# Back to Godhead Magazine #14 *1979 (11)* Back to Godhead Magazine #14-11, 1979 PDF-View ## The Self Outside The Boundaries of Time *“It’s one thing to know it theoretically, but it’s a vastly different thing to feel it and to experience it.”* *The countryside near Frankfurt, West Germany. His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda talks with Professor Karl Friederich Graf Eckfrecht Von Durckheim. Professor Durckheim holds a Ph.D. in analytical psychology and is* *famed for starting a therapeutic school* (*in the Black Forest) that incorporates both Western and Eastern approaches to the psychology of consciousness. He is the author of fifteen books.* Prof. Durckheim: May I ask a question, sir, about the meaning of time? I think there are two ways to look at time and to look at eternity. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Time is eternal—but we calculate time in terms of "past" and "present" and "future," according to our temporary material existence. I am a human being. I live for a hundred years. So my past and present are different from the past and present of the ant, who lives for, say, a few hours. And similarly, living beings on higher planets—their past and present are different, too, because one of their days equals millions and billions of our years. So time is eternal—but according to our *condition* in time and space, we calculate time in terms of past and present and future. Prof. Durckheim: Well, now, I question you ... you see ... talking about eternity—there are two meanings or concepts at the same time. It seems one concept is that finite life, as we see it in this finite world, is going on *infinitely,* *infinitely,* millions of years—that's one way to think about eternity. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. Prof. Durckheim: But there's another way. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. Strictly speaking, eternity means both no end and *no beginning.* Prof. Durckheim: So isn't this other concept the one where, for instance, Christ says, "Before anything else in this world existed, I am"? This "I am". . . isn't this the kind of eternity that is totally beyond past and future? Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. Past and future have to do with this body. Prof. Durckheim: Oh yes, exactly. Past and future have to do with this body and with this ego, which has a before and an after, an up and a down, and ... if you take away this ego, what's left? Śrīla Prabhupāda: What is left is the *pure* ego. For instance, now I have got this seventy-eight-year-old Indian body—I have got this false ego that "I am Indian," "I am this body." This is a misconception. Some day this temporary body will vanish, and I'll get another temporary body. Then again will begin my past and present. So therefore, this is called illusion. Time is eternal—it has no beginning and no end—but we transmigrate from one body to another. And so we are miscalculating "past," "present," "future." Prof. Durckheim: But without this body you couldn't become conscious of what is beyond the body. The pure consciousness has to have a material body—it has to have a background which is not pure consciousness ... Śrīla Prabhupāda: No. The pure consciousness, the soul, does not need to have a material body. For instance, when you are dreaming, you forget your present body, *but still you remain conscious.* The soul, the consciousness, is like water: water is pure, but as soon as it comes down from the sky and touches the ground, it becomes muddy. Prof. Durckheim: Yes. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Similarly, we are spirit souls—we are pure. But as soon as we leave the spiritual world and come in contact with these material bodies, our consciousness becomes covered. The consciousness remains pure, but now it is covered by mud—this body. And this is why people are fighting. They are wrongly identifying with the body and thinking, "I am German," "I am English," "I am black," A am white," "I am this," "I am that"—so many bodily designations. These bodily designations are impurities. And so we see that sometimes artists make statues that are naked. In France, for example, they regard nakedness as pure art. Similarly, when you come to the "nakedness" of the spirit soul—without these bodily designations—that is purity. Prof. Durckheim: But to come to our pure consciousness, we have to experience the background of impurity, the suffering of impurity. We cannot become conscious of the pure without having experienced the suffering of the impure ... Śrīla Prabhupāda: Why? Right now your health may be covered by a disease, but do you need that covering of disease to experience your natural, healthy state? Similarly, I do not need to think, "I am American," "I am German," "I am this," "I am that"—all these impure, diseased ideas—to experience my pure consciousness: "I am a spirit soul, part and parcel of God." Prof. Durckheim: But in order to get there, to feel that one is neither "this" nor "that," one must first have suffered by having thought that one is this or that. Śrīla Prabhupāda: No, suffering is not necessary. To experience your pure spiritual consciousness you do not have to go through suffering. Suffering is just like a bad dream. Let us say you dream that you are being attacked by a tiger—but there is no tiger. So actually there is no suffering, but on account of ignorance you are thinking, "The tiger is eating me." This dreaming experience is simply material—it is not a spiritually enlightening experience. It is an unwanted thing. You do not need it. But this material, dreaming experience will go on continually. As long as we are attached to temporary, material sense pleasures, we will get new material bodies, one after another. Even in this single lifetime—in your childhood you experienced a body that was much different from the body you are experiencing at this time. So as we are getting new material bodies we are getting different experiences, and all of those experiences are photographed within the mind. Sometimes they come out at night and intermix, and we see more dreams, and we experience so many contradictory things. All of this—daytime and nighttime—is simply hovering on the mental plane. This is not the spiritual plane. As Kṛṣṇa explains in the *Bhagavad-gītā* [3.42], > indriyāṇi parāṇy āhur > indriyebhyaḥ paraṁ manaḥ > manasas tu parā buddhir > yo buddheḥ paratas tu saḥ "The bodily senses are superior to dull matter; mind is higher than the senses; intelligence is still higher than the mind; and the soul is even higher than the intelligence." So we have to transcend all our material designations. Then we come to real consciousness—"I am eternal, God is eternal, I am part and parcel of God, my duty is to serve God." Of course, here in the material world I am also serving. I am not free from service. But I am serving under material designations. For example, perhaps during the last war you went to fight, because you might have designated yourself, "I am German," "I must fight, give service to my country." Everybody is thinking, "Let me give service to my community." or "to my family," or if there is nobody else, at least "to my dog." This is going on. So we have to get rid of all these designations and become pure and serve God. In other words, > sarvopādhi-vinirmuktaṁ > tat paratvena nirmalam > hṛṣīkeṇa hṛṣīkeśa- > sevanaṁ bhaktir ucyate "If anyone actually wants to get free from all material designations and purify his senses, then he should simply engage all his senses in serving Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, the master of all the senses." [*Nārada Pañcarātra*] Take Arjuna, for example. Arjuna was in so much anxiety on the Battlefield of Kurukṣetra. Have you read our *Bhagavad-gītā* As *It Is?* Prof. Durckheim: Yes. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Arjuna was in anxiety because he was thinking in terms of bodily designations. "I belong to this family—on the other side are my cousin-brothers, who belong to the same family—so why shall I fight them? Let them enjoy." Now, from the material point of view, Arjuna seemed to be a very good man, but Kṛṣṇa condemned him: *aśocyān anvaśocas tvaṁ prajñā-vādāṁś ca bhāṣase*—"You are talking very high words, but you are Fool Number One." Arjuna was talking on the platform of this bodily conception of life, but after hearing the *Bhagavad-gītā,* he understood, "I am not this body—I am an eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa, and my duty is to obey the orders of Kṛṣṇa." Superficially he remained the same soldier, but in the beginning he had been a soldier under a bodily designation, and now he became a soldier ready to carry out the order of the Supreme. That is the difference. So when you act not to gratify this material body but to carry out the orders of the Supreme, that is self-realization. Prof. Durckheim: There's only one way to world peace—the leaders must attain self-realization. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. That is stated in the *Bhagavad-gītā.* Everyone should understand, "I am not the enjoyer; nobody but Lord Kṛṣṇa is the enjoyer." Today most people are trying to be the enjoyers of this world, and that is false. The real enjoyer is the Supreme Lord. We are trying to occupy this land, that land. "This is Germany." "This is France." "This is India." "This is my land, and my land is worshipable." But we should know that no land belongs to us. Everything belongs to God. The land was not created by us; the ocean was not created by us. Why should we claim, "This is the Scandinavian ocean" or "This is the English ocean"? This is all false, imagination. So we have to come to this understanding—that nothing belongs to us. The United Nations—they've been quarreling for the last thirty years, but they are fighting on false ground, because everyone is thinking, "This land is mine; I must protect it." Because they have no self-realization, there is no peace. Prof. Durckheim: As soon as two men who are self-realized meet, there can be no war. There's a very wonderful story about when the Emperor of Japan wanted to take over the leadership again after he had been the high priest for many years. The Emperor's spiritual master approached the opposing general, and the general, being a self-realized man himself, said, "Well, all right." In twenty minutes things were all in order. They resolved the matter gently, and without a single shot peace was established, because these two men had a high level of self-realization. Śrīla Prabhupāda: So that is our point—that every one of us must realize, "I am a servant of God, a child of God, and everything belongs to the father." We can use our father's property as much as we require for our maintenance, but not more than that. If you think like this, this is Kṛṣṇa consciousness, and there will be no more war. Everything will be peaceful. Prof. Durckheim: In my work I always feel great difficulty, again and again, in understanding that we are all sons of God. It's one thing to know it theoretically, but it's a vastly different thing to feel it and to experience it. Śrīla Prabhupāda: It is a very simple thing. Suppose you have not seen your father; you are a posthumous child. But you must believe that there is a father. Without your father there is no possibility of your existence. This is something that the Christian people have experienced. They go to church—"O Father, give us our daily bread." So there is a supreme father. That is confirmed in the *Bhagavad-gītā.