The same man then referred to Prabhupāda’s purport which Bhavānanda Goswami had read, in which Prabhupāda had criticized the life of the hoglike man who lives only for sense gratification. “One of your principal statements,” the man said, “was that a man goes on the motor tram, stands there for two hours, reaches his place of business and works there from nine o’clock in the morning to five o’clock in the evening, returns back, has his food and sex and all that. I found many people who have worked very hard, raised children very nicely, have sex, but lead a good life. I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.”

“Yes, if there is no wrong,” said Prabhupāda, “it is all right. But this sort of life is not very palatable.”

The man continued, “Because I find even the dog —”

Śrīla Prabhupāda interrupted, but his reply was soft and humble. “If you like that life, if you feel it is good, then that is up to you. But I don’t think this is a very nice way of life, to work so hard simply for bread.”

“No,” the man said, “I agree there.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda then raised his voice more strongly. “Then agreed, agreed. Then why disagree? That’s all right, no more.” The man had more questions, but Tamāla Kṛṣṇa called on someone else.

“Would you agree that God is just a concept? If you do not, please give a logical reason for that.”

Prabhupāda: “Why shall I agree that God is only a concept?”

“Because I want it logically.”

“You do not know logic. You have to learn logic.”

“But I still would like you to explain it logically.”

“Yes, but you have to learn how to know it. There is master. Just like you cannot prove logically that without father, there is a child.” Śrīla Prabhupāda explained that everything we see is growing out of the earth, and the earth is described in the Vedas as the mother. But there cannot be a child without a father; where there is mother and child, there must be father. God, therefore, is the father of everything.

Śrīla Prabhupāda’s disciples were urging him not to exert himself, so when Svarūpa Dāmodara arrived, Śrīla Prabhupāda asked him to give the evening lecture. Prabhupāda was very impressed with Svarūpa Dāmodara’s scientific presentation of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. One of the devotees remarked that Svarūpa Dāmodara’s talk seemed too technical for the audience, but another devotee replied that even if no one else had appreciated the speech, Śrīla Prabhupāda had, and so it was a success. Following Svarūpa Dāmodara’s lecture, Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke for about five minutes and left, without taking any questions.

The following night Prabhupāda did not speak at all, but he sat onstage while two of India’s leading cardiologists, Dr. Kesharrao Datey and Dr. Sharma, spoke. Śrīla Prabhupāda had been garlanded by Dr. Datey, and he sat patiently and silently on the vyāsāsana, satisfied that prominent Bombayites were honoring the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement. Dr. Datey spoke about heart disease and said it could be eliminated by controlling anxiety. He then praised Śrīla Prabhupāda and his movement. After the doctors’ brief talks, Svarūpa Dāmodara gave another scientific lecture and showed slides. Śrīla Prabhupāda later told Svarūpa Dāmodara and others, “This scientific program is giving me extra strength to preach Kṛṣṇa consciousness.”

“It seems like you are giving more stress to science in recent years than previously,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami.

“That is required for convincing the modernized man,” said Prabhupāda. “Perhaps I am the first man who protested against these unauthorized scientists.”

“Oh, yes,” said Svarūpa Dāmodara. “Everybody is afraid of them except Śrīla Prabhupāda. Frankly speaking, I never knew that the problem was this serious before I met Śrīla Prabhupāda. I never thought about this.”

“Therefore I took it so seriously,” said Prabhupāda. “Every morning walk I would look for you and ask, ‘Where is the scientist?’ I thought, ‘Here I have got an opportunity to impress a scientist, and that will fructify.’ That was my aim. Therefore I was bothering you in so many ways.”

“It is your incredible mercy, Prabhupāda,” said Svarūpa Dāmodara.

“Because I cannot use the technical words,” Prabhupāda said, “and he can do that. So I wanted that he should be trained up.”

Girirāja arranged that one of the newly elected Janata party members of Parliament come and see Śrīla Prabhupāda. The gentleman, Mr. Ratan Singh Rajda, was eager to meet the leader of the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement. So while Mr. Rajda had been attending a political rally at Sivaji Park, Girirāja had come to arrange the meeting.

“When I went there,” Girirāja told Prabhupāda later, “he asked me to sit with them on a dais. So I did. But was that wrong?”

“Why not?” said Prabhupāda. “He is honoring you.”

Girirāja said that Mr. Rajda had asked to be the first speaker at the rally, so that he could be free to come and meet with Śrīla Prabhupāda before leaving the next day for a meeting with the central government in Delhi. Girirāja explained that Mr. Rajda was a member of Parliament from Bombay South, which was the most prestigious district, and that he had formerly helped ISKCON in their case against the attempted demolition of the temple.

