Dallas
July 28, 1975
“Swami, why are you here?” asked a reporter at the Dallas – Forth Worth Airport.

“This is my home,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. The reply delighted his disciples. “I have got so many children, grandchildren. So I have come to see them.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda had written about Dallas Gurukula in his commentary on the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. The Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, he had written, was training a new generation of Vaiṣṇavas in its own school in Dallas, Texas.

More than a hundred boys and girls were now enrolled, and Śrīla Prabhupāda liked to visit here whenever he toured the United States. Here, as in other ISKCON projects in the U.S., he involved himself little in the management; but he visited, making himself available to the teachers, who were always ready with questions. Since there was no precedent in the West for Kṛṣṇa conscious education, and since the devotees wanted to develop the school just as Prabhupāda desired, they felt they had to ask him about curriculum, teaching methods, hygiene, recreation, and so on.

In the one-hundred-degree weather, the schoolboys wore no shirts, and Śrīla Prabhupāda ran the electric fan in his room. As soon as he arrived in his quarters, he asked that all the children and adults come into his room, and one by one they entered his room, held out a hand, and Prabhupāda gave them a large rasagullā. That evening he sat in a rocking chair on the lawn behind the temple, while devotees fanned him with a large peacock fan and locusts droned loudly in the trees. He sat there with his disciples amid many thriving tulasī plants, listening to a reading from the Kṛṣṇa book. This was as much a lesson in how to conduct a gurukula as were his answers to the teachers’ intricate questions. At Gurukula, everything should be based on chanting and hearing about Kṛṣṇa.

Brahmānanda Swami was reading about Kṛṣṇa’s rescuing His beloved Rukmiṇī, when suddenly Śrīla Prabhupāda interrupted and said that when they had been escaping on Kṛṣṇa’s chariot and the other princes had been attacking, Rukmiṇī had taken the reins and had driven the chariot. Kṛṣṇa had then taken His bow and arrows and had defeated His opponents. The devotees were amazed. Many of them were keen students of Kṛṣṇa book, and nowhere was that particular detail mentioned. Never before had any of them heard of Rukmiṇī’s taking the reins, nor had they ever thought of her in that way. But Prabhupāda assured them that she had fearlessly driven Kṛṣṇa’s chariot during the fight.

While Prabhupāda was speaking, Dayānanda, the Gurukula headmaster, stretched out his leg to find a more comfortable position, and Prabhupāda turned to him and said sternly, “Do not put your feet near Tulasī. She is a pure devotee.”

When Brahmānanda read a prayer in the Kṛṣṇa book describing Kṛṣṇa as the creator of the material elements, Prabhupāda spoke up. “If we do not accept that Kṛṣṇa made the sky,” he challenged, “then who made it?” The blue of the Texas sky was now fading into twilight, and guests and devotees alike looked up at the sky and then back to Prabhupāda.

“According to Bhagavad-gītā,” Śrīla Prabhupāda said, “Kṛṣṇa made the sky – bhūmir āpo ’nalo vāyuḥ kham. So we should study like this – ahaṁ sarvasya prabhavaḥ. The sky is the greatest material thing, but He created it. In this way, study Kṛṣṇa. Not just studying Kṛṣṇa with the gopīs – then you will misunderstand. But the more you understand Kṛṣṇa, the more you will become His staunch follower. Unauthorized persons never paint Kṛṣṇa creating the sky. They always want to see Kṛṣṇa dancing with the gopīs, and in this way they try to support their own lusty activities.”

Two Dallas newspapers had covered Prabhupāda’s arrival. The Dallas Times Herald printed a photo of Śrīla Prabhupāda seated and garlanded with roses, his right hand raised, his index finger extended, instructing. “Barefoot swami draws admiring Krishna crowd,” the headline read.

Aside from claiming that Śrīla Prabhupāda was barefoot (actually he had worn shoes but had removed them when sitting cross-legged), the article pointed out a controversy around the Kṛṣṇa devotees in Dallas. The article cited ISKCON’s injunction against officials of the Dallas – Fort Worth Airport, who had forbidden them to distribute literature and take donations.

