Abhay also composed a speech, which he read before the assembled guests and members of the Gaudiya Math. Although his first language was Bengali, his English was clear and natural.

Gentlemen, the offerings of such a homage as has been arranged this evening to the Acharyadeva is not a sectarian concern, because when we speak of the fundamental principle of Gurudeva or Acharyadeva, we speak of something that is of universal application. There does not arise any question of discriminating my Guru from that of yours or anyone else’s. There is only one Guru who appears in an infinity of forms to teach you, me and all others. The Guru or Acharyadeva, as we learn from the bona fide scriptures, delivers the message of the absolute world, I mean the transcendental abode of the Absolute Personality where everything nondifferentially serves the Absolute Truth.

Like the poem, the speech was personal, but even more than the poem it was authoritative, philosophical preaching. The Godbrothers were impressed to hear Abhay presenting the Vaiṣṇava philosophy so expertly. How was it possible? Of course, it should not have come as a surprise; he had heard the Vaiṣṇava philosophy from Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, just like his Godbrothers. Why should he not be able to enunciate the teachings of his spiritual master, having heard from him and having read Gītā and Bhāgavatam and Bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu? Was he not a devotee in the paramparā? But until now, no one knew he could preach in English so expertly.

Therefore, if the Absolute Truth is one, about which we think there is no difference of opinion, the Guru also cannot be two. The Acharyadeva to whom we have assembled tonight to offer our humble homage is not the Guru of a sectarian institution or one out of many differing exponents of the truth. On the contrary, he is the Jagatguru, or the Guru of all of us, the only difference is that some obey him wholeheartedly, while others do not obey him directly.

The guru of whom Abhay spoke, of course, was Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, the representative of the original compiler of the scriptures, Vyāsadeva. Abhay explained how Lord Kṛṣṇa had delivered transcendental knowledge to Brahmā, the creator of this particular universe. From Brahmā the knowledge had descended to Nārada, from Nārada to Vyāsa, from Vyāsa to Madhva … . Because Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta was presenting the Vedic knowledge as is, without any interpretation – in paramparā – he was the bona fide ācārya who could enlighten others with the revealed knowledge of the Vedas.

Abhay continued:

Gentlemen, our knowledge is so poor, our senses are so imperfect and our sources are so limited that it is not possible for us to have even the slightest knowledge of the absolute region without surrendering ourselves at the lotus-feet of Sree Vyasadeva or His bona fide representative.

This transcendental knowledge, Abhay explained, had been known in India for thousands of years, and this knowledge – although presently obscured – was India’s real gift to the world.

We must conclude that the darkness of the present Age is not due to lack of material advancement, but that we have lost the clue to our spiritual advancement which is the prime necessity of human life and the criterion of the highest type of civilisation. Throwing of bombs from aeroplanes is no advancement of civilisation from the primitive, uncivilised way of dropping big stones on the heads of the enemies from the tops of the hills. Improvement of the art of killing our neighbours by inventing machine guns and by means of poisonous gases is certainly no advancement from primitive barbarism priding itself on its art of killing by bows and arrows, nor does the development of a sense of pampered selfishness prove anything more than intellectual animalism. …

Thus, while others were yet in the womb of historical oblivion, the sages of India had developed a different kind of civilisation which enables us to know ourselves. They had discovered that we are not at all material entities, but that we are all spiritual, permanent and non-destructible servants of the Absolute.

The speech continued, describing the horrible consequences of a misspent human life, the sufferings of repeated birth and death. Again and again, Abhay stressed the need to surrender to the spiritual master. He criticized empirical, mundane philosophers, godless politicians, and blind sense gratifiers. He repeatedly pointed to the soul’s natural and sublime position as the servant of God and as the servant of the pure devotee of God. Abhay, an initiated disciple of his spiritual master for a little more than two years, referring to himself as a student, continued:

Gentlemen, although we are like ignorant children in the knowledge of the transcendence, still His Divine Grace, my Gurudeva, has kindled a small fire within us to dissipate the invincible darkness of the empirical knowledge, and we are so much so on the safe side that no amount of philosophical argument of the empiric schools of thought can deviate us an inch from the position of our eternal dependence on the lotus-feet of His Divine Grace – and we are prepared to challenge the most erudite scholars of the Mayavada school on this vital issue: that the Personality of Godhead and His transcendental sports in Goloka alone constitute the sublime information of the Vedas.

