Posts
Around this time last year, i thought about ending this blog. I announced this in a post around New Year's Day, January 2008. A few friends responded by encouraging me not to stop writing. Since then i've written another 70 posts, which i think are better than the previous year's batch. Although i don't get a lot of feedback, sometimes friends or new readers send me their comments. These brief exchanges always lift me up. And when i travel, it amazes me when devotees tell me they read the blog or how they liked a particular piece. The No.1 hit was my satire on a faux GBC resolution selling samadhi plots in Mayapur. It was funny because it was pretty close to the truth. If those guys only knew how absurd they appear to the rest of the world, and especially to their godbrothers (95% of whom are no longer their "pals" in Iskcon) they would all immediately resign! They would be too embarrassed to carry on. That goes for every one of them.The fact that they are not resigning is a sign that they are shameless.
For me, out here on my own, like most of you, being able to express my thoughts in writing and instantly post them to a global audience has been a rare pleasure. But as far as i can tell, i've said everything i have to say. And reflecting on the limited time that i have in this life, i would like everyone's blessings to focus again on music. It's one of the first things i did when i started out as a brahmacari. I joined the original road show as a musician at New Vrindavan in 1971, and then i went to L.A. to work in Iskcon's first recording studio that was dedicated to preaching thru the Krishna Show and to recording and distributing Prabhupada's bhajans.
It shows just how neglectful the leaders of Iskcon are, that more than 30 years after Srila Prabhupada's disappearance, to my knowledge, there are no recording studios dedicated to kirtan. Sankirtan is music. By now, there should be 50 recording studios around the world committed to devotional music composed by devotees. Instead, Iskcon has big white elephant temples in India such as Juhu and Delhi with more on the way, and skeleton temples in North America where a handful of imported devotees keep the temples from closing. And it's not any more progressive in most of the other Gaudiya missions, with a few exceptions.
One notable exception is the mission of my godbrother, Paramadwaiti Swami. Perhaps because South America is poor, or because Iskcon failed to recognize him and kicked him out, he started his own mission where he cultivated a family spirit, promoting respect amongst devotees and between genders in his sanga. Paramadwaiti offers an example of sane leadership, a rare achievement in today's dysfunctional devotional world. Naturally, he's shunned by Iskcon.
It is a lack of basic respect for vaisnavas, a pretentious show of etiquette by grandiose leaders and the creation of an elite "upper caste" of unqualified elected gurus that has crippled the spread of Krishna consciousness. Of course, those in command will tell you how dynamic the growth has been these past 30 years. But really, what intelligent or talented person would join a society of duplicitous supervisors, petty zealots and warmhearted sentimentalists? Those who join eventually either sell out or get out. Either way, it is a failure.
It is the ultimate irony, that the movement started by the Enlightened Reformer and Bold Transcendental Pioneer, Avatari Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, has been burdened and handicapped by reactionary and conventional managers! How displeased our founder acarya must be with this result! And how painfully obvious this is to anyone who is not getting their chapatis buttered by the institution.
We, the godbrothers out there, are each in our own lifeboats now. We each must act attempting to connect our nature to the Supreme by whatever means available to us. This is not at all an easy task without association and support. Srila Prabhupada wanted us to have lots of support and association-- that was one of his primary purposes in starting Iskcon. He knew how difficult spiritual life is for neophytes. Out of his deepest compassion for us, he created Iskcon. He didn't create a bureaucracy and a politburo for a new religion! But that is how things turned out.
Prabhupada wanted us to become brahmanas. He didn't want kripanas, misers, who misuse their work for their self interest. He wanted us to work as a sacrifice for the Supreme, not for any local interest. The artificial imposition of control over devotees by ignorant leaders for their own parochial interests has spoiled Prabhupada's vision for a society of devotees!
But all is not lost. Actually, nothing is lost. Krishna consciousness cannot be checked by any infection.
One place we can always find Krishna consciousness is in the transcendental vibration of sound. Here is what Srila Prabhupada personally told John Lennon and George Harrison in 1969:
"Music -- the Vedic mantras were all through music. Sound waves are full of music....(Sanskrit verse)....Samogha means the follower of the sound waves. Gayanti, they are always in music, through musical vibration they are approaching the Supreme. Samogha.
"Gayanti means singing. So Vedic mantras are sung. This whole Bhagavad-gita and Srimad Bhagavatam can be sung very nicely. And this Vedic mantra chanting, simply by hearing the vibration, people will be benefited. Even they do not understand.....
"Simply by transcendental vibration of sound, everything can be achieved."
To succeed in anything requires determination and a sea change in habits. It is not easy for an old dog to learn a new trick. But rather than being unaccountable for the days speeding by, reading the news and (the mostly) depressing opinions of those on the mental platform (including the vast majority of articles written by devotees on devotee websites), or worse, falling down into anarthas, we must learn to exercise our free will. I would like to focus my attention on developing skills in music and become absorbed in kirtan. I especially would like to study the unique kirtan style introduced by Srila Prabhupada and adapt it to a contemporary form. I don't know if i have the sakti to do this, but at least i have a desire.
If i can't become a kirtaniya in this life, i would like to die trying. Prabhupada often mentioned that we should "die with our boots on." (And with so much glory he showed us how to do that!) OK, it's not possible for us to live and die with such grace and fearlessness, but at least we can try to get our boots on! Even one boot or even half a boot! The effort will count for something.
As for this blog, i've decided to press the pause button again. Maybe it's the time of year, i don't know. I just don't want to feel obliged for now. After writing and posting 180 articles here on this blog these past two years, i've said just about everything that i have to say in the way of commentary. Anyone is welcome to read my posts and come to your own conclusions. And i encourage anyone who has anything to say, to create your own blog. It's easy-- blogspot.com is a free service provided by Google-- and it's simple to set up. If i can do it, anyone can.
Giving and taking amongst devotees is an exchange of love. However tenuous my friendships with devotees are, i consider these friendships my most valuable asset. I would like to give a shout out to a few friends who are attempting to walk the walk. To Ananda Swarup in Amsterdam, who plays sweet Bengali bhajans on his guitar, and can tell you the word-for-word meaning of each song with precision and realization. To Vicaru, who wakes up at 4 am most mornings in his house near Kent, England, and does a complete morning program all by himself. To Rasacarya who lives alone in the northern boondocks of Holland and maintains tulasi devi nicely year round in an extreme climate. To Atma Vidya, who stays in a humble flat in Hamburg, chanting lots of rounds and translating Jaiva Dharma into German. These devotees around the world are quietly doing their seva and are inspirations to me.
May the coming year be kind to you. May the grace of God be with you in the form of insight and energy to act on the higher platform and to reach out to share this energy with others. May your long and at times tedious journey that found hope and good fortune when you met the devotees and bowed your head at the lotus feet of Prabhupada, not be checked by any obstacle. And may you experience inner felicity and peace-- by the causeless kripa of Sri Gaura Hari, Sri Nitai Ram and Srila Prabhupada.
your insignificant friend,
nava jauvana das
p.s. Despite my sabbatical from this blog, i welcome correspondence and i am always ready to respond and reciprocate as best i can. My personal email address is: jauvana@gmail.com At least, please send me your blessings.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Autobiography of a Yogi
I've been reading Autobiography of a Yogi by Paramahansa Yogananda. I read his account of his exceptional life as a mystic yogi many decades ago, when i was also dreaming about a spiritual trek to the Himalayas. I never made it there (neither did Yogananda it turned out), but the Swami's book made an impression on me then, and it still does after all these years and variegated experiences in Krishna Consciousness.
