Śrīla Prabhupāda said he was trying to engage fools, rascals – anyone – to spread Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He was unable to find strict followers, but what could be done? If someone fell from sannyāsa, he said, then that person could become a gṛhastha. But no one should go away. Hari-śauri mentioned the Caitanya-caritāmṛta story of Lord Caitanya and Choṭa Haridāsa. From that story, said Hari-śauri, it appeared to be very difficult for a fallen sannyāsī to regain the mercy of Lord Caitanya.

“One who falls from sannyāsa,” Prabhupāda replied, “is called vantāśī, one who vomits and then eats it.”

“So if they become gṛhasthas again, then how can they get Lord Caitanya’s mercy?” asked Hari-śauri.

“If the spiritual master gives that facility and makes that arrangement,” said Prabhupāda, “then Kṛṣṇa will accept the arrangement. And later he can again become sannyāsa.” It had happened before, and Prabhupāda mentioned a few cases where he had asked fallen sannyāsīs to get married and stay in their service. “Of course, it is a shameful position,” he said, “but what can be done? My Godbrothers and sannyāsīs in India criticize me for giving brāhmaṇa and sannyāsa initiation and installing Deities in the West and allowing women to stay in the temples. But for all that, I am expanding Kṛṣṇa consciousness. And for all their strictness, they are doing nothing. If I discriminate, then I will again be one alone, as I was in Vṛndāvana, and ‘again become a mouse.’ ”

“It seems,” said Hari-śauri, “that it will take several generations before we can become purified.”

“If one is sincere,” Prabhupāda replied, “he can become purified even within one generation.”

That same evening, as Prabhupāda prepared to stay up all night translating, he was still thinking of Madhudviṣa. Nevertheless, he turned to translating the texts in the chapter called “The Elephant Gajendra’s Crisis.” The chapter told about the king of elephants, Gajendra, who lived on the heavenly planets. One day Gajendra was bathing in the river along with his wives, when suddenly a crocodile attacked. The crocodile fastened his jaws on Gajendra’s leg, and although the elephant was very powerful, he could not release himself from the strong grip of the crocodile while in the water.

“Thereafter,” Śrīla Prabhupāda dictated, “because of being pulled into the water and fighting for many long years, the elephant became diminished in his mental, physical, and sensual strength. The crocodile, on the contrary, being an animal of the water, increased in enthusiasm, physical strength, and sensual power.”

“I can do it very quickly,” Prabhupāda had said, “but I have to meditate, how to prepare it for the common man.” How could he convey the significance of this event, which happened millions of years ago between two animals on a heavenly planet? How to make it clear and understandable, and capture the essence of the significant Sanskrit words and the paramparā comments of ācāryas like Viśvanātha Cakravartī, Sanātana Gosvāmī, and Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī? In the quiet solitude of his room, Śrīla Prabhupāda began speaking his purport.

“In the fighting between the elephant and the crocodile, the difference was that although the elephant was extremely powerful, he was in a foreign place, in the water. During one thousand years of fighting, he could not get any food, and under the circumstances his bodily strength diminished, and because his bodily strength diminished, his mind also became weak and his senses less powerful. The crocodile, however, being an animal of the water, had no difficulties. He was getting food and was therefore getting mental strength and sensual encouragement. Thus while the elephant became reduced in strength, the crocodile became more and more powerful.

“Now, from this we may take the lesson that in our fight with māyā we should not be in a position in which our strength, enthusiasm and senses will be unable to fight vigorously. Our Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement has actually declared war against the illusory energy, in which all the living entities are rotting in a false understanding of civilization. The soldiers in this Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement must always possess physical strength, enthusiasm and sensual power. To keep themselves fit, they must therefore place themselves in a normal condition of life.