He then ended his speech with an eloquent prayer of submission.

Personally I have no hope to have any direct service for the coming crores of births of the sojourn of my life, but I am confident that some day or other I shall be delivered from this mire of delusion in which I am at present so deeply sunk. Therefore, let me with all my earnestness pray at the lotus-feet of my Divine Master to let me suffer the lot which I am destined to do for all my past misdoings, but to let me have this power of recollection that I am nothing but a tiny servant of the Almighty Absolute Godhead, realised through the unflinching mercy of my Divine Master. Let me, therefore, bow down at his lotus-feet with all the humility at my command.

He submitted both the poem and speech to The Harmonist. The poem, Abhay’s first publication, announced him as a competent writer in English, and Swami Bhaktipradīpa Tīrtha, editor of The Harmonist, informally dubbed Abhay as kavi, “learned poet.” Some of Abhay’s Godbrothers also picked up on the name and began calling him kavi. Most of them, even the sannyāsīs, were not so proficient in English. But Abhay was not ordinary. They could appreciate that the poem was personal, written out of Abhay’s genuine worship and his joy at having accepted a genuine spiritual master, but it was also written strictly in accord with the conclusions of the scriptures.

For Abhay, however, the glory of his “Sree Vyas Puja Homage” came when the poem reached Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī and it gave him pleasure. One stanza specifically made Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta so happy that he made a point of showing it to all of his guests.

Absolute is sentient
Thou hast proved,
Impersonal calamity
Thou hast moved.

Somehow, in this simple couplet Abhay had captured the essence of his spiritual master’s preaching against the Māyāvādīs, and Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta took it as an indication of how well Abhay knew the mind of his Gurudeva. Abhay was delighted when he heard that the couplet was pleasing to his spiritual master. One of Abhay’s Godbrothers compared this verse by Abhay to a verse in which Rūpa Gosvāmī had expressed the inner thinking of Caitanya Mahāprabhu and had thus moved Him to ecstasy.

Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī also found the essay pleasing, and he showed it to some of his confidential devotees. He instructed the editor of The Harmonist, “Whatever he writes, publish it.”

Abhay thought it only natural that he should have many business enemies or competitors – it was a sign of success. But his Bombay competition caused him to lose another good chance to become wealthy. The “enemy” was the son of Abhay’s supervisor at Smith Institute. Both son and father complained to the Smith Institute executives that Abhay Charan De was pushing goods from his own laboratory and not Smith’s. By this intrigue, Abhay lost his position with Smith Institute, and his supervisor placed his own son as the new agent. Abhay was again on his own.

While continuing to help his sannyāsī Godbrothers in Bombay, he found a two-story building for rent at Gawlia Tank Road. Everyone agreed it would make a suitable center, and Abhay arranged for the rental and for initial repairs and helped the sannyāsīs move in. It seemed that his endeavors for spiritual things were always successful, whereas his business efforts were consistently failing. Of course, a few business enemies were no cause for discouragement – intrigues and losses were always part of the game, and he was still well known in the pharmaceutical business throughout India. But it wasn’t so much the give and take of business that disturbed him as his own doubts about whether this was the best way for him to serve his spiritual master. Business was good only if it could go side by side with his spiritual life. Lord Caitanya had said that the chanting of Hare Kṛṣṇa should be spread to every town and village, and Abhay wanted to assist his spiritual master in fulfilling that prophecy, especially by contributing money and helping establish centers. His earnings should not go solely for his family.

Ideally, family life and spiritual life should progress side by side. But the difficulty was Abhay’s wife. She was disturbed over the business losses and apathetic to the spiritual successes. She wanted to stay within the orbit of home and family, and despite Abhay’s suggestions she refused to accept initiation from Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta. It was his own wife who was his most formidable competitor. And she waged her opposition right in the home, where it was least welcome.