* Kṛṣṇa—God—says, "I am the seed-giving father of all living entities in all the various forms of life." So as soon as you speak of a father, that means he must have a son or sons; and as soon as there is a son, he must have a father. So this is a matter of *science,* not sentiment. Prof. Durckheim: It's one of the great phrases of the Gospel of Saint John which the church forgot, that Christ always says, “I am the son of God and you are my brothers. You are sons of God, just as I am.” Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. Everyone is the son of the Lord. But they do not agree now. Now, as soon as *you* say, "Everyone is a son," the so-called *Christ*ians say, "No, *Christ* is the only son." But *Christ* said, "*I* am a son, and *you* are also sons." This is the actual fact. Kṛṣṇa says, > sarva-yoniṣu kaunteya > mūrtayaḥ sambhavanti yāḥ > tāsāṁ brahma mahad yonir > ahaṁ bīja-pradaḥ pitā "It should be understood that all species of life, O son of Kuntī, are made possible by birth in this material nature and that I am the seed-giving father." [Bg 14.4] Prof. Durckheim: Wonderful. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Material nature is the mother. Material nature gives the body, but the soul is part and parcel of God. God impregnates material nature with the soul, and the soul appears in so many species of life. So self-realization is very easily explained as *samaḥ sarveṣu* *bhūteṣu:* giving equal treatment to all living entities, because all of them are spirit souls, part and parcel of God. But because most people have no spiritual knowledge, they think that humanitarian work means to give all facility to the human being and none to the animals. Or they talk of "nationalism.' A "national" is anyone who has taken birth in their land, and yet they are slaughtering the poor animals who have taken birth there. This is their “nationalism.” So everything is going wrong on account of this wrong conception of life: "I am this body." But when we understand, "I am not this body—I am the active principle *within* this body," then our misconceptions will vanish. That is the beginning of spiritual realization, or self-realization. Prof. Durckheim: And this understanding has to be an experience. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes, you can experience it. On account of foolishness, people are thinking differently, but everyone really knows, "I am not this body." This is very easy to experience. I am existing. I understand that I have existed in a baby body, I have existed in a child body, and also in a boy body. So I have now existed in so many bodies. Or, for example, you have now dressed yourself in a black coat. The next moment you can dress yourself in a white coat. But you are not that black or white coat; you have simply changed coats. If I call you "Mr. Black Coat," that is my foolishness. Similarly, I have changed bodies, but I am not any of these bodies. This is self-realization. Prof. Durckheim: And yet isn't there a difficulty, in that you may already have understood very well that you are not the body—but as long as you, for instance, still have the fear of death, you didn't understand by experience? As soon as you've understood by experience, you have no fear of death, because you know that you can't die. Śrīla Prabhupāda: So experience is received from a higher authority, from someone who has higher knowledge. Instead of my trying to experience for years and years that I am not this body, I can take the knowledge from Kṛṣṇa, the perfect, and then my experience is received. Prof. Durckheim: Yes, I understand. Śrīla Prabhupāda: ... Therefore the Vedic instruction is *tad-vijñānarthaṁ sa *guru*m* *evābhigacchet.* "In order to get first-class experience of the perfection of life, you must approach a *guru*. "And who is a *guru*? Whom should I approach? I should approach someone who is *guru*-śrotriyam—one who has heard from his *guru* perfectly—that *guru*. This is called *guru*-paramparā, disciplic succession. I hear from a perfect person, and I distribute the knowledge the same way, without any change. Lord Kṛṣṇa gives us knowledge in the *Bhagavad-gītā—*and we are distributing the same knowledge. I am always inexperienced, because my power of understanding is very little; therefore I must get knowledge from a person who has perfect knowledge. Then my knowledge is perfect. For instance, a child may not know what this microphone is. So he asks his father, "What is this, father?" And his father says, "My dear child, it is a microphone." Now the child knows, "This is a microphone." Although the child's capacity may be imperfect, still his knowledge is perfect. So this is our process. We are getting knowledge from Kṛṣṇa, the most perfect. Or you can get knowledge from Jesus Christ; that is also perfect, because the source is perfect. But we have to receive knowledge from the perfect source, not by the ascending process—experiencing, failure, experiencing, failure, experiencing, failure. Not like that. That will take a very long time. But if you actually want to become perfect, just approach the perfect, take knowledge from him, and you will experience perfection. ## Prabhupāda's Palace—"It Looks Like Heaven" *In The Hills Of West Virginia* ### by Jagajīvana dāsa You won't believe it's in West Virginia," warns one reporter. "You won't believe it's in the United States." A recent visitor says, "I've never seen such a beautiful place in my life. It looks like heaven." "In the wooded hills of Marshall County," says the Wheeling *News-Register,* "off U.S. 250 in Limestone, old farmhouses and barns dot the countryside. Driving along the back roads, one sees acres of woods interspersed with hayfields and herds of cattle. "But driving around a sharp bend on one of those rutted byways, a traveler may think he is seeing a mirage. For perched on a ridge overlooking miles of farmland and woods is a palace. "A palace made with gold, silver, marble, onyx, stained glass, and teakwood. A palace with handpainted ceilings modeled after the works of European masters. A palace that has taken six years to build. Śrīla Prabhupāda's Palace, in the Hare Krishna community of New Vrindaban... Adds the *New York Times,* "The magnificently opulent black-and-gold-domed palace ... has left many of the visitors gawking. It has Italian marble floors, walls inlaid with Iranian onyx, gold-leafed column caps, stained-glass windows in the shape of peacocks, numerous crystal chandeliers, and downspouts outside in the shape of elephant heads. All this sits atop a ridge overlooking miles of hills, forests, and farmlands in all directions." Professor George Clark, of Ohio State University's Department of Architecture, says, "This could turn into one of the most important and informative tourist attractions in the country." And yet as the *Pittsburgh Press* notes, "Prabhupāda's Palace was built entirely by Krishna devotees, most of them unskilled before the project began." "Strictly speaking," says Hans Keilman, a Dutch architect and industrial designer, "the Palace does not follow the rules of architecture." And Bhagavatānanda dāsa, one of the designers, admits, "I haven't the slightest idea whether we broke the rules or not. I don't even know what the rules are." "This building transcends architectural considerations," explains Keilman. "Ordinarily, a building gets its beauty from two things—the money that goes into it, along with the skill of the architect. But this building's beauty comes from the inspiration of the people who worked on it. They designed it by getting inspired as they went along. They just stayed and worked and became inspired. So you wonder, ‘What, exactly, could have inspired them?’ ” "This is the great riddle," says Bhagavatānanda. "'What made these people do this?' "It certainly wasn't the money we spent during the years of construction. That came to about $500,000, or just $10 a week per devotee (there are 200 devotees here). And we didn't have any kind of professionally drawn architectural plan. It's not a matter of *what* inspired the Palace. It's a matter of *who* inspired the Palace." That was His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda. In 1965 Śrīla Prabhupāda left India for America. With him he carried a few copies of his translations of the Vedic literatures plus the order of his spiritual master—to bring to modern man the spiritual peace and fulfillment of the Kṛṣṇa conscious culture. In 1968, shortly after the New Vrindaban farming community had gotten its start, Prabhupāda talked about its significance. "The Vrindaban conception," he said, "is that of a transcendental village without the botherations of the modern industrial atmosphere. In Kṛṣṇa's homeland of Vrindaban, the people can fully depend on nature's beauty and the cows, and this New Vrindaban should be such an ideal village—where the residents will have simple living and high thinking." Śrīla Kīrtanānanda Swami Bhaktipāda (one of Prabhupāda's first American disciples and New Vrindaban's organizer from the very beginning) says that the turning point in the community's life has been the Palace. "We were planning that our first major building effort would be a temple for Kṛṣṇa," he says. "But after a while I began to think this was not exactly right. The Vedic literatures say that one has to approach Kṛṣṇa through the spiritual master. So we decided first of all to construct a palace for Prabhupāda. "There is no one in the world who can compare to Prabhupāda—what he has done for the whole world by bringing Kṛṣṇa consciousness to light and making it available to everyone. That Kṛṣṇa consciousness should spread throughout the world," says Bhaktipāda, "was the desire of Lord Śrī Kṛṣṇa Caitanya when He appeared in India five centuries ago. But what Lord Caitanya started was not actually developed and manifest until Prabhupāda. He has taken that seed and made it grow into a great tree with much nice fruit in the form of love of God. So the Palace is a means of bringing Prabhupāda to the world." ## Śrīla Prabhupāda Speaks Out *Seeing Technology in a Spiritual Light* *This exchange between His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda and some of his students took place on a morning walk in Chicago, in July 1975.* Student: Earlier you were saying that the Western world is spiritually blind and that India is technologically lame, but that if they combine their resources, then both India and the West will benefit. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. If the Western world, the blind man, takes India, the lame man, on its shoulders, then the lame man can point the way spiritually and the blind man can sustain them materially, technologically. If America and India pool their technological and spiritual resources, this combination will bring about perfect peace and prosperity all over the world. How blind these Americans are. They have attained the human form of life—such an intelligent form of life—and yet they are utilizing it for riding motor boats in the lake. You see? A human being should use every moment for regaining his God consciousness. Not a single moment should be wasted—and these people are simply finding new ways to waste time. Of course, the Americans are doing things in a very nice way, with great technological advancement, but what *they* are doing is *blind*. You may be a very good driver, but if you are *blind*, then how well will you drive? You'll create disaster. So the American people must open their eyes spiritually, so that their good driving capacity will be properly utilized. Now *they*'re trying to see through microscopes. But as long as *they* remain *blind* to their own spiritual identity, what will *they* see? They may have microscopes or this machine or that machine—but *they* are *blind*. That *they* do not know. Student: I think most Americans are more interested in raising a family than in self-realization. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Kṛṣṇa consciousness is not hindered by family life, one way or the other. *Ahaituky apratihatā*. God consciousness cannot be checked by anything—if you are sincere. In any circumstances you can be engaged. You can execute Kṛṣṇa consciousness in four ways: *prāṇair arthair dhiyā vācā*—by *your* life, by *your* money, by *your* intelligence, and by *your* words. So if you want to be a family man—if you cannot dedicate twenty-four hours daily—then earn money and use it to spread Kṛṣṇa consciousness. And if you cannot earn money, then use *your* intelligence. There is so much intellectual work to do—publication, research, and so on. If you cannot do that, then utilize *your* words to tell people about Kṛṣṇa. Wherever you may be, simply explain to someone, "Kṛṣṇa is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Just offer *your* obeisances to Kṛṣṇa." Finished. So where is the scarcity of opportunities? You can serve Kṛṣṇa in any capacity, provided you want to serve. But if you want to engage Kṛṣṇa in *your* service, that is a blunder. People are going to church—"Kṛṣṇa, serve us; give us our daily bread." People manufacture their own problems. Actually, there are no problems. *Īśāvāsyam idaṁ sarvam*: God has arranged everything. He has made everything perfect and complete. You see so many fruits for the birds—so sumptuously supplied. *Pūrṇam idam*: Kṛṣṇa has already supplied everything in sufficient quantity. But these rascals are blind—they do not see this. They are trying to "adjust." Why do they need to make an "adjustment"? Everything is already sufficient. It is just that people are misusing things. But otherwise, they already have sufficient land, sufficient intelligence—everything is sufficient. In Africa and Australia they have so much land—and instead of relying on nature's bounty of crops, they are raising cattle to kill them. This is their intelligence. People are growing coffee and tea and tobacco, even though they know these things hurt their health. In some parts of the world people are dying for want of grain, and yet in other parts of the world people are growing tobacco, which will only bring disease and death. This is their intelligence. The problem is that these rascals do not know that life is meant for understanding God. Ask anyone. Nobody knows. They are such fools. Don't you see how much care they are taking for dogs? They're blind: they do not know whether they'll be God conscious or "dog conscious." The dog runs on four legs, but people think they have become advanced because they can run by car—on four wheels. They think they have become civilized, but their business is running, that's all. Student: And the purpose for the running is the same—eating, sleeping, mating, and defending. Śrīla Prabhupāda: Yes. If the purpose is the same as a dog's, then what is the use of running by car? Of course, you can use the car for reaching people with the message of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. You can use everything for Kṛṣṇa. That is what we teach. If there is a nice car, why should I condemn it? Utilize it for Kṛṣṇa: then it is all right. We don't say, "Give it up." No. When you have produced something by your God-given intelligence, it is all right—if you use it for God. But when you use it for other purposes than Kṛṣṇa, then it is nonsense. Take this car—so nicely decorated. If I say, "It is all nonsense," is that very intelligent? No. "The purpose for which you have created this car—that is nonsense." So we simply want people to change their consciousness. We don't condemn the things they have produced. For instance, with a knife you can cut vegetables and fruit, but if you use it for cutting your throat, that is bad. So now people are using the knife of technology for cutting their own throat, for forgetting all about self-realization, Kṛṣṇa consciousness. This is bad. *Nṛ-deham ādyaṁ sulabhaṁ sudurlabhaṁ plavaṁ sukalpaṁ*: our human body is just like a good boat—with our human intelligence we can cross the ocean of nescience, the ocean of repeated birth and death in this material world. And *guru-karṇadhāram/ mayānukūlena nabhasva-teritaṁ pumān bhavābdhiṁ na taret sa ātma-hā*: we have a favorable wind—Kṛṣṇa's instructions in the Vedic literatures—plus we have a good captain, the bona fide spiritual master, who can guide us and enlighten us. With all these facilities, if we cannot cross the ocean of nescience, then we are cutting our throat. The boat is there, the captain is there, the favorable wind is there, but we are not utilizing them. That means we are killing ourselves. ## "A Beautiful Setting for a Diamond" *“As we began to work on Prabhupāda's home, it began to take on the shape of a palace.”* *The idea for Prabhupāda’s Palace came from His Divine Grace Kīrtanānanda Swami Bhaktipāda, one of Prabhupāda's first disciples. Under Prabhupāda s direction, it was Bhaktipāda who started the New Vrindaban Community in 1968. And before passing away, Prabhupāda appointed him one of the spiritual masters who would initiate disciples. In his room in New Vrindaban and while riding about in his jeep, supervising the community's work, Bhaktipāda answered questions for the readers of BACK TO GODHEAD.* BTG: Could you describe how the idea for Prabhupāda's Palace got started? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: In 1973 we were getting ready to start a temple for Kṛṣṇa at the Govindajī site down at Bahulabana [the principal farm at New Vrindaban]. We had already done the preliminary excavation work and dug a little footer. But I began to think, "This is not very proper. We are making a home for Kṛṣṇa, but actually in our community there is no home for Śrīla Prabhupāda. "Of course, whenever he came we gave him the best house we had, but still there was no home where we could say, "This is Śrīla Prabhupāda's home." So I thought, "Let us first make a home for Śrīla Prabhupāda, because that is the proper way to approach Kṛṣṇa." If we want to render service to Kṛṣṇa, we first have to render service to His devotee. So we began. Actually, we laid the cornerstones for both buildings on the same weekend. We were expecting to be able to finish Prabhupāda's home rather quickly and get on with the temple. But as we began to work on Prabhupāda's home, it began to take on the shape of a palace. This was not the original conception—the original idea was rather modest. The size of the building is still modest, of course, but the intricacy in the work is rather unusual. So the palace gradually developed, and now we are ready to take up our next task, which is to build a palace for Vṛndāvanacandra, Lord Kṛṣṇa. BTG: Could you explain what Prabhupāda's Palace is, what it means? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: Prabhupāda's Palace is to Prabhupāda what a beautiful setting is to a diamond. The palace is a means of drawing attention to Śrīla Prabhupāda. Unfortunately, during Prabhupāda's life, and almost up till now, Prabhupāda has never become very prominent through the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement. Of course, he arranged it that way. He could have made it the Bhaktivedanta Swami Movement—but he didn't, because he is a humble Vaiṣṇava, a humble devotee. But as his disciples, we should understand that for the benefit of all humanity, Prabhupāda should be as prominent as Jesus Christ. Like the Christians, we accept the philosophy that no one can approach God except through the pure devotee. BTG: Could you explain that? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: Can you see God? BTG: No. Śrīla Bhaktipāda: Then you have to hear from someone who does see God. The spiritual master sees God; therefore he can instruct us. BTG: People sometimes want to know why a master whose teachings are spiritual should be worshiped with such material opulence. Śrīla Bhaktipāda: By the same token, they wonder why God should be worshiped with opulence. But what do they want to do with the opulence that God has put everywhere? It's not that they want to neglect it. No. They say, "Let me enjoy the opulence, and let us give God nothing. After all, He is spiritual." BTG: But that opulence could have been used to feed people or open hospitals. Śrīla Bhaktipāda: It has cost every devotee in this community ten dollars a week to build this palace. There are so many people who spend ten dollars a week just for cigarettes. Why don't they give up smoking cigarettes and feed the poor? No one would criticize us if we spent that amount on cigarettes and beer. But if we take ten dollars a week and spend it to create a beautiful temple for a pure devotee of the Lord—and then invite everyone to come and see this beautiful palace freely—they sometimes criticize. This is called envy. There was such an incident in the Bible also. When someone broke open some costly ointment and spread it on Jesus's feet, Judas said, "Why was this not sold and given to the poor?" And the reply was, "It's not that you're interested in the poor, Judas. You wanted to take the money and spend it for yourself." If people are actually interested in feeding the poor and helping the distressed, there is plenty of money. Let them stop all their own nonsense. Stop spending to kill poor animals. Every person could save at least ten or fifteen dollars a week if they would just stop eating meat. What to speak of all the land that would be saved for growing food if they stopped feeding grain to animals for slaughter. We could sumptuously feed every man, woman, and child on this planet if they would simply stop killing the animals. Why should people criticize us if we build a building to glorify Kṛṣṇa and His devotee? They are simply envious: "Why wasn't this building built for me?" BTG: You said that making Prabhupāda prominent will benefit all humanity. How is that so? After all, people may never have heard of him, or they think of him as a religious leader of a particular group.... Śrīla Bhaktipāda: No matter how they become acquainted with Śrīla Prabhupāda, they'll want to know more about him. His books have been distributed for the last ten years, but sometimes we wonder how many people are reading them. The books may be sitting on the shelves. But if people come to Prabhupāda's Palace and see the beauty of the work and the devotion of those who have worked here, they may take the books down off the shelf and read them. Then Prabhupāda can deliver them his mercy. We have to give people a setting in which they will feel the importance of *hearing* from Śrīla Prabhupāda. Otherwise they may take him to be ordinary—just some *swami*, or just some man who started a movement or cult. If they actually see the palace, they will feel, “This is unique.” And when someone is in a very opulent position, naturally people will listen, because people are attracted by opulence. BTG: Might one not argue that this is a contrivance, that you could glorify any ordinary man and people would think him important? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: The difference is this. Prabhupāda always said that you can dress a fool up to look like a king, but when he opens his mouth anyone can understand, "Oh, he is a fool." So if someone is a fool, then there is no use in dressing him up as a king. But if someone is actually a king and you dress him like a king, that is proper. So because Prabhupāda actually *should* be worshiped like this—because he actually deserves this position, because he actually looks right in this position—when he opens his mouth and speaks, it sounds exactly right too. Therefore it is perfect. BTG: When people visit the palace, what is it you want them to come away with? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: At the lowest level, they can come away with some appreciation of the building: "Oh, this is a beautiful building." Actually, that is Kṛṣṇa consciousness also. The building is related to Kṛṣṇa, so simply by appreciating the building they make advancement in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Almost all of them go away with one of Prabhupāda's books. Almost all of them say, "We want to come back." Actually, that is the whole idea—that this will become a place of pilgrimage, where people can come, relax, and make spiritual advancement simply by being here. That is very important. Instead of taking a vacation and going to some useless place, take your vacation and go visit Śrīla Prabhupāda and the Palace, get the world's best *prasāda* [spiritual food], and experience real spiritual life. BTG: What do you mean by "a place of pilgrimage"? We think of someone trekking to Mecca or Jerusalem.... Śrīla Bhaktipāda: The idea is that we cannot expect everyone to become a fulltime devotee in the sense that he gives up his whole materialistic way of life. But Kṛṣṇa consciousness says, "All right, if you can't do that, then do this:' At one level, if you are a family man or a businessman but you want to go on vacation, then at least once a year you can elevate your consciousness by visiting such a holy place as Śrīla Prabhupāda's Palace. That is an advantage, because as you grow older you will realize the value of this spiritual consciousness. According to our Vedic culture, one shouldn't remain in family life up to the very end. Rather, when he's fifty or fifty-five he should retire and take up spiritual life by going and living in a holy place. If one can start this custom—visit a holy place at least once a year, associate with holy persons, taste the nectar of spiritual life—then later in life that spiritual advancement will naturally follow. BTG: Prabhupāda said that this palace is an expression of the love of the disciple for the spiritual master. Could you explain what this love is, what it means? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: That is the spiritual master's mercy, of course. Whatever his son or his young child does, he accepts in that way. Actually I have no love for Prabhupāda—but I wish I did. I am simply praying to Prabhupāda that if I continue to worship him he will kindly bless me with a little pure love. But actually I have no real love or appreciation for Prabhupāda. I'll always feel that way. I wish I could love Prabhupāda. I see so many of my Godbrothers serving Prabhupāda day and night, and I am sitting here doing practically nothing. Certainly these devotees who have built the building have great love for Prabhupāda. They have sacrificed so much. They've been working for years now, winter and summer. BTG: What is the benefit for them? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: That is the nature of love. When you serve your beloved, your service itself is the benefit. When you speak of a "labor of love," for the lover it is *no*t work. It is all joy. Therefore Prabhupāda said, "In Kṛṣṇa consciousness there is *no* work." Someone said, "Prabhupāda, sometimes a little work." Prabhupāda said, "No—*no* work." Actually that is a fact. In Kṛṣṇa consciousness there is *no* work—it is all love. Therefore it is all joy. There is only singing, dancing, and feasting in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Whatever a devotee speaks, that is poetry. Whatever a devotee eats, it is a feast, because Kṛṣṇa has first tasted it. So there is singing, there is feasting, and there is dancing. Simply vibrate the Hare Kṛṣṇa *mantra*—Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare / Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare—and you will dance your whole life through. BTG: Of course, some of the devotees who built the palace are Prabhupāda's disciples, and some of them are not—they are your disciples. How do they fit in? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: If you work for your spiritual master, you are working for the whole *paramparā,* the whole disciplic succession. That is the miracle of *paramparā.* Because I am directing their attention to Prabhupāda, everyone feels like they're getting Prabhupāda. Prabhupāda's disciples feel like they're getting Prabhupāda, and therefore they accept my leadership. And my disciples feel they are getting the highest thing, because I am presenting Prabhupāda. If we just present Prabhupāda, there will be no problems, anywhere. Everyone will be satisfied. BTG: What is it you most want people to know about Śrīla Prabhupāda? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: We want people to know that he has presented the same thing that Kṛṣṇa Himself spoke long ago. Therefore Prabhupāda wrote his *Bhagavad-gītā* and entitled it *Bhagavad-gītā* As It Is. He didn't try to present a new *Bhagavad-gītā*, he didn't try to present his interpretation of *Bhagavad-gītā*—he presented *Bhagavad-gītā* as it is, *Bhagavad-gītā* exactly as Lord Kṛṣṇa spoke it to Arjuna. Actually, one of the first dreams I ever had about Śrīla Prabhupāda, in 1966, was on this very point. In my dream I saw Lord Kṛṣṇa speaking *Bhagavad-gītā* to Arjuna, and then the dream shifted, and I was sitting at Śrīla Prabhupāda's feet, and he was instructing the same thing to me. And I knew from that instant that this is the real essence of Kṛṣṇa consciousness: to accept the spiritual master in the same way that Arjuna accepted Kṛṣṇa. Because we are hearing the same message Arjuna heard, there is actually no difference—our position is as good as Arjuna's. In fact, in one way it is better. BTG: How is that? Śrīla Bhaktipāda: Because we can relish the conversation between Kṛṣṇa and Arjuna, and we also have the relish of Śrīla Prabhupāda. In spiritual life there is perfect, more perfect, and most perfect—full, more full, and most full. ## Every Town and Village ### A look at the worldwide activities of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) *Pope Receives Bhagavad-gītā As It Is* Vatican City—Before embarking on his recent pastoral tour of Europe and the United States, His Holiness Pope John Paul II received a copy of *Bhagavad-gītā AS IT IS,* the scripture that sets forth the basic philosophy of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Mr. Ramsahai Purohit, an international peace worker from India and a member of the movement, gave the Pope the book during a personal audience at St. Peter's Basilica. *Bhagavad-gītā,* the scripture most widely known and revered in India, was written in Sanskrit long before the birth of Christ. *Bhagavad-gītā As It Is* is a translation and commentary by His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupāda, the founder and spiritual preceptor of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. More than four million copies are now in print, in fourteen languages. *Hare Kṛṣṇa Festival Draws Millions* Calcutta—"People from all walks of life joined the celebration," reported the *Amrita Bazar Patrika.* "A big chariot, with all pomp and grandeur, was brought out in central Calcutta by the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON). It was possibly the tallest chariot ever in Calcutta." Approximately two million Calcutta residents turned out to see the annual Ratha-yātrā, or Chariot Festival, honoring Jagannātha—Kṛṣṇa, the Lord of the Universe—and organized by the "sahib-Vaiṣṇavas," or Western devotees of Lord Kṛṣṇa. Heading up this year's festival committee in Calcutta was Śrīla Jaya Patāka Swami Ācāryapāda, coordinator of ISKCON's activities in Bengal and Orissa. Śrīla Jaya Patāka Swami, who came to India nine years ago from the United States, is one of the few Westerners to have received citizenship from the Government of India. When the chariot parade began (in front of the ISKCON temple in Calcutta), 300,000 people were gathered. Traditionally the parade is led by musical groups who chant prayers to Jagannātha and play drums and cymbals. This year twenty such *saṅkīrtana* parties from villages all over Bengal arrived and lined up for a mile in front of the chariot, around which hundreds of people crowded to get a chance to pull it with long ropes. The journey lasted several hours, and at nightfall the procession was still underway. The Calcutta police said it was the biggest procession they had ever seen, even bigger than those honoring heads of state. At the end of the parade, hundreds of thousands were waiting for lectures, chanting, and *prasāda* (sanctified food offered to Kṛṣṇa with love and devotion). Eight successive evenings saw similar programs, each attended by 50,000 people. In fluent Bengali, Śrīla Jaya Patāka Swami spoke about Kṛṣṇa consciousness, and children from the ISKCON school in Māyāpur, West Bengal, performed well-received dramas. *By Popular Demand: "Hare Krishna Road"* Bangalore, India—Race Course Road, long one of the major thoroughfares in this capital city of Karnataka state, is also the home of the local Hare Kṛṣṇa center. Now, at the request of Bangalore's citizens, the state government has changed the name to "Hare Krishna Road." ## Moving to Second Avenue *The Biography of a Pure Devotee* ### by Śrīla Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami *In the early summer of 1966, Śrīla Prabhupāda was sharing a Bowery loft with a young American friend. But when the boy went crazy on drugs and drove him out, suddenly Prabhupāda found himself in the street, homeless and alone.* Śrīla Prabhupāda decided to phone Carl Yeargens and ask him to help. Hearing Prabhupāda's voice on the phone—it was an emergency!