went with Devanända and Tamäla Kåñëa, and all the while, I was watching Çréla Prabhupäda to
see his reactions, because he appeared to be very emotionally affected by the drama. During the
scene where Lord Caitanya took sannyäsa, Çréla Prabhupäda began to cry. He looked at me and
said, “This is a very pathetic scene” because he empathized with the lamentation of mother Çacé
as she understood that her son was going to leave her for accepting the renounced order of life.
This was certainly a great shock for her.
After the program, Çréla Prabhupäda went behind the curtain. The actors bowed down to
him, and in return Çréla Prabhupäda blessed the two that had played the parts of Lord Caitanya
and Lord Nityänanda by slapping them on their backs. The play was performed respectfully and
Çréla Prabhupäda appreciated that. It should be remembered that, in his younger days, Çréla
Prabhupäda had played the part of Çré Advaita Äcärya in a drama produced by a famous Bengali
dramatician.
Sometimes I noticed how Çréla Prabhupäda would pick up a flower, especially a
gardenia, and rub it over his forehead and eyes. When I asked him about this, he told me that this
is very soothing to the brain. I started doing this with prasädam flowers and found that it
produced a cooling and soothing effect. Çréla Prabhupäda had innumerable health remedies, and
I have collected a file full of them. Çréla Prabhupäda would say that his guru was a walking
encyclopedia and in my opinion, he was also. I saw that Çréla Prabhupäda could talk on any
subject in great detail. I only had a high school education and so whatever I have learned is from
Çréla Prabhupäda. He knew the essence of everything.
Acyutänanda Swami went to India in 1967 and remained there. He was an amazing
devotee, displaying a variety of talents. He could speak fluent Hindi and Bengali, although he
never formally studied them. He was with me in Calcutta and he would lecture at all the
programs and Sunday feasts. His lectures in Hindi astonished the Marwaris, and he was the best
singer of kértana and bhajanas. When he did bhajana performances, he would not only sing
Bengali and Sanskrit bhajanas, but Hindi bhajanas as well.
I made a recording of Acyutänanda which I called Live in Calcutta. Acyutänanda played
the tampura, Viñëudatta played the mådaìga, and Dhira-Kåñëa played karatälas. I recorded it in
Çréla Prabhupäda’s room. Acyutänanda had been a musician before coming to Kåñëa
consciousness and he was a natural musician. He led most of the kértanas at the Cross Maidan
pandal program in Bombay, and also at the New Delhi pandal program at Connaught Place. All
the devotees were enthralled by Acyutänanda’s kértanas and bhajanas.
While preaching in Calcutta, I was shocked to learn that very few Bengalis knew about
Lord Caitanya. When I mentioned Lord Caitanya, they thought that I was talking about
Ramakrishna. Of course, this was not the case in the villages, for outside the city everyone knew
about Lord Caitanya. From this I could understand that the preaching of the Gauòéya Maöha in
Calcutta was not very strong. They did not go out and preach but only displayed the Deities for
those who might come to their temples.
There is a British term, “mess hall,” for the place where a group of people sit and eat. On
numerous occasions, Çréla Prabhupäda warned that our temples should not become places
simply for “joint mess.” Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura had coined the phrase “joint
mess” when he felt that his disciples were simply eating and sleeping with very little preaching.
Çréla Prabhupäda sometimes said that an army runs on its stomach, meaning that soldiers
need to be fed well if they are expected to fight vigorously. There was not a single good cook
among the devotees in the Calcutta temple. Before I became president, the temple was very poor,
and breakfast prasädam was simply a kind of mush made from the wheat-soy flour donated by
the American embassy. The devotees referred to this as “gook.” It was mixed with molasses that
was donated by a Christian organization. To remedy the situation, I hired a brähmaëa cook from
Nathadwara who had worked for the Birlas, one of the richest families in India. His name was
Shantilal and he was very clean and well-dressed. While cooking, he recited Vedic mantras.
Once, when many sannyäsés were visiting because of the Gaura-pürëimä festival, they
complained to Çréla Prabhupäda, who was also staying in the Calcutta temple. They said, “Çréla
Prabhupäda, devotees are not cooking. Gargamuni has hired a brähmaëa cook.”
Çréla Prabhupäda called for me. I thought, “O boy, I’m going to be chastised by Çréla
Prabhupäda again.” Çréla Prabhupäda told me to call for Shantilal so that he could speak with
him alone. Çréla Prabhupäda talked to him, and when Shantilal left, I entered the room. Çréla
Prabhupäda asked me how much I was paying Shantilal, and I replied that I was paying him Rs.
1000 per month. Çréla Prabhupäda said, “He is first class and so keep him nicely.”
The next morning, after Shantilal had cooked, I put plates in front of all the sannyäsés
that had complained but told the servers, “Don’t serve them, because they don’t want to eat food
prepared by a hired cook. Let them arrange their own prasädam.” I was joking, but I wanted to
get some token revenge against those that had criticized me.
I always wanted to take on the biggest services for Çréla Prabhupäda’s pleasure, and he
appreciated this and recognized my ability to get things done. In a letter to Guru däsa and
Yamunä dated June 24, 1972, Çréla Prabhupäda wrote: “So Gargamuni is a little aspiring to be
the president of Våndävana, and he was sorry when he was refused the post because I wanted to
give Kñérodakaçäyé chance. But Kñérodakaçäyé is not very responsible, so why not make
Gargamuni president of the Våndävana temple to be responsible for collecting the money and
making certain that the job gets done on time? If he is given a big task to do, Gargamuni has got
determination and he always comes out successful in this matter of raising money and doing
some big work with it, just like when he purchased our Los Angeles temple. Main thing is, don't
waste any time. Finish it on time.”

CHAPTER TWELVE: Preaching in America 1975. Driving Six Mercedes

vans, Germany to Mayapur.