What impresses me is not the philosophy of Kriya Yoga. His line, to the best of my understanding, is an eclectic mix of Pantanjali, Kundalini, Shankaracarya's monism and bhakti! Yogananda never gives a clear and concise definition of his philosophy, and i think in his line, practice and realization of mystic yoga siddhis takes precedence over both oneness and service. But in terms of philosophy, the undercurrent of monism that moves thru their line, puts salt in the sweet rice, at least for any aspiring bhakta.
He also spends some time in his book trying his best to reconcile Christian thought from the Bible and modern scientific theories with yoga. For someone preaching yoga and vegetarianism to Americans in the 1920s, 30s and 40s, Yogananda was remarkably ahead of his time. You might even say he personally introduced yoga and 'new age' thinking to the West.
But what really impresses me in his book (and almost makes me jealous), is the wonderful, intimate and loving personal exchanges he was able to have with yoga masters during his early training years in India. Yogananda was born in 1893 in Bengal, just three years prior to the birth of His Divine Grace Srila Prabhupada. Basically, they were contemporaries, growing up in a culturally opulent period, when Calcutta was the capital of India, when Bengalis were highly cultured and when genuine vaisnavas and yogis could be found simply for the seeking.
Yogananda was inclined to be a yogi, and he met many amazing personalities. These yogis had perfected yogic meditation and possessed some supra-human qualities along with humility. Similarly, there also were pure vaisnavas, even so-called ordinary men, such as Srila Prabhupada's humble father, Sri Gour Mohan Dey, who had divine qualities. Where today, can such men and women be found?
We live in a time of mass culture. Just by a few keystrokes i can discover libraries worth of information and knowledge about a vast range of mundane and spiritual subjects. But where are the personalities who have imbibed this knowledge? Where are the saints and yogis who have assimilated the teachings of their gurus and can animate yoga and bhakti with joy and illumination? Who is there to pour cooling water over our dry minds and soothe our scorched hearts?
In this mood, i enjoyed reading Yogananda's journey from his childhood to becoming a swami and yogi, while at the same time, i lamented how such a journey at least on the outward plane, is no longer possible in our world today. With all our technology, we have lost the wealth of masters and highly evolved devotees. We have also lost the sensitivity for seeking such personalities. We live in a much poorer world because of it.
But thanks to the mercy of Srila Prabhupada, at least, we do have a clear map of how to get from Point A (material consciousnss) to Point B (Krishna Consciousness). That map is accessible to anyone and everyone who wishes to follow his guidance with their own intelligence. (And not blindly follow anyone who claims to represent him.) Some of us also have precious memories of Srila Prabhupada who bestowed love on us with every word and glance and thought. We can only pray that our prayers and chanting bring us closer to his lotus feet. That is possible by his mercy. We also can have hope -- not to change external circumstances in any group or organization-- but to one day find a time and space where, with intimacy and an open heart, and without any hidden motive, we will associate with a pure devotee of Krishna.
No more will we feel in want, in need or envious of anyone or anything in this world when that day finally comes. Our most cherished desires will be fulfilled. Even the perfections and charms of the mystic yogis will have no attraction for us. We will see the Supersoul in everyone. With God realization, our inner poverty, ambition and grief will be conquered. With love, a yogi can give up his meditation, a king can renounce the world and even a dog can be better than a brahmin. That's the perfection of yoga.
What impresses me is not the philosophy of Kriya Yoga. His line, to the best of my understanding, is an eclectic mix of Pantanjali, Kundalini, Shankaracarya's monism and bhakti! Yogananda never gives a clear and concise definition of his philosophy, and i think in his line, practice and realization of mystic yoga siddhis takes precedence over both oneness and service. But in terms of philosophy, the undercurrent of monism that moves thru their line, puts salt in the sweet rice, at least for any aspiring bhakta.
He also spends some time in his book trying his best to reconcile Christian thought from the Bible and modern scientific theories with yoga. For someone preaching yoga and vegetarianism to Americans in the 1920s, 30s and 40s, Yogananda was remarkably ahead of his time. You might even say he personally introduced yoga and 'new age' thinking to the West.
But what really impresses me in his book (and almost makes me jealous), is the wonderful, intimate and loving personal exchanges he was able to have with yoga masters during his early training years in India. Yogananda was born in 1893 in Bengal, just three years prior to the birth of His Divine Grace Srila Prabhupada. Basically, they were contemporaries, growing up in a culturally opulent period, when Calcutta was the capital of India, when Bengalis were highly cultured and when genuine vaisnavas and yogis could be found simply for the seeking.
Yogananda was inclined to be a yogi, and he met many amazing personalities. These yogis had perfected yogic meditation and possessed some supra-human qualities along with humility. Similarly, there also were pure vaisnavas, even so-called ordinary men, such as Srila Prabhupada's humble father, Sri Gour Mohan Dey, who had divine qualities. Where today, can such men and women be found?
We live in a time of mass culture. Just by a few keystrokes i can discover libraries worth of information and knowledge about a vast range of mundane and spiritual subjects. But where are the personalities who have imbibed this knowledge? Where are the saints and yogis who have assimilated the teachings of their gurus and can animate yoga and bhakti with joy and illumination? Who is there to pour cooling water over our dry minds and soothe our scorched hearts?
In this mood, i enjoyed reading Yogananda's journey from his childhood to becoming a swami and yogi, while at the same time, i lamented how such a journey at least on the outward plane, is no longer possible in our world today. With all our technology, we have lost the wealth of masters and highly evolved devotees. We have also lost the sensitivity for seeking such personalities. We live in a much poorer world because of it.
But thanks to the mercy of Srila Prabhupada, at least, we do have a clear map of how to get from Point A (material consciousnss) to Point B (Krishna Consciousness). That map is accessible to anyone and everyone who wishes to follow his guidance with their own intelligence. (And not blindly follow anyone who claims to represent him.) Some of us also have precious memories of Srila Prabhupada who bestowed love on us with every word and glance and thought. We can only pray that our prayers and chanting bring us closer to his lotus feet. That is possible by his mercy. We also can have hope -- not to change external circumstances in any group or organization-- but to one day find a time and space where, with intimacy and an open heart, and without any hidden motive, we will associate with a pure devotee of Krishna.
No more will we feel in want, in need or envious of anyone or anything in this world when that day finally comes. Our most cherished desires will be fulfilled. Even the perfections and charms of the mystic yogis will have no attraction for us. We will see the Supersoul in everyone. With God realization, our inner poverty, ambition and grief will be conquered. With love, a yogi can give up his meditation, a king can renounce the world and even a dog can be better than a brahmin. That's the perfection of yoga.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
It's a Mad, Mad, Madoff World
The latest in a series of earthquakes in the financial world is the news that one of Wall Street's most successful private investment firms was nothing more than a $50 billion Ponzi scheme. A Ponzi scheme is a fraud: someone claims to offer you an excellent return on your money and actually pockets the money, paying off previous clients with your cash. It was named after Charles Ponzi, an Italian immigrant who set up a scheme in Boston almost a century ago that made millions. (Mr. Ponzi landed up in both Federal and State prisons.)
Now there are three extra zeros added to the 21st century sequel: billions of dollars were invested with Bernard Madoff, a Jewish New York investor whom everyone thought was brilliant and a pillar of his community. There seems to be nothing left of the money. "We think it went to money heaven," an investigator said.
"It's all basically a lie," Mr. Madoff confessed to his sons just before being arrested.
