# Back to Godhead Magazine #11 *1976 (05)* Back to Godhead Magazine #11-05, 1976 PDF-View *Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare* God has an unlimited variety of names. Some of them—Jehovah, Adonai, Buddha, and Allah—are familiar to us, while the names Kṛṣṇa and Rama may be less so. However, whatever name of God we may accept, all scriptures enjoin us to chant it for spiritual purification. Muhammed counseled, "Glorify the name of your Lord, the most high" (Koran 87.2). Saint Paul said, "Everyone who calls upon the name of the Lord will be saved" (Romans 10:13). Lord Buddha declared, "All who sincerely call upon my name will come to me after death, and I will take them to Paradise" (Vows *of Amida Buddha* 18). King David preached, "From the rising of the sun to its setting, the name of the Lord is to be praised" (Psalms 113:3). And the world's oldest scriptures, the *Vedas* of India, emphatically state, "Chant the holy name, chant the holy name, chant the holy name of the Lord. In this age of quarrel there is no other way, no other way, no other way to attain spiritual enlightenment" *(Bṛhan-nāradīya Purāṇa).* The special design of the *Hare Kṛṣṇa* chant makes it easy to repeat and pleasant to hear. Spoken or sung, by yourself or in a group, *Hare Kṛṣṇa* invariably produces a joyful state of spiritual awareness—Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Find out more about Kṛṣṇa consciousness in this issue of BACK TO GODHEAD magazine. ## Plato’s Politics *Part of a forthcoming book, the following is a conversation between His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda and his disciple Śyāmasundara dāsa.* Śyāmasundara: Plato believed society can enjoy prosperity and harmony only if it places people in working categories or classes according to their natural abilities. He thought people should find out their natural abilities and use those abilities to their fullest capacity—as administrators, as military men, or as craftsmen. Most important, the head of state should not be an average or mediocre man. Instead, society should be led by a very wise and good man—a "philosopher king"—or a group of very wise and good men. Śrīla Prabhupāda: This idea appears to be taken from the *Bhagavad-gītā*, where Kṛṣṇa says that the ideal society has four divisions: *brāhmaṇas* [intellectuals], *kṣatriyas* [warriors and administrators], *vaiśyas* [merchants and farmers], and *śūdras* [laborers]. These divisions come about by the influence of the modes of nature. Everyone, both in human society and in animal society, is influenced by the modes of material nature [*sattva-guṇa*, *rajo-guṇa*, and *tamo-guṇa*, or goodness, passion, and ignorance]. By scientifically classifying men according to these qualities, society can become perfect. But if we place a man in the mode of ignorance in a philosopher's post, or put a philosopher to work as an ordinary laborer, havoc will result. In the *Bhagavad-gītā* Kṛṣṇa says that the *brāhmaṇas*—the most intelligent men, who are interested in transcendental knowledge and philosophy—should be given the topmost posts, and under their instructions the *kṣatriyas* [administrators] should work. The administrators should see that there is law and order and that everyone is doing his duty. The next section is the productive class, the *vaiśyas*, who engage in agriculture and cow protection. And finally there are the *śūdras*, common laborers who help the other sections. This is Vedic civilization—people living simply, on agriculture and cow protection. If you have enough milk, grains, fruits, and vegetables, you can live very nicely. The *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam* compares the four divisions of society to the different parts of the body—the head, the arms, the belly, and the legs. Just as all parts of the body cooperate to keep the body fit, in the ideal state all sections of society cooperate under the leadership of the *brāhmaṇas*. Comparatively, the head is the most important part of the body, for it gives directions to the other parts of the body. Similarly, the ideal state functions under the directions of the *brāhmaṇas*, who are not personally interested in political affairs or administration because they have a higher duty. At present this Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is training *brāhmaṇas*. If the administrators take our advice and conduct the state in a Kṛṣṇa conscious way, there will be an ideal society throughout the world. Śyāmasundara: How does modern society differ from the Vedic ideal? Śrīla Prabhupāda: Now there is large-scale industrialization, which means exploitation of one man by another. Such industry was unknown in Vedic civilization—it was unnecessary. In addition, modern civilization has taken to slaughtering and eating animals, which is barbarous. It is not even human. In Vedic civilization, when a person was unfit to rule he was deposed. For instance, King Vena proved to be an unfit king. He was simply interested in hunting. Of course, *kṣatriyas* are allowed to hunt, but not whimsically. They are not allowed to kill many birds and beasts unnecessarily, as King Vena was doing and as people do today. At that time the intelligent *brāhmaṇas* objected and immediately killed him with a curse. Formerly, the *brāhmaṇas* had so much power that they could kill simply by cursing; weapons were unnecessary. At present, however—because the head of the social body is missing—it is a dead body. The head is very important, and our Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is attempting to create some **brāhmaṇa*s* who will form the head of society. Then the administrators will be able to rule very nicely under the instructions of the philosophers and theologians—that is, under the instructions of God-conscious people. A God-conscious *brāhmaṇa* would never advise opening slaughterhouses. But now, the many rascals heading the government allow animal slaughter. When Mahārāja Parīkṣit saw a degraded man trying to kill a cow, he immediately drew his sword and said, "Who are you?! Why are you trying to kill this cow?" He was a real king. Nowadays, unqualified men have taken the presidential post. And although they may pose themselves as very religious, they are simply rascals. Why?—because under their noses thousands of cows are being killed while they collect a good salary. Any leader who is at all religious should resign his post in protest if cow slaughter goes on under his rule. Since people do not know that these administrators are rascals, they are suffering. And the people are also rascals because they are voting for these bigger rascals. It is Plato's view that the government should be ideal, and this is the ideal*:* The saintly philosophers should be at the head of state; according to their advice the politicians should rule; under the protection of the politicians, the productive class should provide the necessities of life; and the laborer class should help. This is the scientific division of society that Kṛṣṇa advocates in the *Bhagavad-gītā* (4.13), cātur-varṇyaṁ mayā sṛṣṭaṁ guṇa-karma-vibhāgaśaḥ*:* "According to the three modes of material nature and the work ascribed to them, the four divisions of human society were created by Me." Śyāmasundara: Plato also observed social divisions. However, he advocated three divisions. One class consisted of the guardians, men of wisdom who governed society. Another class consisted of the warriors, who were courageous and who protected the rest of society. And the third class consisted of the artisans, who performed their services obediently and worked only to satisfy their appetites. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes, human society does have this threefold division, also. The first-class man is in the mode of goodness, the second-class man is in the mode of passion, and the third-class man is in the mode of ignorance. Śyāmasundara: Plato's understanding of the social order was based on his observation that man has a threefold division of intelligence, courage, and appetite. He said that the soul has these three qualities. Śrīla Prabhupāda: That is a mistake. The soul does not have any material qualities. The soul is pure, but because of his contact with the different qualities of material nature, he is dressed in various ways. This Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement aims at removing this material dress. Our first instruction is: "You are not this body." It appears that in his practical understanding Plato identified the soul with the bodily dress, and that does not show very good intelligence. Śyāmasundara: Plato believed that man's position is marginal—between matter and spirit—and therefore he also stressed the development of the body. He thought that everyone should be educated from an early age, and that part of that education should be gymnastics—to keep the body fit. Śrīla Prabhupāda: This means that in practice Plato very strongly identified the self as the body. What was Plato's idea of education? Śyāmasundara: To awaken the student to his natural position—whatever his natural abilities or talents are. Śrīla Prabhupāda: And what is that natural position? Śyāmasundara: The position of moral goodness. In other words, Plato thought everyone should be educated to work in whatever way is best suited to awaken his natural moral goodness. Śrīla Prabhupāda: But moral goodness is not enough, because simple morality will not satisfy the soul. One has to go above morality—to Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Of course, in this material world morality is taken as the highest principle, but there is another platform, which is called the transcendental *(*vāsudeva*)* platform. Man's highest perfection is on that platform, and this is confirmed in *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.