“What constitutes a normal condition will not be the same for everyone,” Prabhupāda continued, “and therefore there are divisions of varṇāśrama – brāhmaṇa, kṣatriya, vaiśya, śūdra, brahmacarya, gṛhastha, vānaprastha, and sannyāsa. Especially in this age, Kali-yuga, it is advised that no one take sannyāsa. …

“From this we can understand that in this age the sannyāsa-āśrama is forbidden because people are not strong. Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu showed us an example in taking sannyāsa at the age of twenty-four years, but even Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya advised Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu to be extremely careful because He had taken sannyāsa at an early age. For preaching we give young boys sannyāsa, but actually it is being experienced that they are not fit for sannyāsa.

“There is no harm, however, if one thinks that he is unfit for sannyāsa; if he is very much agitated sexually, he should go to the āśrama where sex is allowed, namely the gṛhastha-āśrama. That one has been found to be very weak in one place does not mean that he should stop fighting the crocodile of māyā. One should take shelter of the lotus feet of Kṛṣṇa, as we shall see Gajendra do, and at the same time one can be a gṛhastha if he is satisfied with sexual indulgence.

“There is no need to give up the fight. Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu therefore recommended, sthāne sthitāh śruti-gatāṁ tanu-vāṅ-manobhiḥ. One may stay in whichever āśrama is suitable for him; it is not essential that one take sannyāsa. If one is sexually agitated, he can enter the gṛhastha-āśrama. But one must continue fighting. For one who is not in a transcendental position, to take sannyāsa artificially is not a very great credit. If sannyāsa is not suitable, one may enter the gṛhastha-āśrama and fight māyā with great strength. But one should not give up the fighting and go away.”

From out of his direct confrontation with the forces of illusion, Śrīla Prabhupāda presented his realizations. He had taken the case of Madhudviṣa, refined it of its temporal aspects, and immortalized it into an instruction for persons everywhere.

Prabhupāda’s job was to strengthen his disciples so they would not fall. Even if they took to the gṛhastha-āśrama, the crocodile of sense gratification was still very strong. And illicit sex was the “permanent disease” of the Western people. They were raised on it and addicted to it, and their society promoted it. To change this mentality would be very difficult. Therefore, in addition to writing, Prabhupāda would have to continue traveling and preaching to sustain his disciples and make them strong preachers.

As Prabhupāda had originally left his writing at the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple in Vṛndāvana to preach in the West, so he could leave his writing retreat in Hawaii for preaching. In any case, he was prepared to continue writing wherever he went. All along he had planned to stay in Hawaii only for a month, not permanently. His disciples needed to see him for strength and inspiration, and as long as he had life and breath, this was his purpose.

Prabhupāda wanted to first visit his Los Angeles center, now a large, thriving community of devotees. He would see their new temple room, with its marble arches and gallery of gorgeous transcendental paintings, and observe the opulent worship of the Deities Rukmiṇī-Dvārakādhīśa. He would see the latest technological applications of Kṛṣṇa consciousness at Golden Avatara recording studios and at the FATE museum, which utilized multimedia dioramas to depict the teachings of the Bhagavad-gītā. He would sit in his garden and hear Kṛṣṇa book and walk on Venice Beach discussing scientific theories with Dr. Svarūpa Dāmodara. And, of course, he would increase the already swelling waves of book distribution. One day in the car he had said, “My books will be the lawbooks for human society for the next ten thousand years.”

Then in Detroit he would stay for a few days in the mansion he had purchased over a year ago, to see how the devotees were taking care of the fabulous gift Kṛṣṇa had given them and to advise them on how to use it as a showpiece of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. For himself, Prabhupāda was not interested in living in a mansion, and constant traveling proved difficult regardless of where he stayed. The mansions, the opulence, the American money and expertise were all for Kṛṣṇa’s pleasure.

From Detroit Prabhupāda would go to Toronto, where a year ago he had encouraged the devotees and the Indian community to purchase a big church in the city. Now in recent months they had actually purchased it, and they were awaiting Prabhupāda’s arrival.