Mr. Madoff is allegedly a first-class fraud, but how is his hoax much different from the so-called honest brokers and bankers of Wall Street who have lost trillions of investor money? I'm no economist or lawyer, but when trillions of dollars are gambled and lost by clever people, is there no penalty? The problem is, the entire global economy has been built on greed and cheating. So where do you draw the line?
And it's not just about money. The imbalance of wealth achieved by those who manage (and lose) other people's money corrupts the society as a whole. Greed becomes an ideal rather than the powerful human fault that it really is.
Communism failed, in part, because it did not engage people's greed. The totalitarian state works by fear, not greed. But fear does not make people work hard. Greed does. Unfortunately, greed creates its own imbalances, which ultimately corrupt the whole system in a different way. Its like pigging out. Eventually a person pays the price for stuffing himself by becoming ill. Society also pays for pigging out.
In my own life experience, i have witnessed the effects of greed. It's unhealthy, malignant and damaging. Multiply that by millions and you get a society that is totally out of balance and discordant with nature.
On Wall Street, earning a million dollars is nothing special, and many money managers make incomes of $20 million or more. While the incomes of doctors, lawyers and Wall St. executives have inflated, ordinary workers wages are flat. And while doctors try to "do no harm," (although they often do no good and sometimes unintentionally do a lot of harm), the same can't be said for high-powered Wall St. bankers. They cleverly exploit a bubble, create an illusion of high profits, and when the bubble bursts, ordinary people lose their pensions and life savings, while the bankers keep their million dollar salaries and bonuses.
Most of all, the vast riches and quick money being made by a few promotes an unsustainable and corrupt myth: that you can get something for nothing. We idolize men who can make a lot of money, regardless of how they do it, or whether they are actually contributing anything useful or not to society. That's what Srimad Bhagavatam tells us is standard in Kali Yuga. If you can show money, you are a gentleman to be respected. If you can't, you're an unfit beggar, perhaps a criminal. But who are the real criminals? You never know in a mad, mad, madoff world.
Now there are three extra zeros added to the 21st century sequel: billions of dollars were invested with Bernard Madoff, a Jewish New York investor whom everyone thought was brilliant and a pillar of his community. There seems to be nothing left of the money. "We think it went to money heaven," an investigator said.
"It's all basically a lie," Mr. Madoff confessed to his sons just before being arrested.
Mr. Madoff is allegedly a first-class fraud, but how is his hoax much different from the so-called honest brokers and bankers of Wall Street who have lost trillions of investor money? I'm no economist or lawyer, but when trillions of dollars are gambled and lost by clever people, is there no penalty? The problem is, the entire global economy has been built on greed and cheating. So where do you draw the line?
And it's not just about money. The imbalance of wealth achieved by those who manage (and lose) other people's money corrupts the society as a whole. Greed becomes an ideal rather than the powerful human fault that it really is.
Communism failed, in part, because it did not engage people's greed. The totalitarian state works by fear, not greed. But fear does not make people work hard. Greed does. Unfortunately, greed creates its own imbalances, which ultimately corrupt the whole system in a different way. Its like pigging out. Eventually a person pays the price for stuffing himself by becoming ill. Society also pays for pigging out.
In my own life experience, i have witnessed the effects of greed. It's unhealthy, malignant and damaging. Multiply that by millions and you get a society that is totally out of balance and discordant with nature.
On Wall Street, earning a million dollars is nothing special, and many money managers make incomes of $20 million or more. While the incomes of doctors, lawyers and Wall St. executives have inflated, ordinary workers wages are flat. And while doctors try to "do no harm," (although they often do no good and sometimes unintentionally do a lot of harm), the same can't be said for high-powered Wall St. bankers. They cleverly exploit a bubble, create an illusion of high profits, and when the bubble bursts, ordinary people lose their pensions and life savings, while the bankers keep their million dollar salaries and bonuses.
Most of all, the vast riches and quick money being made by a few promotes an unsustainable and corrupt myth: that you can get something for nothing. We idolize men who can make a lot of money, regardless of how they do it, or whether they are actually contributing anything useful or not to society. That's what Srimad Bhagavatam tells us is standard in Kali Yuga. If you can show money, you are a gentleman to be respected. If you can't, you're an unfit beggar, perhaps a criminal. But who are the real criminals? You never know in a mad, mad, madoff world.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Freedom Lovers
Life is a struggle, no matter what condition we are in. Poor persons struggle to survive and rich persons struggle with subtle desires. Ignorant persons struggle with inferiority and intelligent persons struggle with arrogance. Everyone struggles with the mind and the senses. We are dominated by our own mind, while we think we are free.
Youths who protest for more freedom will never understand that real freedom can only be found within the heart, in the connection between our soul and Supersoul. Freedom is not political. Or economic. Or social. Freedom is not so cheap it can be found in a mob or on the internet.
The middle aged who work so hard to pay their bills and achieve their goals have no time for ideals like freedom. They have been put to sleep by the drug of progress and the drudgery of working to satisfy insatiable desires. To them freedom is sleeping.
For the aged and elderly who have become redundant and are pushed aside, they passively nurse their memories of good times and bad. They are told to distract themselves, accept their disappointments and remain quiet. Freedom for them is the very death they fear. At least death will give them another chance. But no one is dying voluntarily. We are all forced by nature to die.
So, where is freedom? Freedom is part of the very fabric of the soul. God gave us our freedom as an intrinsic quality of our self. It is freedom that gives us the opportunity to desire and pursue anything we want. Freedom allows us to exercise our will. Free will. In this world we use our free will to enjoy and control money, women, men, workers, citizens, autos, drugs, food, gold, fame. We use art and science to exercise our will and to lord over this endlessly mutable creation.
But finally, after many, many lifetimes, we realize the futility of our misuse of freedom. That is when we become receptive and receive the mercy of a saint or devotee. By his or her grace, we turn our attention to the Lord again. At that time, just before our soul fully awakens from its almost timeless sleep, the purpose of our freedom becomes realized. With hesitation at first, then later with single-minded will, we shall exercise our freedom to become students, servants, friends and lovers of our Beloved Prabhu.
Freedom comes to us in its perfected form as all-consuming love. It is a divine irony that full freedom, complete wisdom and voluntary slavery are interchangeable qualities when we become perfected in love. Freedom equals divine slavery equals love of God. Full freedom is found only when we fall in love with God. Freedom lovers.
Youths who protest for more freedom will never understand that real freedom can only be found within the heart, in the connection between our soul and Supersoul. Freedom is not political. Or economic. Or social. Freedom is not so cheap it can be found in a mob or on the internet.
The middle aged who work so hard to pay their bills and achieve their goals have no time for ideals like freedom. They have been put to sleep by the drug of progress and the drudgery of working to satisfy insatiable desires. To them freedom is sleeping.
For the aged and elderly who have become redundant and are pushed aside, they passively nurse their memories of good times and bad. They are told to distract themselves, accept their disappointments and remain quiet. Freedom for them is the very death they fear. At least death will give them another chance. But no one is dying voluntarily. We are all forced by nature to die.
So, where is freedom? Freedom is part of the very fabric of the soul. God gave us our freedom as an intrinsic quality of our self. It is freedom that gives us the opportunity to desire and pursue anything we want. Freedom allows us to exercise our will. Free will. In this world we use our free will to enjoy and control money, women, men, workers, citizens, autos, drugs, food, gold, fame. We use art and science to exercise our will and to lord over this endlessly mutable creation.
But finally, after many, many lifetimes, we realize the futility of our misuse of freedom. That is when we become receptive and receive the mercy of a saint or devotee. By his or her grace, we turn our attention to the Lord again. At that time, just before our soul fully awakens from its almost timeless sleep, the purpose of our freedom becomes realized. With hesitation at first, then later with single-minded will, we shall exercise our freedom to become students, servants, friends and lovers of our Beloved Prabhu.