On hearing the article, Śrīla Prabhupāda had commented, “This is good literature. It should be encouraged.” By reading it, people would become sane, and they would understand their constitutional position. Otherwise the people would go on being perturbed by crime and wondering what to do.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was particularly interested in the newspaper’s version of his reply to the question about Indian politics.

… the Swami replied that, “Mrs. Gandhi is inclined to some spiritual understanding, and if she fully develops it the situation will improve.

“Democracy is not much beneficial if its leaders have no spiritual values. Mahatma Gandhi was practically a dictator, but he was a man of a high moral character, so people accepted him. Dictatorship can be good, provided the dictator is spiritually developed.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda was repeatedly being asked about Indira Gandhi. The U.S. government was critical of her newly instituted emergency rule, and particularly in Chicago, the reporters had tried to construe Prabhupāda’s comments about women as criticism of Prime Minister Gandhi. Both in Chicago and Dallas Śrīla Prabhupāda had stressed that he was not much concerned with politics, although he indicated that politics were useless without Kṛṣṇa.

Eager to keep good relations with the Indian government, Prabhupāda did not like to speak publicly against India’s leaders. He had often expressed a desire to meet with the Prime Minister to assure her of the good work the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement was doing for the benefit of India and the whole world, and to request her assistance. In India, visas had always been a problem for the devotees. They had to continually leave the country and their service to renew their visas and then reenter, at great cost. Now some devotees, especially in the Māyāpur area, were being asked to leave the country because of America’s stance against Indira Gandhi’s political actions. Recently Prabhupāda had received word from the devotees in Delhi that they were trying to arrange such a meeting. So he liked the favorable statements on Indira Gandhi in the Dallas Times Herald and asked that the article be saved.

While walking near White Rock Lake the morning he was to leave for New Orleans, Śrīla Prabhupāda dropped behind the main group of devotees and said to his servant, “I am not feeling well.” The few sannyāsīs close by pressed in near him with concern. “Yesterday also,” he added.

“Is it due to the heat, Śrīla Prabhupāda?”

“I do not know why, but now I am feeling headache and some spasm.”

“Should we cancel the trip this morning?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda didn’t answer. He admitted, however, the heat may have weakened his digestion. When asked if the food was to his liking, he replied, “Not very all right. Constantly change of hand is not good.” Brahmānanda Swami suggested that another difficulty for health was the constant flying, but when he again suggested postponing the flight to New Orleans, Śrīla Prabhupāda said, “No, no,” and continued forward.

July 31
The weather was stormy en route to New Orleans. Śrīla Prabhupāda, in the first-class section with Upendra, was looking out the window when the “Fasten Your Seat Belt” announcement came, just ten minutes before the scheduled landing.

Suddenly the plane dropped violently. Passengers screamed and clutched their armrests, bracing themselves. Upendra, frightened speechless, thought, If I have to die, it’s all right, because Prabhupāda is here. The downward plunge stopped abruptly, but then the plane began to lurch and roll, tossed by turbulent air currents. Overhead bins snapped open, and articles fell out, bouncing off passengers and onto the floor. Śrīla Prabhupāda turned to Upendra. “Why is it rocking?” he asked.

“It’s a storm,” replied Upendra. He could see that Śrīla Prabhupāda was calm. His expression was one of irritation, like over some minor incident, as when his lunch would be served late.

In wind and downpour, the pilot finally touched the wheels onto the runway, landing without mishap. A sigh rose from the passengers, then cheering and applause. Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed unaffected. He asked Upendra how long a drive it would be to the temple.

Śrīla Prabhupāda and his party arrived at the large mansion on Esplanade Boulevard in heavy rain. Nityānanda, the New Orleans temple president, having been given two weeks’ notice of Prabhupāda’s visit, had hurriedly repainted and readied all the buildings, both here and at the Mississippi farm. Despite a thorough search of the city’s markets, however, he had been unable to find any bitter melon, which he had heard Śrīla Prabhupāda took daily for digestion. Therefore he had arranged for one of Prabhupāda’s secretaries to bring some from Dallas. Nityānanda and the New Orleans devotees felt they were as ready for Prabhupāda’s visit as they would ever be.