He would also travel to New Vrindaban, where for two years the devotees had been anxiously awaiting his return. They wanted him to sit on the grand new vyāsāsana they had carved for him, to behold the Deities of Rādhā-Vṛndāvanacandra, and to grace the palace they were building for him. And they wanted to see him again with his dear disciple Kīrtanānanda Swami. He would drink the milk of the New Vrindaban cows and teach about varṇāśrama-dharma. He would praise the simple life and blast away at the follies of urbanized, industrialized civilization.

For the fourth of July, 1976, the bicentennial anniversary of the United States’ independence, Śrīla Prabhupāda would be at the ISKCON temple in Washington, D.C., where he would hold kīrtana at the monuments before millions of people; and on July 6 in Washington he would observe the tenth anniversary of the formation of ISKCON.

Then he would go to New York for that city’s first full-scale Ratha-yātrā. He would stay in the newly acquired ISKCON “skyscraper,” the twelve-story building in mid-town Manhattan.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had sometimes said his greatest fear was that his disciples would fight with one another, causing serious splits in his movement. Therefore he traveled, using his great influence to unite all elements. He had seen how even those to whom he had given great responsibility could again become victims of sense gratification. But he had also seen how his being with his disciples strengthened them.

He was declaring humanity’s dependence on God, Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, and making a forceful revolution against the prevailing decadence of the day. Although America, in her two-hundredth anniversary, was abandoning her God consciousness, Śrīla Prabhupāda’s ISKCON was fresh and vital, instilling pure God consciousness in America and everywhere. The cover of the latest issue of Back to Godhead, which Prabhupāda liked, depicted a devotee singing Hare Kṛṣṇa in front of a red, white, and blue bicentennial exhibit. The cover caption read, “Declaring Our Dependence on God.”

Prabhupāda had complete confidence in the eventual victory of Lord Caitanya’s saṅkīrtana movement. Although now eighty years old, he was the leader, the strongest devotee. Wherever he traveled he brought life and strength, and so he continued.

New York City
July 9, 1976
Jayānanda was driving the car. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami and Rāmeśvara Swami were also there. They had picked up Śrīla Prabhupāda and Hari-śauri at La Guardia Airport, and as they proceeded toward Manhattan, Prabhupāda asked, “Things are going on here nicely?”

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa replied that everything had really just begun. “You will see that all of the work is just in progress,” he said.

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “manage nicely. Kṛṣṇa is giving us everything. There is no scarcity. If we simply sincerely work, Kṛṣṇa will give us intelligence – everything. By His mercy everything is available. That is Kṛṣṇa. He can give you anything.”

As their car approached the colossal Brooklyn Bridge, Śrīla Prabhupāda inquired, “That is Brooklyn Bridge, I think? Sometimes I was coming here and sitting down near the bridge.”

“Near the water?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. They were fascinated to hear of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s early activities alone in New York. “You were sitting near the water?”

“Yes, that river,” said Prabhupāda. “Because I was on that Bowery Street. It is not very far away. So I was coming, walking there, and sitting under that bridge and thinking, ‘When I shall return to India?’ ” He laughed. He asked about other places, almost like inquiring about old friends – the Fulton Street subway station and Chambers Street.

Tamāla Kṛṣṇa told Prabhupāda that the ISKCON center was not far from the Empire State Building and that he would be able to get a nice view of it from his room on the eleventh floor. “Our building,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “is right in the midst of the theater, restaurant, and entertainment section of the city.”

“In New York,” said Prabhupāda, “I feel a little at home, because first I came here. I was loitering on the street here and there. From 1965 September to July 1967, continually I stayed in New York.”

“Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Mahārāja gave a class this morning,” said Rāmeśvara Swami. “He was explaining that we cannot understand the good fortune of this city, that you have come here.”

“Yes, when I decided that I shall go to a foreign country,” said Prabhupāda, “I never thought of going to London; I thought of coming here. Generally they go to London, but I thought, ‘No, I shall go to New York.’ ”

“Very progressive,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa commented.

“I do not know,” Prabhupāda laughed. “It is Kṛṣṇa’s dictation. I could have gone. London was nearer. But I thought, ‘No, I shall go to New York.’ Sometimes I was even dreaming that I had gone to New York.”