In January of 1972, Çréla Prabhupäda had requested all the American temple presidents
to send 50 devotees to India because three very big projects were beginning to take shape, but
there were very few devotees. Those 50 devotees arrived in April but very few stayed because
most were new and the conditions in India at that time were harsh. The devotees arrived at
Bombay, and at the Juhu land they had to sleep outside and be bitten by mosquitoes. The
American temples didn’t want to give responsible and experienced devotees and so most of the
devotees who came to India in 1972 were not very dedicated. The temples only gave devotees
that they didn’t mind losing. Many got sick and left, and one devotee died of typhoid. Some even
returned home and left the movement.
So in 1975, Çréla Prabhupäda asked me to return to America to collect money for
Mayapur and bring 100 experienced devotees to India. There were big temples in India but very
few experienced devotees to manage them, perform essential services, and collect donations. I
went to America with Bhavänanda, and we started a traveling saìkértana party, which we called
the Mayapur Candrodaya Traveling Saìkértana Party. Eventually we had three vans and 21
devotees. The temple presidents didn’t want to give us devotees and so sometimes I used tactics
which displeased them. I didn’t mind because I knew that I was fulfilling Çréla Prabhupäda’s
desire to have good men in India. After a few months, I was able to send $20,000 to Mayapur,
and there was enough money left over to buy six vans in Germany.
I preferred to be in India and I got the idea of leading a traveling saìkértana party with
vans. Çréla Prabhupäda had told me that in the 1940s he had met with some of his Godbrothers
and had told them that his dream was to have vans for a traveling saìkértana party. One van
would have what he called “utilities,” and the other would carry the devotees. I think that Çréla
Prabhupäda’s desire was transferred from his heart to my heart. I planned to go town to town in
India and do pandal and factory programs. I asked Çréla Prabhupäda’s permission, and he told
me to come immediately.
The first thing was, “How to get vans?” I thought of Mercedes-Benz because when I was
14 year old, my father bought me a second-hand Mercedes car so that I could drive to school. I
made up my mind to go to the Mercedes factory in Germany, buy the vans, and drive them to
India. I had noticed that in India, many of the trucks had the Mercedes emblem on the front.
They were very old models, perhaps manufactured just after World War II. They were old but
very durable, and my mind became fixed upon Mercedes.
I sent Karandhara to the Mercedes factory in Bremen, Germany, with cash, and he
ordered six blue and white vans with police lights on top because I knew that they would be
useful in India. I chose blue and white because those were the colors of police vehicles in India.
By 1976, book distribution in America had become so successful that the devotees were
able to purchase a 13-storey skyscraper building in Manhattan. It was a huge building and
hundreds of devotees were staying there. I also stayed there for about ten days with my party of
twenty devotees before going to Germany to pick up the vans. While there, I bought all the
equipment, such as speakers and microphones, which was needed to upgrade the vans because
such things were cheaper in New York than in Germany.
Previously, the Manhattan building had been a mental institution. Because of that, we
purchased the building quite cheaply, something like $300,000, because nobody else wanted it.
Why? It was rumored to be haunted by ghosts. All the doors were made of steel. The temple
room was huge and so it could hold 500 people. Çréla Prabhupäda was so pleased with this
building that he once said, “You can bury me in this building.” Just imagine how just ten years
prior to this, Çréla Prabhupäda had begun his movement in a small storefront in the poorest
section of town. The new building was just off Seventh Avenue, near the Hudson River, and the
area was quiet. Çréla Prabhupäda loved to sit on the roof. What an amazing achievement to go
from a dirty storefront to a skyscraper building in Manhattan in just ten years! Sometimes Çréla
Prabhupäda spoke about how he had arrived in America with only 40 rupees, but in such a short
time, he now had fabulous temples in countries all over the world.
I remember sleeping in that building and hearing devotees scream at night. They must
have experienced ghosts in their dreams. The managers complained to Çréla Prabhupäda, asking
him how they could get rid of the ghosts. Çréla Prabhupäda told them to go to each room while
ringing a bell and carrying incense. “Perform an ärati in each room with saìkértana and the
ghosts will go away,” Çréla Prabhupäda said.
In this regard, there was similar incident while Çréla Prabhupäda and his disciples were
staying at John Lennon’s estate near London. There were complaints of ghosts and Çréla
Prabhupäda had the devotees perform saìkértana. No ghosts were experienced thereafter.
When the vans were ready, I flew to Germany with the other devotees on my party. The
twenty-one devotees accompanying me carried all the equipment we would need for our
saìkértana vans—top-mounted speakers, microphones, and so on. All together we had a hundred
and ten pieces of luggage. In those days, the airlines didn’t charge for excess baggage the way
they do now. We stayed at the ISKCON temple in Frankfurt, which was a big castle named
Schloss Rettershof on a hill on the outskirts of the city. Haàsadüta was in charge.
From Frankfurt, I went to the factory, and because it was winter, I was able to hide my
sannyäsa cloth under a long coat. The Mercedes people paid for my stay in the Sheraton hotel,
and they gave me a tour of the factory. In this Bremen factory they only manufactured trucks,
and not cars. Our vans had diesel engines. Two vans were two feet longer than the other four.
One or two had seats in the back while the others had bare wooden floors.
We drove the vans to Frankfurt, filled them up with our supplies, and started our arduous
journey to India. This was before GPS and so I had maps showing me all the roads. Our trip was
an amazing, but also dangerous, adventure. The vans could have been stolen from us and we
would have no recourse to justice. We completely depended on the mercy of Kåñëa that He
would allow us to reach Mayapur safely. From Germany, we drove through Austria, and then
through Yugoslavia, which was ruled by President Tito. Yugoslavia was a communist country,
but it was favorable to America and against the Soviet Union.
After Yugoslavia, we had to pass through Bulgaria, which was a Communist country, and
every few miles there was a picture of Lenin with one of his sayings. At the border, they only
give us a three-day visa and it was $100 per person so that I had to pay more than $2,000. They
said that if we didn’t leave the country within three days, they would put us in jail. We stopped
in the capital and because it was winter, it was freezing cold. In fact, it was so cold that the diesel
could freeze and clog the engines so that they wouldn’t start. Our engines were stuttering so I
asked a trucker what to do. I couldn’t believe what he showed me! He opened the gas tank, took
a big cloth, stuck it inside and lit it. He said, “You have to keep the gas tank hot as you drive, but
make sure it doesn’t catch fire.” We did this and it worked.
From Bulgaria, we entered Turkey. Western Turkey was almost like Europe, very
modern and cosmopolitan, but Eastern Turkey was Islamic and dangerous. The children were
trained by the parents to throw rocks at the trucks passing by so that they would stop and give
them some chocolate. Many trucks had protective steel grills so that rocks wouldn’t break the
glass. We didn’t have those and so we turned on our police lights, and because one of the vans
had a siren, the kids ran away and didn’t throw rocks. By Kåñëa’s mercy, we had the good
intelligence to understand how to avoid trouble.
Once, we stopped at a gas station (petrol pump) and all six vans filled up with diesel.
Five vans then left while I stayed behind to pay, and the attendant demanded three times the
actual amount. I objected but he insisted and some other men approached with iron bars. I got in
my van, where I had a secret broadcasting radio, and called the other vans, telling them to come
back because there was a problem. When they saw me use the radio they thought that I must be a
CIA agent and so when the others returned, the gas station men dropped their iron bars. We
ended up paying just a little more, and that was just one of the innumerable difficulties we faced
with Kåñëa coming to our rescue every time.
Finally, we came to Iran, which was a great place for buying petrol and diesel. It was
only thirty US cents a liter, or at that time Rs. 2. I bought twenty 20-liter gas cans and filled them
up in Iran. When we came to the mountains, there was a blizzard and so the snow was piled
higher than me in some places. I had never seen so much snow, and while going, we saw perhaps
twenty overturned trucks. The snow-covered roads were dangerous and although we had snow
chains, we didn’t know how to put them on the tyres.
A truck had been going up the hill but had lost traction and jack-knifed, blocking the
road. There was a gap which was just enough to squeeze our vans through. It was freezing cold
and we didn’t have warm clothing, and the heaters wouldn’t work when we stopped. Here we
were stopped in the mountains on a road blocked by a jack-knifed truck, and we were freezing.
There was a long line of trucks and so we went to the front of the line and began pushing our
vans through the gap, but we weren’t strong enough. Suddenly, a huge man got out of his truck,
and he didn’t even wear a shirt! He was muscular and reminded me of Hanumän. Although four
or five of our men couldn’t push a van through the gap, he single-handedly pushed our vans
through and so I gave him a bottle of whiskey. In Germany, I had taken the advice of someone
who told me to get some American whiskey and cigarettes so that when we got to the borders,
we could give some to the officers. The man was happy to get the whiskey and said, “Thank you!
You Americans are very nice. Number one!”
Later on, while we were going down the mountain, the road was so narrow that two
vehicles couldn’t pass and so one would have to go off the road. In that situation, a truck hit one
of our vans but luckily, no one was hurt. A government officer got out of his car and we showed
him our American passports. At that time, the Shah of Iran was ruling the country, and he was
allied with America. We found that wherever we went in Iran, even though it was an Islamic
nation, the people were very respectful and spoke English.
The government man made the trucker that hit us pay for the damage, and he towed the
disabled van to the next town with a chain. The officer ordered that our van be fixed at once, and
then left. We had to spend two or three days there. Practically the only food available was meat,
but we did get some nice oranges from Jaffa, some goat cheese, and dried olives. The Shah of
Iran had a program where huge two-foot wide roöis were sold in all the towns and villages for
almost nothing, perhaps the equivalent of one rupee, so that no one would starve. So we had
enough food and we kept ourselves warm by staying in the steam bath houses.
There were big buildings where you could sit in a steam room all day, take a cold bath,
and then again go into the steam room. We got our health and strength back by eating roöis and
olives, and staying in the steam rooms. When the van was fixed, we continued our journey.
When we came to the Afghanistan border, we saw hundreds of trucks lined up. Some had
been camped there for a week and so we went to the front of the line. I had a photo of Guru däs
with Indira Gandhi and would tell the officers that our vans were actually ambulances filled with
food relief. I said, “You can see me in this picture with Indira Gandhi.”
We crossed the border at midnight when most of the officers were drunk and half-asleep.
They are supposed to check the vehicles and documents, but I said, “Please don’t bother to check
anything. Here is some whiskey and a carton of cigarettes.” When I handed them bottles of
whiskey and Marlboro cigarettes, they were satisfied and let us go through without any hassle.
So I was given good advice and had the good sense to take advantage of it.
That was how we entered Afghanistan, and entering Iran was similar to this. It was a
great relief to get through the borders quickly, because we were in a hurry to get to Mayapur in
time for the festival. But crossing the border into Afghanistan was not the last of our problems.
There was disaster after disaster and yet every time Kåñëa saved us. Why were we able to
surmount all of the obstacles placed on our path? Because it was Çréla Prabhupäda’s desire that
our vans be brought to India. I understood that so many incredible things were being manifest
because of Çréla Prabhupäda’s desires.
I always had faith that Kåñëa would protect us because we were sincerely trying to serve
Çréla Prabhupäda’s mission. The biggest problem in Afghanistan was that there were no bridges
—we had to drive across the rivers. During summer, most of the rivers were dry and crossing
them was not a problem, but in the winter the water flowed across the roads. The highway was a
cement road built by the United Nations. We had left in February and it was now March, and we
came to a place where the water was three-feet deep across the highway, and there was a line of
about a hundred cars and trucks, waiting to cross the river. I asked someone what was happening
and he said that they were waiting for the water to go down before crossing.
At the Mercedes factory I had asked if the vans can drive through water and was told that
the engine was sealed so that water cannot get in. Still, we were told not to drive through very
deep water, and if we had to drive through water, to be careful and drive slowly. I decided to
drive across the water. Still, we had to be careful because if the current was too swift, it might
carry a van away downstream. We had someone walk across first to see the depth, and it was
only up to his knees. We went across and only a little water came into the vans. The people
watching us were amazed. We could see that they had their mouths open in astonishment that we
were so bold.
From Afghanistan we entered Pakistan, which was a close ally of America at that time,
and so we were treated respectfully. Near the border, we had to go through the Kyber Pass,
which had previously been traversed by Alexander the Great when he had attacked India.
Alexander’s army was defeated in India, although they had conquered Persia and other places.
Bhaktivinoda Öhäkura, using his birth name, Kedarnath Datta, wrote a book about
Alexander the Great’s defeat in India called Poriade. The subject of the book is King Puru,
whose name in Greece was Porus, and he was the emperor of India. Alexander the Great’s army
had horse soldiers that previously had no experience of the war elephants of India. On the trunks
of the war elephants were placed sharp bamboos pointing in all directions. When Alexander’s
horses saw the elephants, they became frightened and fled, throwing the soldiers off their backs.
While penetrating the enemy army, the war elephants swung their trunks, knocking over the
opposing soldiers, who were then easily killed by the arrows of the elephant warriors. While in
India, Alexander the Great was wounded, and he died while retreating.
Çréla Prabhupäda often related a story about Alexander the Great in his lectures and
conversations. There was a plunderer who had stolen something and was caught and brought
before Alexander the Great. The thief said, “Sir, you are a bigger thief. You conquer lands and
plunder them, whereas I am a small thief and so what is the difference between us?” Alexander
was an intelligent man and so he admitted that the thief was right and so he ordered that the thief
not be punished.
During a room conversation on July 17, 1977 in Våndävana, Çréla Prabhupäda requested
the GBC not to make him like Alexander the Great.
Tamäla Kåñëa: So the guiding principle should be that under no circumstance should we
close a temple.
Prabhupäda: Then what is the preaching? Alexander the Great? He was conquering, and
as soon he went to conquer another place, the last place was lost. Suppose I have conquered
Bombay. Then I go to Karachi. In the meantime, Bombay is lost. That was being done to
Alexander the Great. That means no proper management.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Too much expansion with not enough good management. Similarly, we
should not expand too quickly.
Prabhupäda: Therefore I am stressing book selling more than opening temples.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Oh. Yes. This is one of the reasons. I don’t think many devotees think in
terms of that, but this is a very practical point, that once you make the sale, the book will act.
Prabhupäda: Yes. It will remain permanent.
Tamäla Kåñëa: It establishes itself as a Deity within a person’s home.
Prabhupäda: Yes. Now I have given my program. You tackle it, GBC men. At least, don’t
make me Alexander the Great in my lifetime. (laughs) They say, “You are great, great, great.”
But don’t make me small while I am living.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Or after. We will never make you that way.
Prabhupäda: That’s my request.
Tamäla Kåñëa: You’ve always said to us, at least whatever we have, maintain it.
 Prabhupäda: And people are recognizing that I am great. Don’t make me small. I’ll not
give you much trouble, but I am now invalid. What can I do?

In what sense did Çréla Prabhupäda request the GBC to not make him like Alexander the
Great? Alexander the Great would conquer a country, leave some men there to manage it, and
then move on to conquer somewhere else. After Alexander’s departure, the local people would
revolt and kick out the men Alexander left behind from the conquered land.

Afghanistan was barren and so hardly anything grew there. It’s such an impious country.
The best part of our trip was when we went through the Kyber Pass and entered the Indus Valley,
which was so green, so lush, and so beautiful! We had been cold for a long time and so we were
happy to breathe the warm air. It had taken us about twenty days to come this far.
At Peshawar, which is in the mountains, we stayed at the Sheraton hotel because it was
safe to park our vans in its guarded compound. Then at last we entered India. First we stopped at
Amritsar, where we stayed at a gurudwara. They gave us pure vegetarian food and didn’t charge
anything, but still, we left a donation. Later, when I had my Library Party in 1976-77, I told the
devotees to stay at gurudwaras and not in ordinary dharmaçäläs because they are very clean and
have good vegetarian food. They don’t charge anything but I instructed my men to always leave
a donation.
Finally, we came to Calcutta. I went ahead to Mayapur while the other devotees spent a
couple of days cleaning the vans so that they would look nice when Çréla Prabhupäda saw them.
While in Mayapur, I was in total anxiety, thinking, “When are the vans going to arrive?”
I was sitting with Çréla Prabhupäda in his room. The door and windows were open, and
cool breezes were blowing, making the atmosphere pleasant. All of a sudden, Çréla Prabhupäda
heard the sound of kértana coming from loudspeakers. I had put loudspeakers on top of four of
the vans. I told Çréla Prabhupäda that his vans were arriving and he immediately jumped out of
his seat and went to the veranda of the Lotus Building to see them arrive. Çréla Prabhupäda put
on his shoes and went down the stairs to greet the vans. He gazed at them and touched them
admiringly. That was his blessing.
We opened the door of one of the vans and helped Çréla Prabhupäda into the passenger’s
seat, because it was a bit high. He said, “I will go with you” and we shouted “Jaya!” “Haribol!”
Of course, that wouldn’t have been practical because at that time the roads in India were
generally full of potholes.
Hari-sauri wrote about the arrival of our vans in Mayapur in his book, A Transcendental
Diary Volume 1: After having spent some time in America and Europe gathering funds, men, and
equipment, Gargamuni Swami arrived with his TSKP in a grand style. Their large, blue-and-
white Mercedes vans came driving slowly down Bhaktisiddhänta Road one after another, with
mounted loudspeakers blaring out the mahä-mantra.
When they entered the front gate, Çréla Prabhupäda came out on the veranda to see the
spectacle, and all the devotees eagerly gathered around to greet them.
Gargamuni Swami rushed up to Çréla Prabhupäda's rooms, where he enthusiastically
described his future preaching plans. He showed Prabhupäda a wonderful new preaching aid he
had bought in America—a portable eight-millimeter film display. It resembled a briefcase but it
had a screen inside the lid, which was slotted for cassette films. The machine cost $250 and each
cassette the same amount.
Each of his preaching parties is equipped with one. In this way they will be able to walk
into any businessman's office, show him a film about Kåñëa consciousness, and then sign him as
a Life Member. Gargamuni's plan is to launch a bold new membership drive.
Needless to say, Çréla Prabhupäda was enthusiastic. Fully enlivened, he called all the
sannyäsés to his room and told them to plan a tour route from village to village between the 15th
and 26th of March. He said that he would also participate.