Freedom comes to us in its perfected form as all-consuming love. It is a divine irony that full freedom, complete wisdom and voluntary slavery are interchangeable qualities when we become perfected in love. Freedom equals divine slavery equals love of God. Full freedom is found only when we fall in love with God. Freedom lovers.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Only Medicine that Works
Now that the terrorist attacks in Mumbai are gradually receding in the collective human consciousness, the puzzle remains how young boys, barely men, could be brainwashed into becoming mass murderers. The forces of fundamentalism -- using religious prejudice and misusing the words of God's prophets and messengers-- are today's fascism.
By appealing to popular desires, envy and prejudice, fundamentalist leaders of all persuasions -- Muslims, Christians, even Hindus -- mislead their followers, and create havoc for others who are complete strangers, innocent civilians caught in the crosshairs of Kali yuga.
It is a symptom of Kali that compassion is conspicuous by its absence. Pity the poor cows and bulls and other farm animals who have zero rights and who are tortured and murdered without any protest. And grieve for the innocent victims of terror attacks who are standing or sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of us can say that we are free from the curse of Kali.
Harer nama, harer nama, harer nama eva kevalam..... only the holy names can nullify the miseries of the modern age. Only the chanting of divine names of God can pacify the heart. It's the only medicine that works.
That sounds simplistic and naive but it is based on the experiential evidence of genuine sadhus, fakirs and saints, and the transcendental words of wisdom found in all scriptures. God does not belong to anyone. Everyone belongs to God. And He is absolutely free from prejudice and therefore can be seen only by someone who is similarly pure in heart.
We are not sincere enough to appreciate the medicine we are offered. Instead we like to drink poison in the form of distractions, diplomacy and debate. Nevertheless, let us pray to become sincere. So that we can take the medicine and experience the cure. And taste the real sweetness and lightness that can be found beneath the heavy suffering of an iron age.
By appealing to popular desires, envy and prejudice, fundamentalist leaders of all persuasions -- Muslims, Christians, even Hindus -- mislead their followers, and create havoc for others who are complete strangers, innocent civilians caught in the crosshairs of Kali yuga.
It is a symptom of Kali that compassion is conspicuous by its absence. Pity the poor cows and bulls and other farm animals who have zero rights and who are tortured and murdered without any protest. And grieve for the innocent victims of terror attacks who are standing or sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time. None of us can say that we are free from the curse of Kali.
Harer nama, harer nama, harer nama eva kevalam..... only the holy names can nullify the miseries of the modern age. Only the chanting of divine names of God can pacify the heart. It's the only medicine that works.
That sounds simplistic and naive but it is based on the experiential evidence of genuine sadhus, fakirs and saints, and the transcendental words of wisdom found in all scriptures. God does not belong to anyone. Everyone belongs to God. And He is absolutely free from prejudice and therefore can be seen only by someone who is similarly pure in heart.
We are not sincere enough to appreciate the medicine we are offered. Instead we like to drink poison in the form of distractions, diplomacy and debate. Nevertheless, let us pray to become sincere. So that we can take the medicine and experience the cure. And taste the real sweetness and lightness that can be found beneath the heavy suffering of an iron age.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Punya Bhumi
Big chaos, Small heroes
The terror attack on Mumbai ended at least 173 lives and created havoc and fear throughout the city, and via cable news, the world. But it also brought out acts of spontaneous heroism from unassuming persons. Like Vishnu Datta Ram Zende, the platform announcer at Victoria Terminus Railway Station. His job is to use the public-address system at Mumbai's largest railway station to direct rushing hordes of travelers to their trains. His voice is similar to voices that most of us have heard traveling across India on trains.
But last Wednesday just before 10 p.m., Mr. Zende became a lone rescue worker in a horrific situation. He heard a loud explosion and saw people being shot at and running across the platform. He gripped his microphone in his small control booth and calmly directed a panicked crowd toward the safest exit.
"Walk to the back and leave the station through Gate No. 1," he chanted alternately in Hindi and Marathi, barely stopping to take a breath until the platform was cleared. The gunmen, armed with AK-47 automatic weapons and hand grenades, located his announcement booth and fired at him, puncturing one of the windows. But they missed Mr. Zende who was not hurt.
As Mumbai faced a brutal and merciless attack by ten highly trained Pakistani militants shooting at random on everyone they came across, ordinary citizens like Mr. Zende displayed extraordinary grace and fearlessness. Many times, they did so at considerable personal risk, performing acts of heroism that went far beyond their job descriptions. Without their quick thinking and courage, the toll of the attacks would have been greater than the 173 confirmed deaths from the attacks.
At Victoria Terminus, the gunmen acted with a cool precision. They first struck the long-distance section of the station, spraying the large waiting hall with gunfire. Those waiting were about to board the slow, crowded, cheapest train to Varanasi, scheduled to depart at 11:55 pm, and most of the fatalities at the station happened here. Satya Sheel Mishra, who runs a second-floor restaurant called Re-Fresh Food Plaza, saw the two gunmen take their positions and fire. Seven bullets pierced his glass windows. Crouching on the ground, he saw the men shoot indiscriminately and then march toward the other side of the station, where Mr. Zende was making his announcements.
Zende saw the gunmen walk in front of his window which was one floor up from the train platforms. He crouched on the ground and heard them shoot. One bullet shattered the window. Above his microphone, a murti of Ganesh, the remover of obstacles, sat in a blue box with twinkling red lights around him. Saved because the gunmen did not climb the stairs to his announcement booth, Zende called his wife when the shooting stopped. "I am in the office. I'm safe. Don't worry."
He is one of many heroes who displayed noble qualities in the midst of bullets, death and panic. Many of us westerners who regularly visit India or who have lived there have come to appreciate the finer qualities of ordinary Indians. Despite so many ugly and distorted influences, Punya Bhumi, the land of spiritual culture, remains alive somehow. No matter how much under attack it becomes, whether from within its own borders-- by corrupt politicians or misguided religionists-- or from outside forces who envy and hate the Indians because they do not embrace their fundamentalism, the character of India's people still shines thru, as it did in some of the darkest hours last week in Mumbai.
The terror attack on Mumbai ended at least 173 lives and created havoc and fear throughout the city, and via cable news, the world. But it also brought out acts of spontaneous heroism from unassuming persons. Like Vishnu Datta Ram Zende, the platform announcer at Victoria Terminus Railway Station. His job is to use the public-address system at Mumbai's largest railway station to direct rushing hordes of travelers to their trains. His voice is similar to voices that most of us have heard traveling across India on trains.
But last Wednesday just before 10 p.m., Mr. Zende became a lone rescue worker in a horrific situation. He heard a loud explosion and saw people being shot at and running across the platform. He gripped his microphone in his small control booth and calmly directed a panicked crowd toward the safest exit.
"Walk to the back and leave the station through Gate No. 1," he chanted alternately in Hindi and Marathi, barely stopping to take a breath until the platform was cleared. The gunmen, armed with AK-47 automatic weapons and hand grenades, located his announcement booth and fired at him, puncturing one of the windows. But they missed Mr. Zende who was not hurt.
As Mumbai faced a brutal and merciless attack by ten highly trained Pakistani militants shooting at random on everyone they came across, ordinary citizens like Mr. Zende displayed extraordinary grace and fearlessness. Many times, they did so at considerable personal risk, performing acts of heroism that went far beyond their job descriptions. Without their quick thinking and courage, the toll of the attacks would have been greater than the 173 confirmed deaths from the attacks.