As they passed through various neighborhoods, Śrīla Prabhupāda recalled the old days. He mentioned Dr. Misra’s yoga studio and his room at 100 Seventy-second Street, where his tape recorder and typewriter had been stolen; the West End Superette, where he would buy fruit.

“Sometimes I think I was coming to this part,” said Prabhupāda, looking out the window, “ – aimlessly. Yes, sometimes walking on Second Avenue.”

Acknowledging his senior disciple who was steadily and silently driving the car, Prabhupāda said, “Our Jayānanda was driving a taxi and chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa, and one day he brought me five thousand dollars. It was given for the publishing of Bhagavad-gītā, but I think Macmillan took it.”

“Then you put him in charge to sell all the Teachings of Lord Chaitanya,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “I remember.”

“Didn’t sell too many books, though,” said Jayānanda. Prabhupāda laughed, while Jayānanda remained silent, intent on the task of driving through the city.

“I thought he was the best, most appropriate person to drive you,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“He was chanting and driving,” said Prabhupāda. “Very good boy.” As they weaved through Manhattan traffic, a taxi driver shouted at them.

“What does he say?” asked Prabhupāda.

“He said you have a nice car,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “That’s good – they like the car.”

Prabhupāda laughed. “Ask him, ‘Why don’t you come here? Why are you driving a taxi? Come join us.’ ”

“This car is the Ford company’s version of a Cadillac,” said Rāmeśvara. “They cannot understand, because we say we are not after material opulence for ourselves. They cannot understand why we drive in these cars.”

“They think that we unnecessarily criticize,” said Prabhupāda. “But we require everything. Just like a man – when he is alive, his decoration, his nice dress, everything is good. But if he is dead, then it is useless. Similarly, without spiritual consciousness we are dead, because the body is dead. Only because the spirit soul is there, therefore it is moving. The important point is the spirit soul. So if you are simply taking care of the body nicely, that means you are decorating the dead body. What is the value of it? Is it clear?

“The body is important because the soul is there. So long the life is there, if you decorate the body everyone will appreciate. But if you decorate the dead body, everyone will say, ‘What a fool he is!’ Similarly, without spiritual knowledge, this dead civilization simply on the bodily concept of life, it is ludicrous. That we have to condemn. Take Kṛṣṇa consciousness, then everything has value. Just like one – if there is zero, then it becomes ten. Add another zero and it becomes a hundred. But without that one, it is simply zero. It is only useless.”

“That ‘one’ is Kṛṣṇa,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

“And Kṛṣṇa’s representative,” added Rāmeśvara.

As they drove down Fifty-fifth Street, the devotees pointed out to Prabhupāda the ISKCON building, with the words Hare Krishna written in gold letters down the side. A large yellow banner showing a devotee of Lord Caitanya performing saṅkīrtana flew from the front of the building, and a stylish awning, emblazoned “Hare Krishna Center,” extended onto the sidewalk. At the sight of Prabhupāda’s car, hundreds of devotees at the entrance began to cheer and chant his name.

It was the largest gathering of ISKCON devotees since the Māyāpur festival. Many had come from distant places to be with Śrīla Prabhupāda, and more than six hundred devotees were staying in the building. The kīrtana was tumultuous. Standing before the Deities of Rādhā-Govinda, Prabhupāda appeared pleased. A picture of Lord Jagannātha, Balarāma, and Subhadrā was on the third altar, and Prabhupāda said he was anxious to see them on Ratha-yātrā day.

As Prabhupāda sat on the large green vyāsāsana, he was at first too moved with emotion to speak. “First of all I must thank you all for bringing me in the new temple,” he began. “Because when I first came, my ambition was to start a temple here in New York, and I was seeking the opportunity.” He described some of his first, almost helpless, attempts to buy a twenty-five-by-one-hundred-foot space in Manhattan; but he had been unable to get any money.