Hari-çauri’s description is very nice except that he mistakenly thought that I had come to
Mayapur with the vans. I had fitted the vans with special steel-belted Michelin tyres. However, it
was so hot during the summer that the steel melted the tyres and so every one of them was
spoiled. I had to replace all twenty-four tyres. It was a tough job maintaining those vans in India.
When the headlights burnt out, I couldn’t get replacements in India and so I flew to Rome to get
them. I stayed there two days, bought many headlights, and flew back to India.
I don’t remember the year, but Çréla Prabhupäda was in Våndävana, and it was his
Vyasa-puja day. Four or five of his Godbrothers attended and Çréla Prabhupäda had them speak.
Çréla Prabhupäda was sitting on his vyäsäsana and his Godbrothers were sitting on the floor. I
walked up to the Godbrothers and began glorifying Çréla Prabhupäda as the bona fide successor
to Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura, describing his accomplishments in the Western
countries. I humbly pleaded with them, saying that they should assist Çréla Prabhupäda in his
preaching mission of spreading the saìkértana movement of Lord Caitanya all over the world. I
knew that Çréla Prabhupäda was ready to give them plane tickets if they were willing to preach
in the West. They always refused, however, preferring to remain in their positions as local
äcäryas of their maths. When I finished speaking, Çréla Prabhupäda nodded his head in such a
way that I understood that he approved of what I had done.
It is the duty of a disciple to glorify his spiritual master and broadcast his glories. I
wanted to clearly demonstrate Çréla Prabhupäda’s preeminent position among all his
Godbrothers.
I was in Mayapur when Çrédhara Mahäräja came to visit Çréla Prabhupäda. When
Çrédhara Mahäräja arrived, Çréla Prabhupäda was seated on the vyäsäsana. Çréla Prabhupäda
humbly climbed down from his vyäsäsana and sat by Çrédhara Mahäräja’s side. Çrédhara
Mahäräja was Çréla Prabhupäda’s elder Godbrother and he had instructed Çréla Prabhupäda
when he was a householder. We should note how Çréla Prabhupäda was not proud because he
had established temples all over the world and had initiated thousands of disciples. He and
Çrédhara Mahäräja had very friendly talks, and Çréla Prabhupäda displayed great respect for
him.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Traveling Saìkértana in India. The Library Party

When we entered India, we had to register the vans with the government and were
allowed a six months’ stay. After six months, we were expected to take the vans out of India.
From Mayapur, we took the vans on a grand tour, doing pandal and factory programs. We went
all the way to Manipur. We went to Mirzapur in UP. We did a program at the Union Carbide
factory in Bhopal, where there was later on a huge explosion that made headline news
worldwide. We did programs there for a month, and they gave us an entire building for our
residence. During the day we performed saìkértana, and also made life members. Shantilal was
with us and he did all the cooking.
While traveling, if there was no gurudwara to stay in, we would find a sandy riverbed and
remain there for the night. We would keep the vans in a circle and build a fire in the middle to
keep wild animals away. Shantilal cooked, we would bathe in the river, and we would sleep
there. We did this in Rishikesh by the side of the Gangä and suddenly, at 2:00 in the morning,
there was a flash flood so that the water quickly rose to where our vans were parked. We had to
hurriedly drive the vans out of harm’s way, but two devotees had gotten up early and were
bathing in the Gangä when a wall of water descended from the mountains. They surely would
have drowned but were able to grab onto a dead buffalo floating nearby. They held onto the dead
buffalo, reached the shore, and were saved.
In the heat of summer, we drove to Shimla for a break because the vans didn’t have air
conditioning. First we went to Dehradun and did a program there. Even though this was a
vacation, we sold books because that was how we maintained ourselves.
While driving the vans in India, we would turn on the police lights and the policemen
would salute us and wave. They assumed that we were from the government. In this way, we
were able to quickly go through heavy traffic. When there was a toll bridge, we didn’t have to
pay because they assumed that our vans were government vehicles.
While continuously traveling, many of the devotees became sick and weak and so I
wanted them to be in a healthy environment to recuperate. During the winter we went to
Gopalpur, which is south of Puri. In the 1920s and 1930s it was a vacation resort for the British,
and they had built many hotels. When we went there we saw that these hotels were in a
dilapidated condition, and the town appeared desolate. We rented a nice bungalow on the ocean
for Rs. 100 a day, and that included a servant who washed the dishes and performed other
services. There were nice ocean breezes, Shantilal cooked, and so we got back our strength and
health after much arduous traveling.
A devotee in Germany wrote to Çréla Prabhupäda, asking if he would like him to
purchase a Mercedes car and drive it to India. Çréla Prabhupäda approved because now that
ISKCON was building huge projects, it didn’t look good to always depend on life members’ cars
when he arrived at an airport. In this way, Çréla Prabhupäda had a very nice Mercedes car, but
while riding in it, he would feel dizzy because the soft suspension was not suited for bumpy
Indian roads. Çréla Prabhupäda was bouncing in the car so much that it made him dizzy.
Sometimes he would almost hit his head on the roof. Finally he said, “Send the Mercedes back to
Germany.”
Çréla Prabhupäda asked me to get him cars in India. At that time there were only two cars
manufactured in India, the Ambassador made by the Birlas’ company, Hindustan Motors, near
Calcutta, and the Fiat made near Bombay.
Çréla Prabhupäda wanted three cars—one in Våndävana, one in Bombay, and one in
Calcutta—and he gave me the money to buy them. At that time a new Ambassador cost Rs.
28,000. I went to the Ambassador dealer in Calcutta and said, “I need three cars.” He called the
factory and wrote the number 7500 on a piece of paper. I said, “Oh, the cost is only Rs. 7500?”
He said, “No. You are number 7500 on the waiting list.” I said, “What? I can’t just come here
and buy a car?” He said, “No, no, no. We are ordered by the government to make a certain
number of cars each year, and the demand is higher than the supply. You will have to wait until
it is your turn to purchase the cars. It may take five years.” I said, “My Guru Mahäräja wants the
cars now.” He said, “Sorry, but I can’t help you.”
I had made Mr. G. P. Birla a life member, and he had donated Rs. 25,000 to Mayapur. I
went to him and said, “Sir, your Guruji wants three cars and I have the cash.” Once, Çréla
Prabhupäda told me that our Life Members are as good as his disciples because they are helping
finance our projects. I put the cash on his desk and he agreed to give me the cars. But it turned
out that the cars were terrible. The suspensions were too bouncy, the doors wouldn’t close
properly, the windows moved, and some of the wheels were loose.
I gave these cars to a devotee mechanic named Janapävana, and he took them apart and
rebuilt them with a new suspension, and he added foam all around so that while riding in the
cars, it would be quiet. He changed the upholstery and we got dark glass made in Poland on the
black market, because it was not made in India at that time. He put chrome door knobs, and
everything was new.
Only three colors were available—white, black, and tan—and we didn’t like those colors
and so we painted the cars burgundy, a dark reddish color. I made three copper and chrome
tilakas that were fixed on the hoods, and lotus flowers for the doors and trunk. I put fans in the
cars because there was no air conditioning, and curtains for the windows. I had ISKCON flags
mounted on the front of the cars, and the driver had a white uniform with an ISKCON emblem
on his chest. We did all this because we wanted Çréla Prabhupäda to have the best cars possible.
We didn’t want him to ride in an ordinary car like everyone else.
While in Calcutta or Mayapur, my personal driver, Raghunandana, drove Çréla
Prabhupäda’s car, and he felt proud to be driving a car like no other. I made something that
would stop the rain coming in so that you could roll down the windows even while it was
raining. Everything was made of chrome, which was very expensive in India at that time. I put
lights underneath the cars so that while driving at night, they would look like alien spaceships.
I always wanted the best for Çréla Prabhupäda. In Los Angeles, I found the best property
for him, and when I came from Pakistan to Bombay, I brought him an expensive gold and tulasé
necklace that he always wore and never gave away. After his disappearance, someone took it, but
I don’t know who. I herein request that whoever took that necklace should return it to Våndävana
so it can be placed in Çréla Prabhupäda’s samädhi museum.
Later on, my traveling saìkértana party was converted into the Library Party. The vans
were allowed to stay in India for six months, and that time was soon approaching. I didn’t want
to take them out of India and so I started a Library Party because Çréla Prabhupäda was
concerned that many books were simply rotting in a godown since 1970. In a year and a half we
distributed 40,000 books and so the godown became completely cleaned out. We did sets of
books which we called the Encyclopedia of Spiritual Life. The libraries purchased all of the
books, and they were shipped from my office in Bombay, where two lady devotees took care of
the secretarial work. One was Pälikä, the wife of Bhavänanda before he took sannyäsa, and the
other one I can’t remember. This arrangement was approved by Çréla Prabhupäda.
 The Library Party devotees filled the vans with books for distribution. When a library
placed an order, we would send it to the office at Juhu. They would ship the books and the
thousands of checks they received were deposited in the BBT India account. How did the
devotees maintain themselves and buy diesel while traveling? They sold the books that they
brought with them for a 10% profit and used that money for their maintenance. We sold Rs.
5,00,000 worth of books in one year, and half of that money was used for the construction of the
Juhu temple while the other half was used to print Hindi books.
The six vans traveled separately, distributing Çréla Prabhupäda’s books to libraries all
over India. In addition, I sent an especially intelligent devotee to all the colleges to get reviews of
Çréla Prabhupäda’s books from professors and others. He got many glowing reviews, and these
helped us to convince the libraries to purchase the books. A scholar from Punjab wrote a
wonderful review wherein he said that Çréla Prabhupäda will be remembered for centuries
because of his books. Çréla Prabhupäda said that this was the most important of all the reviews.
I got hundreds of reviews for Çréla Prabhupäda’s books and some of them were from
Muslim scholars, and others from politicians. Everyone appreciated Çréla Prabhupäda’s books as
being the most authoritative English translations of the Vedic literature. I got a letter from the
Gujarat government ordering all the state libraries to purchase Çréla Prabhupäda’s books. I got a
letter from the Andhra Pradesh government saying that all state-owned libraries and universities
should purchase the books. Just by showing these letters, I was able to sell books to all the
libraries.
I kept a six-foot map of India in Çréla Prabhupäda’s room with colored pins showing
where the books had been sold. I put a blue pin at a city where 1-5 sets had been sold, I put a red
pin where 10-15 sets had been sold, and I put a yellow pin where over 20 sets were sold. The
map became covered with pins because we sold 1,200 sets of books. Çréla Prabhupäda once said,
“This map is keeping me alive.”
Besides the books that Çréla Prabhupäda had brought from Japan and which had been
stored in a godown, I was getting the newer books from BBT India, and they were getting them
from BBT in Los Angeles. Çréla Prabhupäda had arranged for BBT to send the books to India
for free, and I would give the money collected from the sale of the books to BBT India.
However, Rämeçvara didn’t like this arrangement and wanted us to pay him for the books. When
Rämeçvara refused to send more books, it meant that I could not send books to the libraries that
had placed standing orders. I was upset but didn’t want to disturb Çréla Prabhupäda and so I had
his secretary, Tamäla Kåñëa, write to Rämeçvara, which he did from Våndävana on July 10,
1977.
“My dear Rämeçvara Mahäräja,
“Please accept my humble obeisances at your feet.
“I have just received a letter from His Holiness Gargamuni Swami complaining that he is
unable to fill his Standing Orders on account of the shortage of different titles of Çrémad-
Bhägavatam. By the end of the next month there will only be seven different volumes of
Bhägavatam in Bombay. This is a very serious matter and I am looking to you to rectify it
immediately. The fact is that Gargamuni Maharaja has booked over 1,000 Standing Orders, and
they must be supplied. Çréla Prabhupäda says the Standing Order department is our most
important book distribution, as I know you are well aware of and which you always write about
in the newsletter. We should not allow anything to hamper it. Perhaps one of the problems has
been that India BBT has never paid any of its bills to the English BBT. However Gargamuni
Maharaja should not be held responsible as he contributes all of the collections to the India BBT
each month and has no outstanding bills. It is not at all his fault if India BBT does not pay
English BBT. I would request you to immediately send as many different titles as possible to
Bombay so that Gargamuni can immediately supply the professors and libraries with their long-
awaited for books. Please be kind enough to let me know what you are doing in this regard.
Gargamuni has written that if he does not get some response soon, then he will have to take the
matter up with His Divine Grace. I think that we should be able to avoid his having to do this.
Hoping this finds you well.
Your servant,
Tamäla Kåñëa Gosvämi
Secretary to Çréla Prabhupäda”

The devotees on my Library Party were blessed by Çréla Prabhupäda. Satyanäräyaëa was
on my party and now he is the BBT trustee for the Mideast and Far East. Vaiyäsaki was on the
party and he has become a famous kértana singer, performing all over the world. Mahäviñëu was
on the party and he is now a sannyäsé. Prabhaviñëu was on the party and he became a sannyäsé
and guru. I believe that Çréla Prabhupäda rewarded these and other devotees for distributing his
books all over India.
Although in 1977 the Juhu project in Bombay could not be finished for some time, Çréla
Prabhupäda’s quarters were made ready. This was Çréla Prabhupäda’s most opulent quarters in
the whole world. I had made his quarters in Los Angeles and everyone admitted that they were
the best in ISKCON, but the Juhu quarters surpassed this. It was my good fortune that when
Çréla Prabhupäda moved into his new quarters, he left his old quarters for me to use as an office
for the Library Party. I had the entire floor of one of the tenanted buildings. There were two old
steel almirahs and Çréla Prabhupäda wanted them moved to his new quarters, but I said, “Please
give me these as your mahä-prasädam and I will buy you two new ones.” Çréla Prabhupäda was
pleased.

