One of the devotees said that it was too far from town and that Orissa was too poor. A better idea might be to try to build a big temple in Jagannātha Purī. Śrīla Prabhupāda replied that to build in Jagannātha Purī was all right, but that Bhubaneswar was also important. Prabhupāda’s Oriyan disciple, Gaura-govinda Swami, told Prabhupāda that as soon as the annual India pilgrimage was over, all the devotees would leave, and he would be left alone with one or two brahmacārīs. He was particularly suited to translating Prabhupāda’s books into Oriya, so he asked Prabhupāda to give him someone to help manage the center.

“Where is the fat one?” asked Prabhupāda. “Bring him here.” And a devotee ran out to fetch Bhāgavata. At the time the devotee found him, Bhāgavata was sitting in the visitors’ tent, telling the other devotees about his plan to go to New York. When he heard Śrīla Prabhupāda wanted to see him, he assumed it was in connection with the cornerstone-laying ceremony, since he was in charge. But as soon as he entered Prabhupāda’s room he sensed something heavy was about to happen.

Śrīla Prabhupāda smiled and asked Bhāgavata how he was.

“I’m fine, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”

“How would you like to stay here and manage this place?”

“Well, Śrīla Prabhupāda, I don’t really think I can stay here. It’s too hard.”

“Couldn’t you stay here and build this building?”

“I could. But it is very difficult. And I was all set to go to New York.” Bhāgavata began excitedly telling Prabhupāda about a telegram from Ādi-keśava Swami in New York inviting him to come and head an important preaching department in the temple.

“New York?” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “They have too many men in New York already. You don’t have to go to New York. You should stay here.”

Bhāgavata objected; he couldn’t work with Gargamuni Swami, the G.B.C. man for this area of India. Prabhupāda replied that he was sending Gargamuni to Bangladesh; he wouldn’t be in charge of ISKCON in Orissa anymore. Prabhupāda would personally supervise Bhāgavata.

Bhāgavata dāsa’s next objection was that his health was not good, and he had to sleep a lot.

“This is a very healthy place,” Prabhupāda countered. “You simply go out in the field to pass stool, then wash with your loṭā, and afterwards clean the loṭā with the mud. And you can bathe with the same loṭā. In this way you will stay clean and healthy.”

Bhāgavata then raised his ultimate objection. “Śrīla Prabhupāda,” he said, “to tell you the truth, I’m not chanting my rounds. I think I’d better go to New York, because there is good association there, and I can become strong in my regulations.”

“That’s all right,” Prabhupāda replied. “You are working very hard. So if sometimes you aren’t chanting your rounds, that’s all right. As long as you are working hard, you can do your rounds at another time.”

“Well, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Bhāgavata dāsa, “according to the Gurvaṣṭakam, I can understand that whenever you please the spiritual master you please Kṛṣṇa.”

Prabhupāda smiled. “Yes.”

“So if you want me to stay here, then I should stay.”

“Yes, I want you to stay here – make life members, build this building, and help manage the place.” Although Prabhupāda had laid a cornerstone for a temple, the center had no funds or donors in sight and no established congregation. All the devotees had was faith in Śrīla Prabhupāda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s train was to leave at 11 o’clock the next night, and Prabhupāda sat in his little hut talking with his disciples until it was time to go. The conversation ranged from World War II politics to the Tenth Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. At one point, Śrīla Prabhupāda was saying how man cannot change the laws of nature. Man should not claim that he knows something or can do something unless he can stop the miseries of birth, death, disease, and old age. “My position means my karma,” Prabhupāda explained. “If I am in the plush Bhaktivedanta Manor, I have the same suffering as I do in this hut. If I think, ‘Now I am in the Manor. I am happy,’ that is foolishness. But that is how they think. Then why are they dying? They should stop that. Can you, my disciples, help me in old age? You may try your best, but you should admit it is beyond your power. But as soon as you go back home, back to Godhead, everything is solved.”

He spoke about diets. Ghee was not good for him, but to eat only boiled food was like starving. He said he was capable of fasting. “If you give me nothing to eat for three days, I can do it.” Gargamuni told Śrīla Prabhupāda of a man he knew in Calcutta who was healthy at ninety and who attributed his health and longevity to his strict diet of only fruits. Gargamuni suggested Prabhupāda try that diet, and Prabhupāda agreed.

