Under the circumstances since 1936 up to now, I was simply speculating whether I shall venture this difficult task and that without any means and capacity; but as none have discouraged me, I have now taken courage to take up the work.

– Śrīla Prabhupāda,
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THE “FIRE IN the maṭha” broke out almost immediately. A senior disciple said that there should be one ācārya who would be the spiritual successor to Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī and who would perform all initiations and settle all controversies. But Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī had never said that. He had never called for one ācārya. Rather, he had instructed the members of the Gaudiya Math to form a governing body of twelve men and carry on a concerted effort. But that instruction was abandoned, and the suggestion that there be one leader took hold. A single person, instead of twelve, should take charge, and now it became a rush for who.

Two parties contested. Ananta Vāsudeva, one of Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta’s leading preachers, was ambitious, and he pressed his claim with a group of influential sannyāsī supporters. Another man, Kuñjavihārī, shrewdly went after the properties. He had been a leading administrator under Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta, and now he claimed ownership of the palatial temple in Calcutta as well as all the other properties and assets of the India-wide Gaudiya Math. Although in his will Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta had expressed his desire that his disciples select a governing board to manage all properties and funds of the Gaudiya Math, Kuñjavihārī contested the will’s legitimacy. He and his supporters argued that since Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta had received the properties on behalf of God, he was not their rightful owner and therefore could not determine their future ownership. Thus he and the others disputed over the legal and theological aspects of the former ācārya’s position.

Shortly after Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta’s passing away, litigation had begun. Ananta Vāsudeva, supported by a majority of the members of the Gaudiya Math, had claimed that he, as the next ācārya, was the owner and director of the properties. But although Kuñjavihārī had only a few supporters, he defied the majority by pressing his claim through lawyers in court. Kuñjavihārī and his men had possession of the Chaitanya Math and the temples in Māyāpur. Vāsudeva’s party captured other buildings. Quarreling and fistfights broke out. The preaching of the Gaudiya Math stopped.

Abhay’s inability to take part in the activities of the Gaudiya Math was suddenly in his favor. He had always been more a visitor than a member at the maṭha and, at least externally, more the gṛhastha businessman than a missionary worker. This automatically put him at a distance from the fray. Of course, he was associated with the maṭhas in Bombay and Allahabad, but he had no managerial position, no claims to ownership, and no role in the litigation. Nor did he desire to take sides in the struggle for power. Like many of the other disciples, he was mortified to see that his spiritual master’s instructions for cooperation had been disregarded and his mission thrown into a legal dispute. Abhay knew that Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta had wanted the leaders to work cooperatively, and so he could not sympathize with the warring factions. Both parties were an insult to Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī.

But he wanted to preach. Although becoming “a very good English preacher” was something he was meditating on more than actively doing, the Gaudiya Math would logically have been the vehicle for his preaching. He had already contributed articles to the Gaudiya Math’s publications and had been working with his Godbrothers at the Allahabad and Bombay centers. Naturally he thought of serving his spiritual master in terms of serving within his spiritual master’s mission. But the Gaudiya Math, which had always been known for pure, bold preaching of the message of Lord Caitanya, was now becoming known for embroiled factions. As the Gaudiya Math broke down, he was also affected. Under the present circumstances, how could he carry out his spiritual master’s order to preach? Previously the main obstacle to his preaching had been family commitments, but now the obstacles were compounded. Now he had to wait helplessly for the outcome of this struggle. What would Kṛṣṇa bring about?

1938
His Bombay business diminishing, Abhay, now forty-two, moved back to Calcutta with his wife and family and rented a house at 6 Sita Kanta Banerjee Lane. The street was but a narrow lane, lined on either side with three-story houses. His office was on the first floor, facing the street; the family lived upstairs. He rented the adjoining building, number seven, and on the first floor operated a small chemical laboratory manufacturing distilled water, De’s Pain Liniment, Vimal Tonic, Alpa (an injection for boils), and various other medicines. He also utilized a small outbuilding in the rear as part of his lab. Out front he hung a large signboard – Abhay Charan De and Sons – displaying a picture of a mustached Abhay Charan.

Sometimes he would employ two or three servants to assist him, but mostly he worked alone. And he would deliver his glass jugs of distilled water to agents, such as Bengal Company and Gluconet. He printed a brochure advertising De’s Pain Liniment: “Good for relieving gout, rheumatism, and all pains.” And if one wanted to be free of recurring diseases like rheumatism and gout, Abhay’s brochure directed that in addition to using De’s Pain Liniment one refrain from “alcohol and all sorts of drinking or intoxicating habits, and food and drink should be very simple and innocent such as vegetables and milk.”