—Carl at once agreed that the Swami could move in with him and his wife, Eva. Their place was close by, on Center Street, five blocks west of Bowery near Chinatown. Carl would be right over. After Carl found Prabhupāda, they didn't stop by Prabhupāda's loft, but went straight to Carl's place, an A.I.R. loft also, but smaller—about eighty-five feet by thirty. The main living area was large and open, with areas for the kitchen and bedroom partitioned off. There were decorative indoor plants and a profusion of throw pillows placed all around. Carl's loft was much brighter than the dingy, factory-like space in the loft on the Bowery. The floor was painted bright orange—Carl used to say it looked like the deck of a ship. The walls and ceiling were white, and light from seven skylights filled the room. Carl and Eva settled the Swami in one corner. Prabhupāda had left his belongings at David's loft and didn't want to go back, so Carl went over to pick up a few of them. Prabhupāda asked him to leave most of his things, including his books, suitcases, and reel-to-reel tape recorder, where they were. Although by this time David had come down from the intense effects of the LSD, he remained rather crazy. When Carl arrived at the loft, the door was locked and David was inside—afraid to let anyone come in, although finally he relented. He had shut and locked all the windows, making the loft oppressively hot and stuffy. Bill Epstein, who also came by that day, analyzed David as having had "a drug-induced nervous breakdown, a narcopsychosis." And although David was sorry he had exploded at the Swami, neither Bill nor Carl thought Prabhupāda should live with David again. Apparently Prabhupāda's chances of making the loft into a Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa temple were finished. Carl and Bill gathered up a few of Prabhupāda's belongings, and David stayed behind in the loft. He wanted to be alone. Carl Yeargens knew Śrīla Prabhupāda's living habits well and wanted to accommodate him with a suitable place to live and work. In a small alcove at one end of his loft, Carl had a small study, which he allocated for the Swami. Carl also set up a cushioned dais and arranged the living room around it so that guests could sit on the floor in a semicircle. Carl's wife, who didn't really like the idea of a *swami* moving in, agreed to cover a few cushions with Indian madras material for him anyway. Things went smoothly for a while. Prabhupāda continued his morning and evening classes, and many of the Bowery hip crowd came by. Three of his regular callers lived right in the same building, and a few others, including Carl's brother, were just around the block. Michael Grant, James Greene—even David Allen came once. *I was at Carl's loft, and the Swami comes strolling in one day* (relates Don Natheson, a painter). *So I already knew he was on the scene, from David's. Mostly musicians were coming. They were enjoying that private morning session with him. And that's really strange in itself, because these people were up almost all night and he used to do it at six in the morning, for one hour. He would lead them in chanting with his hand cymbals—dot-dot-dah, dot-dot-dah. It was strange, because that crowd was heavy into drugs and they were well read. But for a short period they used to go every morning, nine or ten of them, and they felt very good about it. They felt very good that they did that in the morning. The Swami was talking, and I remember sitting with him. He was sitting around eating with us.* According to Carl, the creative group who came to see the Swami in his studio were all quick to enter into the mood of the *kīrtana,* the chanting, but they were "using it in their own ways, to supplement their own private visions and ecstasies," with no real intention of adopting the disciplines or the undivided worship of Lord Kṛṣṇa. Prabhupāda was their first real contact with a spiritual person, and yet even without trying to understand, they became absorbed in his *kīrtanas* and in what he had to say. Carl would invite them: "Hey, come on. This is genuine. This is real. You'll like it. It's music. It's dance. It's celebration." Carl saw that "people just felt good being in the Swami's presence and meditating on the chanting and eating the Swami's cooking. It was unlike anything they had experienced before, except maybe for their moments of creative insight." Yet for Carl and Eva, Śrīla Prabhupāda's simple presence created difficulty. Never before during his whole stay in America had Prabhupāda been a more inconvenient or unwanted guest. Carl's studio was arranged for him and his wife to live in alone, using the bedroom, kitchen, and living room any way they liked. If they wanted to smoke marijuana or eat meat or whatever, that was their prerogative. This was Mr. Carl's home; he lived here with his wife Eva and their dogs and cats. But now they had to share it with the Swami. Almost at once, the situation became intolerable for Eva. She resented Prabhupāda's presence in her home. She was a feminist, a liberated white woman with a black husband and a good job. She didn't like the Swami's views on women. She hadn't read his books or attended his classes, but she had heard that he was opposed to sexual intercourse except for conceiving children, and that in his view women were supposed to be shy and chaste and help *their* husbands in spiritual life. She knew about the Swami's four rules—no meat-eating, illicit sex, intoxication, or gambling—and she definitely did not want Carl's Swami trying to change *their* ways to suit *him.* And he had better not expect her to wait on him as his servant. She sensed the Swami objecting to almost everything she did. If she were to seek his advice, he would probably ask her to stop taking drugs, get rid of the cats and dogs, stop drinking, and stop contraceptive sex. If the Swami had his way, they would probably eat only at certain times and only certain foods. Eva was a heavy smoker, so the Swami probably wouldn't like being around her. She was ready for a confrontation. But Śrīla Prabhupāda was not one to make intolerant demands while living in another's home. He made no demands or criticisms, but kept to his allotted corner of the loft. Hadn't he seen his hosts in Butler eating meat and only remarked, "Think nothing of it"? Nevertheless, his imposing spiritual presence made Eva sorry Carl had ever met him. To Eva, the Swami was an inimical force—and she, being candid and independent, let him know. As soon as he asked whether she could bring him something, she replied, "Get it yourself." Carol Bekar saw the situation as being extremely uncomfortable and tense—"Eva was quite resentful." Eva complained to Carol: here she was paying rent for the loft, working hard, and this man was trying to change their way of life. *She couldn't handle his teaching* (Carol Bekar relates), *and she couldn't handle his influence over Carl. She didn't feel so constrained, but she felt that Swamiji was making Carl feel constrained. And I think she was right.* This was Eva's main objection—the Swami was influencing Carl. Her relationship with Carl had only recently begun, and Carl was aware that she needed much of his time. He agreed with his wife, yet he couldn't refuse the Swami. He was interested in Indian music, poetry, and religions, and here was a living authority, vastly knowledgeable in all facets of Indian culture, right in his home. Prabhupāda would cook his meals in their kitchen, and right away Carl would be there, eager to learn the art of Indian cuisine. Carl also wanted the Swami to show him how to play the drum. They would have long talks together. *Carl was trying to be something he really wasn't* (Carol Bekar relates), *but he would never have suggested that the Swami had to leave. Swami, I am sure, was astute enough to pick up on this tension. As soon as he could, he tried to move to another place.* Gradually, Carl reached an impasse in his relationship with the Swami. He couldn't share his life with both his wife and the Swami, and ultimately he was more inclined towards his wife. *I couldn't see my loft becoming a temple* (Carl relates). *We saw our loft as ours. I have to put it on myself as much as anyone. I could understand and absorb India through an impersonal agency like a book or a record, but here was the living representative of Godhead, and to me it was as difficult as anything I've ever had to do before or since.* Prabhupāda was not insensitive to the distress his presence occasioned. He didn't want to inconvenience anyone, and of course, he could have avoided all inconvenience, both for himself and for people like Eva, if he had never come to America. But he wasn't concerned with convenience or inconvenience, with pleasing Eva or displeasing her. He wanted to teach Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Prabhupāda had a mission, and Carl's loft didn't seem to be the right base for it. Prabhupāda's friends all agreed: he should move more into the center of things. The Bowery and Chinatown were too far out of the way. They would find him a new place. Forced by conditions that he accepted as Kṛṣṇa's mercy, Prabhupāda sat patiently, trying not to disturb anyone, yet speaking about Kṛṣṇa consciousness from day to night. Carl assured him that with half a dozen people checking out the Lower East Side, it wouldn't take long to find a new place, and they would all chip in together and help him with the rent. * * * A week passed, and no one had found a suitable place for the Swami. One day Prabhupāda suggested that he and Carl take a walk up to Michael Grant's place and ask him to help.... *I was awakened one morning very, early* (Michael Grant relates), *and Carl was on the phone saying, "Swamiji and I were just taking a walk, and we thought we’d come up and see you."I said, "But it's too early in the morning." And he said, "Well, Swamiji wants to see you." They were very nearby, just down the street, so I had to quickly get dressed, and by the time I got to the door they were there.* *I was totally unprepared, but invited them up. The television set had been on from the previous night, and there were some cartoons on. The Swami sat between Carl and me on the couch. We began to talk, but Swamiji glanced over at the cartoons on the television set and said, "This is nonsense." Suddenly I realized that the television was on and that it* was *nonsense, and I got up very quickly saying, "Why yes, it is nonsense," and turned it off*. As Śrīla Prabhupāda talked, he tried to impress on Mike how difficult it was for him to live with Carl and Eva, and Mike listened. But was the Swami so sure he couldn't go back to the Bowery loft and live with David Allen? Except for that one incident, it had been a nice set-up, hadn't it? Prabhupāda explained that David had become a madman from too much LSD. He was dangerous. Mike gave Prabhupāda a half-incredulous look—David Allen, dangerous? But as Prabhupāda spoke, Mike began to feel transparent, with the Swami's knowing glance probing into him. Yes, David was dangerous. Mike didn't ask for any more details. Mike could see that Swamiji was appealing to him for help, and as they all sat together on the couch, Mike and Carl quietly nodded in agreement. Prabhupāda was looking at Mike, and Mike was trying to think. "So how can we help, Swamiji?" Carl interjected. Mike felt uneasy. He explained that he was a pianist and he had to practice every day. He had two pianos, two sets of drums, a vibraphone, and other instruments right there in his apartment. Musicians were always coming over to practice, and they all played their instruments for hours. Also, he was living with a girl, and there was a cat in the apartment. But Mike promised that he would help find the Swami a new place. Prabhupāda thanked him and, along with Carl, stood to leave. Mike felt obligated. He was good at getting things done, and he wanted to do this for the Swami. So the next day he went to the *Village Voice,* got the first newspaper off the press, looked through the classified ads until he found a suitable prospect, and phoned the landlord. It was a storefront on Second Avenue, and an