A wide marble staircase led up to the entrance, and Prabhupāda, leaning on his cane, climbed it slowly, as devotees threw flower petals down from the third floor. The entire distance from the car to the house, about 250 feet, was covered with a three-foot-wide white cloth, leading up to the vyāsāsana. Prabhupāda bowed down before the Deities of Gaura-Nitāi, Rādhā-Rādhākānta, and Lord Jagannātha, sat down, but then decided it was too late in the morning to speak. Instead, he went at once to his quarters in the building next door.

As soon as Śrīla Prabhupāda reached his room, he was introduced to an official from City Hall who had come from the mayor’s office to present him with an honorary welcome to New Orleans. Prabhupāda graciously accepted a symbolic key to the city and a scroll welcoming and praising him as an honorable visitor. Seizing the opportunity, he began preaching to the man, treating his guest not as a city official but as any other conditioned soul.

When the welcoming flurry had abated and Śrīla Prabhupāda had bathed, taken prasādam, and rested, he called for Nityānanda. When Nityānanda entered, Prabhupāda had sandalwood pulp on his forehead and wore a fresh garland. Nityānanda offered obeisances. Alone in the room with his spiritual master, he felt embarrassed and fearful. Prabhupāda picked up a photo album from his desk containing pictures of the farm in Mississippi. “You know,” he said, “I have come especially to see your farm.”

Before sunrise the next morning Śrīla Prabhupāda left in the rain on a two-hour drive to the farm. He would have to return to New Orleans that night, as he was scheduled to fly to Detroit the next morning.

The rain had stopped in Carriere, Mississippi, and Śrīla Prabhupāda looked out across the gently rolling land. The ISKCON farm – cleared land, surrounded by a pine forest – was situated on a ridge. The previous owner had used the property as a horse ranch, and the modern fourteen-room brick house, the large barn, and several sheds were all in good condition. Prabhupāda liked the land. He said it looked just like Bengal.

Most of the devotees from New Orleans had raced to the farm to be with Prabhupāda, and they crowded into the temple room, waiting for him to give the morning Bhāgavatam class. As soon as he began to speak, however, many flies came, buzzing, landing on his head and body. A devotee began fanning him with a cāmara whisk, but to no avail.

“Come near,” Prabhupāda said. “This cāmara is especially meant for driving away the flies. Even it is touching the body, there is no harm.”

Toward the end of the lecture, Śrīla Prabhupāda began speaking of the farm. “Now this place, I see, although I have not seen all, it is a nice place. The gṛhasthas may come here, have some small cottage, grow your own food grains and vegetables, and have your own cow’s milk. Get nice foodstuff, and save time. Why should you go into the city hundreds of miles in a car and again hundreds of miles back and take unnecessary trouble? Stick to this spot and grow your own food, make your own cloth, and live peacefully. Save time and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. This is actual life.

“What is this nonsense life – big, big cities, and all these people busy? To see a friend he has to go thirty miles. If he has to see a physician, he has to go fifty miles. If he has to go to work, another hundred miles. So what is this life? This is not life. Be satisfied. A devotee’s life should be prayojana. We require material necessities – as much as is required. No artificial life.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda went on to deprecate the life of “simply machine, machine, machine, machine.” He asked the devotees to show by practical example how to live simply and advance in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. If they could show the example, people would try to follow.

Although Nityānanda and the others had been living on the land for many months, Prabhupāda’s words gave them the real direction and purpose for the project. It was as if he were now breathing life into his project.

Śrīla Prabhupāda went to his room and sat with Brahmānanda Swami, Satsvarūpa dāsa Goswami, Harikeśa, Jagadīśa, and Upendra. When he began speaking about varṇāśrama, he called for Nityānanda. They should try not to use machines, he said. The men and animals should do the work.

Nityānanda asked whether the householders should produce food cooperatively or as individual families. “They should work together,” said Prabhupāda, “or what’s the use of living in a community center?”