The new Calcutta business enjoyed an early success, but Abhay didn’t have his heart in it. It was a duty – he had to do it to maintain his family. His new acquaintances in Calcutta found him to be a devotee of God at heart – a businessman, a family man, but more concerned with writing and preaching than with business and family.

Chandi Mukerjee (a neighbor from nearby Bihari Street): He was interested only in devotional activities, and he did his business only to maintain the family. He didn’t seem interested in the profit motive, in accumulating money or becoming a rich man.

Charan Mukerjee (Abhay’s next-door neighbor): Abhay Charan De was always a very patient listener to every illogical argument that anybody, including myself, would bring to him. Not knowing philosophy, I would illogically present so many arguments, and Mr. De would always very patiently listen. Nothing agitated him. He was always very calm, and he taught me about God. He would speak only of Kṛṣṇa. He was translating the Gītā and was maintaining his business.

Neighbors would often see him sitting on his cot in the front room. He would read his spiritual master’s books and sometimes recite the Sanskrit ślokas out loud. He liked to discuss philosophy with anyone who came by. His family keeping mostly upstairs, Abhay would sit alone in the downstairs front room, dressed in dhotī and kurtā, or sometimes a dhotī and only a vest. Often he would be at his writing, while outside the door his children played with the children of the Ganguli family, who lived in the rear apartment of the same building.

The neighbors lived openly in a kind of joint neighborhood family, and Abhay talked freely with the other neighbors – but of Vaiṣṇava philosophy and only rarely of business. Mr. Ganguli found Abhay’s speech “scholastic and always very philosophical.” Abhay was absorbed in the philosophy of Kṛṣṇa consciousness, and even in brief conversations he would refer to Lord Kṛṣṇa and to Bhagavad-gītā’s description of Lord Kṛṣṇa as the basis of both the material and spiritual worlds. While working in his laboratory, or receiving a delivery of empty bottles from the Muslim bottle merchant, or going out to sell his medicine, he would be talking or thinking about God.

In those days, for a person in Calcutta to be interested in God consciousness was not so unusual. Abhay found even a man like Abdullah, the Muslim bottle merchant, to be very religious. One day Abhay asked Abdullah, who had once been very poor but had become rich by his business, “Now you’ve got money. So how are you going to use your money?” The bottle merchant replied, “My dear sir, I have an intention to construct a mosque.”

Meanwhile, the war of the Gaudiya Math raged on. Both factions were ill-motivated, and both deviated from the instructions of their spiritual master. The very act of trying to determine ownership of the properties through legal action meant that the Godbrothers were disobeying the express desire of their spiritual master, as stated in his will. The litigation continued year after year, but the legal wrangling could not bring them together or purify them. One court ruled in favor of Ananta Vāsudeva, but then a higher court awarded two thirds of the maṭha’s properties to Kuñjavihārī and one third to Vāsudeva. Still, although Vāsudeva had fewer properties, he inspired more followers – he seemed to them more intent on reviving the preaching of the Gaudiya Math. But when Vāsudeva subsequently fell down from the principles of sannyāsa by going off with a woman, the groups broke further to pieces.

Most of the sannyāsīs continued to maintain their principles, but many now left the jurisdiction of the two contending factions in disgust. Individuals formed their own āśramas: Gaudiya Mission, Caitanya Gaudiya Math, and others. The unified entity of Gaudiya Math as an all-India mission consisting of many temples, several presses, and hundreds of devotees working cooperatively under one leadership ceased to exist. Godbrothers continued to uphold the teachings of Lord Caitanya Mahāprabhu as they had received them from Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, but because they were meant to work together, they lacked their former united potency. Illusions of proprietorship and prestige had superseded the spiritual master’s order, and Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta’s cause – a worldwide movement for propagating Lord Caitanya’s teachings – collapsed.

Wherever Abhay went he seemed to attract the company of his Godbrothers. Some followers of Śrīdhara Mahārāja – the same Śrīdhara with whom he had worked in Bombay and whom he had always regarded as a good devotee and scholar – met Abhay at his place on Banerjee Lane and told this news to Śrīdhara Mahārāja, who was then living at his own āśrama in Māyāpur. Śrīdhara Mahārāja had disaffiliated himself from the factions of the Gaudiya Math, but as a sannyāsī he was still preaching and was interested in publishing Vaiṣṇava literature. He had wanted to maintain an āśrama in Calcutta, so for twenty rupees a month he rented from Abhay the four rooms on the second floor of number seven, above Abhay’s chemical laboratory.