* However, because Western philosophers have no information of the *vāsudeva* platform, they consider the material mode of goodness to be the highest perfection and the end of morality. But in this world even moral goodness is infected by the lower modes of ignorance and passion. You cannot find pure goodness *(śuddha-sattva)* in this material world, for pure goodness is the transcendental platform. To come to the platform of pure goodness, which is the ideal, one has to undergo austerities *(tapasā brahmacaryeṇa śamena ca damena ca).* One has to practice celibacy and control the mind and senses. If he has money, he should distribute it in charity. Also, one should always be very clean. In this way, one can rise to the platform of pure goodness. There is another process for coming to the platform of pure goodness—and that is Kṛṣṇa consciousness. If one becomes Kṛṣṇa conscious, all the good qualities automatically develop in him. Automatically he leads a life of celibacy, controls his mind and senses, and has a charitable disposition. In this Age of Kali, people cannot possibly be trained to engage in austerity. Formerly, a *brahmacārī* [celibate student] would undergo austere training. Even though he might be from a royal or learned family, a *brahmacārī* would humble himself and serve the spiritual master as a menial servant. He would immediately do whatever the spiritual master ordered. The *brahmacārī* would beg alms from door to door and bring them to the spiritual master, claiming nothing for himself. Whatever he earned he would give to the spiritual master, because the spiritual master would not spoil the money by spending it for sense gratification—he would use it for Kṛṣṇa. This is austerity. The *brahmacārī* would also observe celibacy, and because he followed the directions of the spiritual master, his mind and senses were controlled. > Hare Kṛṣṇa Hare Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa Hare Hare > Hare Rāma Hare Rāma Rāma Rāma Hare Hare Today, however, this austerity is very difficult to follow, so Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu has given the process of taking to Kṛṣṇa consciousness directly. In this case, one need simply chant Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare and follow the regulative principles given by the spiritual master. Then one immediately rises to the platform of pure goodness. Śyāmasundara: Plato thought the state should train citizens to be virtuous. His system of education went like this: For the first three years of life, the child should play and strengthen his body. From three to six, the child should learn religious stories. From seven to ten, he should learn gymnastics; from ten to thirteen, reading and writing; from fourteen to sixteen, poetry and music; from sixteen to eighteen, mathematics. And from eighteen to twenty, he should undergo military drill. From twenty to thirty-five, those who are scientific and philosophical should remain in school and continue learning, and the warriors should engage in military exercises. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Is this educational program for all men, or are there different types of education for different men? Śyāmasundara: No, this is for everyone. Śrīla Prabhupāda: This is not very good. If a boy is intelligent and inclined to philosophy and theology, why should he be forced to undergo military training? Śyāmasundara: Well, Plato said that everyone should undergo two years of military drill. Śrīla Prabhupāda: But why should someone waste two years? No one should waste even two days. This is nonsense—imperfect ideas. Śyāmasundara: Plato said this type of education reveals what category a person belongs to. He did have the right idea that one belongs to a particular class according to his qualification. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes, that we also say, but we disagree that everyone should go through the same training. The spiritual master should judge the tendency or disposition of the student at the start of his education. He should be able to see whether a boy is fit for military training, administration, or philosophy, and then he should fully train the boy according to his particular tendency. If one is naturally inclined to philosophical study, why should he waste his time in the military? And if one is naturally inclined to military training, why should he waste his time with other things? Arjuna belonged to a *kṣatriya* [warrior] family. He and his brothers were never trained as philosophers. Droṇācārya was their master and teacher, and although he was a **brāhmaṇa*,* he taught them *Dhanur Veda* [military science], not *brahma-vidyā. Brahma-vidyā* is theistic philosophy. No one should be trained in everything; that is a waste of time. If one is inclined toward production, business, or agriculture, he should be trained in those fields. If one is philosophical, he should be trained as a philosopher. If one is militaristic, he should be trained as a warrior. And if one has ordinary ability, he should remain a **śūdra*,* or laborer. This is stated by Nārada Muni, in *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam: yasya yallakṣaṇaṁ proktam.* The four classes of society are recognized by their symptoms and qualifications. Nārada Muni also says that one should be selected for training according to his qualifications. Even if one is born in a *brāhmaṇa* family, he should be considered a *śūdra* if his qualifications are those of a *śūdra*. And if one is born in a *śūdra* family, he should be taken as a *brāhmaṇa* if his symptoms are brahminical. The spiritual master should be expert enough to recognize the tendencies of the student and immediately train him in that line. This is perfect education. Śyāmasundara: Plato believed that the student's natural tendency wouldn't come out unless he practiced everything. Śrīla Prabhupāda: No, that is wrong—because the soul is continuous, and therefore everyone has some tendency from his previous birth. I think Plato didn't realize this continuity of the soul from body to body. According to the Vedic culture, immediately after a boy's birth astrologers calculated what category he belonged to. Astrology can help if there is a first-class astrologer. Such an astrologer can tell what line a boy is coming from and how he should be trained. Plato's method of education was imperfect because it was based on speculation. Śyāmasundara: Plato observed that a particular combination of the three modes of nature is acting in each individual. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Then why did he say that everyone should be trained in the same way? Śyāmasundara: Because he claimed that the person's natural abilities will not manifest unless he is given a chance to try everything. He saw that some people listen primarily to their intelligence, and he said they are governed by the head. He saw that some people have an aggressive disposition, and he said such courageous types are governed by the heart—by passion. And he saw that some people, who are inferior, simply want to feed their appetites. He said these people are animalistic, and he believed they are governed by the liver. Śrīla Prabhupāda: That is not a perfect description. Everyone has a liver, a heart, and all the bodily limbs. Whether one is in the mode of goodness, passion, or ignorance depends on one's training and on the qualities he acquired during his previous life. According to the Vedic process, at birth one is immediately given a classification. Psychological and physical symptoms are considered, and generally it is ascertained from birth that a child has a particular tendency. However, this tendency may change according to circumstances, and if one does not fulfill his assigned role, he can be transferred to another class. One may have had brahminical training in a previous life, and he may exhibit brahminical symptoms in this life, but one should not think that because he has taken birth in a *brāhmaṇa* family he is automatically a *brāhmaṇa*. A person may be born in a *brāhmaṇa* family and be a *śūdra.* It is a question not of birth but of qualification. Śyāmasundara: Plato also believed that one must qualify for his post. His system of government was very democratic. He thought everyone should be given a chance to occupy the different posts. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Actually, we are the most democratic, because we are giving everyone a chance to become a first-class **brāhmaṇa*.* The Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is giving even the lowest member of society a chance to become a *brāhmaṇa* by becoming Kṛṣṇa conscious. *Caṇḍālo 'pi dvija-śreṣṭhaḥ hari-bhakti-parāyaṇaḥ:* Although one may be born in a family of *caṇḍālas* [dog eaters], as soon as he becomes God conscious, Kṛṣṇa conscious, he can be elevated to the highest position. Kṛṣṇa says that everyone can go back to home, back to Godhead. *Samo 'haṁ sarva-bhūteṣu:* "I am equal to everyone. Everyone can come to Me. There is no hindrance." Śyāmasundara: What is the purpose of the social orders and the state government? Śrīla Prabhupāda: The ultimate purpose is to make everyone Kṛṣṇa conscious. That is the perfection of life, and the entire social structure should be molded with this aim in view. Of course, not everyone can become fully Kṛṣṇa conscious in one lifetime, just as not all students in a university can attain the M.A. degree in one attempt. But the idea of perfection is to pass the M.A. examination, and therefore the M.A. courses should be maintained. Similarly, an institution like this Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement should be maintained, so that at least some people can attain and everyone can approach the goal-Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Śyāmasundara: So the goal of the state government is to help everyone become Kṛṣṇa conscious? Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes, Kṛṣṇa consciousness is the highest goal. Therefore, everyone should help this movement and take advantage of it. Regardless of his work, everyone can come to the temple. The instructions are for everyone, and *prasāda* is distributed to everyone. Therefore, there is no difficulty. Everyone can contribute to this Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. The *brāhmaṇas* can contribute their intelligence; the *kṣatriyas* their charity; the *vaiśyas* their grain, milk, fruits, and flowers; and the *śūdras* their bodily service. By such joint effort, everyone can reach the same goal—Kṛṣṇa consciousness, the perfection of life. ## The Form of God: Fact or Fancy? *Is God a formless force, or the supreme eternal person ?* ### An analysis by Caṇḍīdāsa dāsa. Very often the readers of BACK TO GODHEAD become puzzled when they see a picture of Lord Kṛṣṇa. Usually they have been exposed only to Western religious philosophy, which hints that God is a *person*—the eternal father of every living entity—but gives scanty information about His form. For this reason many people think God is formless or void. But by using a little logic we can easily understand that if God is our eternal father, He must have form. Our fathers are *person*s with form. And if we count back thousands of generations we will find that our forefathers were also *person*s with form. Why should we think that the original, primeval, absolute father (God) is not a *person*, or that He is a formless *person*? The word *person* implies form; a formless *person* does not exist. Nevertheless, many people think that since God is spirit, He must be formless. They consider spirit to be some transparent, ethereal "force." However, beyond this hazy conception of spirit, which is not upheld in any of the great scriptures of the world, is the scientific explanation of spirit—or, as modern science calls it, antimatter—found in the Vedic literatures. The Vedic literatures do not deny the formless aspect of God. Rather, they explain that beyond the formless, impersonal realization of God is the highest understanding of the Absolute Truth as the Supreme Personality of Godhead. The Vedic literatures explain that God, Kṛṣṇa, is a person. Just as we are all individual persons, so God is also an individual person. But He is not an ordinary, materially covered person like us. He is a transcendental person (*nityo* *nityānāṁ cetanaś cetanānām).* And to realize His personality is to realize all His transcendental features—His name, His qualities, His activities, His associates, and His form. God, who is complete, cannot be formless. Everything in His creation has form, so how can God have no form? This would mean that God is less than His creation—or in other words, that the complete is incomplete, which is simply illogical. The complete whole must contain everything within our experience and beyond our experience; otherwise He cannot be complete. In addition, all the great scriptures of the world instruct us to love God. How can we love something formless or void? It's impossible. We are all persons, and we desire to love other persons—not some dark oblivion in outer space. We desire personal relationships, and the ultimate relationship is with the Supreme Personality of Godhead. The form of Kṛṣṇa—with His bluish hue, lotus eyes, blooming youthfulness, and pearl-white smile—is not fanciful. It is not created by an artist, a philosopher, or a mundane poet after seeing the beautiful panorama of the material world. This anthropomorphic idea doesn't answer the question, "Where does the beauty of nature come from?" Actually, the beautiful things of nature are reflections of Kṛṣṇa's original beauty. He is the prototype, as He explains in the *Bhagavad-gītā* (10.41). *Yad yad vibhūtimat sattvaṁ śrīmad ūrjitam eva vā/ tat tad evāvagaccha tvaṁ mama tejo-'ṁśa-sambhavam:* "Know that all beautiful, glorious, and mighty creations spring from but a spark of My splendor." Now we might ask, "Why do you accept the statements in the Vedic literature about the form of God?" But if we reflect for a moment, we can understand that every day we accept the statements of superior authorities on subjects we know nothing about. For instance, few of us have ever actually visited mainland China, yet we believe that it exists and that almost a billion people live there. We believe the magazine, newspaper, radio, and television reports about China. These are the sources of our knowledge, and if we wish we can confirm them by going to China ourselves. In the same way, the Vedic literatures are the source of knowledge that reveals Kṛṣṇa's form to us. And we can confirm that knowledge as well—by following the Vedic teachings in our everyday life and developing the vision to see Kṛṣṇa directly. However, to properly receive the Vedic teachings, we must approach a perfect authority, whose knowledge is coming from the Absolute through an unbroken line of spiritual masters. Then our knowledge will be perfect. His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda is such a spiritual master, and he is giving us authoritative knowledge of Kṛṣṇa's form through books such as *Bhagavad-gītā As It Is*, *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam*, and *Brahma-saṁhitā*. These books have existed more than five thousand years, and by following them many learned men have attained perfect knowledge of Kṛṣṇa's form. For example, *Brahma-saṁhitā* is a detailed description of Kṛṣṇa's form by one of the most exalted personalities in the universe, Lord Brahmā. After thousands of years of meditation, Brahmā actually met Kṛṣṇa face to face. In his ecstasy he related what he saw: > veṇuṁ kvaṇantam aravinda-dalāyatākṣaṁ > barhāvataṁsam asitāmbuda-sundarāṅgam > kandarpa-koṭi-kaminīya-viśeṣa-śobhaṁ > govindam ādi-puruṣaṁ tam ahaṁ bhajāmi "I worship Govinda, the primeval Lord, who is adept at playing on His flute, who has blooming eyes like lotus petals, whose head is bedecked with a peacock feather, whose figure of beauty is tinged with the hue of blue clouds, and whose unique loveliness charms millions of Cupids" (Bs. 5.30). > aṅgāni yasya sakalendriya-vṛttimanti > paśyanti pānti kalayanti ciraṁ jaganti > ānanda-cinmaya-sad-ujjvala-vigrahasya > govindam ādi-puruṣaṁ tam ahaṁ bhajāmi "I worship Govinda, the primeval Lord, whose transcendental form is full of bliss, truth, and substantiality, and who is thus full of the most dazzling splendor. Each limb of that transcendental figure possesses in itself the full-fledged functions of all the other organs, and He eternally sees, maintains, and manifests the infinite universes, both spiritual and mundane" (Bs. 5.32). Experts in the science of *bhakti-yoga* have related to us the knowledge of Kṛṣṇa's form through an unbroken disciplic succession. They encourage us to test the methods they prescribe, and to experience unlimited pleasure by seeing Kṛṣṇa's form ourselves. By reading the books of His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda, we can learn about Kṛṣṇa's names, qualities, pastimes, and form. Then, with determination, we can practice the scientific process of Kṛṣṇa consciousness and elevate ourselves to the perfectional stage of life—pure love of God. Lord Kṛṣṇa's beauty possesses mind-attracting splendor greater than emeralds. His lustrous body resembles a dark cloud newly appearing in the sky during the rainy season. Just as the rainfall glistens, His bodily features also glisten. Indeed, Kṛṣṇa is the sum total of all beauty. He stands gracefully with His legs crossed, His body curved, and His head tilted to the side. His yellow garment is more attractive than newly arrived lightning. A peacock feather decorates His head, and on His neck hangs a lovely necklace of brilliant pearls. Lord Kṛṣṇa's eyes defeat the beauty of white lotus flowers, and His eyebrows move slowly like bumblebees on His lotuslike face. As He takes His charming, flute to His lips and moves His fingers upon it here and there, His face looks as beautiful as the full autumn moon. *Caṇḍīdāsa dāsa, who came to the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement in late 1973, graduated from the State University of New York (at Buffalo) with a B.A. in history and later taught at Niagara University. At present, he teaches the science of Kṛṣṇa consciousness at the ISKCON temple in Pittsburgh.