Prabhupāda mentioned the diet of his spiritual master. Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, he said, ate very little, but not only fruits. He liked to eat salty things, and his favorite preparation was made from chick pea flour and peanuts fried in ghee.

After the talk, when devotees were commenting about Prabhupāda’s proposed fruit diet, Hari-śauri remarked affectionately, “He has said that before, but he will never do it.”

On the overnight train ride to Calcutta, Prabhupāda could not rest because of two drunken men in the next compartment. Throughout the night they were howling and addressing each other, “Oh, Dr. Mukerjee!” “Oh, Mr. Chatterjee!” Prabhupāda remarked with disgust that these were the names of Bengali brāhmaṇa families, but that now they had become drunkards. Jagannātha Purī, he said, had been a holy place for thousands of years, but within a few years it would be so no longer. People were using Purī as a seaside resort for recreation – people like Dr. Mukerjee and Mr. Chatterjee, who had no understanding of spiritual life.

As the train pulled into Howrah Station, Prabhupāda sat for a few minutes before disembarking. The vendors’ loud cries of “Chāy! Chāy!”* punctuated the overall din of humanity and machines.

* “Tea! Tea!”

“This modern society!” Prabhupāda sighed. “It is very painful to even see their faces – they are fallen so much. By seeing their faces you become polluted. Last night they disturbed so much. And they think they are happy, they are enjoying life.”

“But we have to take the risk,” said Satsvarūpa, “to go and preach?”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “If you are engaged in preaching, you are not affected. Sometimes yogīs go to the Himalayas just to avoid seeing the face of the vicious persons. They practice yoga in a sacred and solitary place. Otherwise, what is this? Simply ‘Chāy, chāy, chāy,’ and cigarette, biḍi, talking nonsense, drinking? Yet the Vedic system is still in India. In the morning they take bath in the villages. In the cities also, at least those who come from the village. You will find in Bombay, many poor men are taking bath early in the morning. You have seen? They will wash their floor, take bath.”

With fond thoughts of the pure life in the Vedic village, Śrīla Prabhupāda left the station, passing through the crowds and the noise. He knew Calcutta well, better than any of his disciples. The poverty, chaos, and political slogans did not phase him. It was his hometown. But he had no mundane connections there. He was coming only for a few days – to preach. Then on to Māyāpur.

Māyāpur
February 7, 1977
More than eighty Bengali gurukula boys, along with some one hundred other devotees, greeted Prabhupāda with a kīrtana at the front gate of the Māyāpur Chandrodaya Mandir. The entire ISKCON land seemed to be blooming with flowers, and the freshly painted temple building shone like the first reddish rays of dawn. The new building, a long residential building, was almost completed. “Back to home, back to Godhead,” Prabhupāda said softly, as his car entered the gate and slowly proceeded toward the temple.

He was arriving three weeks before hundreds of devotees from all over the world were scheduled to come and be with him for the celebration of Gaura-pūrṇimā, the appearance day of Lord Caitanya. Bhavānanda Goswami and Jayapatāka Swami, Śrīla Prabhupāda’s leaders of ISKCON Māyāpur, ushered him through the crowd of gurukula boys and devotees up to the Deity room, where he beheld and bowed before the shining, golden forms of Śri Śrī Rādhā-Mādhava.

Later, while sitting in his room on the second floor, Śrīla Prabhupāda complimented the devotees for making the grounds so beautiful and clean. Hundreds of flowers decorated his room like a gorgeous garden. “These flowers are your first success,” said Prabhupāda. He sat back, relaxed with the special pleasure and satisfaction he felt when in the atmosphere of his beloved Māyāpur. “For Kṛṣṇa’s service,” he said, “you submit some plan, and He’s very glad. We want some flower for Kṛṣṇa’s service, and Kṛṣṇa is supplying. Everything we want for Kṛṣṇa, not for our sense gratification. For Kṛṣṇa we can endeavor multifariously – that is the contribution of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda said that prior to Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī, the Vaiṣṇavas used to live retired lives in Vṛndāvana – no preaching. Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī was the first to demonstrate how pure devotees can preach in sophisticated ways, even living in big buildings and utilizing automobiles in the service of Kṛṣṇa.