agent, a Mr. Gardiner, agreed to meet Mike there. Carl and Śrīla Prabhupāda also agreed to come. Mr. Gardiner and Mike were the first to arrive. Mike noted the unusual hand-painted sign—"MATCHLESS GIFTS"—above the front window. It was a holdover, Mr. Gardiner explained, from when the place had been a nostalgic gift shop. Mike proceeded to describe the Swami as a spiritual leader from India, an important author, and a Sanskrit scholar. The rental agent seemed receptive. As soon as Prabhupāda and Carl arrived and everyone had been congenially introduced, Mr. Gardiner showed them the small storefront. Prabhupāda, Carl, and Mike carefully considered its possibilities. It was empty, plain, and dark—the electricity had not been turned on—and it needed repainting. It would be good for meetings, but not for the Swami's residence. But at $170 a month it seemed promising. Then Mr. Gardiner revealed a small, second-floor apartment just across the rear courtyard, directly behind the storefront. Another $100 a month and the Swami could live there, although first Mr. Gardiner would have to repaint it. The total rent would come to $270, and Carl, Mike, and the others would pitch in. Prabhupāda had the idea of making Mr. Gardiner the first official trustee of his fledgling Kṛṣṇa consciousness society. During their conversation he presented Mr. Gardiner with a three-volume set of his *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam,* and inside the front cover he wrote a personal dedication and then signed it, "A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami." Mr. Gardiner felt flattered and honored to receive these books from their author himself. He agreed to become a trustee of the new society for Kṛṣṇa consciousness and so pay the society $20 a month (which he would simply deduct from the rent). Mr. Gardiner took a week to paint the apartment. Meanwhile, Mike arranged for the electricity and water to be turned on and had a phone installed, and he and Carl raised the first month's rent among their friends. When everything was ready, Mike gave Prabhupāda a call at Carl's. Now it was time to move the Swami into his new place. A few friends who were on hand accompanied Prabhupāda over to the Bowery loft. Maybe they weren't prepared to become his surrendered disciples, but contributing toward the first month's rent and volunteering a few hours of work to help set up his place were exactly the kinds of things they could do very willingly. At the loft, all of them gathered up portions of the Swami's belongings, and then they started out on foot up the Bowery. It was like a safari, a caravan of half a dozen men loaded with Prabhupāda's things. Mike carried the heavy Roberts reel-to-reel, and even the Swami carried two suitcases. They did everything so quickly that it wasn't until they were walking up the Bowery and Mike's arm began to ache that he realized: "Why didn't we bring a car?" It was the end of June, and a hazy summer sun poured its heat down into the Bowery jungle. Starting and stopping, the strange safari, stretching for over a block, slowly trekked along. Prabhupāda struggled with his suitcases up the Bowery, past the seemingly unending row of restaurant supply shops and lamp stores between Grand, Broome, and Spring streets. Sometimes he paused and rested, setting his suitcases down. He was finally moving from the Bowery. His electrician friend on Seventy-second Street would have been relieved, although perhaps he would have disapproved of the Second Avenue address also. At least the Swami was finished residing on Skid Row. He walked on, past the homeless men outside the Salvation Army shelter, past the open-door taverns, stopping at streetlights, standing alongside total strangers, keeping an eye on the progress of his procession of friends who struggled along behind him. The Bowery artists and musicians saw him as "highly evolved." They felt that the spirit was moving him, and they were eager to help him set up his own place so that he could do his valuable spiritual thing and spread it to others. He was depending on them for help, yet they knew he was "on a higher level"; he was his own protector, or, as he said, he was protected by God. Prabhupāda and his young friends reached the corner of Houston and Bowery Streets, turned right, and proceeded west. Gazing steadily ahead as he walked. Prabhupāda saw the southern end of Second Avenue, one block away. At Second Avenue he would turn left, walk just one block north across First Street, and arrive at his new home. Precisely as he passed the IND Subway entrance, the storefront came into view—"MATCHLESS GIFTS." He gripped his suitcases and moved ahead. At Second Avenue and Houston he hurried through a break in the rapid traffic. He could see green trees holding their heads above the high courtyard wall, reaching up like overgrown weeds in the space between the front and rear buildings of his new address. The streetside building housed his meeting hall, the rear building the apartment where he would live and translate. Adjoining the storefront building on its north side was a massive nine-story warehouse. The storefront structure was only five stories and seemed appended to the larger building like its diminutive child. On its southern side, Prabhupāda's new temple showed a surface of plain cement and was free of any adjoining structure; there was only the spacious lot of the busy Mobil service station that bordered on First Street. As Śrīla Prabhupāda approached the storefront, he could see two small lanterns decorating the narrow doorway. There was no certainty of what awaited him here. But already there had been good signs that these American young people, mad though they sometimes were, could actually take part in Lord Caitanya's *saṅkīrtana* movement. Perhaps this new address would be the place where he could actually get a footing with his International Society for Krishna Consciousness. ## The Anatomy of the Social Body *Centuries of political experiments have not altered the basic structure of the body politic. Why?* ### by Mathureśa Dāsa Throughout recorded history, in every society on the face of the earth, we find different classes of men or divisions of society. Despite all varieties of political, social, economic, and religious climates, classes exist. Even modern democratic and communistic ideals of equality have failed to abolish class divisions. Classes continue to exist, and we can therefore conclude that they are permanent. They are inherent in human society itself, just as our head, arms, stomach, and legs are inherent in our bodily structure. The Vedic scriptures, the oldest scriptures known to man, describe four principal classes. These are (1) an intelligent class *(brāhmaṇas),* (2) a martial or administrative class *(kṣatriyas),* (3) a mercantile class *(vaiśyas),* and (4) a laborer class *(śūdras).* The qualities by which these different classes work and by which they can be recognized are given in the Eighteenth Chapter of the *Bhagavad-gītā:* "Peacefulness, self-control, austerity, purity, tolerance, honesty, wisdom, knowledge, and religiousness—these are the qualities by which the *brāhmaṇas* work. "Heroism, power, determination, resourcefulness, courage in battle, generosity, and leadership are the qualities of work for the *kṣatriyas.* "Farming, cow protection, and trade are the qualities of work for the *vaiśyas,* and for the *śūdras* there is labor and service to others." (Bg. 18.42-44) These different classes of men, recognized by their respective tendencies for work, are always present, and the system of social organization based on these divisions is called *varṇ*āśrama*. Varṇa* indicates the four social divisions we have already listed, and *āśrama* indicates progressive spiritual stages. The *āśrama*s are (1) student life, (2) married life, (3) retired life, and (4) renounced life, and they are meant to train each man to perform his duties for the satisfaction of the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Kṛṣṇa. These divisions exist in human society because human life is different from the life of animals. A human being has the ability to inquire about spiritual life: "Who am I? Why am I suffering? What is God? What is my relationship with Him?" These are questions that can be posed by human beings, and not by animals. Human life, therefore, offers us the unique opportunity to reestablish our lost relationship with the Supreme Person. The *Vedas* enjoin, *athāto brahma-jijñāsā:* "Now, in the human form of life, is the time to inquire into the Absolute Truth." A human being who does not make this inquiry into the central purpose of his life is loitering on the animal platform. Animals can eat, sleep, mate, and defend without caring for higher goals, but a human being who does so is wasting his valuable life. The value of a thing is judged by what one can attain with it. With five thousand dollars, for instance, you can purchase a nice car. But if someone convinces you to spend the same amount for an ordinary bicycle, then he is a cheater, and you have been tricked into wasting your money. Similarly, if we spend our human life properly, under the guidance of the ancient wisdom of the *Vedas*, we can attain an eternal, joyful life full of knowledge; and if we spend it for animal pleasures, we have been cheated. The *varṇāśrama* institution, described in the *Bhagavad-gītā* and the *Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam,* is a system of social organization designed solely for this purpose—to order society in such a way that every human being, no matter what his position, may peacefully cultivate God consciousness and by that spiritual education make a complete success of his life. By *varṇāśrama* we achieve the equality which is only advertised by other social systems. By being educated in the science of Kṛṣṇa, God, everyone can have an equal opportunity to put an end to all the miseries of material life by ultimately returning to the kingdom of God. In the Fourth Chapter of the *Bhagavad-gītā,* Kṛṣṇa describes the *varṇāśrama* system: > cātur-varṇyaṁ mayā sṛṣṭaṁ > guṇa-karma-vibhāgaśaḥ > tasya kartāram api māṁ > viddhy akartāram avyayam "According to the three modes of material nature and the work ascribed to them, the four divisions of human society were created by Me. And although I am the creator of this system, you should know that I am yet the non-doer, being unchangeable." (Bg. 4.13) Why do the four divisions exist? Kṛṣṇa says, *mayā sṛṣṭaṁ—"because they were created by Me."* We can understand that any organized structure, such as a house or a bridge, implies a creator. We look at a sturdy house and question, "Who has built this house?" Similarly, we must ask, "Who is the creator?" And Kṛṣṇa says, "I am that creator." It is because God created the divisions of society that they exist permanently. Social or political structures created by man and imposed upon human society do not last, because they are concocted and artificial. But these four divisions of human society—the intellectual, martial, mercantile, and laborer classes—were created by God when He created human society itself. The divisions are not imposed or artificial. They are inherent by the divine will. Rather than try to abolish them, we should learn how to use them as they were originally intended to be used by their creator. The divisions in society are like the divisions in our body. Although the body has different parts, they all must cooperate for the body to survive. This is also true of the social body. The social body must have a head to direct it, arms to protect it, a stomach to feed it, and legs to support it. The intelligent class must give direction to society, based on the authority of the *Vedas,* so that every man may realize his eternal relationship with God. This is real intelligence. Next, the administrative class must protect society by upholding religious principles and thus putting the general population in a receptive mood toward the guidance of the *brāhmaṇas.