At Victoria Terminus, the gunmen acted with a cool precision. They first struck the long-distance section of the station, spraying the large waiting hall with gunfire. Those waiting were about to board the slow, crowded, cheapest train to Varanasi, scheduled to depart at 11:55 pm, and most of the fatalities at the station happened here. Satya Sheel Mishra, who runs a second-floor restaurant called Re-Fresh Food Plaza, saw the two gunmen take their positions and fire. Seven bullets pierced his glass windows. Crouching on the ground, he saw the men shoot indiscriminately and then march toward the other side of the station, where Mr. Zende was making his announcements.
Zende saw the gunmen walk in front of his window which was one floor up from the train platforms. He crouched on the ground and heard them shoot. One bullet shattered the window. Above his microphone, a murti of Ganesh, the remover of obstacles, sat in a blue box with twinkling red lights around him. Saved because the gunmen did not climb the stairs to his announcement booth, Zende called his wife when the shooting stopped. "I am in the office. I'm safe. Don't worry."
He is one of many heroes who displayed noble qualities in the midst of bullets, death and panic. Many of us westerners who regularly visit India or who have lived there have come to appreciate the finer qualities of ordinary Indians. Despite so many ugly and distorted influences, Punya Bhumi, the land of spiritual culture, remains alive somehow. No matter how much under attack it becomes, whether from within its own borders-- by corrupt politicians or misguided religionists-- or from outside forces who envy and hate the Indians because they do not embrace their fundamentalism, the character of India's people still shines thru, as it did in some of the darkest hours last week in Mumbai.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Massacre in Mumbai
As i write, the standoff between terrorists and Indian army commandos in Mumbai continues. Till now, more than 150 people have been killed, around 300 injured by the attacks. Yes, the remaining attackers will be killed, the body count of dead persons will go higher, the eyewitness accounts on 24/7 cable news stations will be told and retold, and the speculation about who may be responsible and how they did it will go on.
But behind the sheer horror of such barbaric and seemingly random acts of murder and chaos, what is the lesson to be learned? You will not get any underlying truths from the politicians' sound bites, the expressions of condemnation or the expert talking heads on cable tv. To get a clearer picture, we need to look at events thru the eyes of sastra.
The verse that first comes to mind is the famous padam padam ya vipadam natesam. Instead of Louis Armstrong's song, "What a Wonderful World," the reality is: What a Dangerous World this is. Anything can happen and in this world, it's often that it does. Shit happens here. You go to have dinner at a 5 star restaurant (as some were doing at the Taj and Oberoi Hotels in Mumbai yesterday evening), and without warning hand grenades are tossed, explosions go off and automatic rifles are firing rounds of deadly bullets in your direction. Who is shooting, who is dying, who is being injured, who is escaping unharmed?? In the chaos, all seems to be random, and all reason appears to be absent (although we know from sastra that everything follows nature's laws which includes the law of destiny or karma, and nature is under the control of Krishna). To the ignorant, which is basically everyone in the material world, life seems predictable, but this predictability is quite temporary and no one can predict how and when this life will end.
Another thought related to this tragic event is how this needless killing is a result of prejudice and brainwashing. My first reaction when i started seeing the unfolding drama on the internet and tv was to condemn the killers. But then i saw a photograph of one of the alleged terrorists who had attacked the VT train station in Mumbai. Most of the people he killed were innocent children, women and vendors who sell chai and snacks at the station. But this killer looked to be only around 20 years old, dressed in a t shirt and jeans, like he could have been a college student. What inspired such misplaced blind faith in him that he chose this path? For sure, it was the work of malicious hate-mongers who misuse the teachings of God to incite hopeless young men to think of themselves as martyrs and actually become murderers.
Fundamentalists of all religions are the best and worst at the offense of interpreting God's desires and His words to incite hatred, bigotry and violence to achieve not God's wishes, but their own perverted goals. How can anyone who claims to follow God not accept that everyone who has life, has God within him? How can they claim to be superior to others? How can they justify murdering other jivas, either in human form or animal form? How can one claim to act for the Father while making plans to destroy their Father's other children?
So brainwashed boys who still look like children, are inspired to kill innocents by their fundamentalist gurus. The secular societies are also ignorant about how to follow a divine system, a society based on equality and spiritual values. So they create sytems that breed injustice, greed and imbalances. These injustices are the nourishment of the envious fundamentalists. Ignorance on both sides. A world where everyone talks about freedom or truth or God, but no one listens to Him when he speaks or to his pure devotees when they appear. Everyone talks; no one listens.
The noise, both inside everyone's mind and outside in the geopolitical world, keeps getting louder and louder. It's the sound of danger. The only real protection in any dangerous situation, is the presence of God. In such dire times as these, we should remind one another of the promise of Mahaprabhu, that God is not different from his names. In fact, He is more accessible in his names than any other form. Unfortunately, i have no attraction for hearing his names. This is the real tragedy of the precarious times we live in.
But behind the sheer horror of such barbaric and seemingly random acts of murder and chaos, what is the lesson to be learned? You will not get any underlying truths from the politicians' sound bites, the expressions of condemnation or the expert talking heads on cable tv. To get a clearer picture, we need to look at events thru the eyes of sastra.
The verse that first comes to mind is the famous padam padam ya vipadam natesam. Instead of Louis Armstrong's song, "What a Wonderful World," the reality is: What a Dangerous World this is. Anything can happen and in this world, it's often that it does. Shit happens here. You go to have dinner at a 5 star restaurant (as some were doing at the Taj and Oberoi Hotels in Mumbai yesterday evening), and without warning hand grenades are tossed, explosions go off and automatic rifles are firing rounds of deadly bullets in your direction. Who is shooting, who is dying, who is being injured, who is escaping unharmed?? In the chaos, all seems to be random, and all reason appears to be absent (although we know from sastra that everything follows nature's laws which includes the law of destiny or karma, and nature is under the control of Krishna). To the ignorant, which is basically everyone in the material world, life seems predictable, but this predictability is quite temporary and no one can predict how and when this life will end.
Another thought related to this tragic event is how this needless killing is a result of prejudice and brainwashing. My first reaction when i started seeing the unfolding drama on the internet and tv was to condemn the killers. But then i saw a photograph of one of the alleged terrorists who had attacked the VT train station in Mumbai. Most of the people he killed were innocent children, women and vendors who sell chai and snacks at the station. But this killer looked to be only around 20 years old, dressed in a t shirt and jeans, like he could have been a college student. What inspired such misplaced blind faith in him that he chose this path? For sure, it was the work of malicious hate-mongers who misuse the teachings of God to incite hopeless young men to think of themselves as martyrs and actually become murderers.
Fundamentalists of all religions are the best and worst at the offense of interpreting God's desires and His words to incite hatred, bigotry and violence to achieve not God's wishes, but their own perverted goals. How can anyone who claims to follow God not accept that everyone who has life, has God within him? How can they claim to be superior to others? How can they justify murdering other jivas, either in human form or animal form? How can one claim to act for the Father while making plans to destroy their Father's other children?
So brainwashed boys who still look like children, are inspired to kill innocents by their fundamentalist gurus. The secular societies are also ignorant about how to follow a divine system, a society based on equality and spiritual values. So they create sytems that breed injustice, greed and imbalances. These injustices are the nourishment of the envious fundamentalists. Ignorance on both sides. A world where everyone talks about freedom or truth or God, but no one listens to Him when he speaks or to his pure devotees when they appear. Everyone talks; no one listens.