When Abhay occasionally visited his family in Allahabad, he tried to satisfy them with his good intentions. Business had not gone so well in Bombay, but he had new plans, and he assured his family that there was no need to worry. He planned to do more preaching in his home – the whole family could become more involved in spiritual activities. He wanted to invite guests, hold discussions on Bhagavad-gītā and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, perform kīrtana, distribute prasādam. He wanted to preach, just as his spiritual master and Godbrothers were preaching. Such a program wouldn’t require that a sannyāsī or brahmacārī come and preside. Abhay could do it himself. This would be an example of the ideal household life. But Radharani was unsubmissive. Rather than coming to hear him speak, she stayed with the children in another room – taking tea.

In Bombay, Abhay associated with Śrīdhara Mahārāja and Bhaktisāraṅga Gosvāmī. Both sannyāsīs were highly literate scholars. Śrīdhara Mahārāja was respected for his erudition in the śāstras, and Bhaktisāraṅga Gosvāmī for his writing and preaching in English. Sometimes Abhay would discuss his realizations with them.

Abhay also studied the scriptures on his own – his spiritual master’s commentary on the Gītā and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam as well as commentaries by the previous ācāryas. While reading Viśvanātha Cakravartī Ṭhākura’s commentary on Bhagavad-gītā (Second Chapter, forty-first verse), he read that the disciple should consider the order of the spiritual master to be his life and soul. These words produced a deep effect on Abhay, strengthening his desire to execute Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī’s command. And in the Eighty-eighth Chapter of the Tenth Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, he came upon a verse in which Lord Kṛṣṇa said something that startled him:

yasyāham anugṛhṇāmi
hariṣye tad-dhanaṁ śanaiḥ
tato ’dhanaṁ tyajanty asya
svajanā duḥkha-duḥkhitam

“When I feel especially mercifully disposed towards someone, I gradually take away all his material possessions. His friends and relatives then reject this poverty-stricken and most wretched fellow.” Abhay shuddered as he read the verse. It seemed to speak directly to him. But what did it mean? “Does it mean,” he thought, “that Kṛṣṇa will take away all my money?” Was that what was actually happening? Was that why his business plans were failing? He discussed the meaning of the verse with Śrīdhara Mahārāja. Yes, Śrīdhara Mahārāja confirmed, this might very well be what was happening between Lord Kṛṣṇa and Abhay.

In July 1935, Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī came to install the Deity of Lord Kṛṣṇa and to institute Deity worship at the Bombay center. He was pleased with what his disciples had done so far, and Bhaktisāraṅga Mahārāja admitted that much of the work was due to Abhay Bābū, who had collected funds and established the new center. “Why is Abhay living separately?” Bhaktisāraṅga asked. “He should be president of this Bombay center.”

Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī replied, “It is better that he is living outside your company. He will do. When the time comes, he will do everything himself. You don’t have to recommend him.”

Abhay had not been present when this was spoken, but his Godbrothers told him what Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta had said. These words of his spiritual master, with their mysteriously prophetic air, were important to Abhay. He treasured the words within himself and meditated upon their meaning.

In November 1935 he was again with his spiritual master in Vṛndāvana. It was the Kārttika season, the ideal time to visit Vṛndāvana, and Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta was staying for a month with his disciples at peaceful Rādhā-kuṇḍa, the sacred lake where Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa used to sport.

After leaving Bombay in July, Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī had gone to Calcutta, where he had spoken on radio, delivered many public lectures, welcomed back the preachers he had sent to Europe, and finished publishing his Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam translation and commentary. Then in October he had come to Rādhā-kuṇḍa. Occupying the small one-story house Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura had constructed, he had been reading and speaking to the assembled devotees on the Upaniṣads, Caitanya-caritāmṛta, and Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. He had also installed Deities at Śrī Kuñjavihārī Math.

The banks of Rādhā-kuṇḍa were overhung with bright green foliage growing from the gnarled branches of ancient tamarind, tamāla, and nim trees. In the shallows of the water, cranes stood on stiltlike legs, while river terns skimmed across the lake, sometimes abruptly diving for fish. Sometimes a tortoise would poke its nose up from the water’s depth, or a fish would jump. Green parrots, usually in pairs, flew in and out of the green trees, and sparrows chirped and hopped from place to place. Peacocks were also there, mostly in nearby gardens, as were occasional rabbits and even deer.