* ## Eyes to See God *An excerpt from On the Way to Kṛṣṇa, by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda* *"You cannot see Me with your present eyes. Therefore I give you divine eyes, so that you can behold My mystic opulence."* (Bhagavad-gītā 11.8) How can we get the eyes to see God? How can we become God conscious, Kṛṣṇa conscious, in every step of our life? Actually, Kṛṣṇa makes it very easy for us: "O son of Kuntī [Arjuna], I am the taste of water, the light of the sun and the moon, the syllable *oṁ* in the Vedic *mantras*; I am the sound in ether and ability in man" (Bg. 7.8). In this verse Śrī Kṛṣṇa is describing how we can become Kṛṣṇa conscious fully, in all stages of life. For instance, all living entities must drink water. The taste of water is so nice that when we are thirsty, nothing but water seems to do. No manufacturer can create the pure taste of water. We can thus remember Kṛṣṇa when we drink water. No one can avoid drinking water every day of his life, so God consciousness is there—how can we forget? There are nine different processes for associating with God, and the first method of association is *śravaṇam—*hearing. By reading *Bhagavad-gītā* we hear the speeches of Śrī Kṛṣṇa, which means that we are actually associating with God. (We should always remember that when we speak of Kṛṣṇa, we refer to God.) Inasmuch as we associate with God, and as we go on hearing the words of Kṛṣṇa and His names, the contamination of material nature is reduced. If we understand that Kṛṣṇa is sound, illumination, water, and so many other things, we cannot avoid Him. If we can remember Kṛṣṇa in this way, our association with Him is permanent. Association with Kṛṣṇa is like association with sunshine. Where there is sunshine, there is no contamination. As long as one is out in the ultraviolet rays of the sun, he will not be diseased. Western medicine recommends sunshine for all kinds of diseases, and the *Vedas* say a diseased man should worship the sun to be cured. Similarly, if we associate with Kṛṣṇa, our maladies are cured. By chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa we can associate with Kṛṣṇa—and we can see Kṛṣṇa in the sun and the moon, and we can hear Kṛṣṇa in sound and taste Him in water. It is especially useless to speculate about God. Therefore *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam* recommends that one give up all sorts of speculation. Instead, one should become submissive, realizing not only that he is an insignificant creature, but also that this earth is only one small point in the great universe. New York City may seem very large, but when one realizes that the earth is such a small spot, and that on the earth the United States is just another small spot, and that in the United States New York City is but a small spot, and that in New York the individual is only one out of millions, then one can understand that he is not so very important after all. Realizing our insignificance in the face of the universe and God, we should not be artificially puffed up but should be submissive. We should be very careful not to fall prey to frog philosophy. Once there was a frog in a well, and upon hearing of the Atlantic Ocean from a friend, he asked, "Oh, what is this Atlantic Ocean?" "It is a vast body of water," his friend replied. "How vast? Is it double the size of this well?" "Oh no—much, much larger." "How much larger? Ten times the size?" In this way the frog went on calculating. But how could he ever understand the depths and far reaches of the great ocean? Our faculties, experience, and powers of speculation are always limited. We can give rise only to such frog philosophy. After giving up speculation, what should we do? *Bhāgavatam* recommends that we become humble and hear God's message submissively. We may hear His message also from the *Bhagavad-gītā* and other Vedic literatures. The only qualification is that we receive the transcendental message from a realized soul—a pure devotee of God. In the Seventh Chapter of *Bhagavad-gītā,* Śrī Kṛṣṇa gives additional ways to perceive Him in every step of life: "I am the original fragrance of the earth, and I am the heat in fire. I am the life of all that lives, and I am the penances of all ascetics" (Bg. 7.9). Only Kṛṣṇa can create flavors and fragrances. We may synthetically create some scents or fragrances, but these are not as good as the originals that occur in nature. When we smell a good natural fragrance, we can think, "Oh, here is God. Here is Kṛṣṇa." Or when we see some natural beauty, we can think, "Oh, here is Kṛṣṇa." Or when we see something uncommon, powerful, or wonderful, we can think, "Here is Kṛṣṇa." Or when we see any form of life, whether it be in a tree, in a plant or an animal, or in a human being, we should understand that this life is part and parcel of Kṛṣṇa, for as soon as the spiritual spark, which is part and parcel of Kṛṣṇa, is taken away from the body, the body disintegrates. "O son of Pṛthā, know that I am the original seed of all existences, the intelligence of the intelligent, and the prowess of all powerful men" (Bg. 7.10). Here again it is obvious that Kṛṣṇa is the life of all that lives. Thus at every step we can see God. People may ask, "Can you show me God?" Yes, of course. We can see God in so many ways. But if one closes his eyes and says, "I shall not see God," then how can he be shown? The easiest way to see God is to chant Hare Kṛṣṇa always. Never mind whether you are in a factory or in a hell, in a shack or in a skyscraper—it doesn't matter. Just go on chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. There is no expense, there is no impediment, there is no caste, there is no creed, there is no color—anyone can do it. Just chant and hear. Then, by Kṛṣṇa's grace, you will have the eyes to see Him everywhere and always. ## ISKCON News A brief look at the worldwide activities of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness *Relieving the "Religious" War* Years of bitter fighting, terrorist bombings, armored cars, and patrolling troops have made residents of Belfast, Northern Ireland, rather grim. But as visiting devotees have noted, Belfasters brighten when they hear the chanting of *Hare Kṛṣṇa.* "The people here in Belfast are naturally pious, so they're curious about Kṛṣṇa consciousness," reported Vrajendra Kumara dāsa, one of the devotees from ISKCON's London center. Even though shooting and bombing sometimes flare up nearby, the devotees are following Lord Caitanya's instructions to spread Kṛṣṇa consciousness "wherever you go, to whomever you meet." To Catholics, Protestants, soldiers—anyone and everyone—the devotees are distributing spiritual food, Kṛṣṇa conscious literature, and the chanting of Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. In February the devotees ventured to Coleraine, a town of fourteen thousand, also in Northern Ireland. Despite snow and gale-force winds they distributed books entitled **Kṛṣṇa*, the Supreme Personality of Godhead.