The noise, both inside everyone's mind and outside in the geopolitical world, keeps getting louder and louder. It's the sound of danger. The only real protection in any dangerous situation, is the presence of God. In such dire times as these, we should remind one another of the promise of Mahaprabhu, that God is not different from his names. In fact, He is more accessible in his names than any other form. Unfortunately, i have no attraction for hearing his names. This is the real tragedy of the precarious times we live in.
Friday, November 21, 2008
Photos from the Dham
Here are a few photo albums from my recent visit to Vrindavan.
Click on the slideshow, the title of this post, or type in the link: http://picasaweb.google.com/jauvana
Click on the slideshow, the title of this post, or type in the link: http://picasaweb.google.com/jauvana
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Hairsplitting
"Couper les cheveux en quatre"
I just received an email from a nice godbrother from France who read my India Journal here. He especially liked the descriptions about being generous with the ricksaw wallas, and he elaborated on that point with some examples from Srila Bhaktisiddhanta and Srila Prabhupada. How, for example, in Haridwara, there was a long line of beggars sitting in front of their bowls and Prabhupada had his disciples go and put a few paisas in each one of them.
This godbrother explained the reason he didn't leave his comment directly on my blog was because of the tendency for others--especially on the internet-- to immediately tear apart another's opinions. He cited a French expression: Couper les cheveux en quatre-- splitting hairs in four parts lengthwise-- to describe this phenomenon. It seems that today's devotees, instead of focusing on unity in diversity, which is the basis of spiritual life and of Lord Caitanya's acintya bedabeda tattva, focus on debating and trying to defeat, ad nauseam, those who do not think, look, speak or act like they do.
This hairsplitting is one of the pastimes of the material world. It represents the backside of God-- along with other forms of false lordship/ false friendship/ worship-me ship. That does not mean i am against being critical when there is due reason. Anyone who reads this blog knows that i don't hold any punches if i see injustice or incompetence on the part of so-called leaders. Tyranny and oppression need to be weeded out, whether they are found in governments or in religious societies.
But being critical for its own sake, to exhibit one's superiority, while avoiding a tolerant mood of reconciliation that could bring jivas together in one house-- in this case the biggest tent in the universe, devotees who want to liberate the world-- is madness.
Hairsplitting is a holier-than-thou pastime. It splits us away from Kesava, the controller of Brahma and Siva, the possessor of the most beautiful, fine Hair. And it turns us into caricatures of sadhus, not worthy of the name.
I just received an email from a nice godbrother from France who read my India Journal here. He especially liked the descriptions about being generous with the ricksaw wallas, and he elaborated on that point with some examples from Srila Bhaktisiddhanta and Srila Prabhupada. How, for example, in Haridwara, there was a long line of beggars sitting in front of their bowls and Prabhupada had his disciples go and put a few paisas in each one of them.
This godbrother explained the reason he didn't leave his comment directly on my blog was because of the tendency for others--especially on the internet-- to immediately tear apart another's opinions. He cited a French expression: Couper les cheveux en quatre-- splitting hairs in four parts lengthwise-- to describe this phenomenon. It seems that today's devotees, instead of focusing on unity in diversity, which is the basis of spiritual life and of Lord Caitanya's acintya bedabeda tattva, focus on debating and trying to defeat, ad nauseam, those who do not think, look, speak or act like they do.
This hairsplitting is one of the pastimes of the material world. It represents the backside of God-- along with other forms of false lordship/ false friendship/ worship-me ship. That does not mean i am against being critical when there is due reason. Anyone who reads this blog knows that i don't hold any punches if i see injustice or incompetence on the part of so-called leaders. Tyranny and oppression need to be weeded out, whether they are found in governments or in religious societies.
But being critical for its own sake, to exhibit one's superiority, while avoiding a tolerant mood of reconciliation that could bring jivas together in one house-- in this case the biggest tent in the universe, devotees who want to liberate the world-- is madness.
Hairsplitting is a holier-than-thou pastime. It splits us away from Kesava, the controller of Brahma and Siva, the possessor of the most beautiful, fine Hair. And it turns us into caricatures of sadhus, not worthy of the name.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
India Journal, Conclusion
When i wake up i open the door to my room and walk out on the veranda, offering my pranams to the towers and cakras of the Imli Tala mandir within sight next door. The open courtyard of Yamuna Kunj has a net placed over the top of it, to protect it from becoming a monkey sanctuary. Monkeys run across it and they sometimes fight on it, using it as a bridge. Below in the garden is a tiny marble kund that is filled with water, some grass, a picnic table and on the brick wall, a painting of Yamuna devi. I have spent several months in this room on previous trips. This morning i realize i will be leaving Yamuna kunj and Vrindavan in a few hours.
I chant my rounds on the veranda, pacing back and forth. The early morning light and quiet with the sight of the cakras on top of Imli Tala make this a wonderful place to chant. Japa in this setting is effortless and immediately rewarding. Chanting on beads in Vrindavan is one of the opulences of Vrindavan. I read that some western devotees once approached Krishna das babaji, the great kirtaniya godbrother of Srila Prabhupada, to record his singing. They brought instruments and a tape recorder. It was ekadasi in Vrindavan. When requested, he declined to sing. He said, "tonight we shall chant without any distractions." And he began chanting japa. Vrindavan is perfect for such modest kirtan. There is no need of distractions, not even melody and rhythm.
Later in the morning i attend a Tirobhav (Disappearance day) festival for Srila Prabhupada at Vrinda Kunj. This is the day Prabhupada left us 31 years earlier and departed for Goloka Vrindavan. I was invited to speak at Iskcon but i am too negative towards the institution to speak there. They want to celebrate in their own sentimental way the fantasy that Iskcon still represents Prabhupada's legacy. They will never admit that they distorted his vision and drove away most of his disciples. I don't have the power or the purity to persuade them otherwise. Better to share my thoughts with a small group of devotees who are not victims or perpetrators of lies and envy.
There are four or five godbrothers who speak about Prabhupada at Vrinda Kunj, along with a few local Gaudiya math personalities. I am touched by the sincerity of the godbrothers. All of them had been in Iskcon, some more than 30 years. Now they are independent-- householder, vanaprastha, sannyasi. All keep Srila Prabhupada in the core of their hearts. Their allegiance and faithfulness is to him, not to a society. They are not blinded by politics. When their eyes finally open to transcendental reality, they will see Srila Prabhupada as he is.
They are not like those devotees who pretend to know Prabhupada while they focus on their narrow self interest. Such devotees are like those who pretend to be asleep. Try as you will, no one can awaken them. Shake them, shout, jump up and down, they continue their pretense of sleeping. But the honest disciples, even if they experience difficulty controlling their senses or depression due to lack of association, they will wake up when Prabhupada calls them. They are like the gopis who lost Krishna's darsan for some time, but will find him again by the intensity of their searching.
After the speaking program and puspanjali (offering of flowers to Prabhupada) we enjoy a satisfying (and not too spicy) feast. I stay after prasadam to sit with the godbrothers until things wind down. Then i go back to my room for one last tidying up. The books and clothing that i am keeping here i lock up in my almira, a large steel cupboard. An almira is very useful in India. Not only does it keep your things locked, but also keeps dust out of your things. I have already given extra keys to the room to the manager of Yamuna Kunj and the TP of Vrinda Kunj. Their guests can use this room when needed. I don't know when i'll return.
I find a ricksaw on the parikram marg and go up to Raman Reti. I still need to get a haircut. It's one of the simple pleasures of life in Vrindavan. The barbers are not fashion stylists; they are Brijbasis who make a meager living cutting hair and giving shaves with open razors. I find a barber and ask him for a trim. I explain it carefully otherwise he will think i want to shave up. The haircut takes all of 10 minutes. I offer him 40 rupees, at least twice the local rate, and he nods his head to signal his acceptance.