When Upendra asked how the milk should be used, Śrīla Prabhupāda explained what he called the Indian village system. “As Nanda Mahārāja was keeping cows,” he said, “similarly there are many villages. They have a big pan, and whatever milk is collected they put into that pan. It is kept on a fire and is warm. So the whole family can drink milk whenever they like. Then whatever milk remains at night, they have to convert it into yogurt. The next day they use milk and yogurt also as they like. Then after converting the milk into yogurt, whatever remains is stored. If there is sufficient old yogurt, they churn, and then butter comes out. They take that butter, and the water separated from the butter is called whey. So instead of dāl, they use this whey for eating with capātīs. It will be very healthy and tasty. Meanwhile, the butter they turn into ghee. There is not a single drop of waste.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said that everyone could take as much milk as necessary and that the ghee could be used in ISKCON restaurants in the cities. Curd could also be used in the restaurants for making sandeśa, rasagullā, and other dishes.

Śrīla Prabhupāda stressed that the farm be well organized, engaging all classes of men – brāhmaṇas, kṣatriyas, vaiśyas, and śūdras. No laziness or unemployment. “Otherwise,” he said, “people will criticize that we are simply eating and sleeping and escaping.”

Nityānanda asked whether they should immediately stop using farm machinery.

“We are not against the machine,” Prabhupāda explained. “You can utilize machine. But we should not allow others to be unemployed while we use the machine. This is the point. You can use the machine, but the first thing is that everyone should be employed. If you have got many men, then why should you engage the machine?”

Śrīla Prabhupāda also explained that in Vedic culture, the kṣatriyas collected taxes and protected the citizens while the śūdras worked in the fields or at trade. The women would cook, spin, weave, and take care of the milk products. The low-class men, such as cobblers, who used the skin of dead cows, were allowed to eat meat. “But not that one is Professor Such-and-such and yet he is eating meat,” Prabhupāda said. “This is the way of the degraded modern society. Teacher means brāhmaṇa, and yet he is eating meat. How horrible! So do these things and organize. I can give you the idea, but I will not live very long. If you can carry it out, you can change the whole world. Especially if you can change America, then the whole world will change.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda became emotional, and tears came to his eyes. “It is the duty!” he said. “Caitanya Mahāprabhu has explained para-upakāra: Save them! If it is not possible to save everyone – as many as possible. This is human life. This is Kṛṣṇa consciousness – to save those who are in the darkness.

“Don’t think,” he said, “ ‘Kṛṣṇa consciousness is my profession. I am getting a living, food, and shelter.’ That is just what the Indians are doing. Not like that. It is para-upakāra. That is Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Then Kṛṣṇa will be very much pleased. Kṛṣṇa personally comes for giving this benefit to the people, and if you do, then how much Kṛṣṇa will be pleased. Just like I am traveling to my centers, and if I see that my students, my men, are doing very nice, everything is going nice, how much pleased I will be. Then I can save my labors and now write books for the rest of my life. Similarly, if Kṛṣṇa sees that you are, on behalf of Kṛṣṇa, trying to save these rascals, then you will very much please Kṛṣṇa. The Vaiṣṇava’s qualification is para-duḥkha-duḥkhī. He is unhappy seeing others’ distress. This is a Vaiṣṇava.” Śrīla Prabhupāda ended the intimate meeting by rising and leaving the room.

When Harikeśa mentioned that he was spending two-and-a-half hours to cook Śrīla Prabhupāda’s lunch, Prabhupāda said, “You do not know how to cook. I will show you and do it in one hour.”

“One hour?” said Harikeśa, almost in disbelief. “This is amazing!”

Prabhupāda then took off his shirt and entered the little kitchen of the Mississippi farm. While a crowd of devotees peered in through the open door, Prabhupāda looked at his wristwatch and announced, “It is now twelve o’clock.”

He used the same three-tiered brass cooker he had brought to America in 1965. In the bottom section he put mung beans and water, in the middle section he put rice, and in the top he arranged various cut vegetables – squash, peas, potatoes, and cauliflower. Putting the cooker over a low flame, he then poured an inch of ghee into a frying pan and placed it over a flame. Next he cut up an eggplant, dipped the pieces into turmeric and salt, and began to fry them in the hot ghee. He mixed and kneaded dough and began rolling out capātīs. Periodically he checked his wristwatch, and when forty-five minutes had passed, he took the cooker’s top off and turned it upside down to use as a small frying pan. He put in ghee and cooked some bitter melon, then deftly added cumin, anise, chili, and asafoetida. He squeezed lemon on the steamed vegetables and, within a few minutes, had finished.