* The **vaiśyas*,* the mercantile class, are not meant to open factories to mass produce useless items and thus enslave millions of men for the profit of an elite few. As explained in the *Bhagavad-gītā,* the *vaiśyas* should produce abundant grains by farming and should protect cows. In this way, there will never be a scarcity of the two most essential foods for the human being—grains and milk. And the *śūdras,* the laborer class, can render service to the other three classes of society and thus have all their necessities supplied to them. From the example of the social body, we can understand that no part of society is less important than any other part. Do we consider our legs less important than our arms? Would we want to neglect our stomach? Of course not. If you stub your toe, then immediately the attention of the head and the working power of the arms are focused on the injured area. Divisions of the social body are meant for cooperation—not for competition or exploitation. This is the purpose for which they were created. After explaining that He is the creator of the divisions of society, Kṛṣṇa explains how to identify these classes. This is explained in the words *guṇa-*karma*-vibhāgaśaḥ. Guṇa* means quality, and *karma* means activity. According to Lord Kṛṣṇa, the author of **varṇāśrama*,* we must judge a man impartially by his qualifications and work. In other words, family heritage, nationality, race, color, and creed are not the criteria for the divisions of society. The actual *varṇāśrama* system cannot be accused of discrimination or of limiting the individual's opportunity to follow his inclinations and aspirations. The caste system of India, although using the terminology of *varṇāśrama* (*brāhmaṇa*, kṣatriya, vaiśya, śūdra), is not actually **varṇāśrama*,* because it is based on heredity. The Indian caste system has deteriorated and failed for just this reason. Someone born into a family of **brāhmaṇa*s,* the priestly or intellectual class, would claim to be a *brāhmaṇa* automatically, whether or not he had the qualifications, and even if his activities were most degenerate. This is not at all sensible, nor is it supported by the *Gītā.* For example, the son of a high-court judge may receive the opportunity, by inspiration and instruction, to become a high-court judge himself. But he still requires training and education before he seeks an appointment to that post. He cannot claim to be qualified for such a position merely on the strength of his high parentage. Similarly, the son of a doctor may naturally desire to practice medicine and may take advantage of his father's experience. But he, too, requires long years of training in medical school. So the argument that birth qualifies one for a certain post in society contradicts common sense and is not supported by the instructions of the **Bhagavad-gītā*.* Anyone is free to take any position in society, provided he develops the qualifications. *Varṇāśrama* cannot be accused of rigidity or of restricting social mobility. The actual *varṇāśrama* system trains and educates the individual in the duties and occupation for which he is already inclined. Lord Kṛṣṇa gives directions for that training in the *Bhagavad-gītā* and other Vedic literatures. Any other system of training, whether caste, communist, or democratic, necessarily misguides society and spoils the mission of human life. > tasya kartāram api māṁ > viddhy akartāram avyayam Kṛṣṇa next explains that although He created the *varṇāśrama* system, He is transcendental to it. *Varṇāśrama* serves to elevate the human being from the animal consciousness of eating, sleeping, mating, and fearing to the level of pure love of God. Without this there is no meaning to *varṇāśrama*. Since Kṛṣṇa is Himself the Personality of Godhead, there is no need for Him to take part in *varṇāśrama*. When He appears in human society, however, He does participate in *varṇāśrama* just to set an example for human society. The principles of religion are His enacted laws, and He therefore takes care to see that they are maintained. When Kṛṣṇa appeared in human society five thousand years ago, He followed all the prescribed duties for a *kṣatriya* (warrior-prince) and family man. Although He is above all such requirements, He accepted them in order to set an example, just as a father behaves in an exemplary manner to teach his children. Kṛṣṇa is like the governor of a state who visits the penitentiary to see that things run smoothly and that the prisoners make progress toward again becoming law-abiding citizens. The governor is not a prisoner, even while in the prison. He can come and go as he likes. His position is that of an overseer. Similarly, when Kṛṣṇa descends to the material world, He does so to establish religious principles, and He is not subject to the laws of material nature. Simply by understanding this, we become qualified to return to the eternal spiritual world beyond the material sky—Kṛṣṇa's abode, the kingdom of God. > janma karma ca me divyam > evaṁ yo vetti tattvataḥ > tyaktvā dehaṁ punar janma > naiti mām eti so ’rjuna "One who knows the transcendental nature of My appearance and activities does not, upon leaving the body, take his birth again in this material world, but attains My eternal abode, O Arjuna. " (Bg. 4.9) Kṛṣṇa is transcendental to **varṇāśrama*.* Since each class and order of society engages a man in the service of God, each participant in *varṇāśrama* understands that his particular designation as a *brāhmaṇa, kṣatriya, vaiśya,* or *śūdra* is temporary, and that his permanent position is that of a transcendental servant of Kṛṣṇa. Thus, even if one remains in one class or occupation his entire life, there is no question of stigma or restriction, because everyone's actual position is that he is a servant of God. Lord Caitanya, the incarnation of Kṛṣṇa who appeared five hundred years ago in Bengal, taught this very principle: > nāhaṁ vipro na ca nara-patir ... > gopī-bhartuh pada-kamalayor > dāsa-dāsānudāsaḥ "I am neither a *brāhmaṇa,* nor a *kṣatriya...* The only designation that I wish to accept is that of a servant of the servant of the servant of Kṛṣṇa." We are, first of all, servants of the Supreme Person, and the different divisions of society are meant to best engage our respective qualities in His service. When one becomes completely purified by that service, he no longer relies on any designation, but simply thinks himself a humble servant of God, Kṛṣṇa. Lord Caitanya therefore taught that it is the prime duty of everyone to chant the holy names of God. Lord Caitanya especially recommended the Hare Kṛṣṇa **mantra*:* Hare Kṛṣṇa, Hare Kṛṣṇa, Kṛṣṇa Kṛṣṇa, Hare Hare/ Hare Rāma, Hare Rāma, Rāma Rāma, Hare Hare. This *mantra* simply means, "O my Lord, please engage me in Your loving service." ## Exposure to the "Cold Cruel World" *Higher Education* Gurukula, *"*the* school of *the** guru," *has no equivalent in Western education. It is all at once a place* of *spiritual formation, character development, academics, and vocational training. A student enters usually at age five and stays as long as his or her aptitudes permit. On gaining minimum proficiency, a child may ei*the*r go on to higher studies or take up apprenticeship in a career suited to his or her character. The purpose of* gurukula *is to assist children in living a God-centered life. Bhūrijana dāsa joined *the* Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement in 1968, taught in Hong Kong for four years, and for *the* past three years has been headmaster* of *the* gurukula at *the* Kṛṣṇa farm near Port Royal, Pennsylvania. Here freelance writer Kurt Ald poses some often asked questions: Mr. Ald: Isn't *gurukula* training rather isolating? How much do the children learn of the world around them? Bhūrijana dāsa: *Gurukula* is not isolating, but is insulating. Parents and teachers have a duty to safeguard children from disturbing influences. Mr. Ald: But then, one could argue that it's a cold cruel world out there, and children have to take care of themselves. Bhūrijana dāsa: First of all, how could any six-year-old or even ten-year-old take care of himself? Children must be protected. Later, after proper training, they'll have their exposure to the cold cruel world. If someone has been trained intelligently, with a view to his or her God consciousness, that child will handle living in the material world better than any child trained in a secular or public school. Most people know that just plain exposure really isn't good. If it were, then they'd educate their children by sending them out into the streets. No, people want their children to be properly trained first. As far as exposure for *gurukula* children is concerned, it is selective. For example, we have a current events class, but not a television. Mr. Ald: But how will the children become acquainted with the conditions of the larger society? How do you decide just what is insulating and what is isolating? Do *gurukula* children get to interact with other children? Bhūrijana dāsa: Sure. They're constantly in touch with the people who come to see our temples and farms, and they visit relatives. We take field trips, also. Their environment is not “closed.” At the same time, we are not shy about saying that Lord Kṛṣṇa is the goal of life. The goal of our educational system is to become conscious of Kṛṣṇa, specifically. So we can make certain value judgments, because we have a standard. The children don't usually see movies or commercial theater, because there is little or no spiritual benefit in such activities. Mr. Ald: Moving on from *gurukula* could really be tough if they've known only a devotional environment. Bhūrijana dāsa: If a child has been trained in *gurukula,* his mind will be very sharp. If education centers upon helping the child understand the existence of the soul and the soul's relationship with Kṛṣṇa, or God, then the child gets a clear idea of how to handle everyday life situations. Mr. Ald: Let's be specific. How will these children earn their living? Bhūrijana dāsa: In the traditional Vedic system, vocational training starts early, according to the aptitudes of the student. Mr. Ald: Don't *gurukula* children have a rather narrow frame of reference for choosing a vocation? Bhūrijana dāsa: We know we can't force someone who doesn't have brahminical (or priestly) inclination, but still the training is based on spiritual elevation. Whatever a *gurukula* graduate does in life, whatever occupation or livelihood he takes, this character training will never be lost. It is not that a child must be inclined to the priesthood in order to become Kṛṣṇa conscious. According to his tendencies or disposition, the child might not wish to take up spiritual teaching as his life's work. Kṛṣṇa