After taking a shower, i go for darsan at Iskcon. The deities look stunning with a rainbow assortment of flowers behind them. Deity worship is one area where Iskcon never compromised. They have taken this instruction of Prabhupada's seriously. I think it goes along with a kanista (neophyte) understanding that God is in the temple. Outside, between brothers and sisters, anything goes-- envy, greed, money, power, control, prestige, backstabbing. But inside the temple, everyone agrees, God is here. And gorgeously dressed today are the Vrindavan deities, an opulent feast for the eyes. During my darsan i bump into a godbrother who is friendly to me, Bhurijan. I also like him. He's a scholar and keeps his own counsel. He reminds me about the ceremony in Srila Prabhupada's quarters that takes place later this evening, and asks me if i'm going. I tell him i'm not going, but it reminds me that i have not yet been to Prabhupada's rooms this visit. I wish Bhurijan well and offer my obeisances to Krishna Balaram and Radha Syamasundar, walking to Prabhupada's quarters behind the temple.
My first visit to Vrindavan was in 1974, when the temple was under construction. There where some shacks here for a handful of devotees, an open pit where the temple foundation was being laid, and one room had been built-- the first room of what later became Srila Prabhupada's quarters. I was lucky enough to spend a few freezing days in February of that year when Prabhupada was visiting. He was here to oversee the construction which was not going well. His foreign disciples were unable to order the building materials and organize the work. Prabhupada needed to personally come here to tell them how to do things. In those days India was a quasi-socialist country. All requests for supplies of materials like bricks, concrete, etc. needed to go thru government agencies. Somehow Prabhupada knew what to do and whom to see, and he was the only one who knew. So he was acting as a mistry (contractor) to build his own temple. It was an especially cold winter month in Vrindavan when temperatures dropped below freezing and there was no heat available. I was also freezing there, sleeping on a stone cold floor in Fogel Ashram, the closest ashram that had rooms at the time. But Prabhupada's presence was more than enough warmth to keep me in Vrindavan for those days.
Srila Prabhupada was continuously teaching us that as spirit souls we have a loving relationship with Krishna. He was also always engaged in creating facilities for us to serve Krishna with devotion. He lived for these principles and that's what i remember about my times with him. The morning walks, the darsans and the talks in his room, everything centered on the philosophy of devotional service and nice dealings amongst devotees. Now as i enter Prabhupada's room, i try to go back to that time. It's difficult, because there are distractions. The room is decorated ceiling to floor with flowers. Prabhupada's bed where he left this world is a duvet of roses. An elaborate kirtan led by Aindra is going on. The room is filling up with visitors and devotees are being screened at the door to determine who can remain and who needs to exit. At the gate outside the room there is a metal detector and security guards.
In my mind, i flashback to the same room 34 years ago when life was a lot more simple in Vrindavan. The temple, a construction site, was way out in what seemed like the countryside. The road in front was made of sand and there was only one shop across the road. Inside his room, Prabhupada was sitting cross legged behind a low table, and 20 or so disciples were around him, listening to him speak. Even on the Abirbhav (Appearance Day) of his spiritual master-- which happened to be the centennial celebration of his birth (Srila Bhaktisiddhanta appeared at Puri in 1874), Srila Prabhupada did not make a big show. He simply asked Jamuna to cook a feast in the kitchen and he called all his disciples, regardless of their positions (even me!), into his room, and asked us to sit with him as he spoke about our relationship with Krishna. His informal class went on for several hours that morning. During that time, Ravi Shankar and George Harrison stopped by to see him, unannounced. Without skipping a beat or asking any of us to leave, Prabhupada handled them expertly, making both of them feel welcome. He had Guru das feed George some samosas in the kitchen, even before the offering had been made. And when Ravi and George departed after their brief visit, Prabhupada continued talking with us as if there had been no interruption.
Now, 34 years later, the pomp and ritual in the room make the Prabhupada i remember difficult to place in this setting. I offer my dandavats in front of his murti, and get up to leave. It's the memory i want to keep, not the ceremony. For Iskcon, the spectacle has become the thing. For Prabhupada, it was his mission to wake us up to our real nature. I don't think he liked the pageantry, especially if it became a replacement for his message. The essence of his life was to speak about Krishna and to give us the vision to make us all mad after Krishna, like he was.
From Prabhupada's room, i walk quickly to my storage room, next to Radhapati's apartment. Radhapati and i meet and we talk as i fine tune my packing. I'm taking five pieces of luggage. I hope they will allow me to carry three on the plane. Otherwise i will need to pay. Whatever happens at the airport, at least i want to be within the weight limit. Using a hand scale that Kurma Rupa lent me the other day, i lift the heavy bags, while Radhapati bends down to read the kilo weight on the small metal scale. The bags weigh around 24 kgs, just a kilo over the limit. We wonder about the accuracy of the hand scale. It's probably meant for weighing straw for Kurma's cows. We laugh about it, but this is Vrindavan, and you use what you have.
Radhapati and i talk until around 8 pm, and then, knowing he takes rest early, i say goodbye to him. I try to relax, although waiting for a taxi to take you on a 3.5 hour ride to the airport with all this luggage is stressful. Downstairs i tell the chokidhar (guard) the taxi will come in an hour or so, just to prepare him. I had called Gopal das, the oldest and most reliable taxi walla in Vrindavan, to book a taxi. He has been meeting me at the airport and dropping me off for more than 10 years. He has Ambassador cars, the white work horse that was practically the only model in India for 45 years, before the motorcar culture exploded here. It's a heavy car with a 50s style and roundness to it. It's still my favorite.
Right on time, at 9:30, Gopal's driver shows up in a white Ambassador. I start bringing the bags downstairs and together we pack up the car. The two large bags just fit into the boot (trunk). The front seat is loaded with my harmonium, one guitar and a backpack. One last check and we take off. I sit alone, behind the driver, as we slowly pull away on a dark, back road leading out of Vrindavan.
I chant my rounds on the veranda, pacing back and forth. The early morning light and quiet with the sight of the cakras on top of Imli Tala make this a wonderful place to chant. Japa in this setting is effortless and immediately rewarding. Chanting on beads in Vrindavan is one of the opulences of Vrindavan. I read that some western devotees once approached Krishna das babaji, the great kirtaniya godbrother of Srila Prabhupada, to record his singing. They brought instruments and a tape recorder. It was ekadasi in Vrindavan. When requested, he declined to sing. He said, "tonight we shall chant without any distractions." And he began chanting japa. Vrindavan is perfect for such modest kirtan. There is no need of distractions, not even melody and rhythm.
Later in the morning i attend a Tirobhav (Disappearance day) festival for Srila Prabhupada at Vrinda Kunj. This is the day Prabhupada left us 31 years earlier and departed for Goloka Vrindavan. I was invited to speak at Iskcon but i am too negative towards the institution to speak there. They want to celebrate in their own sentimental way the fantasy that Iskcon still represents Prabhupada's legacy. They will never admit that they distorted his vision and drove away most of his disciples. I don't have the power or the purity to persuade them otherwise. Better to share my thoughts with a small group of devotees who are not victims or perpetrators of lies and envy.
There are four or five godbrothers who speak about Prabhupada at Vrinda Kunj, along with a few local Gaudiya math personalities. I am touched by the sincerity of the godbrothers. All of them had been in Iskcon, some more than 30 years. Now they are independent-- householder, vanaprastha, sannyasi. All keep Srila Prabhupada in the core of their hearts. Their allegiance and faithfulness is to him, not to a society. They are not blinded by politics. When their eyes finally open to transcendental reality, they will see Srila Prabhupada as he is.