“People may be envious that these devotees are living in palatial buildings,” said Prabhupāda, “but Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura said only the devotees shall live in palatial buildings. Only devotees. Just like government servants are given the best places to live in. Similarly, those who are devotees, they should be given all facilities. Not extravagancy, not luxury, but nice food, nice place, nice facilities – and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. This is our mission. This is not dry. Especially you coming from America and Europe, you are not accustomed to the hardships of Indian people. You must have the bare necessities of comfort, and serve Kṛṣṇa. This I am trying to do and utilize.”

Prabhupāda thanked the devotees present for working in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, and he reiterated his familiar formula that American brains and American money combined with Indian culture could turn the whole world into a heaven.

Later, Śrīla Prabhupāda went to oversee the new building, the longest building in West Bengal, Jayapatāka Swami said – more than seven hundred feet. Śrīla Prabhupāda said it looked like a train. He inspected all the rooms one by one and emphasized that they must be ready in time for the festival. Walking along the veranda he remarked, “Oh, it is just like Fifth Avenue.”

The next few days were quiet. Prabhupāda would sit taking his massage in the late morning on the roof amid hundreds of potted plants. Leaning on the rail of the veranda outside his room one day, he looked down onto the lawn where one of the women was picking flowers for the Deities. “This is temple,” he said, “ – always something going on. And with each flower picked, she advances in spiritual life a little more.” Prabhupāda particularly liked that the Māyāpur Chandrodaya Mandir was always being expanded and improved. He liked to look out from the veranda and see guests arriving, devotees working, and new plans manifesting.

But Prabhupāda’s ill health persisted – an imbalance of pitta and vāyu (bile and air), he said. One morning when his servant asked him how he felt, he replied, “Very bad.” But sometimes after a “very bad” morning, he would feel much better.

The devotees did not think of Prabhupāda’s illness in a material way, but it caused them anxiety. Over the years he had gone through various health crises, and the devotees knew these illnesses were transcendental, directly controlled by Kṛṣṇa. In 1974, when he had been very ill in Vṛndāvana, he had said that the cause was his disciples’ not strictly following the rules and principles of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. His disciples knew they had to strictly follow his orders if they actually cared for his health. He would go on taking risks – accepting more disciples, traveling and preaching – but his disciples had to avoid acting in ways that would disturb his health. Mostly the devotees preferred to think that Prabhupāda’s health would soon improve. And Śrīla Prabhupāda himself did not dwell on the subject; he was too absorbed in spreading the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement.

A few days after his arrival, Śrīla Prabhupāda journeyed by car and ferry to Navadvīpa to visit the āśrama of his Godbrother Bhaktirakṣaka Śrīdhara Mahārāja. But while walking up the steep stone steps, Prabhupāda’s legs suddenly gave way, and he collapsed. Fortunately, Hari-śauri was close enough to catch him. It was the second time Prabhupāda had collapsed in less than two weeks. Both times he had been actively preaching, and both times he had continued on his way with no mention of what had happened.

In Bhubaneswar, Śrīla Prabhupāda had promised Svarūpa Dāmodara he would go to Manipur with him after the Māyāpur festival. Manipur, an independent country north of India, was mentioned in the Vedic literature, Prabhupāda said. Arjuna’s wife Citrāṅgadā had come from Manipur, and it had been ruled by Kṛṣṇa conscious kṣatriyas. Now Śrīla Prabhupāda, encouraged by Svarūpa Dāmodara, who was born and raised in Manipur, was eager to go and try to revive a Kṛṣṇa conscious state there. But with his weakening health, he questioned whether he should travel.

Hari-śauri, who had been with Prabhupāda continually for eighteen months, felt that Prabhupāda’s health was not likely to improve. And in one sense, the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement was spreading so widely under Prabhupāda’s direction that it was perhaps not so necessary for Prabhupāda to travel, at least not with the extraordinary expenditure of energy and strength that he had been displaying for the last ten years. Maybe he could retire from traveling. Even during the previous summer, when he had been traveling in the United States, he had once remarked that he simply wanted to go there to become encouraged by how well his devotees were managing everything by themselves. He used to say that he had laid the foundation and erected the framework for the building of the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement; now his followers simply had to fill it in. He would often say he had injected medicine into the system of materialistic society; now it would spread and act. He also said he had ignited the fire that would now rage around the world. Therefore, although he was always anxious for his movement, he had confidence.