Śrīla Prabhupāda looked at his watch. “One hour,” he said. “We have cooked nine preparations.” He then left the kitchen while his servant prepared his plate. Prabhupāda said that everyone who had watched him cook should be given some of the prasādam.

About five in the afternoon, Prabhupāda toured the farm. In the barn he saw the calves taking milk.

“How are you using the bulls?” he asked.

Like a hesitant student, Nityānanda replied, “To plow?”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “to plow and transport. You have to engage more men for plowing. Two bulls may be used for each plow.”

Passing by a hayfield, Prabhupāda asked why the cut hay still lay in the field. Nityānanda explained that he had to wait for it to dry after the rain. Prabhupāda warned that rain could spoil the hay; it should be harvested soon. Coming upon a three-acre plot of sugarcane, they walked up one row and entered deep into the cane patch, which stood several feet above their heads. Emerging on the other side, they came to the edge of a forest of pine.

“These jungles are natural arrangement,” said Prabhupāda. “You cut the trees, make your home, and the balance of it you can make for fuel. Then the ground you can plow and grow your own food. That’s all. It’s natural.” Prabhupāda lamented modern society’s waste of trees by printing heaps of useless newspapers. He saw the two acres of fruit trees the devotees had planted – satsumas, peaches, pears, and figs – as well as the twenty-five large pecan trees.

But he discovered discrepancies. Nityānanda had lined up for Prabhupāda’s inspection two tractors, a large forage harvester, a hay conditioner, hay mowers, rakes, a blower, and a wagon. But when Prabhupāda saw the machines standing in the open, he asked why they were not being kept under cover. Nityānanda replied that they were still building a shed.

“In the meantime it will be finished,” said Prabhupāda. “By the time you finish your shed, they will be rusty and gradually become useless.” He quoted a Hindi proverb and translated. “ ‘A woman was dressing to go to a fair, but when she was finally dressed, the fair was already finished.’ ” The devotees laughed, but Nityānanda was grave.

Prabhupāda continued: “Utilize these machines, otherwise, while they are in working order, sell them. But don’t keep idle in this neglected way.”

Nityānanda showed Prabhupāda where twenty-five acres of sorghum was growing. This grain was for the animals and when harvested would go into the silos.

“So everything is for the animals?” asked Prabhupāda. “Nothing for man?”

“The cows give us milk,” explained Nityānanda.

“That’s all?” asked Prabhupāda. “And you are not growing any food grains? Why?” Prabhupāda’s instruction was clear. Just before the walk was over, he again asked Nityānanda, “What the oxen will do?”

“Plow the fields,” Nityānanda replied, like a student having learned his lesson.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “that is wanted. Transport and plowing the fields. And unless our men are trained up in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, they will think, ‘What is the use of taking care of the cow? Better go to the city, earn money, and eat them.’ ”

This statement was similar to an instruction Prabhupāda had given in various temples after installing the Deities of Rādhā and Kṛṣṇa. If the devotees were not enthusiastic, he had warned, the Deity worship would deteriorate into mere ritual, until finally the devotees would resent the spiritual master’s giving them such a burden. Likewise on the farms, if the devotees did not utilize the bulls in the natural way and if they did not use the milk properly, then eventually they would want to get rid of the animals. By conducting things as Prabhupāda had taught, however, the devotees, the cows, and the bulls would live cooperatively and happily and Kṛṣṇa would be pleased.

Although for years Śrīla Prabhupāda had given many practical instructions in other areas of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, this was one of the first times he had given so many practical directions on conducting varṇāśrama society. He felt satisfied and pleased to have seen such a promising Kṛṣṇa conscious farm community and, reentering the house, said he was ready to return to New Orleans. It had been a busy, productive day in the service of Kṛṣṇa, and tomorrow would be another.