Now, whenever they came to Calcutta, Śrīdhara Mahārāja, Purī Mahārāja, and Bhaktisāraṅga Mahārāja based themselves there, staying in small separate rooms. It became a regular āśrama for sannyāsīs and brahmacārīs, and Śrīdhara Mahārāja put a sign out front: Devananda Sarasvati Math.

Śrīdhara Mahārāja’s establishment of a maṭha in Māyāpur with a branch in Calcutta was his response to the Gaudiya Math’s split. Like other sannyāsīs, he had been initiating disciples and preaching, not waiting for the outcome of the litigation, with its continued appeals and counterclaims. Abhay was glad to encourage Śrīdhara Mahārāja and the others who joined him at his little āśrama. Here Abhay and Śrīdhara Mahārāja and his followers could remain aloof from the warring factions and together pursue their plans for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

The sannyāsīs cooked in their separate kitchen, performed their pūjā, and held morning and evening kīrtanas and lectures. Abhay remained with his family, taking his own meals and performing his own pūjā, but he often went to discuss Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam with Śrīdhara Mahārāja. From his roof, Abhay could see the towering steeple of his spiritual master’s building, the Gaudiya Math of Baghbazar, its ownership now contested by bitter factions.

Abhay would often accompany Śrīdhara Mahārāja and his assistants at preaching programs, where he would play the mṛdaṅga. And when Śrīdhara Mahārāja fell ill, Abhay led the other devotees on preaching engagements, performing kīrtana, playing mṛdaṅga, and giving lectures on the Bhāgavatam.

Śrīdhara Mahārāja: We did not see Abhay as working very hard for making money, nor did he seem very rich or to have a lot of liquid funds. He was attracted more to the spiritual side of affairs than to his family affairs. He never discussed business prospects with me – whether the business was up or down, or whether he was planning to do this or that. Monetarily, he did not have sufficient funds for giving any to the mission.

Abhay began to think seriously about writing Vaiṣṇava literature. His spiritual master had seemed very pleased and had told the editor of The Harmonist, “Whatever he writes, publish it.” Business profits, if he could somehow expand them, could go for printing books in English, as his spiritual master had said. “If you ever get money, print books.” Certainly the Gaudiya Math was not going to do it; Kuñjavihārī had sold Bhaktisiddhānta’s printing presses to offset his legal expenses. No, Abhay would have to continue on his own, maintaining his business and simultaneously trying to write and publish. And that was also the prescription of Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta: “It is better that he is living outside your company. When the time comes, he will do everything himself.”

It was in 1939 that Abhay wrote “Introduction to Geetopanishad.” It was a short piece, but it signaled his intention to take on the task of one day translating Bhagavad-gītā into English with commentary. Of course, there were already many commentaries in English, but most of them had been written by impersonalists or others who had not delivered the original spirit of the Gītā, the spirit of Arjuna on the Battlefield of Kurukṣetra hearing Bhagavad-gītā directly from Lord Kṛṣṇa. Abhay knew, however, that he could present Bhagavad-gītā in the proper spirit by writing an English commentary based on the teachings of Lord Caitanya and the disciplic succession. So he began. Whenever he could make time, he would write. Although a strict grammarian could find fault in his English composition, his meaning was always clear.

In his “Introduction,” Abhay reflected on the time when as a young schoolboy he had attended a lecture, “Vidyā-ratna – The Jewel of Education.” The theme of the lecture had been that God does not exist and could not exist. If there were God, He would certainly have appeared on earth to put an end to all religious rivalry; but since God had not obliged man in this way, we should banish all thought of His existence from our minds. The audience, Abhay explained, consisting only of so many young boys, did not delve deeply into the subject matter of the lecture, yet the majority, impressed by the arguments, “carried away lofty ideas of godlessness, and thus became agnostics at home.”

Abhay had not been satisfied with the agnostic conclusion, “because I had been trained by my father to be engaged in the worship of Śrī Śrī Rādhā-Govinda. But as a result of the Vidyā-ratna lecture, I was experiencing some mental conflict between agnosticism and the existence of Godhead.” Later, having heard from his spiritual master, Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta, Abhay understood that the Personality of Godhead exists in every sphere of activity. “But we do not have the eyes to see Him,” Abhay wrote. “Even if the Lord personally manifests Himself on earth, the quarreling mundaners will not stop their fighting and look upon Godhead or His representative, due to ignorance. This is the birthright of the individual soul by the grace of God.”

Bhagavad-gītā is the true “jewel of education.” And in the Gītā Lord Kṛṣṇa “declares to the fighting people on earth, ‘Here I am. Do not quarrel.’ ” The agnostic who had spoken of the “jewel of education” had been blinded by the jewel and therefore could not see and appreciate the Personality of Godhead. Thus he had gone on to convince others to become so-called jewels also.