* Soon the danger of frostbite forced the devotees off the street, but by that time one in every four families had received a *Kṛṣṇa* book. *ISKCON Miami's "Heavenly Forest"* Swarms of bumblebees humming around newly-grown mango buds, peacocks strutting beneath flower-laden trees, cows munching happily in the fields—ISKCON's new eight-and-a-half-acre farm on the western outskirts of Miami, Florida, resembles Lord Kṛṣṇa's spiritual abode, Goloka Vṛndāvana. Śrīla Prabhupāda has requested that the land be developed into "a tropical paradise full of fruits and flowers," and Temple President Narahari dāsa and the other devotees are fulfilling that request. They recently installed a marble floor in the seventy-by-twenty-foot temple room and built a new barn. But there's still plenty of devotional work for the fifty devotees on the farm, which is named New Naimiṣāraṇya (after a sacred forest in India). Some go out daily to distribute Śrīla Prabhupāda's books and magazines. Others are busy putting the finishing touches on the temple. And still others take care of the bees, cows, and peacocks. "We have fourteen working beehives right now," Narahari said, "and we've built an additional twenty hives that we plan to set up over the next year. We expect at least one hundred fifty pounds of honey a year from each hive, which should fully supply our temple's needs—and then some." Meanwhile, the herd of five cows (two Jerseys, two Brown Swiss, and a Guernsey) produces more than enough milk to provide a sumptuous variety of milk sweets and other dishes for the temple's Deities—Their Lordships Śrī Śrī Gaura-Nitāi. Narahari seems confident that the paradisal environment, the beautiful Deities, and the natural joy of Kṛṣṇa consciousness will attract many spiritually-minded people to New Naimisaranaya. *On-Campus Chaplaincy Approved* The University of Maryland, one of America's largest (with an enrollment of over forty thousand), recently granted ISKCON permanent facilities to offer Kṛṣṇa consciousness on campus. Located in College Park, Maryland, eight miles from Washington, D.C., the university will provide ISKCON with an office in its interdenominational chapel. The formal confirmation of ISKCON's on-campus ministry stemmed from increasing student interest in Kṛṣṇa conscious programs at the university. A committee of students, faculty, and administrators examined the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement and agreed that ISKCON fulfilled the requirements of the Board of Regents for appointment to a chaplaincy. The committee then voted unanimously to grant ISKCON facilities for its programs on campus. In a typical week, Gabhīra dāsa, ISKCON's on-campus representative, gives lectures to various classes, meets with individual students and professors, and organizes seminars on the philosophy of the *Bhagavad-gītā As It Is.* One of his most popular programs is a class in Vedic cooking, held in campus dormitories. Devotees teach the students how to prepare Indian vegetarian food and how to offer the tasty dishes to Lord Kṛṣṇa with devotion. The classes culminate in feasting for all. "By increasing our lectures, seminars, and free vegetarian feasts," says Gabhīra dāsa, "we hope to share even more of the Kṛṣṇa conscious philosophy and way of life with the community." ## Captured by Kṛṣṇa *A Peace Corps veteran tells how on his first professional photo assignment he became interested in Kṛṣṇa consciousness.* ### by Yadubara dāsa(as told to Bibhāvati-devī dāsī) I was staying with some friends on Long Island, in July, 1970, when *Asia Magazine* called and gave me my first professional assignment—a photo-essay on the Hare Kṛṣṇa people. I knew that they chanted on the streets of Manhattan, so I rode in on the Long Island Railroad to find them. But when the train pulled in at Penn Station, I had no idea where to look. I surfaced at Thirty-fourth Street—and there they were. Just down the street they were dancing and singing, their robes flapping like orange flags against the bright blue sky. I walked up to one young man and asked him if I might take some pictures. "Sure," he said. Later on, I rode with the group to their temple, on Second Avenue, in the East Village. That summer I did two articles on the devotees of Kṛṣṇa. In the fall I chose them as the subject of my M.A. thesis. With the consent of my professors, I booked a flight to India, where I planned to photograph the spiritual master of the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement as he toured with a group of his American disciples. I heard later that one of my professors had remarked, "John will probably go to India and become a yogi and never come back." Nothing could have been farther from my mind. I was determined to get my M.A. in photography. During my three years with the Peace Corps in Malaysia, just as a hobby I had taken photos of the Malaysian people. The result had been a successful photo show for the American ambassador. Encouraged, I had decided to study photography at Rochester Institute of Technology. At R.I.T. I had met my wife, Jean, who was a promising young photographer. At nineteen, she had just published her first book, *Macrophotography.* When I was leaving for India in December, Jean was having an exhibition of her photographs in New York City. We decided that she would stay in New York and join me in a few months. As the plane took off, I knew that something very exciting lay ahead. Imagine—I was going off alone to India to meet some American Hare Kṛṣṇa devotees, and I barely knew their whereabouts. I settled back in my reclining chair and opened *Bhagavad-gītā As It Is*, the basic scripture of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. A devotee named Guru dāsa had told me that if I wanted to write a good thesis on the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement, I should study this book carefully. I began with the Ninth Chapter, "The Most Confidential Knowledge," in which Lord Kṛṣṇa says, "This knowledge is the king of education, the most secret of all secrets." I felt I knew nothing about spiritual life. Although I couldn't understand the *Gītā* very well, at the same time I thought, "Here's something very profound." After landing in Bombay, I looked up an Indian gentleman at an address the New York devotees had given me. He told me the Hare Kṛṣṇa people were in Surat, a town two hundred miles north of Bombay. Immediately I booked a third-class ticket and caught a train for Surat. It was evening when the train pulled in. Someone showed me the ricksha stand, where rows of lean men stood smoking cigarettes beside their three-wheeled vehicles. "Hare Kṛṣṇa? Hare Kṛṣṇa?" I said hopefully. "Yes! I know! I know!" one man shouted and grinned. I got into his ricksha, and we raced off through the noisy streets into the dusk. The whole town was out strolling. Ricksha bells rang constantly as my driver threaded his way through the crowd of people, bicycles, and white cows. He stopped before a modern stucco house. As I jumped from the ricksha, I noted that standing on the steps was a fair-skinned *sādhu* in saffron robes. Inside I found an old friend from the New York temple whose beaming face told me what I wanted to know—"Welcome to India!" That night I entered another world. First, my host Mr. Jariwallah gave me a garland of flowers and a silver tray filled with Indian cooked foods and fruits. When I had finished, my devotee friend took me in to meet his spiritual master, His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda. Śrīla Prabhupāda sat on a pillow, and he looked very stately. A devotee handed him a copy of *Asia Magazine* and told him I had done an article on the devotees. After looking through the article, he smiled and said, "Yes, that is very nice." I explained to Śrīla Prabhupāda that I wanted to take more photographs, and he agreed. So, thanks to my picture-taking, I got to spend several hours in his room. He kindly introduced me to all his visitors: "This is John Griesser. He is an expert photographer." At 4:20 A.M. the next day, about twenty of us gathered in Śrīla Prabhupāda's room for the morning service. A devotee named Dīnanātha dāsa sat on the floor and chanted, the drum in his hands exploding with rhythm. Another devotee performed the ceremony. He offered incense, ghee lamps, flowers, and a peacock fan to the Deities—Lord Kṛṣṇa and His consort Śrīmatī Rādhārāṇī, who stood together on a small marble altar. Everyone sang Hare Kṛṣṇa to a melodious tune I hadn't heard before. Then Śrīla Prabhupāda gave a lecture. I admired his scientific descriptions of how the body is formed and the soul enters into it. His talks revealed a keen philosophical intelligence. My mind was satisfied when I heard his version of the mystery of birth, death, disease, and old age. He also explained that whatever insures people's spiritual happiness is the highest welfare work. I understood that the desire to alleviate suffering is the basic motive of a genuine guru. I've often thought how lucky I was on my visit to India. Some Westerners wander around India for years—meeting various yogis and so-called gurus, shopping in bazaars, contracting diseases, and generally getting lost. I didn't even go to India with a spiritual aim. I simply wanted to finish an M.A. thesis and increase my photographic skill. Yet what a stroke of luck—on my first night in India, I met a pure devotee of Lord Kṛṣṇa. In Surat every day was a huge festival. I had a rare vision of an older, more spiritual India than I'd seen in Bombay. Around nine o'clock every morning, the devotees went out chanting in the streets, and I followed them with my camera. The welcome they received is one of my best memories of India. At each house someone would come out to garland the devotees, and after a few minutes the devotees' ecstatic faces would be hardly visible behind the flowers. Bolts of colorful cloth hung across the narrow streets, from balcony to balcony. Ladies showered flowers down on us from their windows. Indians naturally respect devotees of the Lord, and when the devotees happen to be young Westerners, they are even more popular. I was glad to see the devotees in their glory, because I respected them as people and as friends. There was Guru dāsa, a large and jolly person who himself took photographs of everything. There was