They are not like those devotees who pretend to know Prabhupada while they focus on their narrow self interest. Such devotees are like those who pretend to be asleep. Try as you will, no one can awaken them. Shake them, shout, jump up and down, they continue their pretense of sleeping. But the honest disciples, even if they experience difficulty controlling their senses or depression due to lack of association, they will wake up when Prabhupada calls them. They are like the gopis who lost Krishna's darsan for some time, but will find him again by the intensity of their searching.
After the speaking program and puspanjali (offering of flowers to Prabhupada) we enjoy a satisfying (and not too spicy) feast. I stay after prasadam to sit with the godbrothers until things wind down. Then i go back to my room for one last tidying up. The books and clothing that i am keeping here i lock up in my almira, a large steel cupboard. An almira is very useful in India. Not only does it keep your things locked, but also keeps dust out of your things. I have already given extra keys to the room to the manager of Yamuna Kunj and the TP of Vrinda Kunj. Their guests can use this room when needed. I don't know when i'll return.
I find a ricksaw on the parikram marg and go up to Raman Reti. I still need to get a haircut. It's one of the simple pleasures of life in Vrindavan. The barbers are not fashion stylists; they are Brijbasis who make a meager living cutting hair and giving shaves with open razors. I find a barber and ask him for a trim. I explain it carefully otherwise he will think i want to shave up. The haircut takes all of 10 minutes. I offer him 40 rupees, at least twice the local rate, and he nods his head to signal his acceptance.
After taking a shower, i go for darsan at Iskcon. The deities look stunning with a rainbow assortment of flowers behind them. Deity worship is one area where Iskcon never compromised. They have taken this instruction of Prabhupada's seriously. I think it goes along with a kanista (neophyte) understanding that God is in the temple. Outside, between brothers and sisters, anything goes-- envy, greed, money, power, control, prestige, backstabbing. But inside the temple, everyone agrees, God is here. And gorgeously dressed today are the Vrindavan deities, an opulent feast for the eyes. During my darsan i bump into a godbrother who is friendly to me, Bhurijan. I also like him. He's a scholar and keeps his own counsel. He reminds me about the ceremony in Srila Prabhupada's quarters that takes place later this evening, and asks me if i'm going. I tell him i'm not going, but it reminds me that i have not yet been to Prabhupada's rooms this visit. I wish Bhurijan well and offer my obeisances to Krishna Balaram and Radha Syamasundar, walking to Prabhupada's quarters behind the temple.
My first visit to Vrindavan was in 1974, when the temple was under construction. There where some shacks here for a handful of devotees, an open pit where the temple foundation was being laid, and one room had been built-- the first room of what later became Srila Prabhupada's quarters. I was lucky enough to spend a few freezing days in February of that year when Prabhupada was visiting. He was here to oversee the construction which was not going well. His foreign disciples were unable to order the building materials and organize the work. Prabhupada needed to personally come here to tell them how to do things. In those days India was a quasi-socialist country. All requests for supplies of materials like bricks, concrete, etc. needed to go thru government agencies. Somehow Prabhupada knew what to do and whom to see, and he was the only one who knew. So he was acting as a mistry (contractor) to build his own temple. It was an especially cold winter month in Vrindavan when temperatures dropped below freezing and there was no heat available. I was also freezing there, sleeping on a stone cold floor in Fogel Ashram, the closest ashram that had rooms at the time. But Prabhupada's presence was more than enough warmth to keep me in Vrindavan for those days.
Srila Prabhupada was continuously teaching us that as spirit souls we have a loving relationship with Krishna. He was also always engaged in creating facilities for us to serve Krishna with devotion. He lived for these principles and that's what i remember about my times with him. The morning walks, the darsans and the talks in his room, everything centered on the philosophy of devotional service and nice dealings amongst devotees. Now as i enter Prabhupada's room, i try to go back to that time. It's difficult, because there are distractions. The room is decorated ceiling to floor with flowers. Prabhupada's bed where he left this world is a duvet of roses. An elaborate kirtan led by Aindra is going on. The room is filling up with visitors and devotees are being screened at the door to determine who can remain and who needs to exit. At the gate outside the room there is a metal detector and security guards.
In my mind, i flashback to the same room 34 years ago when life was a lot more simple in Vrindavan. The temple, a construction site, was way out in what seemed like the countryside. The road in front was made of sand and there was only one shop across the road. Inside his room, Prabhupada was sitting cross legged behind a low table, and 20 or so disciples were around him, listening to him speak. Even on the Abirbhav (Appearance Day) of his spiritual master-- which happened to be the centennial celebration of his birth (Srila Bhaktisiddhanta appeared at Puri in 1874), Srila Prabhupada did not make a big show. He simply asked Jamuna to cook a feast in the kitchen and he called all his disciples, regardless of their positions (even me!), into his room, and asked us to sit with him as he spoke about our relationship with Krishna. His informal class went on for several hours that morning. During that time, Ravi Shankar and George Harrison stopped by to see him, unannounced. Without skipping a beat or asking any of us to leave, Prabhupada handled them expertly, making both of them feel welcome. He had Guru das feed George some samosas in the kitchen, even before the offering had been made. And when Ravi and George departed after their brief visit, Prabhupada continued talking with us as if there had been no interruption.
Now, 34 years later, the pomp and ritual in the room make the Prabhupada i remember difficult to place in this setting. I offer my dandavats in front of his murti, and get up to leave. It's the memory i want to keep, not the ceremony. For Iskcon, the spectacle has become the thing. For Prabhupada, it was his mission to wake us up to our real nature. I don't think he liked the pageantry, especially if it became a replacement for his message. The essence of his life was to speak about Krishna and to give us the vision to make us all mad after Krishna, like he was.
From Prabhupada's room, i walk quickly to my storage room, next to Radhapati's apartment. Radhapati and i meet and we talk as i fine tune my packing. I'm taking five pieces of luggage. I hope they will allow me to carry three on the plane. Otherwise i will need to pay. Whatever happens at the airport, at least i want to be within the weight limit. Using a hand scale that Kurma Rupa lent me the other day, i lift the heavy bags, while Radhapati bends down to read the kilo weight on the small metal scale. The bags weigh around 24 kgs, just a kilo over the limit. We wonder about the accuracy of the hand scale. It's probably meant for weighing straw for Kurma's cows. We laugh about it, but this is Vrindavan, and you use what you have.
Radhapati and i talk until around 8 pm, and then, knowing he takes rest early, i say goodbye to him. I try to relax, although waiting for a taxi to take you on a 3.5 hour ride to the airport with all this luggage is stressful. Downstairs i tell the chokidhar (guard) the taxi will come in an hour or so, just to prepare him. I had called Gopal das, the oldest and most reliable taxi walla in Vrindavan, to book a taxi. He has been meeting me at the airport and dropping me off for more than 10 years. He has Ambassador cars, the white work horse that was practically the only model in India for 45 years, before the motorcar culture exploded here. It's a heavy car with a 50s style and roundness to it. It's still my favorite.
Right on time, at 9:30, Gopal's driver shows up in a white Ambassador. I start bringing the bags downstairs and together we pack up the car. The two large bags just fit into the boot (trunk). The front seat is loaded with my harmonium, one guitar and a backpack. One last check and we take off. I sit alone, behind the driver, as we slowly pull away on a dark, back road leading out of Vrindavan.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)