Following his spiritual master, Abhay displayed an aggressive spirit for confronting all opponents of pure theism. In responding to his spiritual master’s order to develop into an English preacher, Abhay was not simply making neutral scholarly presentations; he was willing and ready to fight – whether against modern agnostics or Vaiṣṇavism’s old, traditional enemy, Māyāvāda impersonalism.

Although few scholars taught the way of surrender to Lord Kṛṣṇa, as espoused in Bhagavad-gītā, almost all respected Bhagavad-gītā as presenting the essence of all knowledge. The Gītā, therefore, was the perfect vehicle for confronting those who misrepresented God and religion. The Gītā was a “challenge to the agnostics, apotheosists, anthropomorphists, impersonalists, henotheists, pantheists, and absolute monists.” Although there were already more than six hundred commentaries on Bhagavad-gītā, they had been written by persons with “an inner hatred for the Personality of Godhead,” and therefore they were imperfect. “Such envious persons,” Abhay wrote, “have no entrance into the real meaning of Bhagwat Geeta inasmuch as a fly cannot enter into the covered jar of honey.”

Abhay described Indian culture as an almost impassable ocean, due to its depth of thought and apparent mixtures of conclusions. “But in this book,” Abhay declared, “I will establish that Krishna is the Absolute Personality of Godhead by referring to the available records of scriptures which are the recorded history of Indian culture and thought.”

The sannyāsīs at 7 Banerjee Lane were impressed by the scope of Abhay’s thought and intentions. As it was customary to award a title to an especially worthy Vaiṣṇava according to his qualities, Bhaktisāraṅga Gosvāmī wanted to confer upon Abhay the title Bhaktisiddhānta. Śrīdhara Mahārāja, however, thought it inappropriate to give Abhay the same title as their spiritual master, and he asked that Abhay’s title be changed to Bhaktivedanta, bhakti meaning “devotion” and vedānta meaning “the end of knowledge.” Abhay was grateful. The title combined the devotion of religion with the scholarship of the most rigorous philosophy, as passed down by the scholarly followers of Lord Caitanya. He appreciated the sincere gesture of his Godbrothers and accepted the title as a further commitment to his spiritual path of preaching Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

Abhay continued regularly associating with Śrīdhara Mahārāja and discussing with him Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. Abhay encouraged him to preach widely, although Śrīdhara Mahārāja was admittedly more the scholar and rather shy about going out and preaching. On several occasions, Abhay tried to convince Śrīdhara Mahārāja to go with him and charge Gandhi and Nehru as to why they weren’t following the principles of Bhagavad-gītā.

Another fruit of the spiritual association at 7 Banerjee Lane was a book called Prapanna-jīvanāmṛta, compiled by Śrīdhara Mahārāja. A collection of verses from various Vaiṣṇava scriptures, including excerpts from the works of Rūpa Gosvāmī, it was divided into six chapters, according to the six divisions of surrender. Abhay, along with the sannyāsīs of the Devananda Sarasvati Math, financed the publication. Thus it was published as a joint effort by friends.

September 3, 1939
Lord Linlithgow, viceroy of India, announced that India was at war with Germany. Thus England swept India into the war – without consulting any Indians. Although independence-minded India certainly resented such a show of foreign control, there were mixed feelings about the war. India wanted independence, yet she sympathized with the allied cause against fascism in the West and feared an invasion by imperial Japan in the East. “Since you dislike the British so violently,” one author asked a typical New Delhi student of the day, “would you want Japan to invade and conquer India?” Student: “No, but we Indians pray that God may give the British enough strength to stand up under the blows they deserve.”

Although at the outbreak of the war India had only 175,000 men in her armed forces, the British managed to increase the number of Indian soldiers to two million. There was no draft, but the British sent recruiting agents all over India, especially in the Punjab, where military service seemed an attractive offer to the local poor. The Punjabis proved good fighters, whereas Bengalis enlisted as officers, doctors, contractors, and clerks. Indian soldiers were dispatched to battlefields in Egypt, Iraq, Syria, Persia, Malaya, Burma, and Assam.

While the British were attempting to mobilize Indians for the war, the Indian nationalist movement, which had continued off and on for more than twenty years, became very active. Members of the Congress Party refused to cooperate with the war effort and demanded guaranteed independence for India. Some thought that since England had her hands full with Germany, the time was ripe to revolt and gain independence by force. Gandhi’s position had been one of unconditional pacifism, and he had opposed the idea of Indians taking up arms, even to defend India. But by 1942 he had become more inimical and had reduced his policy towards the British to a simple, unequivocal “Quit India!” Thousands of Indians responded by chanting slogans in the street and even by tearing up the railway lines.