Yamunā, his wife, a gifted singer who had introduced radio audiences to the Hare Kṛṣṇa mantra when she recorded it with George Harrison on Apple Records. There was Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, the group's leader, whose determination I admired. And there was Girirāja dāsa, who offered me his cheerful friendship. These special people helped me to appreciate Kṛṣṇa consciousness. After the festival in Surat, the whole party moved on to Allahabad, about three or four hundred miles west of Benares. I went to Bombay to develop my film. After a few days I took a train to Allahabad and joined the devotees. At Allahabad it was the time of the Kumbha Melā, a festival that happens every six, years. The Kumbha Melā draws some six million people to the meeting point of three sacred rivers. Pilgrims come by foot, by camel, and by train. Prominent yogis even come on the backs of elephants. Somehow six million people crowd together at the meeting of the Ganges, the Yamunā, and the Sarasvatī rivers to take their bath at that astrologically correct time. The night I arrived, the Allahabad train station was packed. I hailed a ricksha driver and said, "Take me to the Ganges." After he'd peddled through the blackness for about half an hour, I wondered whether he was taking me to a secluded place to rob me. I asked, "Where is it? Where is the Ganges?" He motioned with his hand, "Wait—just wait!" in the bossy way that ricksha drivers have. Suddenly he stopped. The night was so dark that I couldn't see anything, but he was signaling, "We're here." I got out, paid him, and started walking along what turned out to be a high cliff. As far as I could see below me, there were twinkling lights. I now realized that the dark strip running between the two fields of light was the Ganges—and that the lights were millions of torches, candles, ghee lamps, and small hurricane lamps dotting the campsite of the Kumbha Melā. The smell of cow-dung fires floated up to my nostrils, and I heard a great hum coming from below. It was the mingling of many mantras and prayers. I was awestruck. Carefully yet quickly, I climbed down the side of the cliff to the maze of tents below. At the bottom I spotted a policeman and asked him to help me find the American devotees. He led me to the nearest cluster of tents, which stood facing the dirt road. Once again I'd caught up with the Hare Kṛṣṇa people. The next morning, the devotees formed their usual chanting party along the road beside the Ganges. The sight of these twenty young men and women dancing along the road with drums and cymbals was a joy to the other pilgrims. They were very friendly toward us. Apparently, they had never seen foreigners who sang and danced like that. From morning till night, thousands of people streamed into our large tent. They saw our large Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa Deities and then took *prasāda* (spiritual food). All the while, they listened to the chanting of Hare Kṛṣṇa. I was thoroughly enjoying myself. I could feel that the holy Ganges was purifying me. After bathing in her waters, I felt lighter in body and spirit. An Indian health official there told me, "Science cannot explain why, but the Ganges never becomes stagnant or polluted." My life at the Kumbha Melā festival settled into a pleasant pattern. At night I slept on a rug in a tent. In the morning I joined the chanting party, and afterward I helped with the cooking. I was learning how to roll chapatis [flat whole-wheat bread]. There were also opportunities to photograph the yogis. Sometimes they paraded on elephants—their naked bodies smeared with ashes, their foreheads lined with red and yellow clay. Others wore long hair and beards and filmy white robes. I got some good pictures of the yogis, but they seemed indifferent to me as a person. One actually laughed at me, as if being a Westerner somehow disqualified me from being there. I could sense that many of the yogis had unusual mystic powers, but I felt that they didn't have much compassion for other people. On the other hand, Śrīla Prabhupāda was averse to riding proudly on elephants, but he took an interest in someone like me. At all hours, he kindly discussed spiritual matters with the people who visited him in his red tent. With a small light hanging from above, Śrīla Prabhupāda sat on a raised seat, and his visitors sat on carpets. He roared like a lion at those who challenged the existence of God, but he was soft as a rose with those who were open-minded. Most often he was simply friendly and charming to everyone. Sometimes when he saw me he would ask, "Is everything all right?" About that time, I shaved off my mustache. When Śrīla Prabhupāda noticed, he said, "Oh, that's very good. You look very nice." In Allahabad I also met an American student. He was from the University of Benares, and he invited me to visit him there. A few weeks later I went to see him. I think I wanted to talk to someone removed from Kṛṣṇa consciousness, to give myself another angle on what I was experiencing. Or perhaps I was just restless. Anyway, in late February I went to the holy city of Benares, or Vārāṇasī. At my friend's place were students from Australia, New Zealand, America, and India. One evening I cooked a vegetarian dinner and offered it with prayers before a picture of Lord Kṛṣṇa. Everyone enjoyed the time-honored Indian dishes I'd learned to prepare in Allahabad. I mentioned that the devotees would soon be in town for a festival, but the students weren't very interested. At the same time, their talk about their new courses and old acquaintances seemed rather trivial. Kṛṣṇa consciousness was making more sense than anything else I had come across. The festival at Benares was to commemorate the appearance day of Lord Caitanya, the sixteenth-century *avatār* who founded the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement. The devotees were eager to go to Benares, because there—within a few hours—Lord Caitanya convinced several thousand scholars to become His disciples. When Śrīla Prabhupāda arrived in Benares, the townspeople honored him as the foremost teacher of Lord Caitanya's philosophy, and they took him through the town in an ornate coach drawn by four white horses. He seemed to be going from victory to victory on his Indian tour. That afternoon I went to see Śrīla Prabhupāda at the house where he was staying. He sat under a tree in a sun-splashed courtyard, eating some *guḍa* [solidified molasses]. His expressive features lit up with a smile of welcome when he saw me. He was talking in his accented, rhythmic English about his boyhood days in Calcutta, and he described a gracious city, before the crowding and squalor of today. As a schoolboy he had seen splendid Victorian buildings of white marble, surrounded by stately lawns and trees. Serene and lighthearted, Śrīla Prabhupāda looked at me and remarked, "John, I think that Kṛṣṇa has captured you." I agreed. I had known it for quite a while, but now Śrīla Prabhupāda had confirmed it. After the festival in Benares, we all took a train back to Bombay, on the western coast. By this time I was wondering what had happened to Jean. Kṛṣṇa had captured me, and I hoped He would capture her also. I expected her to come to India soon, but she'd been delayed. In April I got a letter from her. She wrote, "I expect to be leaving New York in two weeks, if there are no more complications. Personally, I'm feeling very restless. I've learned to be technically competent, but I find myself searching for something worth saying in my photographs. I want to do something positive with my camera—something that will make people happier, or better in some way. I have a medium, but no message." While reading Jean's letter, I remembered what Śrīla Prabhupāda had once said: "If one is not in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, he must be disturbed, because there cannot be a final goal for the mind." When she finally arrived, I tried to be patient with her and to help her have the same pleasing exposure to Kṛṣṇa consciousness that I'd had. She went in to visit Śrīla Prabhupāda with the book she had written. He praised her technical know-how and gave her a big garland to wear. She was speechless. At this time, in the heart of Bombay, Śrīla Prabhupāda and his disciples were presenting one of the biggest spiritual festivals the city had seen in many years. Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa Deities stood on a stage inside a huge tent. In this canvas pavilion Śrīla Prabhupāda would lecture to twenty or thirty thousand people every night. White-shirted Indian businessmen and their well-groomed wives took part in the chanting. Everywhere the people welcomed Śrīla Prabhupāda and his disciples. Also, many people invited them to their homes to chant in front of the family Deities and to take some *prasāda* (which might include spicy vegetables, sweet rice, fruit, and sweets, all in little stainless-steel cups). When the festival ended, Jean and I decided to leave Bombay. Exotic India still attracted our photographic propensities, so we asked Śrīla Prabhupāda's advice about going off to photograph a country village. He suggested that we go to Vṛndāvana—the small village (ninety miles north of Delhi) where Lord Kṛṣṇa grew up. It seemed a good way to quench our thirst for the picturesque. I had come to India to photograph the faces of devotion, and Vṛndāvana, Śrīla Prabhupāda told us, is full of devotees of Kṛṣṇa. We took a train to the town of Mathurā, Kṛṣṇa's actual birth site. From there we rode a horse-drawn cart to Vṛndāvana. As we entered Vṛndāvana, sunset was approaching. So we searched for the home of our host, a seventy-five-year-old Indian medical doctor who was a devotee of Lord Kṛṣṇa. As we drove on, the temples facing the road offered us glimpses of Kṛṣṇa Deities, and melodious chants rose and fell away. The air smelled of incense and the smoke from cow-dung fires. The streets of the bazaar were jammed with people who had come to see the home of Lord Kṛṣṇa. When we reached our destination, darkness had set in. The next day we went out to explore. It was the rainy season, and the greenery was thriving. There seemed to be peacocks in every tree, and small, colorful birds hopped toward us with inquisitive glances. We took photographs of the cows wandering across the gentle green hills or standing on the orange earth. Holy men with wooly hair and simple clothes grinned amiably at us as we snapped their pictures. Then Jean went to photograph the Bengali widows in the temple, and for an hour she joined them in their chanting. There are hundreds of well-known tourist spots all over the world, we thought—but the most beautiful of all, unknown in the West, is the land of Vṛndāvana. Śrīla Prabhupāda had guided us to a place where his devotees were staying, and we were glad to be with them. Their friendship helped us appreciate Kṛṣṇa. Giriraja was always telling us stories about Kṛṣṇa and His brother Balarāma as we traced Their steps through the white, sandy roads of the Raman Reti district. Our next-door neighbor was Doctor Kapoor, a retired physics professor whose admiration for Śrīla Prabhupāda was boundless. He often told us how Lord Kṛṣṇa dwelled within everyone's heart, and he encouraged us to chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. Everything in Vṛndāvana demanded to have its picture taken—from the tiny donkey with his burden to the ancient shops, dwellings, and temples that lined the main streets of the bazaar. Old Bengali widows in white saris greeted us with a friendly "Hare Kṛṣṇa." Monkeys leered and threatened from the rooftops of the market. At dusk the bells of a thousand little temples began to ring, mingling with the cowbells of returning herds. In the evening everyone visited the temples to see the Deities. I thought Kṛṣṇa must have brought us to Vṛndāvana on purpose. The land of His pastimes was helping Jean to experience the beauty of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I hoped she would be receptive to Śrīla Prabhupāda. Being with him had cleared up my doubts and I was sure that his was the best message Jean and I could convey through our photography. After a month in Vṛndāvana, we got a call from Guru dāsa, in Calcutta. At his invitation we went to Calcutta and helped publish a special book for Śrīla Prabhupāda's birthday. The book contained beautiful photographs of Śrīla Prabhupāda and tributes from his disciples. About two months later, Śrīla Prabhupāda came to Calcutta. After being with him for many months and studying his teachings, I was sure that Śrīla Prabhupāda was a pure devotee of Kṛṣṇa and that I should accept him as my spiritual master. When I read Kṛṣṇa's words in *Bhagavad-gītā* about the qualities of a pure soul, I found that Śrīla Prabhupāda fit the description. He was always glorifying Kṛṣṇa, he was humble, and he was always trying to enlighten people with Kṛṣṇa consciousness. On October 10, 1971, Śrīla Prabhupāda formally accepted me as his disciple. We prepared a fire sacrifice and purchased garlands for him and all the devotees who were to receive initiation. During the ceremony Śrīla Prabhupāda chanted gravely on our prayer beads and then gave them to each of us. He handed me my beads, sanctified by his touch, and said, "Your name is Yadubara dāsa." Thus my spiritual life officially began. Since Jean was not quite ready, she did not take initiation at this time. One day Śrīla Prabhupāda asked her about her family. "They're all atheists, Śrīla Prabhupāda," she said. "Do you have a brother?" he asked. "Yes, he's an atheist too, and a communist." "How did you get here?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye. "By your mercy," she said. "No," said Śrīla Prabhupāda, "It was by Kṛṣṇa's mercy that you came here." Later in October, we all went to another festival—this time in Delhi. Jean and I got the chance to do publicity and to photograph the important men who visited Śrīla Prabhupāda. Every night we sat onstage and heard him confirm that the most important duty of the human being is to reestablish his connection with God. Many important men came to listen, including the Canadian High Commissioner and the Indian Minister or Education. I prepared a photographic exhibit by enlarging my eleven-by-fourteen prints at a photography shop in Delhi. After mounting them, I placed them on exhibit stands borrowed from a government office. There were pictures of our joyful dancing and chanting in Surat, Allahabad, Benares, and Bombay. Another popular feature of the festival was our "Question-and-Answer Booth." A devotee would sit and answer questions from the visitors. Each day the booth had to stay open until midnight or later, to satisfy all the curious people. After the festival had ended, Śrīla Prabhupāda took us all on a journey to Vṛndāvana. We traveled together in buses to visit the places where Kṛṣṇa danced and swam and performed heroic feats. We went to the Yamunā River, specifically to the place where Kṛṣṇa showed His mother all the universes within His mouth. Śrīla Prabhupāda felt the water and said, "It is too cold for an old man like me. But you all take a bath. I'll put a few drops on my head." The ladies went farther along the river, and the men went splashing into the water. We were very delighted when, a short while later, Śrīla Prabhupāda decided to join us. One day a question prompted Jean and me to visit Śrīla Prabhupāda in his quarters. He looked magnificent, striding briskly back and forth and chanting, "Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare." "Śrīla Prabhupāda, shouldn't we have a spiritual marriage?" "Yes, that is my desire," he answered at once, looking pleased with us for having thought of this idea. "Yes, that is my desire," he said again—"that you live happily together in Kṛṣṇa consciousness." His confident voice made the whole plan very pleasing. Afterward, Jean said to me, "Śrīla Prabhupāda's purity is so attractive that he can convince even a hard-core atheist like me to believe in God." Her initiation and our spiritual marriage came on November 29, 1971. Guru dāsa performed the ceremony, and Jean received her new name—Viśākhā-devī dāsī. Śrīla Prabhupāda remarked that it had been "a very transcendental ceremony." Since that time we've tried to follow our spiritual master's advice on marriage. "Marriage in Kṛṣṇa consciousness is the perfection of married life, because the basic principle is that the wife will help the husband so that he may pursue Kṛṣṇa consciousness, and the husband will also help the wife to advance in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. In this way, both husband and wife are happy, and their lives are sublime." For the next year or so, we lived in the temple in Bombay, where I acted as secretary. We made a few small films and sent them back to the devotees in America. In 1973 Viśākhā and I flew to New York to start work on "The Hare Krishna People." We heard we would need six or seven people to make the film, but we ended up doing everything ourselves. I bought a manual of movie-making, and Viśākhā and I planned out our work. With her doing the sound and me doing the photography, the documentary took ten months. We spent five months shooting in Europe, Mexico, and the United States. Then we settled in New York for five more months to edit. Śrīla Prabhupāda likes "The Hare Krishna People" very much. He's seen it at least a dozen times and has urged me, "Make more films about Kṛṣṇa consciousness." I'm grateful that my first photo-essay back in 1970 took me to my spiritual master, and that Śrīla Prabhupāda turned that small assignment into a full-time and fulfilling engagement in the service of Lord Kṛṣṇa. There's an old Bengali proverb that seems to explain my good fortune very nicely: "By the grace of Kṛṣṇa, you get your spiritual master. And by the grace of your spiritual master, you get Kṛṣṇa." ## From Sadist to Saint *He enjoyed half-killing animals and watching them writhe in pain. But before long he wouldn't harm and ant...