Shantilal was with me and Çréla Prabhupäda’s secretary, Tamäla Kåñëa, would never eat
the temple prasädam because it was of a very low standard, but would always eat with me and
my men. One day, a rat was found in the däl of the temple prasädam, and another day, there was
a snake in the prasädam room. I had to keep my men healthy and when Shantilal cooked,
nobody got sick.

While talking about Çréla Prabhupäda’s books, an incident has come to mind. When
Çréla Prabhupäda left Butler, Pennsylvania, to go to New York, he stopped in Philadelphia,
where he met a professor of Sanskrit at a university. Later, Çréla Prabhupäda said that the man
didn’t properly know Sanskrit, and that in the universities there were no real Sanskrit scholars.
Çréla Prabhupäda was also very critical of the devotees in the BBT Sanskrit department. There
was one exception, however, and that was Pradyumna, because Çréla Prabhupäda had personally
trained him. Çréla Prabhupäda wanted him to complete the Çrémad-Bhägavatam if he were to
depart before it was finished. Çréla Prabhupäda personally trained Pradyumna for four years, and
Pradyumna traveled with Çréla Prabhupäda as his personal Sanskrit editor.
Once, I believe it was in Mayapur, Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to test Pradyumna and so he
opened his Sanskrit Bhägavatam and picked out a verse, asking Pradyumna to translate it.
Pradyumna gave the correct English meanings of each and every word and Çréla Prabhupäda
praised him. Pradyumna was assisted by his wife, Arundhaté, who typed the trascriptions of
Çréla Prabhupäda’s dictations.

When we would go to a university, we wouldn’t sell just one set of books. At Benaras
Hindu University (BHU) there are twenty-two libraries, including the main library, the Sanskrit
library, the English library, the Agriculture library, and so on. We sold a full set of books to all
the libraries. That’s twenty-two sets of twenty-five books, and so the total was 550 books. That’s
how we sold so many books.
The devotees in Los Angeles had leased an Air India Boeing 747, which was called a
jumbo jet because it was huge, to fly 350 devotees to Calcutta for the 1977 Gaura-pürëimä
festival. The plane flew from Los Angeles to New York, New York to London, and London to
Calcutta, picking up devotees along the way, and the pilot was the head of the All India Pilots
Association. This was the first time that a 747 landed in Calcutta and so it was widely publicized,
and the press, Air India officials, and state ministers came to welcome the devotees. It was huge
publicity for ISKCON and for Mayapur, and also for West Bengal because at that time, there was
very little tourism.
I did not attend the GBC meeting in Mayapur in 1977 because I was organizing our stall
at the Calcutta Book Fair. This was the first time that a book fair in India displayed Çréla
Prabhupäda’s books. Calcutta is known as a city of intellectuals. On College Street, near Calcutta
University, there are at least 20 book stores that stock books from all over the world. Many
Bengalis were the most prominent philosophers, musicians, and artists of India.
During a room conversation on March 1, 1977 in Mayapur, I described our activities at
the Book Fair to Çréla Prabhupäda.
Gargamuni: In the Book Fair, Ramakrishna is there, Aurobindo. They have their books,
but no one is going. (Prabhupäda chuckles) They have booths, Ramakrishna Mission, Aurobindo,
Yogananda.
Prabhupäda: I don’t think they have so many books also.
Gargamuni: No, very few books. The stalls are also very small. Our stall is three times as
big as theirs. And their books are these cheap paperbacks.
Prabhupäda: Their days are finished.
Gargamuni: Oh, yeah.
Prabhupäda: There is no substance, simply vocabulary jugglery.
Gargamuni: In fact, there are so many people around our stall, the management had to
make announcements that people should visit the other stalls also. (laughter)
Prabhupäda: Canvassing.
Gargamuni: Yes. There were thousands watching the movies and coming in, streaming
out. And all the other stalls were half empty.
 Prabhupäda: That’s good. They will understand what is their position. Now, what is the
signboard, our?
Gargamuni: A big signboard with lights around, it says, “The Bhaktivedanta Book
Trust,” and “Founder of the Trust, Founder-Chairman, His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta
Swami Prabhupäda. The largest book publisher of India’s culture in the world,” And then “Hare
Kåñëa, Hare Kåñëa, Kåñëa Kåñëa, Hare Hare, Hare Räma . . .”
Prabhupäda: Ah. Very good. (chuckling)
Yaçomaté-nandana: There is no misunderstanding. It says Hare Kåñëa and they'll
understand this is the Hare Kåñëa.
Gargamuni: Yes. It’s a big sign about sixteen feet long and four feet wide. Everyone
stops there.
Yaçomaté-nandana: Where is this?
Gargamuni: In the Maidan, next to Victoria Memorial.
Prabhupäda: I have seen the camp.
Gargamuni: Of course, we didn't spend as much as the others, but ours was the most
attractive because of your books.
Hådayänanda: You have all the books there?
Gargamuni: Yes. We have them on display. All of the books.
Hådayänanda: In different languages?
Gargamuni: Yes, in all the languages. We sold a Spanish Bhägavatam. There’s
international people there. Some Russians came. We had one Russian book and we sold it.
Prabhupäda: A small book, Easy Journey.
Gargamuni: Yes. That’s all they have. They bought a poster also of Kåñëa, a big poster,
the Russians.
Hari-çauri: There’s a couple of Hungarian books.
Gargamuni: Yes. If we have any, I can use them.
Prabhupäda: Oh, yes. There is.
Hådayänanda: All around the world now people, by Prabhupäda’s work, can at least
recognize Kåñëa. In all the Western countries, whenever we show a book with Kåñëa’s picture,
everyone says, “Well, this is Hare Kåñëa.” Now everyone knows Kåñëa’s form.
Prabhupäda: When the books fair opened?
Gargamuni: It opened on Friday.
Prabhupäda: Is there any time, every day?
Gargamuni: Yes. They open at one, but everyone comes around four-thirty, five, up
through nine. So we get about five hours. In five hours we sold 850 books.
Prabhupäda: Electricity they supply?
Gargamuni: Yes. They had a loudspeaker next to our stall. So this was hindering the film.
And the manager, they wouldn't turn it down because so many people were being attracted, they
wanted to stop us, so I gave some small bribe and made a man climb up and take it down, and
now it’s all right. (laughter)
Prabhupäda: This is called how to do business, (laughter) natural instinct from his father.
Gargamuni: I had no intelligence till I met you, Çréla Prabhupäda.
Yaçomaté-nandana: Even Sanätana Gosvämé bribed to get out of the prison . . .
 Prabhupäda: Yes. We can do everything for Kåñëa—for Kåñëa, not for personal sake.
Gargamuni: Even our men at the stall, they were very much appreciative that the people
coming were accepting prasädam without any hesitations. They were taking it very humbly.
Prabhupäda: What prasäda you have?
Gargamuni: Some sabji and cäpäöi, mixed, we gave to everyone.
Prabhupäda: Like sandwich.
Gargamuni: Yes, like a sandwich. We wrapped the sabji in the cäpäöi, and they took.
Prabhupäda: One. One cäpäöi.
Gargamuni: No, half. We cut them in half. But everyone who came got.
Prabhupäda: They liked?
Gargamuni: Oh, yeah. Especially there, after walking around, people get hungry, so they
most enthusiastically took.
Prabhupäda: They take once or twice. (chuckling)
Gargamuni: Yes, sometimes they came in again.
Hådayänanda: Everywhere in the world people are liking prasädam very much, if it’s
nicely prepared.
Gargamuni: We have a letter from Jimmy Carter, the President of the United States, who
received Bhagavad-gétä. So the people are very enthused to see that the President is reading
Bhagavad-gétä. So we have sold many Bhagavad-gétäs at the stall.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: With Çréla Prabhupäda in Bhubaneswar and Puri,