One morning just after breakfast, Prabhupāda was on his veranda looking out across the land of Māyāpur. Turning to Hari-śauri, he said, “Actually it does not matter even if I die immediately. I have given the basis for everything, and now if they simply manage things nicely and follow whatever programs I have begun, then everything will be successful.” Hari-śauri was disturbed to hear such statements, and he remained speechless. Then Prabhupāda added, “But still I would like to finish this Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s stay at ISKCON Māyāpur had been quiet, but as the G.B.C. men began arriving from the West, he heard the latest news of the fierce opposition to Kṛṣṇa consciousness in America. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami and Brahmānanda Swami, coming from New York, reported that the case in which Ādi-keśava Swami was being charged with mind control would be heard later in March and that the judge had given Ādi-keśava permission to come and see Śrīla Prabhupāda. They also told Prabhupāda that several other devotees had been kidnapped and that, in some cases, parents had secured legal conservitorship through judges to abduct the devotees.

“What is the complaint of the opposing party?” asked Prabhupāda. Again, as when he had argued with Rāmeśvara Swami, he defended the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement while his disciples fired materialistic arguments at him. It was not just an exercise; he was training his disciples. He had to answer any arguments that had discouraged or weakened them. And beyond that, he was actually the ultimate defender of Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

“They say we are zombies,” said Brahmānanda.

“Zombies?” Prabhupāda asked. “What is that?”

“Zombies,” said Hari-śauri. “Like a robot. We have no brain. We are like machines. They say we have no freedom of choice.”

“Children have got also the same thing,” replied Prabhupāda. “But the father stops. Children want to play; they do not like to go to school. Father does not like it. Is that father’s attempt to check the child’s freedom? Every father is doing that. The government is doing that. Why the government is checking criminals?”

Prabhupāda was interested to hear other news, and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami reported on the new ISKCON farm in Pennsylvania and on the restaurant in New York City. Brahmānanda Swami talked about their new farm in Africa, and both he and Tamāla Kṛṣṇa gave their impression of things at Hare Krishna Land in Bombay and reported on Gopāla Kṛṣṇa’s progress in printing Prabhupāda’s books in various Indian languages.

“So this is the thing that is starting to happen now,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “They are lobbying in the Congress of the United States to pass laws that if someone is abnormal then the parents should have the right to commit him to psychological treatments. Even though the child may be fifty years old and the parents seventy years old, if the parents think that the child is not sane, then they have the right to have the child committed.”

“This is very dangerous,” said Prabhupāda.

They told Prabhupāda of a devotee who had been kidnapped while distributing books at an airport. The court had given the girl’s parents legal authority to have her confined for thirty days in a special center in Arizona run by deprogrammers. They also told him that among the lobbyists advocating kidnapping were powerful groups of Christians and Jews, who had become active because they saw that other movements, not only the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement, were taking young people away from the religion of their parents. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa suggested that a probable result of ISKCON’s court case in New York would be to establish ISKCON as bona fide. Defenders of civil rights in America were alarmed at the threat to constitutional liberties, and therefore the court case was generating great interest. It was a test of freedom of religion. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa told Prabhupāda it was the biggest test case of the decade, and that the American Civil Liberties Union had taken it as one of their main priorities.

“Two states have passed laws making this deprogramming legal,” said Brahmānanda Swami. “And they also give tax exemption. That means the government is giving support.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “They are afraid that these Kṛṣṇa conscious men may capture the government.”

“Yes,” agreed Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami, “some of them are saying that the Kṛṣṇa conscious organization is very powerful and that our ambition is to take over the world.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed. “That’s a fact. Well, let us see. It is a fight between Kṛṣṇa and demon. Let us do our duty and chant Hare Kṛṣṇa; everything will be all right. There were so many demons. Prahlāda Mahārāja was five-years-old boy and his father was such a big demon. But still Prahlāda Mahārāja was victorious. Similarly, you are all like Prahlāda Mahārāja. The fight is there. Chant Hare Kṛṣṇa. Depend on Kṛṣṇa. You will come out victorious. Nṛsiṁhadeva will come. So the ‘poison’ of Kṛṣṇa consciousness is acting now. That is good. If we come out victorious, that will be a great victory.”