* Once, as the holy sage Nārada was making his way to Allahabad, India, he came upon a deer writhing in pain on the forest floor. It was pierced with an arrow, and its legs were broken. Farther along, Nārada saw a boar twisting in agony—it, too, pierced with an arrow, its legs broken. Still farther, a rabbit was going through the same torment. All this suffering pained Nārada's heart, for devotees of the Lord always feel sympathy for others. So Nārada wondered, "What fool has done such gruesome things to all these helpless creatures?" Deeper into the forest, Nārada saw the culprit—a hunter, lurking behind a tree. With his reddish eyes, dingy complexion, and dangerous expression, he looked like the lord of death, Yamarāja, standing with a bow and arrows in his hands. Seeing the hunter bracing to kill more animals, Nārada approached him. As Nārada brushed through the foliage, all the animals fled. Enraged, the hunter was about to attack Nārada with foul language. But the saint radiated such goodness and kindness that the hunter's temper cooled. Amazingly meek, he put a question to Nārada. "O great saint, why have you strayed from the common path through the forest to come here? Just by seeing you, all the animals I was stalking have gotten away." "Yes," Nārada replied, "please forgive me. I have come here to ask you about something that's troubling me. I've seen many boars, deer, and rabbits on the path—half-killed and writhing in agony—and I suspect you have done this." "Yes, that's a fact," the hunter said. "But you are committing great sins!" Nārada protested. "If you must kill animals for a living, why not kill them and be done with it? Why do you leave them half-killed and dying in anguish?" "My dear sir," replied the hunter, "my father named me Mrgari, 'the enemy of the animals.' He taught me to half-kill animals and leave them flopping around in pain. When I see half-killed animals suffer, I feel great pleasure." "Please grant me one thing," implored Nārada. "Of course, my dear sage. Take whatever animals or anything else you'd like. If you want some animal skins, come to my house. I'll give you either a deerskin or a tiger skin." "I do not want any animal skins, but I do want something else. Just promise me one thing—that from now on, whenever you kill an animal, you will kill it completely—you will not leave it half-killed." "My dear sir," said the hunter, "what kind of request is that? What's the difference between half-killing animals and completely killing them? What's wrong with leaving the animals lying half-killed?" Nārada explained, "If you leave the animals half-killed, you are purposely giving them pain. And by the law of God and nature, whatever pain you give to others you must suffer in return. My dear Mṛgāri, you kill animals for your living. Now, when you kill animals you certainly commit horrible sins, but when you half-kill them, your sins are much worse. All the animals you have tortured and killed will return the pain to you. One after another, they will torture and kill you—in your next life and in life after life." Although he was grossly sinful, by associating with the saintly Nārada Muni Mṛgāri realized his sins, repented, and became purified. "My dear sir," the hunter pleaded, "when I was very little my father taught me to half-kill animals. Please tell me how I can get rid of all the sinful reactions I've been piling up over the years. Now I give myself up to you and fall down at your holy feet. Please save me from my sinful reactions. Please show me the path to freedom." Nārada told the hunter, "If you actually hear and follow my instructions, I can show you the real path to freedom." "My dear sir, I'll do whatever you say." "All right…First of all, break your bow. Then I will show you how you can be free." "What? Break my bow? But if I break it, how will I make a living?" Nārada assured the hunter, "There is no need to worry. Just follow my instructions. You won't have to kill animals. I'll send you enough food to feed both you and your wife. I'll make sure you have all you need. When you surrender to the Lord, He takes special care of you." Trusting the saintly Nārada, the hunter broke his bow and fell at his feet, and he surrendered himself totally. With a kind hand Nārada raised the hunter and began instructing him. "Just go back to your home and give away whatever you have to the Lord's devotees. Then, wearing only simple clothing, you and your wife should leave home. On the riverbank build a small thatched house, and in front of it grow the sacred *tulasī* plant on a raised platform. The *tulasī* plant is a pure devotee of the Lord and adorns His lotuslike feet. The Lord will be very pleased with you if you always serve His pure devotee with water and other things, and if you always chant His holy names—Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. As for your living, perform your daily duties, and every day I'll send enough food for both of you. You can take as much as you need." Then Nārada restored the half-dead animals. Saved from their ordeal, the animals fled. When he saw the pure devotee Nārada work this miracle, Mṛgāri marveled. Humbly he bowed to Nārada. At last, Mṛgāri returned home to carry out Nārada's instructions, and Nārada himself proceeded to Allahabad. Once we understand the dangers of sinful life, we should give it up with sincerity and sorrow—just as Mṛgāri did. We should surrender to the Supreme Lord—that is, we should follow the instructions of His pure devotee. Only then can we be free from our sinful reactions and start to serve the Lord. Sometimes people make some atonement and then knowingly commit the same sins again. The scriptures compare such atonement to an elephant's bathing. An elephant takes a thorough bath, but as soon as it comes out of the water, it throws dirt all over its body. To become free from all sinful reactions, we must follow the instructions of an authentic spiritual master. As Jesus Christ said, "If you love me, keep my commandments." The Supreme Lord gives His pure devotee the power to deliver anyone who follows the principles of devotional service—avoid intoxication, gambling, illicit sex, and meat-eating; and chant the holy names of the Lord. So Mṛgāri exactly followed the instructions of Nārada, his spiritual master. The news spread that the pure devotee Nārada had changed Mṛgāri from sadist to saint. The villagers were astonished when they came to see the new devotee. According to spiritual custom, whenever people go to see a saintly person they should bring grains and fruit. And since all the villagers saw that Mṛgāri had turned into a great devotee, they brought such eatables with them. Each day the people brought the former hunter so much grains and fruit that ten or twenty people could have eaten their fill. Yet, following Nārada's instructions, Mṛgāri took only what he and his wife needed. After some days had passed, Nārada was talking with his friend, the sage Parvata. Nārada told him, "I have a disciple who was formerly a hunter. Let's go to see him." The two sages journeyed to the hunter's home. When Mṛgāri saw his spiritual master coming in the distance, he began running quickly toward him. On the way the hunter caught sight of many ants scurrying around his own feet. He wanted to bow down before Nārada and Parvata, but he saw that if he did so he would crush some of the ants. So, slowly and gently, Mṛgāri cleared the ants away with a cloth. At last he fell down flat to honor his spiritual master. "My dear hunter," Nārada beamed, "your new-found nonviolence doesn't surprise me. People who perform devotional service to the Blessed Lord are naturally nonviolent. They see the Lord living within the heart of everyone—even the tiny ant—so they never hurt any living being out of envy." Mṛgāri received both great sages in the courtyard of his home. He spread out a straw mat for them to sit on, and with great devotion he made them comfortable. Then he fetched water, and with deep affection he washed the sages' feet. Both the hunter and his wife sprinkled the wash water over their heads. Filled with love for the Lord, Mṛgāri began chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare/Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. His body trembled, and tears welled in his eyes. He raised his hands and danced in ecstasy. After seeing the hunter's ecstasy, Parvata told Nārada, "You are a touchstone—you have turned iron into gold. My dear Nārada, you are really glorious. How pleased Kṛṣṇa must be with you! By following your instructions, even the lowest person—a hunter of animals—can quickly come to the path of devotion to the Blessed Lord." Nārada then asked the hunter*,* "My dear Mṛgāri*,* are you getting enough food every day?" The hunter replied, "My dear teacher, everyone you send gives me something when he comes to see me. You send many people, and they bring so much that we don't know what to do with all the food. Do you think you could tell the people to bring enough only for two?" The hunter was following his spiritual master's instructions with utter sincerity, and Nārada showered him with well-wishes. "May Kṛṣṇa always bless you. And may you always please the Lord with your sincere devotional service."