1977

Çréla Prabhupäda went for the cornerstone laying ceremony in Bhubaneswar in January
1977. Gurukåpä brought his party from Japan, and I also went there with my six Mercedes-Benz
vans, along with Shantilal, the cook. The Bhubaneswar property was far from town, on the
national highway, with only fields and bushes all around. It was a very isolated place and I, and
other devotees, wondered why Çréla Prabhupäda would want to build a temple there. We didn’t
understand Çréla Prabhupäda’s ability to foresee the future. Being conditioned souls, we only
saw the present, but Çréla Prabhupäda was a liberated soul who could see past, present, and
future. We had similar doubts about the locations of the temples in Juhu in Bombay, and Raman
Reti in Våndävana.
When we first moved onto the land, Juhu was simply a fishing village with some hotels
on the beach. When we went to downtown Bombay to make life members, it took about an hour
each way. The trains had no air conditioning and were packed. Devotees got sick just by riding
in those trains. We rarely got seats and so we would have to stand the whole way. I finally gave
up going into the city and instead went to the Juhu/Vile Parle Scheme nearby where many
Bollywood stars lived. I went door to door and made many life members, including the famous
classical dancer and actress, Vyjayanthimala, and her husband, Dr. Bali.
We wondered, “Why is Çréla Prabhupäda building a temple here? Who’s going to drive
an hour from Marine Drive to come here?” We didn’t have Çréla Prabhupäda’s vision, and now
Juhu is a very upscale suburb of Bombay (now Mumbai). Especially on the weekends, thousands
come to walk on Juhu Beach, and many of them come to the temple and so it’s always packed.
 When Çréla Prabhupäda got the land in Raman Reti, Våndävana, it was a deserted area.
There was nothing but fields. The rickshaws wouldn’t take us to Raman Reti from Loi Bazar
because they knew that they would have to cycle back for no money. Sometimes we had to walk
at night from Loi Bazar back to Raman Reti, and it was dangerous because of the packs of wild
dogs. We would have to carry sticks to keep them from attacking us. We wondered, “Why is
Çréla Prabhupäda building a temple in such a deserted place?” but now Raman Reti has fully
developed and so there are no more empty spaces. They call it Våndävana City II. We didn’t
have the vision to see the future like Çréla Prabhupäda, and our criticisms of his choices of
properties were offenses.
Similarly, Bhubaneswar, which was managed by Gaura-govinda Mahäräja. You could
see for miles and there was nothing but fields. We wondered, “Who is going to come here?”
During the cornerstone laying ceremony, only some local children attended. We thought, “It’s
going to be very difficult to collect donations here, because we are a long way from the city.
Now, the temple is in a bustling area crowded with shops and people. While relying on our
limited, conditioned perspective, we should never doubt the decisions made by pure devotees.
One should have implicit faith in the spiritual master, for it is stated, “Only unto those great souls
who have implicit faith in both the Lord and the spiritual master are all the imports of Vedic
knowledge automatically revealed.”
There is a nice story told by Brahmänanda about how Gaura-govinda Mahäräja joined
ISKCON. It was 1974 or 1975 in Våndävana, and the temple wasn’t open yet. Gaura-govinda
accompanied Çréla Prabhupäda on two or three morning walks in Raman Reti. Çréla Prabhupäda
invited him to come back with him and said, “I am going to initiate this person because he comes
from a respectable brähmaëa family in Orissa.” After Gaura-govinda Mahäräja was initiated,
Çréla Prabhupäda ordered him to return to Orissa and open a center in the capital, Bhubaneswar.
He went there on his own. I helped him by printing two small books in the Oriya language in
Calcutta so that he could begin his preaching.
While Çréla Prabhupäda was in Bhubaneswar for the cornerstone laying ceremony,
Rameçvara and other GBC men came there and there were 20 or 30 wonderful room
conversations. In one such conversation, Çréla Prabhupäda talked about how World War III
would start.
We built a small pandal and Çréla Prabhupäda gave lectures while seated on his
vyäsäsana. While he was in Bhubaneswar, Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to visit Jagannätha Puri. It
is not that he wanted to see the temple of Lord Jagannätha. He wanted to see the ocean, and he
wanted to see the properties I had found for building a temple. He hadn’t been to Jagannätha Puri
since 1958. It was my great fortune to drive Çréla Prabhupäda to Puri in a procession of my six
Mercedes-Benz vans, and perhaps another vehicle, and I drove him around Puri while he was
there.
Çréla Prabhupäda wouldn’t enter the temple and have the darçana of Lord Jagannätha
because his disciples were refused entry. Just see the loving relationship between Çréla
Prabhupäda and his Western disciples! How merciful he was, and how much respect he gave to
his foreign disciples. If they were refused entry to the temple, then he would also not go.
I rented the government guest house, which was right on the beach. Çréla Prabhupäda’s
room was on the second floor and from the window he could see the ocean. Çréla Prabhupäda
wanted all of the windows open so that he could receive the ocean breezes. In the morning, we
took Çréla Prabhupäda for a walk on the beach. Wearing only a gumchä, Çréla Prabhupäda sat in
the surf where the waves were breaking. We began a kértana and gently poured water over Çréla
Prabhupäda’s body as an abhiñeka. Although it was January, the sun was strong. Çréla
Prabhupäda appreciated the healthy atmosphere and said that salt water is good for the skin.
We were only allowed to stay in the government guest house for three days, and during
that time, Çréla Prabhupäda spoke at one of the Gauòéya Maöha temples, and at other venues. I
showed Çréla Prabhupäda various properties but he didn’t want a place near the beach because
nothing can be grown in the sand.
While conversing with his disciples in Bhubaneswar on January 19, 1977, Çréla
Prabhupäda described his plans to build a wonderful temple in Puri. I had gone there to look for
suitable land, and the conversation began with my report.
Gargamuni: That one area is the best area. There’s a two-lane road with an island in the
center. All the hotels are there, so all the top people are there. And that Puri hotel was packed up
with foreigners and with local people very nicely dressed. And this plot is just near the Puri
hotel. So it’s a nice area, and the breeze from the ocean is wonderful. So if we build a nice multi-
storey building, that breeze will be very healthy.
Prabhupäda: So . . .
Gargamuni: So I have to leave here tomorrow morning at 8:30 and meet with the man at
around 9:30, 10:00, and he’ll give me all the names and addresses, and he’ll show me some other
plots. Then, perhaps, if maybe you would like to see it the following day, we can drive there and
show you the plot as soon as I get more information.
Rämeçvara: Would you like to do that, Çréla Prabhupäda?
Prabhupäda: Oh, yes.
Hari-çauri: Have you been to Puri in recent years?
Prabhupäda: No. Recently I’m not going because my disciples are not allowed. I don’t
wish to go. Last I went to see, before going to USA, in 1958. After that, I had no chance of
going.
Gargamuni: In front of the temple, though, is so many beggars. You cannot walk
peacefully.
Prabhupäda: In 1920 I came to Bhubaneswar. So I was thronged with so many beggars.
So at that time I promised, “If I bring at least”—in those days—“more than one thousand rupees
to distribute to the beggars, then I shall come. Otherwise, I’ll not come.” (laughs) I thought like
that. Means whatever money I had I will distribute. Still, they are thronging, the beggars.
Gargamuni: We could have very big prasädam distribution in Puré. Right on the beach
we could set up a whole prasäda distribution.
Prabhupäda: If you arrange for prasäda distribution, you become very popular. (Why?
The Jagannätha Temple in Puri sells prasädam whereas ISKCON distributes prasädam for free.)
Rämeçvara: None of the tourists who are Westerners ever takes Jagannätha prasädam, do
they?
Prabhupäda: No, if there is good prasädam, they’ll take. If they understand they are very
palatable.
 Gargamuni: But that beachfront, if we're on there, we can use that beach as a place to
feed thousands of people.
Rämeçvara: Of course, all the pilgrims that come to Puré for the temple festivals, they’ll
also come to our temple if it is very big.
Prabhupäda: Yes, naturally.
Gargamuni: Shouldn’t it be higher than the Puri temple, or less? Because you can see
Puri temple from the road ten miles away.
Rämeçvara: It would be suitable, appropriate, if this temple was taller.
Prabhupäda: That can be done.
Gargamuni: Along the road. They say, “Look to your right, and you will see Lord
Jagannätha temple in your sight.” And sure enough, you see, coming up, about ten miles out of
the city, that temple. So similarly if we have a very high temple it can be seen.
Hari-çauri: If we build in Puri, will we have Jagannätha?
Prabhupäda: Yes. Jagannätha, Nitäi-Gaura, Guru-Gauräìga . . .
Rämeçvara: And Kåñëa-Balaräma.
Prabhupäda: Kåñëa-Balaräma, like Våndävana. . . .
Rämeçvara: To build such a big temple you'll need many devotees.
Gargamuni: Oh, yes.
Prabhupäda: Big temple means at least fifty men.
Rämeçvara: That’s the real question. Who will sit there?
Gargamuni: I’ll stay. Important project.

Çréla Prabhupäda had talked about building another Jagannätha temple in Puri during the
moring walk of July 4, 1975 in Chicago.
Prabhupäda: The minister of Orissa, he has promised a land in Jagannätha Puri. So if we
get that land, is it not possible to construct another Jagannätha temple? You’ll earn the American
money here.
Tamäla Kåñëa: If they won’t let us into that Jagannätha Puri, we have to make another
one.
Prabhupäda: Yes. Jagannätha will come to our temple. Yes.

During a room conversation in Våndävana on November 3, 1977, just days before his
disappearance, Çréla Prabhupäda talked about the deteriorated condition of the Jagannätha
temple worship, and he indicated his willingness for ISKCON to take over the management.
Païca-draviòa: The biggest paëòitas are all known meat-eaters also.
Gaura-govinda: Ah, yes! Meat, fish, everything. Many also take all sorts of intoxication
and they also go to the prostitute. Everything they do.
Tamäla Kåñëa: How can they serve the Deity? Çréla Prabhupäda, does Lord Jagannätha
reside there any more?
Prabhupäda: That is the proof, that it was not in order this year.
Tamäla Kåñëa: What was proof, Çréla Prabhupäda?
Prabhupäda: That ratha-cakra broken.
Gaura-govinda: Yes.
 Tamäla Kåñëa: Does Lord Jagannätha reside there any more?
Prabhupäda: No, He resides everywhere. Jagannätha says, yatra tiñöhati mad-bhaktas
tatra tiñöhämi närada. Things are deteriorating. That I am lamenting. For thousands of years
sanctity—they are killing.
Tamäla Kåñëa: Is there anything we can do about it?
Prabhupäda: Unless the administration comes to us.

Once, Çréla Prabhupäda told me and Gurukåpä that we should build a temple in Puri that
is higher than the Jagannätha temple. He said, “Jagannätha will walk out and come into our
temple to give His darçana to the devotees from all over the world.”
While giving an evening address in Puri to paëòitas and scholars on January 26, 1977,
Çréla Prabhupäda said, “So in the Western countries Ratha-yäträ is being introduced one after
another, and Jagannätha Swami is attracting the attention of the Western people. So people will
come in your Jagannätha Puré now from all parts of the world. That is beneficial from various
point of view. From the point of tourist program, the government will benefit. And when they’re
attracted to see Jagannätha Puré, Jagannätha Swami . . . Unfortunately, you do not allow these
foreigners to enter the temple. How it can be adjusted? This stumbling block should be
dissolved. If you want Jagannätha Swami to pack up within your home, and you do not expand
the mercy of Jagannätha . . . He is Jagannätha. He’s not only this Puré-nätha, or Oriya-nätha;
He's Jagannätha. Kåñëa declares in the Bhagavad-gétä, bhoktäraà yajïa-tapasäà sarva-loka-
maheçvaram. That is the definition of Jagannätha, sarva-loka-maheçvaram. So why you should
deny the inhabitants of Sarva-loka the darçana of Jagannätha?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: Antya-Lélä

I wrote to Çréla Prabhupäda in June of 1977 and included a letter I had written to all
India GBC members and temple presidents. In my letter I described to Çréla Prabhupäda our
successes in distributing his books, and also expressed my internal feelings about engaging in his
personal service. That letter was delayed in reaching Çréla Prabhupäda, and during a room
conversation in Våndävana on July 14, 1977, Tamäla Kåñëa read both letters to Çréla
Prabhupäda, and Çréla Prabhupäda commented on it and advised Tamäla Kåñëa on how to reply.
Tamäla Kåñëa: I haven't seen what this is yet. It's from Gargamuni Mahäräja. It's “To all
India GBC and temple presidents: Dear Mahäräjas and Prabhus, please accept my humble
obeisances. Enclosed please find our newly established Encyclopedia of Vedic Knowledge
program. This is the beginning of the major big book distribution program in India. Our library
party has already received tremendous success in this program, and Çréla Prabhupäda has greatly
encouraged us to sell these all over India. The profit only amounts to Rs. 10 per book, but it will
allow everyone to regularly read our books and refer to it as an authentic encyclopedia. Our aim
is to replace this encyclopedia against all other encyclopedias, which are meant to take the
people to the hellish planets. When our representatives come to your area, please be good enough
to assist them in making possible that Çréla Prabhupäda's books be distributed to leading
educational, intellectual persons all over India." Here's what he's published, Çréla Prabhupäda.
It's called "The Bhaktivedanta Book Trust Library Encyclopedia of Vedic Knowledge.” . . .
 This next one is also from Gargamuni. It includes a letter, Çréla Prabhupäda. “My dear
Çréla Prabhupäda, please accept my humble obeisances at your divine lotus feet. We fervently
pray that Your Divine Grace continue to remain in this world because we need your personal
guidance. Even when Lord Kåñëa disappeared, Arjuna lost all strength temporarily.”
Prabhupäda: I shall remain your personal guidance, physically present or not physically,
as I am getting personal guidance from my Guru Mahäräja.
Tamäla Kåñëa: He says, “Arjuna was a great, powerful devotee, and he could overcome
the shock. But we are most fallen and cannot endure such a shock of having you leave us. We are
already mortified by such a thought. Your movement is just now being accepted, and we want
you to remain to lead all your devotees towards successful spiritual life. Despite our offenses, all
of us deeply have great love for Your Divine Grace, and our world will become dark without
your presence. Materially you have provided all of your devotees with everything: big temples,
money, prestige, and honor, nice prasädam." (chuckles) That's not material. He says, “But
personally I would relish more being with you without all of these things, as we began at 26
Second Avenue. Simply hearing you chant and talk for hours is my only solace. I don't want
anything else. We left all these material things to be with you only, so please have mercy with
your devotees by allowing us to have your personal appearance as long as . . .”
Prabhupäda: He was from very beginning. Brahmänanda. He has worked very hard from
the beginning.
Tamäla Kåñëa: He says “I may also come to cook and clean for you.”
Prabhupäda: Yes, you are welcome.
Tamäla Kåñëa: “If you so desire. And carry you also.”
Prabhupäda: (chuckles) No, you are doing more important business. Do that. But if you
want to do, whatever you like, you can come. He is a good cook also.
Bhägavatäçraya: Hm. Everyone compliments his cooking. Everyone.
Tamäla Kåñëa: He says, “We have a great debt to repay you and we are perplexed as to
how to repay it. At least Your Divine Grace may stay as long as we try to repay till the debt we
owe to you. I think if we work hard and preach and the world recognizes this movement, then
you may want to stay here longer.”
Prabhupäda: Yes, that's a fact.
Tamäla Kåñëa: “I am constantly filling this into the minds of the members of the Library
Party. We are now emphasizing your books as a library of Encyclopedia of Vedic Knowledge,
and I am herewith enclosing reviews from the biggest Marathi, Gujarati, and Sindhi scholars.”
Prabhupäda: Yes, it is very nice. He has done quite efficiently.
Tamäla Kåñëa: No, there's another thing. This whole thing, these are new reviews I'm
going to read to you.
Prabhupäda: Oh.
Tamäla Kåñëa: “I also have other good news.” He says, “The Andhra Pradesh
government has sent a newsletter to all libraries in the state, requesting them to order our books,
as they are approved by the state.” Wow!
Prabhupäda: So you can do it from other provinces also.
Tamäla Kåñëa: “Also, the Endowments Commission has also written to all the temples in
Andhra Pradesh requesting them to purchase our books.” Very important.
 Prabhupäda: Våndävana, minister is very favorable to us.
Tamäla Kåñëa: “In addition, the Gujarati government has requested all libraries in the
state to purchase our books by way of newsletter.”
Prabhupäda: Oh. Wonderful.