Mr. Rajda entered the room and made a respectful gesture of obeisance to Śrīla Prabhupāda. He said he had met Śrīla Prabhupāda once, but since then he had been in jail for nineteen months. Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed surprised. “Jail?” he asked.

Mr. Rajda explained that he had been jailed during Indira Gandhi’s political emergency. More than 150,000 “patriotic people” had been imprisoned, he said, including J. K. Prakash and the present prime minister, Morarji Desai.

“When Girirāja told me that you were here,” said Mr. Rajda, “I told him definitely I would like to ask for darśana.”

“This attempt at material adjustment … . ” Prabhupāda began, speaking slowly. “Just like we felt a little danger under the regime of Indira Gandhi. Now we have another feeling. This is material adjustment. Material adjustment may be temporarily beneficial, but that is not permanently beneficial.”

Mr. Rajda replied, “Unless there is adhyātmika adjustment, there cannot be lasting benefit.” Mr. Rajda was obviously acquainted with the Sanskrit Vedic knowledge, and he was also aware of the value of going to see a saintly person.

Prabhupāda persisted, however, in making the point that people do not really understand spiritual life. He described that the material body is made of different elements, and yet the living being is different than these elements. “Unless we understand this fact,” he said, “which is very nicely explained in the Bhagavad-gītā, this material adjustment will never make us happy.”

Mr. Rajda followed Prabhupāda’s point but asserted that a great change had taken place since the elections. “The basic difference,” he said, “is that formerly there was no moral code observed by the rulers.” He was entirely agreeable – or wanted to be – with Śrīla Prabhupāda, yet they were speaking on different levels. Both asserted that spirituality was needed in government, but Mr. Rajda’s political conclusion was that such spiritual reform was now present in his political party.

Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, continued to speak of people who talk of God yet don’t even know the identity of the soul. He didn’t specify whether this criticism applied to the former or to the present political party, although his remarks seemed to include both. Whoever was not in transcendental knowledge, whoever tried to work in the material field without knowing the difference between spirit and matter, would come to the same inglorious end.

“No,” said Mr. Rajda, “the last rulers, most of them were Communists. They said religion is opium. They didn’t believe in religion at all.”

“Therefore,” Prabhupāda said, “they say something, we say something, he says something, you manufacture something. But nobody knows what is reality. That is the difficulty. Unless you know the reality, to suggest and say, ‘I suggest it,’ does not mean that it is a solution. This is going on all over the world. Na te viduḥ svārtha-gatiṁ hi viṣṇum.* The external features, these material features – they are concerned with that. Earth, water, fire, air, ether, mind, intelligence. But they do not know that beyond this, there is another element. Unless you come to that knowledge, there is no question of welfare activities. That knowledge is available in India.”

* People do not know that their highest self-interest is Viṣṇu. (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 7.5.31)

Śrīla Prabhupāda accepted Mr. Rajda’s visit as sincere and serious, and so he wanted to convince him to fully accept Kṛṣṇa consciousness if he was really serious about introducing principles of dharma and morality into government. Real dharma had to start with an acceptance of self-realization as the all-important goal of life. It could not succeed just by rubber-stamping the government as religious.

“Now we have got good government,” Śrīla Prabhupāda conceded. “Very nice. Now you should take advantage of the privileges which are there in India. The Bhagavad-gītā is there. If you take directions from Bhagavad-gītā, then the whole human society will be benefited. That you do not know. That is the defect. Even big, big leaders, they profess to be students of Bhagavad-gītā, but they do not know anything, although it is clearly stated. Who is the leader in India who does not know Bhagavad-gītā? Everyone knows. Even Morarji Desai, when he was to be arrested by the leaders of government, he said, ‘Wait, let me finish my reading of Bhagavad-gītā.’ Is it not?”

“Yes,” replied Mr. Rajda.

Śrīla Prabhupāda: “ ‘Let me finish my Bhagavad-gītā, then you can harass me.’ ”

Mr. Rajda added that Mr. Desai was also studying the Bhagavad-gītā very minutely while he was in jail.

“But now,” said Prabhupāda, “he says that ‘Janata is my God.’ Did he not say this recently?” Mr. Rajda admitted that Morarji Desai had stated that, but that he had later clarified it.

“It is the government’s responsibility to make people God conscious,” Śrīla Prabhupāda argued. “It is a very simple thing. God personally is explaining how to become God conscious. It is a very simple thing: man-manā bhava mad-bhaktaḥ.* Even a child can do it, so why not leaders? Then their example should be followed. Why don’t they do this, this God consciousness? Do it seriously. Then everything will be all right. They are defying the existence of God and reading Bhagavad-gītā. This is their position.”