consciousness has to do with the child's realization—whatever his activities may be—that God is the supreme controller, the supreme enjoyer, and our greatest friend. With that philosophical understanding, devotees engage in a wide variety of services. Mr. Ald: So you're saying that your Kṛṣṇa society is a world within a world; there won't be any necessity for these children to confront the ordinary world. Bhūrijana dāsa: No. Why do you say that? Why do you think they won't have the practical experience? Working knowledge of the material world is a skill like any other skill. It has to be developed. If someone has a certain talent, then why shouldn't he develop it? If you're going to see a printer or negotiate some business, of course you won't take a seven-year-old with you, but an older child who has that tendency could dress up in a suit and tie. "Here's my protege." Mr. Ald: Would a girl with administrative ability and intelligence be allowed to develop her skills? Bhūrijana dāsa: Certainly, as much as anyone else, to the level of his or her competence. But we don't follow the Peter Principle, where you rise to your level of incompetence—and sometimes far, far beyond it. In *gurukula* it doesn't matter whether one is a boy or girl. The teachers and administrators are looking to encourage the students to develop spiritually, first and foremost. Then, whatever their life's work, they can learn it. But the motivation never becomes promotion- or success-oriented. The motivation is always, "How can I serve Kṛṣṇa purely?" Mr. Ald: Does *gurukula* cover areas like health, hygiene? Bhūrijana dāsa: All *gurukula* children receive training in these areas. Naturally, a devotee has to know how to take care of the material body—cleanliness, first aid ... Mr. Ald: If a *gurukula* student were sick, would you bring him to a Western doctor? Bhūrijana dāsa: We're always concerned with practicality first. If the medicine works, that's fine. Unfortunately, so much of Western medicine is guesswork; but we don't have anything against it *per se.* Do you? Mr. Ald: I want to know—does *gurukula* make children feel that the world is a bad place and that therefore they should stay away from it? Bhūrijana dāsa: The whole foundation of *gurukula* training is learning how to relate with the world and other people. *Gurukula* children learn not to see ordinary people in a malicious way, but rather to see them as souls and to look compassionately on them. A devotee sees that the spiritual self, or soul, is different from the material body, totally free of its miseries—but that people who are absorbed in a bodily concept of themselves are forced to identify with the miseries of old age, disease, and death. Everything the children learn is geared to this spiritual, compassionate, nonsectarian way of looking at life. We don't have any desire to isolate our students. Rather, they get exposure, but at the same time they learn how to interpret their experiences. That's what education means: learning how to view the experiences of life with spiritual insight. Mr. Ald: Sounds like brainwashing. Bhūrijana dāsa: Then every educational system in the world is also brainwashing. In the U.S., the students are taught to look at the Communist nations in a particular way. The Communists are taught to look at Americans in a particular way. It's inevitable. Every educational system has its own angle of vision. Mr. Ald: Aren't there schools that advocate open classrooms, total freedom of choice for the students? Bhūrijana dāsa: Claiming not to have a viewpoint is also a viewpoint. The children will learn that same viewpoint. We're not going to hold anything back. We say that Kṛṣṇa is God, that we are part and parcel of Him and are meant to serve Him with love and devotion. And more, we say that if people don't serve God but look only for temporary, body-based pleasures, then they can't find the lasting, spiritual peace and happiness that lie within. This is not a unique point of view. Everyone knows we come into this world with nothing and go out with nothing, but very few people take it seriously. Nobody thinks about the final experience—death—because nobody has received any real spiritual training. That is the most brainwashed position—to live without awareness of life's ultimate realities, like death. So *gurukula* education wakes children up to this awareness of the precariousness of a life without God consciousness. We don't want the children to reject the world; we want them to see it properly. ## Notes from the Editor *India Diary* Flying to India. I am going to do research for the biography of Śrīla Prabhupāda. My head is groggy from sitting fifteen hours in the plane seat. Suddenly the plane starts jerking up and down. A little bell rings, and the "Fasten Seat Belt" sign lights up. "Meal service will be delayed," the stewardess says. "We are experiencing slight turbulence." The slight turbulence increases, and the cups of juice fall from her tray. The steward grabs her arm, and both of them brace themselves, with rigid hands and feet. *At any* *moment, by too much shaking, or from one good poke, the life can run out of this vessel, the body. And when it runs out, we go to another body. We may take birth in a horrible species, where life is stunted—as an insect, or a clump of grass—and in* all *forms of life there is suffering. Only the spiritual world is free of anxiety.* The air turbulence passes, but it's just a matter of time before each of us faces his last hour. My own mortal anxiety: when it comes, will I pass the test? Will I think of Kṛṣṇa at the time of death and pass over to the side of freedom? * * * We arrive at 1:00 A.M. in New Delhi. Half a dozen devotees meet us, with garlands and a big chanting session. A crowd gathers as we sing with drums and hand cymbals. Only in India can this happen; no official will think of stopping us from chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa. It is two in the morning, but no one is disturbed. They stand around watching the chanting and dancing, and listen when Lokanātha Swami gives a little speech. It is still dark night as our car heads out for the two-hour drive to our destination: Vṛndāvana, the town where Lord Kṛṣṇa performed His pastimes five thousand years ago, the town where Śrīla Prabhupāda lived as a *sannyāsī* before coming to America in 1965. As we pull out of Delhi, I see groups of homeless humans asleep on the cement walkways of a bridge. Our car lights wake three blinking calves lying in the middle of the road. Trucks approach us head-on. We veer to the left, almost off the road, and thus pass each oncoming truck. But tonight there are not many trucks. We see dozens of them lined up by the roadside (there is a national shortage of diesel fuel, Lokanātha Swami tells us—they have to wait sometimes two days in line). At least in that respect, it's hardly different here from the United States. * * * It is 6:00 A.M., and we are sitting at the base of the red sandstone tower of Madana-mohana temple in Vṛndāvana. We have just paid our respects at the *bhajana-kuṭira* of Sanātana Gosvāmī, who five hundred years ago wrote philosophical devotional works based on the *Vedas* and confirming the conclusions of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Old men who live here watch us peacefully; one is pulling the rope to a well that Kṛṣṇa was supposed to have used to draw water for His devotee Sanātana when Sanātana had grown invalid. Peacocks abound in Vṛndāvana; their often-heard sound is a beep and a loud, catlike meow. The dawn is growing lighter. Now in the sky, a faint red smudge appears, like a fire burning through an opaque wall—soon the sun will be bright and hot. Vṛndāvana appears rundown; the five-hundred-year-old temples are falling down in disrepair. There are few modern amenities here, but the Western style of lawless violence, the constant sex lure, the TV demand, the "necessity" to work for more and more material enjoyment, or to steal, to take drugs, to always read newspapers—these are not much developed here. The average man is poor by Western standards, but he wears Vaiṣṇava markings and chants "Jaya Rādhe" and Hare Kṛṣṇa. Years ago the Moghuls took the jewels away from the temples, and what they didn't take, the British took later. But they could not take away the people's *bhakti,* their devotion to Lord Kṛṣṇa. "But"—my mind suddenly challenges—"what is the *purpose* of this town? Why Vṛndāvana?" The *purpose* first and last is *remembering God.* If you do not think this is a reason for a town to exist, then you will not be able to understand Vṛndāvana. Vṛndāvana is real. The other day we saw a human corpse. Vṛndāvana is not like a fantasy land where pretty, sex-indulgent youth is falsely glorified, or where the people still believe in unlimited human progress through technology, or in finding happiness in godless leisure. We have much to learn from a peaceful, *bhakti-*saturated town like Vṛndāvana. * * * In *The Nectar of Devotion,* Śrīla Prabhupāda has quoted a statement about living in Vṛndāvana by Śrīla Rūpa Gosvāmī: "I remember Lord Kṛṣṇa standing by the banks of the Yamunā River, so beautiful amidst the *kadamba* trees, where many birds are chirping in the gardens. And these impressions are always giving me transcendental bliss." "This feeling," Śrīla Prabhupāda comments, "can actually be felt even by nondevotees. The places in the eighty-four-square-mile district of Mathurā are so beautifully situated on the banks of the River Yamunā that anyone who goes there will never want to return to this material world. These statements by Rūpa Gosvāmī are factually realized descriptions of Vṛndāvana. All these qualities prove that Vṛndāvana is situated transcendentally. Otherwise, there would be no possibility of invoking our transcendental sentiments in these places. Such transcendental feelings are aroused immediately and without fail after one arrives in Vṛndāvana." * * * We are finding out about Śrīla Prabhupāda's activities here. He renounced his family life in 1954 and came to Vṛndāvana and lived in a room in a Keśī-ghāṭa temple. For ten years he remained in Vṛndāvana, a lone figure. He had very few visitors to his room. All witnesses say, "He was always typing," or sometimes reading, or singing and chanting about Kṛṣṇa. He was writing his first books—books that have now been distributed by the millions all over the world. Few realized then that he was preparing himself and making a decision (in his seventh decade) to come to America and attempt to spread Kṛṣṇa consciousness all over the world, as he had been ordered by his spiritual master. Most people of Vṛndāvana didn't understand his great broad scope, although now they acknowledge him and have named the main road "Bhaktivedanta Swami Marg." But most people of the world outside Vṛndāvana do not understand him even today. Already, through his writings and his disciples, he has delivered Kṛṣṇa's message—liberation from birth and death by means of chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa—to almost every town and village in the world, but the value of that message is not yet appreciated. To help the world appreciate Śrīla Prabhupāda and to purify ourselves and increase our attachment to this great soul, we are trying to find the places of his activities in Vṛndāvana from 1955 to 1965. We hope our research will help us all remember him. —SDG