That same day, Tamäla Kåñëa replied to me as instructed by Çréla Prabhupäda.

My dear Gargamuni Maharaja,
Please accept my most humble obeisances at your feet. His Divine Grace Çréla
Prabhupäda has received your letter dated 27th June, 1977 sent by registered post. There has
been some difficulty with the registered mail and they have held it for many weeks at the post
office. They would only deliver it to His Divine Grace with His signature but He was always
taking massage. Finally after many letters and arrangements, I have been authorized to get the
mail on His behalf. So now we have received your most wonderful letter, which gave Çréla
Prabhupäda true pleasure.
Çréla Prabhupäda heard with His eyes closed your feelingful prayers for His continued
life. His Divine Grace said, “I shall remain your personal guide whether I am physically present
or not present, just as I am getting personal guidance from my Guru Maharaja. You are with me
from the very beginning, and you have worked very hard from that time till now.” When you
expressed your desire to come and cook and clean as well as to carry Çréla Prabhupäda, His
Divine Grace said, “You are doing more important business, but whenever you like you can
come and do these things for me. You are a very good cook. It is a fact that if you all my
disciples work hard and preach and the world recognizes this movement, then that will make me
live longer.”
The reviews which you have sent have given His Divine Grace the greatest satisfaction to
hear. He sat and listened to each one of them with great relish. When He heard that you had got
the Andhra Pradesh Government to send a newsletter to all libraries in the state, He immediately
said, “Very good. Do it for other provinces now also. The Endowments Minister is very
favorable to us. That the Gujarat Government has requested all libraries in the state to purchase
our books is wonderful. May Krishna bless you. You are doing a very tremendous job. Krishna is
dictating the organizing capacity. Do it very nicely. Now print books and have enough stock. If
there is not enough stock then you will have to manage that department also. Don’t depend on
one printer. Very soon I will send you a good address of a printer in Bombay. At least three or
four printers should go on printing our books. You have money–spend it for printing our books.
Now Palika has got the right appointment. She is very intelligent. Give her proper assistance and
she can do very nicely.” Again, “Many thanks for arranging all of this. Krishna will bless you.
Organize your Bombay office and arrange for printing enough stock. All money collected should
be utilized for printing. All success to your forward march. These arrangements of yours is
giving me new life.”
Çréla Prabhupäda asks that you kindly send a copy of the Encyclopedia of Vedic
Knowledge brochure to His God-brother, Dr. O.B.L. Kapoor here in Våndävana, as well as a
copy to the publishers of Dr. Kapoor’s book, Munshiram Monoharlal Publishers Private Ltd., PO
5715, 54 Rani Jhansi Road, New Delhi 110056, attention Sri Devendra Jain. His Divine Grace
very much appreciated this new Encyclopedia program and commented: “Garga-Money.” You
were right. Çréla Prabhupäda was not interested in the reviews, He was very interested. It’s
really impressive, the way you are organizing such a gigantic book distribution drive for this half
of the world. My obeisances to you again and again. All of your Godbrothers throughout the
world should take notice of this tremendous work. I think your going to America to get more
men is definitely necessary. And you have naturally chosen the best time–Rathayäträ. Probably
you are already thinking this, but you should go to all of the Ratha-yatras. Between them you’ll
get to meet practically all the presidents and devotees in America. All success in your recruiting
efforts.
Hoping this meets you in the best of health and Krishna consciousness.
Your servant,
Tamal Krishna Gosvami

When all of the English books that had been stored in the godown had been distributed,
and no additional books were coming from Los Angeles, I turned in the Mercedes-Benz vans to
the government. This was perhaps in September of 1977. That concluded my great adventures
with the vans, adventures filled with obstacles and dangers, but in every case we were saved by
Çréla Prabhupäda’s mercy.
After Bhubaneswar and Puri, Çréla Prabhupäda returned to Mayapur, and there his health
began to seriously decline. In the 1976 GBC meetings, Brahmänanda had been appointed GBC
for Africa, and I had been appointed GBC for Easteern India, which included Calcutta, Mayapur,
Guwahati, and Orissa. Thereafter, Brahmänanda and I were in Våndävana with Çréla
Prabhupäda and many other GBC men were also there. During one of the meetings with our
fellow GBC members, we both walked out in disgust because the others seemed more concerned
with how to manage ISKCON after Çréla Prabhupäda’s departure than how to encourage him to
remain with us. It appeared to us that they were dividing up the properties without having the
faith that Çréla Prabhupäda had the power to decide whether to stay with us or depart. Indeed,
Çréla Prabhupäda once said that Kåñëa had put the power in his hands whether to stay or go.
Despite his emaciated condition due to illness and not eating, Çréla Prabhupäda decided
to go to London at the end of August 1977. Although Çréla Prabhupäda remained in London for
two weeks, curiously, there are no recordings of his conversations in the VedaBase for that
period. On September 14, Çréla Prabhupäda returned to India, stopping first in Bombay. I was
there and I became depressed by seeing his condition, for I understood that he was preparing to
depart from this world. On October 1, Çréla Prabhupäda traveled by train from Bombay to
Våndävana.
In 1976, I had come down with malaria and was terribly sick. Çréla Prabhupäda had said
that at the time of death, the fever rises to 107 degrees Fahrenheit. I had such a high fever and I
lost a lot of weight, and finally fainted. I was heading up a library book distribution party at that
time and the devotees placed me in a cold shower so that I regained consciousness. I had a
relapse of malaria in September 1977 and I went to two doctors in Bombay, but they both said
that this was a new strain of malaria that could not be treated in India and so they advised me to
return to America.
I had a choice—should I go to Våndävana to take part in Çréla Prabhupäda’s
disappearance pastime, which would mean that I would also be risking my life, or should I go to
America for treatment. I was depressed by the idea of Çréla Prabhupäda leaving and so I ended
up going to America. Even on the airplane I had a high fever, and I was trembling so much that
the stewardess had to bring me five blankets. After landing in New York, I went to stay with my
mother. The family doctor came and put me in a hospital, and I had to stay there for ten days.
The state health officials came to see me because they thought that I had come down with
malaria in America. After leaving the hospital, I stayed at my mother’s house under observation.
It was only from a newspaper article in the New York Times that I learned of Çréla
Prabhupäda’s disappearance in November.
Being very weak from my illness, being without my service with the Library Party, and
being without Çréla Prabhupäda’s personal guidance, I became depressed. I had spent my life
with Çréla Prabhupäda simply trying to fulfill his desires. Just to fulfill Çréla Prabhupäda’s
desires, I had bought a Dictaphone, I had purchased the Los Angeles temple on Watseka Avenue,
and I had gone to East Pakistan to preach. In many other ways I had always tried to fulfill Çréla
Prabhupäda’s desires because I knew that this was the only duty of a sincere disciple. There was
no need for doing anything else. When a devotee simply lives to fulfill the desires of his spiritual
master, his going back to home, back to Godhead is assured.
Another devotee who worked very hard to fulfill Çréla Prabhupäda’s desires was
Gurukåpä. Gurukåpä tirelessly endeavored to collect money for Çréla Prabhupäda’s projects,
especially the Kåñëa-Balaräma temple in Våndävana. I did extensive research by reading letters
and seeing bank transfers, and I found out that Gurukåpä had given between two and three
million dollars to Çréla Prabhupäda for all his India projects. This money not only went to
construct the Kåñëa-Balaräma temple in Våndävana, but also the temples in Juhu, Mayapur, and
Hyderabad. I asked Gurukåpä about the amount of money that he had collected, and he
confirmed this. $2 million then is equal to about $50 million today. These temples in India are a
great part of Çréla Prabhupäda’s legacy, and I am convinced that as a result of Gurukåpä’s
service, he will go back to Godhead.
Çréla Prabhupäda wanted his disciples to manage the Society so that he could peacefully
absorb himself in translating and commenting on Çrémad-Bhägavatam. But Çréla Prabhupäda
many times complained that his disciples were taxing his brain by continually dragging him into
managerial disputes. I feel that the main cause of Çréla Prabhupäda’s disappearance was that his
leading disciples drained his energy by repeatedly involving him in the problems which they
should have been able to solve. Çréla Prabhupäda got his energy by preaching and translating,
and by dragging him into their mismanagement, his leading disciples drained him of that energy.
Up until 1973, Çréla Prabhupäda spent most of his time in the West, but from 1973-1977,
he spent most of his time in India, and just visited the West. Çréla Prabhupäda left the
management of the Western temples to his leading disciples, but in India he personally oversaw
every aspect of the management, and that certainly was an incredible strain.
I want to clear up any misunderstanding that devotees might have regarding Çréla
Prabhupäda’s being apparently invalid, and about his disappearance. You can see in the videos
how Çréla Prabhupäda was laying down, apparently indisposed, and yet continuing his dictations
with absolute clarity. It is not that Çréla Prabhupäda’s disappearance was the result of illness.
Çréla Prabhupäda was not ill the way that we are ill because his consciousness was unaffected
and so he continued translating the Tenth Canto of Çrémad-Bhägavatam. When a conditioned
soul is ill, his consciousness is disturbed due to being in the bodily conception of life. Çréla
Prabhupäda was aloof from his body, and for that reason he never complained about bodily
pains. He was preparing to leave his body now that his mission had been sufficiently fulfilled by
establishing Kåñëa consciousness in the West and reviving Kåñëa consciousness in India.
While giving a lecture on Çrémad-Bhägavatam 4.14.14 in Delhi on November 16, 1971,
Çréla Prabhupäda explained the transcendental position of a pure devotee.
Çréla Prabhupäda: A pious man lives long. An impious man dies very soon. One who is a
pure devotee can prolong his duration of life more than what is destined for him. Everyone has
got a destination that “This person will live for so many years, this person will live for so many
years.” But a pure devotee as a yogi can increase the duration of his life. Similarly, a pure
devotee, although he does not artificially try to increase the duration of life, by God's grace his
duration of life is increased. A pure devotee is no longer within the rules and regulations of
material nature. Kåñëa says in the Bhagavad-gétä, sa guëän samatétyaitän brahma-bhüyäya
kalpate. Mäà ca’vyabhicäreëa bhakti-yogena yaù sevate. Anyone who engages himself in pure
devotional service, avyabhicäreëa, is no longer under the rules and regulations of this material
nature.