The atmosphere was enriched with the history of kṛṣṇa-līlā. Five thousand years ago, Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa had engaged in transcendental pastimes here, and only five hundred years ago Lord Caitanya had rediscovered Rādhā-kuṇḍa. Lord Caitanya’s great follower Raghunātha dāsa Gosvāmī had resided here for many years, constantly chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa and discussing the activities of Lord Caitanya Mahāprabhu. And here, in a small bhajana-kuṭīra, Kṛṣṇadāsa Kavirāja had written Caitanya-caritāmṛta, the narrative of the pastimes of Lord Caitanya that Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī relished so much. Many of the inhabitants at Rādhā-kuṇḍa were bābājīs, living in small bhajana-kuṭīras and spending their time chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa.

Having heard of his spiritual master’s stay here, Abhay, bringing his son with him, had traveled from Bombay, just to have darśana of his spiritual master. To see Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta was always an occasion for jubilation, but to see him in Vṛndāvana was an added perfection. This meeting with his beloved guide and friend was different from the time in 1932 when Abhay had seen him on the Vṛndāvana parikrama. Now Abhay was no longer sitting anonymously in the back of a room. Now he was a bona fide disciple, recognized as the “kavi,”who had written the praiseworthy poem and essay, the young man who listened well, the devotee who had helped the Allahabad maṭha and who had established the maṭha in Bombay. Already on this visit Abhay had had occasion to be alone with his spiritual master, who had remembered Abhay’s son and presented him with a small bandhī (jacket). And now, as they walked together alone on the bank of Rādhā-kuṇḍa, Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta turned and spoke confidentially to Abhay.

There had been some quarreling amongst his leading disciples in Calcutta, he said, and this distressed him very much. Even now, in Vṛndāvana, it weighed heavily on his mind. Some of his disciples had been fighting over who would use various rooms and facilities at the Gaudiya Math headquarters in Calcutta. These devotees were all members of the same maṭha, and the building was for propagating Kṛṣṇa consciousness under the leadership of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī. Yet even in their spiritual master’s presence they were quarreling. Brāhmaṇas and Vaiṣṇavas were supposed to be free from envy of any creature, what to speak of envy of one another. If they were to fight now, what would they do after their spiritual master passed away? Abhay had no part in these matters and did not even know the details or who was involved. But as he listened to his spiritual master, he also became distressed.

Deeply concerned, Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta said to Abhay, “Āgun jvalbe”: “There will be fire” – one day there would be fire in the Calcutta Gaudiya Math, and that fire of party interests would spread and destroy. Abhay heard but did not know what to make of it. Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta had fought so long and boldly to establish that anyone of any birth could be elevated to become a brāhmaṇa, a sannyāsī, or a Vaiṣṇava. But if his followers became contaminated by a little wealth and the desire for prestige, thereby showing themselves to be still low-class men despite their training and purification, then his mission would be disrupted. If in the name of religion they became attached to ease, position, and prestige, it could only mean that they had failed to grasp the teachings of their spiritual master.

Śrīla Prabhupāda: He was lamenting that these men are simply after the stones and bricks of the building. He condemned. He was very, very sorry.

“When we were living in a rented house,” Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta said, “if we could collect two hundred or three hundred rupees we were living very nicely at Ultadanga. We were happier then. But since we have been given this marble palace in Baghbazar, there is friction between our men. Who will occupy this room? Who will occupy that room? Who will be the proprietor of this room? Everyone is planning in different ways. It would be better to take the marble from the walls and secure money. If I could do this and print books, that would be better.”

Abhay felt his spiritual master speaking to him in urgency, as if asking him for help or warning him to avert a disaster. But what could he do?

Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta then said directly to Abhay, “Āmār icchā chila kichu bai karānā”: “I had a desire to print some books. If you ever get money, print books.” Standing by Rādhā-kuṇḍa and beholding his spiritual master, Abhay felt the words deeply enter his own life – “If you ever get money, print books.”