* Always think of Kṛṣṇa and become His devotee. (Bhagavad-gītā 9.34)

Śrīla Prabhupāda explained to Mr. Rajda how he had been propagating the Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement virtually alone. For years he had worked in the West, and now he was bringing his movement to India. “Cooperate with us,” he said. “You are so kind; you have come to see me. You have got desire. So let us take it seriously.”

Mr Rajda seemed very moved, and replied, “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Correct.”

“It is serious,” said Prabhupāda, “but nobody has taken it seriously. Bhagavad-gītā is popular book. Everyone takes the Bhagavad-gītā and says, ‘I am a student of Bhagavad-gītā.’ But if the leaders of a society really set the example, others will follow.”

“That’s correct,” said Mr. Rajda. “A serious effort should be made. Only lip service will not help. That is correct.” Mr. Rajda reminded Prabhupāda how he had supported the Juhu temple at the time of the attempted demolition.

“So you have given a great service,” said Prabhupāda. “Now it is not only not demolished, but it is standing there.”

“It is standing,” affirmed Mr. Rajda, “and a very nice temple.”

Mr. Rajda mentioned the possibility of a meeting between Śrīla Prabhupāda and Morarji Desai. He said it could be arranged if it was convenient for Prabhupāda.

“My life is dedicated for this purpose,” said Prabhupāda. “It is convenient for me at any time. I am not keeping good health at the moment, yet still I have come. I am just trying, even up to the last moment of my life. If I can deliver some good to these people – that is my determination. What is this life? Life will end today or tomorrow or day after. But if you live just to the point, that is the idea. Otherwise, trees are also living – thousands of years. What is the benefit?”

Mr. Rajda confirmed that the meeting could definitely be arranged. He would see the prime minister and fix up a time.

“So,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “there’s some Kṛṣṇa’s purpose that you were elected.”

“It is through His blessings,” said Mr. Rajda.

“Take advantage of His blessings,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Do some service.”

On the last scheduled evening of the paṇḍāl, the chief minister of Maharashtra gave the introductory speech. Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, did not attend. When the devotees asked to extend the paṇḍāl another week, Prabhupāda agreed, but said he would move to his now-ready quarters at Hare Krishna Land.

Before leaving, Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke with Mr. and Mrs. Mahadevia. Prabhupāda had one of the devotees purchase a nice sārī and he presented it to Mrs. Mahadevia. “I stayed with you, and this is just my remembrance of thanks, so don’t refuse.” He gave a tape recorder to Mr. Mahadevia, a sārī to the Mahādevias’ daughter Priti, and money to their servants. Mrs. Mahadevia was very pleased but she protested, saying it was a traditional duty and a pleasure for them to receive Prabhupāda in their home. Previously Śrīla Prabhupāda had been playing the tape recorder in Mr. Mahadevia’s presence, and Mr. Mahadevia had admired the sound reproduction. Now, when Śrīla Prabhupāda gave him the tape recorder, he protested. “No, Prabhupāda, I was not telling you that you should give me that tape recorder. I was just telling you that it’s a good piece.”

“No, no,” Prabhupāda insisted, “this is for you. You must keep it.”

As Śrīla Prabhupāda entered his beautiful quarters at Hare Krishna Land, he remarked that no one could outdo Surabhi Swami. “I think I haven’t such a place to live anywhere in the world,” he said. “Los Angeles and New York are big, big cities, and London, Paris – but nobody can present such luxurious royal palace.”

Seeing how the one large room was arranged to facilitate his different activities, Śrīla Prabhupāda said, “This is like my room at the Rādhā-Dāmodara temple. In one corner I am writing, in another corner I am sitting, in another corner I am taking prasādam.” The comparison was odd, since the Rādhā-Dāmodara place was a tiny cell, yet Śrīla Prabhupāda saw them as related: the beginning in Vṛndāvana and the apex in Bombay. In either place, he was the same person, humbly taking a little prasādam, writing his books, and ambitiously planning for spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

Śrīla Prabhupāda discussed with several of his disciples and Dr. Sharma about his daily routine in Bombay. He said he would come down for darśana of the Deity and would lecture once a week on Sunday. On special occasions he would see a visitor in his quarters, but rarely. “Generally,” he said, “people come to visit and say, ‘How are you? How are you feeling?’ And he takes a half hour even. So what is the use of wasting time like that, ‘How are you?’ Everyone knows that I am not feeling well.”

“So they can come to the temple room in the morning,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa Goswami.