Çréla Prabhupäda did not receive reactions from previous karma, nor did he create new
karma, for he was above the laws of material nature although within this matrial world. In his
purport to Çrémad-Bhägavatam 10.4.20 Çréla Prabhupäda wrote: One who is engaged in the
service of the Lord (yato bhaktir adhokñaje), without impediment and without cessation, is
understood to be situated in his original, spiritual status. When one is promoted to this status, one
is always happy in transcendental bliss. Otherwise, as long as one is in the bodily concept of life,
one must suffer material conditions. Janma-måtyu jarä-vyädhi-duùkha-doñänudarçanam. The
body is subject to its own principles of birth, death, old age and disease, but one who is situated
in spiritual life (yato bhaktir adhokñaje) has no birth, no death, no old age and no disease. One
may argue that we may see a person who is spiritually engaged twenty-four hours a day but is
still suffering from disease. In fact, however, he is neither suffering nor diseased; otherwise he
could not be engaged twenty-four hours a day in spiritual activities. The example may be given
in this connection that sometimes dirty foam or garbage is seen floating on the water of the
Ganges. This is called néra-dharma, a function of the water. But one who goes to the Ganges
does not mind the foam and dirty things floating in the water. With his hand, he pushes away
such nasty things, bathes in the Ganges and gains the beneficial results. Therefore, one who is
situated in the spiritual status of life is unaffected by foam and garbage—or any superficial dirty
things. This is confirmed by Çréla Rüpa Gosvämé: éhä yasya harer däsye karmaëä manasä girä,
nikhiläsv apy avasthäsu jévan-muktaù sa ucyate. “A person acting in the service of Kåñëa with
his body, mind and words is a liberated person, even within the material world.” Therefore, one
is forbidden to regard the guru as an ordinary human being (guruñu nara-matir . . . näraké saù).
The spiritual master, or äcärya, is always situated in the spiritual status of life. Birth, death, old
age and disease do not affect him. According to the Hari-bhakti-viläsa, therefore, after the
disappearance of an äcärya, his body is never burnt to ashes, for it is a spiritual body. The
spiritual body is always unaffected by material conditions.
 When Çréla Prabhupäda was lying on his bed, apparently ill, he wasn’t really ill. He was
giving us the opportunity to render service to his transcendental body. This is the correct
understanding. One should never think that Çréla Prabhupäda was ill in the sense of being under
the grips of material nature. Although we are most fallen, Çréla Prabhupäda allowed us to
massage his body. That was his special mercy. While in Bombay, Tamäla Kåñëa and others had
to carry Çréla Prabhupäda to the bathroom. Did this mean that Çréla Prabhupäda was an invalid?

In his purport to Çré Caitanya-caritämåta (Ädi 9.11) Çréla Prabhupäda wrote: In the last
portion of Çré Caitanya-caritämåta (Antya 8.28–31), it is stated: At the last stage of his life Çré
Mädhavendra Puré became an invalid and was completely unable to move, and Éçvara Puré so
completely engaged himself in his service that he personally cleaned up his stool and urine.
Always chanting the Hare Kåñëa mahä-mantra and reminding Çré Mädhavendra Puré about the
pastimes of Lord Kåñëa in the last stage of his life, Éçvara Puré gave the best service among his
disciples. Thus Mädhavendra Puré, being very pleased with him, blessed him, saying, ‘My dear
boy, I can only pray to Kåñëa that He will be pleased with you.’ Thus Éçvara Puré, by the grace
of his spiritual master, Çré Mädhavendra Puré, became a great devotee in the ocean of love of
Godhead and the spiritual master of Çré Caitanya Mahäprabhu.
Çréla Viçvanätha Cakravarté Öhäkura states in his Gurv-añöaka prayer, yasya prasädäd
bhagavat-prasädo yasyäprasädän na gatiù kuto ’pi: “By the mercy of the spiritual master one is
blessed by the mercy of Kåñëa. Without the grace of the spiritual master one cannot make any
advancement.” It is by the mercy of the spiritual master that one becomes perfect, as vividly
exemplified here. A Vaiñëava is always protected by the Supreme Personality of Godhead, but if
he appears to be an invalid, this gives a chance to his disciples to serve him. Éçvara Puré pleased
his spiritual master by service, and by the blessings of his spiritual master he became such a great
personality that Lord Caitanya Mahäprabhu accepted him as His spiritual master.

In this regard, there is a very instructive morning walk conversation that took place in
Los Angeles on December 17, 1973.
Giriräja: So if somebody no longer identifies with the body, what is his perception of a
painful condition?
Prabhupäda: He tolerates. He knows. Just like the same example. You are not the car. If
your car is smashed, although you feel sorry, you know that “I am not a car.” That is the
position.
Svarüpa Dämodara: That is why we experience from very, our childhood that I feel pain
when somebody hits me.
Prabhupäda: No. Just like we all know that “I am not this body.” But why you are
covering the body? So long you are in material condition, you have to do that. The same
example. Although you are not the motorcar, but if there is some accident, you have to take care
of it, because you have to work on it. Therefore this body, although I am not this body, I have to
work in this material world with this body. That is the vehicle. You cannot neglect it, neither you
become identified with it. This is knowledge. Yuktähära-vihäraç ca. That is recommended,
yuktähära, “as much as necessity.” But these people, they are taking the body as everything.
They have no information of the soul.
 Svarüpa Dämodara: So our consciousness is affected by our conditioning.
Prabhupäda: Yes. Therefore Kåñëa consciousness is the perfect consciousness.
Svarüpa Dämodara: Just like the yogis. They live in the Himalayas without any cloth.
They take bath in ice water. They don’t feel anything.
Prabhupäda: No.
Prajäpati: But is it true, Çréla Prabhupäda, that sometimes the spiritual master has to
suffer if his disciples act in sinful ways?
Prabhupäda: The same way. Bodily suffering. Infection. The spiritual master accepts the
all infection. So as the infection acts on the body, so there is little suffering. Kåñëa says, ahaà
tväà sarva-päpebhyo mokñayiñyämi. Kåñëa says, “All the sinful reactions of the surrendered
soul . . .” So the spiritual master is the representative of Kåñëa. So he has also to accept . . . The
injunction is one should not accept many disciples. But for preaching work we have to do that.
Prajäpati: Çréla Prabhupäda, I'm so sorry that you have to suffer because we’re such
rascals.
Prabhupäda: No, no. I’ll not suffer.

So an ordinary spiritual master must suffer for the sins of his disciples, but not Çréla
Prabhupäda, who was not an ordinary spiritual master but an empowered representative of Çré
Caitanya Mahäprabhu. As a nitya-siddhä äcärya, he did not suffer the way ordinary spiritual
masters do.
Çréla Prabhupäda had personally given me assignments. He had told me to print the first
Back to Godhead magazine, he had told me to develop Spiritual Sky incense, he had told me to
get a new property for the Los Angeles temple, he had told me to go preach in East Pakistan, he
had told me to bring vans and men to India, and he gave me numerous other assignments. What
would I do without Çréla Prabhupäda personally engaging me in his service for his satisfaction?
Gradually I began to appreciate what Çréla Prabhupäda had taught all along, that there is
vapu-sevä and väëé-sevä. The vapu-sevä is temporary whereas the väëé-sevä is eternal. Thus
väëé-sevä is more important than vapu-sevä. Srila Prbhupada assured us that everything we need
to know is in his books, and by his books he would live forever. After the disappearance of the
äcärya, the duty of the sincere disciple is to carry out his mission as it is, without changing
anything. Çréla Prabhupäda would say, “Just do as I am doing.” Çréla Prabhupäda gave us the
Nectar of Devotion so that we could clearly understand the nature of pure devotional service. He
gave us over a hundred temples where the principles of Kåñëa consciousness can be practiced in
the association of like-minded devotees. He told us that preaching is the essence, and that Lord
Caitanya’s movement is a preaching movement. If the preaching spirit is maintained and Çréla
Prabhupäda’s books are widely distributed, then the Kåñëa consciousness movement will
continue to expand without limit.
I encourage all devotees to regularly read Çréla Prabhupäda’s books and dive deeply into
his mood of spreading Kåñëa consciousness as the best service to humanity. Human life is very
rarely achieved. It is the special gift of nature that gives one the opportunity to solve the real
problems—birth, death, old age, and disease. We are now entrapped in the vicious cycle of
repeated birth and death, and the means to get release from that struggle is to surrender to the
Supreme Personality of Godhead, Çré Kåñëa.
 Çréla Prabhupäda explained that çikñä is more important than dékñä. Çréla Prabhupäda
said that his books will be the law books for the next 10,000 years. My humble request is that no
matter who one’s dékñä guru is, please take instruction from Çréla Prabhupäda in his väëé form,
his books. Çréla Prabhupäda’s teachings are the gold standard, and all others’ instructions must
be measured by that standard.
I sincerely hope that you have imbibed some of Çréla Prabhupäda’s mood by reading this
presentation of my attempts to please him in various ways during his manifested presence.