December 1936
Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta was in poor health at Jagannātha Purī. Abhay was in Bombay, and he wanted to write his Guru Mahārāja a letter. “He is a little kind upon me,” Abhay thought. “He will understand my request.” And he began to write:

Dear Guru Mahārāja,

Please accept my humble obeisances at your lotus feet. You have got many disciples, and I am one of them, but they are doing direct service to you. Some of them are brahmacharies, some of them are sannyasis, but I am a householder. I cannot. Sometimes I give monetary help, while I cannot give you direct service. Is there any particular service I can do?

Two weeks later, Abhay received a reply.

I am fully confident that you can explain in English our thoughts and arguments to the people who are not conversant with the languages of the other members.

This will do much good to yourself as well as your audience.

I have every hope that you can turn yourself into a very good English preacher if you serve the mission to inculcate the novel impression of Lord Chaitanya’s teachings in the people in general as well as philosophers and religionists.

Abhay at once recognized this to be the same instruction he had received at their first meeting, in 1922. He took it as a confirmation. There was now no doubt as to the purpose of his life. What his spiritual master had said in Calcutta in 1922 had not been a chance remark, nor had that been a chance meeting. The instruction was the same: “Turn yourself into a very good English preacher. This will do much good to yourself as well as your audience.”

Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta passed away from the mortal world on January 1, 1937. He had been spending his last days reading Caitanya-caritāmṛta and chanting on his beads. When a doctor had visited him, wanting to give him an injection, Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta had protested, “Why are you disturbing me in this way? Simply chant Hare Kṛṣṇa, that’s all.” Amongst his last words to his disciples were,

I advise all to preach the teachings of Rupa-Raghunatha [disciples of Lord Caitanya] with all energy and resources. Our ultimate goal shall be to become the dust of the lotus feet of Shri Shri Rupa and Raghunatha Gosvamis. You should all work conjointly under the guidance of your spiritual master with a view to serve the Absolute Knowledge, the Personality of Godhead. You should live somehow or other without any quarrel in this mortal world only for the service of Godhead. Do not, please, give up the service of Godhead, in spite of all dangers, all criticisms, and all discomforts. Do not be disappointed, for most people in the world do not serve the Personality of Godhead; do not give up your own service, which is your everything and all, neither reject the process of chanting and hearing of the transcendental holy name of Godhead. You should always chant the transcendental name of Godhead with patience and forbearance like a tree and humbleness like a straw. … There are many amongst you who are well qualified and able workers. We have no other desire whatsoever.

In his last days he had remained fully conscious and had given instructions until the end. He had specifically and openly ordered that the affairs of his Gaudiya Math be maintained by a twelve-man governing body, which the devotees should select amongst themselves. Finally he had said, “Please accept my blessings to you all, present and absent. Please bear in mind that our sole duty and religion is to spread and propagate service to the Lord and of His devotees.” At 5:30 A.M. on January 1 he breathed his last.

Word very soon reached Abhay in Bombay. His immediate response was to cry with grief – no more the joy of an anticipated meeting, no more trips to Calcutta or Vṛndāvana on the plea of business just to see the tall, commanding form of Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta, the “evangelic angel.” This sense of never meeting again was difficult to bear. Philosophically, Abhay knew that there was no reason to lament. Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī had come into the world to execute the mission of Lord Caitanya, and now it was required that he leave this place and go to another, where he would again engage in the same activity. Yet even armed with this philosophy, Abhay felt all alone. His two great well-wishers were gone – his father and now his spiritual master. But he felt grateful that he had received a special mercy, a final instruction, just two weeks before his spiritual master’s departure. Abhay read his letter again and again – there would not be another. The intimate talks and meetings were now gone, but by this letter especially, Abhay would live in the instructions of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī. The letter had come just in time. Now he knew for certain, no matter what anyone else said, how to please his spiritual master and stay linked with Kṛṣṇa. Following his order, he would conquer the feeling of loss at the disappearance of his most affectionate well-wisher.