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda. “If they actually want to see me, I am going there. They can see me for a half hour. And for talking, there is no need of talking, ‘How are you? How are you feeling?’ This is not talking.”

“Instead,” said Gargamuni Swami, “they can buy some of your books downstairs.”

“Yes,” said Prabhupāda, nodding approvingly. “This is a waste of time. I want to stop this, to answer all these things, ‘How are you?’ ” By saving his time and energy, he said, he could work on his book writing. Devotees assured him that everyone would appreciate this schedule and would be happy that he was working on the Tenth Canto.

“I think I shall be able to work from today,” Prabhupāda declared. “Now I have got very nice place, full freedom. So there will be no difficulty.”

That Prabhupāda would not take any morning walks went without saying. Everyone closely involved with Śrīla Prabhupāda had come to accept a new way of living, with no morning walks and very few classes. Someone suggested that Prabhupāda might like to walk on the roof, but even that seemed to be too difficult.

“No, one story I can go,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “Not now, but I can go. So you are trying so much for my comfort, I do not know whether I shall be able to repay you. But I shall try my best. It is not possible to repay your debt, you are so kind. So I can simply pray to Kṛṣṇa to give His blessings to you, so that you may remain very steady in devotional service and preach His message all over the world. Otherwise, I have no other means. Without your help, I could not do anything. So you are very kind. Kindly continue your cooperation. This is the movement for para-upakāra [doing good for others]. I have got report from our other temples all over the world – they are doing very nice. Is it not? Other temples outside India, they are doing very nice.” Svarūpa Dāmodara, who had recently come from the West, told about the successful standard of devotional service in the temples there.

Prabhupāda said he wanted silence so he could do his work, and he told a little story about a woman whose tinkling bracelets disturbed her husband. The husband took one bangle away, but still he was disturbed by the “tink-tink-tink.” He took away another bangle and another, until there was only one left. Then there was no more “tink-tink-tink.” Prabhupāda specifically asked his secretaries not to gather and talk in the outer room. “Remain always one,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “and read books. Then there will be no noise. And as soon as you become two – ‘tink-tink-tink.’ That I don’t want.”

“It won’t happen,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “If anyone comes to see me, I will go out of the apartment.”

“Yes,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, “in this way arrange. It should remain always quiet and serene.”

“These are your quarters,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa. “No one else should come.”

“And we shall arrange for seeing our own men at a time,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “But the principle should be silence. That will be all right. I will be free to work.”

Prabhupāda continued to appreciate his new situation. The rooms were well ventilated, with plenty of sunlight. Other ISKCON buildings, like the Bhaktivedanta Manor in London, were very good, he said, but in most seasons he couldn’t open the doors or windows, because of the cold. “You have to remain packed up,” he said. “In Detroit and London, you cannot open a window.” But here in Bombay the temperature was ideal, and the area outside Prabhupāda’s window was verdant.

Days went by, and most devotees in Bombay never got to see Prabhupāda. They were all used to having him come down in the morning and walking with them for an hour on Juhu Beach. And they were used to having him come to greet the Deities, give classes, and give darśana in the afternoon. He had always been open, especially in India, allowing anyone to see him at almost any time. He had always received them warmly and listened to their problems or questions with great sympathy. So for them not to be able to see him, even while he was living in their midst, was traumatic. Only two or three secretaries stayed with him, and whenever other devotees came into his rooms to see him, they would feel that they were taxing him and would leave at the first opportunity.

Unexpectedly one morning Śrīla Prabhupāda appeared in the temple room, and the few devotees removed Prabhupāda’s picture from the vyāsāsana so he could sit down. He hadn’t given any warning that he was coming, and many of the devotees were absent. But the word spread that Prabhupāda was there, and the devotees came running.

After the guru-pūjā ārati, Śrīla Prabhupāda spoke to the assembly of devotees. He said he was sorry that he couldn’t come down more often and that he wanted to cook for all the devotees and serve them. On Sunday, he said, he would cook a feast and invite all the devotees up to his quarters. “I shall come daily to the temple,” he said, “and I shall remain up to eight for our darśana and talks, if there is any comment. Generally every day it will be done. And on Sunday you can fix up some time. I will speak in the evening. And then Kṛṣṇa’s desire, as He likes. But for the time being, this arrangement.”

Prabhupāda’s humility and his exactly reading the minds of the devotees made them feel ecstatic love for him. Some of them had even been thinking that Prabhupāda had forgotten them and that other things had become more important for him. But now he was reassuring them. Although he appeared to be incapacitated, he was fully reciprocating with his disciples. He was telling them that as they were controlled by him, so he was also controlled by their loving service.