EPILOGUE: Çréla Prabhupäda, the Revolutionary

Çréla Prabhupäda often quoted this verse from Çrémad-Bhägavatam: “On the other hand,
that literature which is full of descriptions of the transcendental glories of the name, fame, forms,
pastimes, etc., of the unlimited Supreme Lord is a different creation, full of transcendental words
directed toward bringing about a revolution in the impious lives of this world's misdirected
civilization.”
Çréla Prabhupäda was the commander-in-chief of an army of revolutionary followers that
took up the cause of bringing about “a revolution in the impious lives of this world’s misdirected
civilization.” I would like to point out some of the ways in which Çréla Prabhupäda revolted
against the standard practices of both Western civilization and stereotyped Hindu society.
Çréla Prabhupäda taught us that the ascending process for acquiring knowledge as
practiced in the Western countries is futile because our senses are limited and imperfect. The
descending process of acquiring knowledge, which entails hearing from the perfect person, is
perfect. Perfect knowledge is given by Kåñëa, or God, and descends in disciplic succession, and
is without defect. I had gone to school for many years and had been taught the knowledge which
had been attained by the ascending process, but the result was that I was confused and frustrated.
When I heard from Çréla Prabhupäda, all my doubts and confusion became clear, and I
understood that since what he spoke was originally spoken by Kåñëa and then passed down by
disciplic succession, it had the ring of truth.
As a revolutionary, Çréla Prabhupäda taught that God is a person. I was born in a Jewish
family with Jewish traditions and once, when I was a boy, I asked my rabbi, “Who is God?” He
said, “God is like electricity. It is there, but you cannot see it.” He was an impersonalist and so
couldn’t understand how God is a person. In India, impersonalist yogis sometimes visited Çréla
Prabhupäda, and they were shocked to hear him preach that God is a person. Even Gandhi didn’t
accept Räma and Kåñëa as real persons. He thought that Bhagavad-gétä is a poem of metaphors,
and that everyone can derive their own meaning from it. Similarly, Dr. Radhakrishnan said that
Kurukñetra refers to the body, as if there was no actual battle at Kurukñetra. Although Jesus said,
“I am sitting on the right side of thy father,” if you ask any Christian what God looks like, or
what He does, they have no idea. But Çréla Prabhupäda told us what God looks like, how He
dresses, what He eats, and that He plays a flute. This was revolutionary.
Çréla Prabhupäda taught the revolutionary idea that God becomes subordinate to his pure
devotee. Kåñëa became the son of mother Yaçodä and was reprimanded by her when he stole
butter so that tears flowed from His eyes. The Christians pray, “O Lord, give us this day our
daily bread,” but mother Yaçodä was thinking that if Kåñëa did not eat, He would die. Kåñëa is
the One Supreme Eternal that is maintaining all other eternals, but He became Arjuna’s chariot
driver. When Arjuna commanded, “Place my chariot between the two armies,” He did so.
Çréla Prabhupäda the revolutionary taught us that we are not American, we are not
Indian, we are not white, we are not black, we are not Jews, we are not Arabs, we are not male,
and we are not female. Who are we? Çréla Prabhupäda taught us that we are not the physical
bodies, but are eternal servants of Kåñëa, or God. It was revolutionary when Çréla Prabhupäda
told us that we are all servants and can never be masters. Every married man thinks, “I am the
king of my castle,” but truthfully, he is the servant of his wife and children. The president or
prime minister thinks, “I am the master of my country,” but he must please the citizens or else he
will be kicked out from his position. Even if a person thinks that he or she serves no one, it is a
fact that everyone must serve their senses. When we are hungry, we must serve our stomachs,
and when we are feeling lusty, we must serve our genitals.
Çréla Prabhupäda taught the revolutionary understanding that we can have a conjugal
relationship with God. Many people do not even believe in the existence of God, and many who
do have doubts. Who else taught that you can dance with God and have a conjugal relationship
with Him? Who taught that you can become a cow and rub your body against Kåñëa’s body?
Generally, those who have faith in the existence of God have no idea of the varieties of
relationships we can have with Him.
Everyone celebrates his or her birthday, and dreads the idea of old age and death. Çréla
Prabhupäda taught the revolutionary understanding that there is no birth and death, but merely a
change of dress. Even in this lifetime, one must change a child’s body for an adult body, and
then an adult body for an elderly body. There is no birth and death for the eternal self who
transmigrates to another body when the present body can no longer function.
Sometimes people challenge, “Can you show me God?” Çréla Prabhupäda would
respond, “Do you have the eyes to see God?” Çréla Prabhupäda taught that anyone can see God,
provided his eyes are anointed with the salve of love of God. All religions teach something about
God, but Çréla Prabhupäda the revolutionary taught us how we can actually see Him.
I don’t know about India, but in the Western countries, all school children are taught
Darwin’s theory of evolution, which claims that life originally evolved from chemicals. This is
the view of atheists, and Çréla Prabhupäda wanted his scientist disciples to become
revolutionaries and kick out Darwin’s theory. Everywhere we see that life comes from life, and
yet atheists want to convince us that life evolved from chemicals. This view takes away life’s
purpose, which is to revive our original love for God and thus keeps people bound to material
existence so that their valuable human life is spoiled.
The biggest revolutionary doctrine propagated by Çréla Prabhupäda in India was that the
present-day caste system is a fraudulent replacement of varëäçrama-dharma. Lord Kåñëa clearly
says in the Bhagavad-gétä, cätur-varëyaà mayä såñöaà, guëa-karma-vibhägaçaù. One’s position
within the social system of four varëas is based on quality and work, and not birth. In India, the
brähmaëas generally occupy their prestigious position simply on the basis of birth in a
brähmaëa’s family. One may be a rickshaw puller and accustomed to unclean habits, but if he is
born in a brähmaëa family, he claims to be a brähmaëa. Çréla Prabhupäda created an outcry
amongst the caste brähmaëas by awarding the sacred thread and sannyäsa to Westerners, who
are considered to be yavanas and mlecchas. But Çréla Prabhupäda’s movement was a movement
of reformation and his disciples renounced the four pillars of sinful life—meat eating,
intoxication, gambling, and illicit sex—and engaged in the work of a brähmaëa by studying the
Vedic literature and preaching that knowledge to others. Even some of Çréla Prabhupäda’s
godbrothers, who should have learned this lesson from their spiritual master, His Divine Grace
Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura, who also created enmity with the smärta brähmaëas
by awarding the sacred thread and sannyäsa to those of supposedly lower birth, didn’t accept us.
I personally saw in Mayapur that after being given some mahä-prasädam, one of Çréla
Prabhupäda’s godbrothers threw it on the grass while departing, considering the Western püjärés
to be imitators. It was revolutionary for Çréla Prabhupäda to bring his Western brähmaëas and
sannyäsis to India and have them preach.
In the Bhagavad-gétä, Lord Kåñëa states that transcendental knowledge must be received
in disciplic succession. And yet, in India, there are countless self-proclaimed incarnations and
gurus that are not in a bona fide line of disciplic succession. As a revolutionary, Çréla
Prabhupäda strongly preached against these imitation gurus and incarnations, despite the fact that
millions of people worshiped them. Some unauthorized yogis went to America and gained many
followers, but Çréla Prabhupäda strongly condemned them as cheaters and rascals.
All over the world, human beings are considered citizens of their nations while countless
cows and other animals are being slaughtered. In the Bhagavad-gétä, Lord Kåñëa states that He
is the father of all living entities, in all species of life. Çréla Prabhupäda the revolutionary
declared that animals are also citizens and deserve to be protected by the government. He
condemned the so-called religious people who eat cow’s meat as being killers of their own
mothers. The cow is considered to be one of our mothers because she gives us milk. After taking
milk from the cow, what kind of human being cuts her throat and eats her?
India has always been the home of vegetarians, and recently, many Americans and
Europeans have also become vegetarians, but Çréla Prabhupäda’s revolutionary teaching was
that even vegetarians eat sin. Only those who offer their vegetarian food to God and accept the
remnants as prasädam eat a karma-free diet. After all, even cows are vegetarian. Lord Kåñëa
says in the Bhagavad-gétä that if one offers Him a leaf, flower, fruit, or water with love and
devotion, He will accept it. He also says that those who partake of the remnants of sacrifice are
freed from all sins, whereas those who prepare food simply to satisfy their senses eat only sin. In
the West, before Çréla Prabhupäda, there was no idea of prasädam, and he taught us to not
simply eat prasädam, but to honor it.
Çréla Prabhupäda taught us the perfection of philosophical understanding—acintya
bhedäbheda tattva—that we are simultaneously one with and different from Kåñëa. The
Absolute Truth is one, but He becomes many to enjoy transcendental pastimes. This
understanding was made clear when Çréla Prabhupäda described to me his cherished photo of
Rädhä and Kåñëa wherein They appear to be one, and yet distinct. Yes, there is oneness, but not
as the Mäyävädis think. There is oneness in quality and interest, but a difference in quantity.
Nityo nityänäà cetanaç cetanänäm. Kåñëa is the One Supreme Eternal who maintains all other
eternals. This was a revolutionary philosophy unknown throughout the world.
Çréla Prabhupäda the revolutionary was the only person who told us the truth without
personal motive, and without compromise for fear of offending others’ sentiments. Generally,
people don’t like to hear the truth because it destroys their personal ambitions and pride. Çréla
Prabhupäda taught us that this material world is the inferior energy of Kåñëa and that everything
belongs to Him and thus should be used in His service. People think, “This is my car, this is my
house, this is my wife, and this is my money,” but these are illusions because nothing belongs to
us. Everything is owned and controlled by the Lord.
When a wealthy man builds a skyscraper building, he thinks, “This building is mine and I
can do with it as I like.” But what is a skyscraper building? It is a transformation of sand,
cement, stone, iron, and other materials found in nature. The wealthy man did not create
anything; he simply took the supplies of nature and transformed them into a building. After some
time, the man will die and the building will remain and so how can he claim proprietorship?
Çréla Prabhupäda taught us that nothing is ours, but we are given facilities by God so that we can
live peacefully and execute our mission of going back home, back to Godhead.
Another revolutionary teaching of Çréla Prabhupäda is that in this material world, we are
simply engaged in a hard struggle for existence. Everyone in this world is trying their best to
become happy and successful, although in the Bhagavad-gétä, Lord Kåñëa, the creator of this
world, says that it is duùkhälayam açäçvatam, a temporary place full of misery. It is a fact that
no one is ever satisfied because even the richest men work hard every day to increase their
wealth. Is not what they already have enough? No, because of their greed, caused by their
association with the mode of passion, they want to have more and more and more. I also had
hope against hope of becoming happy in this material world, but Çréla Prabhupäda convinced
me that our materialistic life is simply a hard struggle for existence with no chance of fulfillment.
After a lifetime of struggle, a materialist meets with death, and everything he worked hard for is
lost.
Çréla Prabhupäda had heard his Guru Maharaja, who was also a revolutionary, preach
that this is a world of the cheaters and cheated. Çréla Prabhupäda convinced us that this is a
simple truth by giving us practical examples. I personally saw how the Food Corporation of India
buys wheat from the farmers and stores it in warehouses, but they don’t have enough so that if
you go on the National Highway to Delhi, you see stacks of wheat in bags. Environmentalists tell
us that 20% of the wheat is eaten by rats. The wheat stays in the warehouses for two or three
years and rots while rats and worms eat it.
Çréla Prabhupäda exposed many kinds of cheaters. A man works ten hours a day in a
factory to get some paper money to buy a little wheat while the same wheat is eaten by rats that
don’t have to work for their food. In America, Çréla Prabhupäda exposed a big cheater guru who
charged $35 for a secret mantra, saying that if you chant it for six months, you will become God.
Çréla Prabhupäda said that if you want to be cheated, there are many cheaters waiting to cheat
you.
Çréla Prabhupäda the revolutionary taught us that there is only one religion, Kåñëa
consciousness. All the so-called religions of the world fight with one another because they are on
the bodily platform, and when their followers go to the temple, church, or mosque, they consider
God to be their order supplier. “Give me this, give me that, cure my disease, give me wealth, let
me pass my exam,” and so on. Real religion is to develop love for God with a service attitude,
but the followers of so-called religions serve their bosses, serve their wives, and consider God to
be their servant, or order supplier. Çréla Prabhupäda taught us that Kåñëa consciousness is the
one true religion.
 Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to create an economic revolution. Instead of working in
factories, making nuts and bolts, one should work on the land and possess cows. From the land
one can get rice, wheat, vegetables, and cotton for clothing, and from the cows one can get milk,
which can be made into ghee and yogurt.
Now, men working in factories and offices are being replaced by computer-operated
machinery and robots. By developing artificial intelligence, robots will replace humans in the
offices and businesses so that humans will be unemployed. When one grows his own food and
protects cows, there is no question of unemployment.
I saw this in a German newspaper. A robot that looks like a lady enters an office and tells
an employee, “Sir, you have been replaced. I can do the work of ten people and so you are no
longer needed.” The employee said, “Where will I go? What will I do?” The robot said, “That’s
up to you. There is no more need for you here.”
In India, Gandhi wanted each village to be self-sufficient, whereas Nehru wanted an
industrialized society. Nehru’s policy prevailed and so now even college graduates find it
difficult to get employment because there are sometimes thousands of applications for a single
position.
Çréla Prabhupäda’s revolutionary slogan was “Plain living and high thinking” to counter
the materialists’ slogan of “Lavish living and animalistic thinking.” Çréla Prabhupäda wanted us
to establish self-sufficient farm communities so that unemployed people could come, be engaged
in agriculture, and begin to practice Kåñëa consciousness.
Çréla Prabhupäda called a spade a spade. Those is present-day society think that they are
advanced with their airplanes, internet, nice cars, and nuclear weapons, but Çréla Prabhupäda
preached that most people are simply polished animals. Why? Because, like animals, they are
simply interested in eating, sleeping, mating, and defending, and have no understanding of how
to fulfill the purpose of human life, which is to get out of material entanglement and go to live
eternally in the spiritual sky. An animal fights with its teeth and claws, and the two-legged
animals fight with bullets and bombs. A dog has sex in the street, and modern man has sex on a
soft bed in a nice apartment, but the activity is the same.
Çréla Prabhupäda wanted to revolutionize society by introducing varëäçrama. In 1976,
ISKCON had sixteen farm communities and Çréla Prabhupäda wanted them to show the world
how society should be organized for attaining peace and prosperity. The brähmaëas would teach
and maintain the temple, the kñatriyas would protect the society and manage it, the vaiçyas
would protect the cows and produce food by agriculture, and the çüdras would assist the other
three classes. In this way, everyone could work in harmony. Because we now live in an
animalistic society, people are fighting like cats and dogs. Çréla Prabhupäda’s revolutionary
movement was intended to turn our animal civilization into a genuine human society.

All glories to Çré Guru and Gauräìga! All glories to Çréla Prabhupäda!