As they spoke, the electricity went off, and Prabhupāda’s room, as well as the rest of the building, was in darkness. Within a few moments a devotee entered with a kerosene lantern. Prabhupāda began to reminisce, saying that electricity had been introduced in India when he was a young boy. At first not every house could afford electricity, he said, and if a man had a good gas light in his house, he was considered rich. He said the street lamps were carbon arc, and the man who changed the carbon rods would throw the used ones in the street. “When the carbon would be changed,” said Prabhupāda, “they would throw, and we children would collect them.”

“What would you do with them?” asked Tamāla Kṛṣṇa.

Śrīla Prabhupāda laughed and said, “Play – ‘We have collected something.’ So electricity was introduced in our life when we were ten or twelve.”

“But still you were able to read,” said Brahmānanda.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, “with this lantern.” He recalled that his father would purchase kerosene for the lanterns. His father was not rich, but by buying and stocking things in quantity, he used to amply provide for his family. Life was simple then, Prabhupāda concluded, but civilized.

The sannyāsīs began telling Prabhupāda about how a military dictatorship had taken over in Argentina and had officially banned the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Twenty thousand dollars’ worth of books had been seized, and devotees had been arrested. Many other persons were being regularly arrested or shot in the streets.

“Things are deteriorating everywhere,” said Prabhupāda.

“Very quickly,” added Brahmānanda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “So this will give impetus to Kṛṣṇa consciousness – yadā yadā hi dharmasya glāniḥ.* Don’t be disappointed. Kṛṣṇa will act through His movement and kill them, these demons. How it will be done, that you cannot know now, but it will be done. Let us remain true soldiers. That’s all. And suppose you die in the fight? Fight means with vow, with determination either to gain victory or die. Because it is a fight against māyā. Why you shall be afraid of being killed? When there is a fight, one must know that, ‘Either I’m going to be killed or gain victory.’ Jīva vā mara vā. Those who are devotees, either they live or they die, it’s the same thing. While they live they are serving Kṛṣṇa. When they die they will serve Kṛṣṇa. Jīva vā mara vā. Tyaktvā dehaṁ punar janma naiti mām eti.* He goes to Kṛṣṇa. So what is the loss? We are working for Kṛṣṇa, and if we die we go to Kṛṣṇa. What is the loss?”

* Lord Kṛṣṇa appears when religious principles are disturbed. (Bhagavad-gītā 4.7)

* At the time of death the Kṛṣṇa conscious person goes to Kṛṣṇa. (Bhagavad-gītā 4.9)

A few days later Ādi-keśava Swami arrived in Māyāpur to see Śrīla Prabhupāda. Ādi-keśava was only twenty-three years old, and all these things were creating a great strain upon him. Against his lawyer’s advice, he had come to India in desperation, to see Śrīla Prabhupāda. For the preliminary hearings he had worn a business suit and a regular haircut, but now he appeared before Śrīla Prabhupāda with shaven head and saffron robes. Other sannyāsīs had also arrived, and they all gathered in Prabhupāda’s room, eager to get his direction.

“This movement is not brainwashing,” Prabhupāda began, “we are brain-giving. First of all you must have brain. Then there is a question of washing. But you have no brain. You do not know what is this life. You cannot explain what is the difference between a dead man and a living man. You have got so many big, big scientists and philosophers, but you do not know. So where is your brain? First of all prove your brain. Then there can be a question of washing. It is not brainwashing. It is brain-giving movement. Unfortunately, you have no brain. Therefore you misunderstand. On this point the Bhagavad-gītā will explain. What do you think? Brainwashing or brain-giving?”

“Yes,” said Ādi-keśava, “this is good.” Prabhupāda said the devotees should consult among themselves, write an essay, and send it to the court. His main point was that most people could not understand the simple truth of the soul. They are in need of knowledge, and the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is giving essential knowledge of the soul. Therefore it is a brain-giving movement.

Ādi-keśava took the role of the antagonists. “Well,” he said, “I have a brain, and it is functioning. Otherwise, how could I be speaking to you now? How could I even answer you?”

“But that speaking and the dog’s barking are the same thing,” said Prabhupāda. “The dog is barking. What is the difference? He is speaking in a different language, that’s all. The dog is barking, and you are speaking. What is the difference?”

Ādi-keśava: “But they say, ‘We have art. We have science.’ ”

“Whatever you may have,” Prabhupāda replied, “you cannot answer the ultimate question.”