DESPITE HIS PROMISE to live, Śrīla Prabhupāda said his life was still in Kṛṣṇa’s hands – everything was. His free choice did not mean he was absolutely independent. Rather, the pure devotee’s attitude is to freely surrender to Kṛṣṇa, whatever happens. In the mood of the gopīs, the foremost devotees of Lord Kṛṣṇa, Lord Caitanya Mahāprabhu prayed, “You may handle me roughly in Your embrace or make me brokenhearted by not being present before me, but You are always my worshipable Lord, unconditionally.”

Because the exchanges between the Lord and His pure devotees are always supremely personal, both the Lord and His devotees express desires and individual will. In His childhood līlā, Kṛṣṇa sometimes breaks mother Yaśodā’s butter pot, and sometimes He allows her to catch Him and bind Him. In any case, the will of the Lord and the will of the devotee are always one in interest, but they are sometimes expressed in the form of a loving conflict. Similarly, although Śrīla Prabhupāda had promised his devotees that he would stay in the world and defy death, he still remained surrendered to the will of Kṛṣṇa.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had already expressed his surrender in the prayer he had given his disciples to offer on his behalf: “My dear Lord Kṛṣṇa, if You desire, please cure Śrīla Prabhupāda.” By the phrase “if You desire,” he was reminding his followers of the supreme prerogative of Kṛṣṇa and was asking them to abide by it, although he was also giving them an acceptable way to petition Kṛṣṇa. In a similar case in 1967, he had given his disciples another prayer: “My master has not finished his work.” He had said then that Kṛṣṇa had responded to this prayer, granting the wishes of the devotees. Śrīla Prabhupāda himself was responding to the devotees’ prayers, and Kṛṣṇa had given him the choice. But as a surrendered soul, Śrīla Prabhupāda waited for further developments, ever sensitive to Kṛṣṇa’s desire. As Prabhupāda had said when invited by Kīrtanānanda to come to his palace in New Vrindaban, “Let us see which palace I am going to.”

As a loving tension can sometimes exist between the Supreme Lord and His pure devotee, so now a similar tension existed between Śrīla Prabhupāda and his followers. Prior to his disciples’ desperate petition at his bedside, Śrīla Prabhupāda had seen his duty as instructing his disciples in how to die. Part of his mission was to set the perfect example in this most important lesson – how to pass life’s ultimate test. But now his disciples were asking him to postpone the lesson in dying and stay with them indefinitely in the preaching field. And Prabhupāda had agreed, showing that he had the ability to live if he chose. But sooner or later he would have to return to the lesson on how a person should face the end of life.

One special feature of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s activities is his relating intimately to the human condition while at the same time remaining aloof and transcendental. As a pure devotee, he was not subjected to the law of karma, which awards reactions for pious and sinful deeds. He was not born by the force of karma, nor would he die by force of karma. As stated by Śrīla Rūpa Gosvāmī, “One whose body, mind, and words are fully engaged in devotional service to Lord Kṛṣṇa is a liberated soul, even while living in this world.” People often misunderstand the movements of a pure devotee within the material world, just as one, on seeing clouds blowing past the moon, may think the moon itself is moving. The śāstra, therefore, warns us never to see the guru as an ordinary man subject to karma.

But Śrīla Prabhupāda, while always transcendental to this world, showed the conditioned souls how they too could come to the stage of liberation by constantly thinking about Kṛṣṇa and serving Him, so that at the time of death they could return to Kṛṣṇa in the eternal, spiritual world. And Prabhupāda’s lessons were always practical and universal. Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books, for example, were not mere theory but were practical and full of realized knowledge. And Prabhupāda practiced what he preached; his entire life was exemplary. He had been in family life, and even then he had vigorously preached, by starting his Back to Godhead magazine. In poverty and obscurity he had struggled to start a spiritual movement, and by the grace of Kṛṣṇa and his spiritual master, he had become successful. He had always shown by his humanlike attempts his willingness to bravely take on austerity and face danger. He had shown exemplary spiritual life for all to try and follow. He had gone alone, in old age, to a foreign country and had chanted Hare Kṛṣṇa in a park in New York City, attracting the young men and women of America. Therefore everyone should take his example and try to serve Kṛṣṇa, despite the immediate impediments. Śrīla Prabhupāda encountered obstacles, yet by his free will and the help of Kṛṣṇa, he surmounted them. This was his wonderful example. It is said that Lord Caitanya, five hundred years ago, made surrender to Kṛṣṇa more attainable than Lord Kṛṣṇa had five thousand years ago. And now, in the twentieth century, Śrīla Prabhupāda has made Kṛṣṇa consciousness possible for people all over the world.

As part of his instruction and example, Śrīla Prabhupāda knew he would have to show people just how to die. He had escaped death a number of times – by Kṛṣṇa’s grace, by the prayers of his disciples, and by his own pure and powerful will to propagate his movement. But from the signs given to him by Lord Kṛṣṇa in 1977, Śrīla Prabhupāda began decisively and conclusively ending his mission in the material world. And among his final duties was his giving complete guidelines on how to die. He was perfectly showing how to do that which everyone has to do, but which is most difficult to do successfully: die.

But a loving conflict was there. Prabhupāda loved his disciples. He also knew they were not yet fully mature. His movement already had great potency and stature in the world, and yet it had many enemies. He was inclined to always protect his devotees, his movement, and all living entities, even the animals. So when his most intimate and faithful disciples pleaded that they could not go on without him, he had turned from showing how to die, agreeing to stay with them and preach. But at what point would they ever be willing to let him go? At what point could he say that the world of māyā and the enemies of Kṛṣṇa were all gone? At what point would his disciples become fully mature?

In following his decision to stay, Śrīla Prabhupāda turned himself over to his disciples, allowing them to care for him completely. Those who took part recalled that never before had Śrīla Prabhupāda allowed such intimate dealings between himself and his disciples. The only thing comparable was in New York, in 1966, when he had been very intimate in dealing with the first persons to join him, persons who had known nothing of the etiquette of approaching a spiritual master. But those who were present now and who had also been present then said that these days were even more intimate.

At one point Kīrtanānanda firmly insisted that Śrīla Prabhupāda drink a full cup of juice, even when he said he had had enough. Kīrtanānanda felt awkward, insisting. “I am not like mother Yaśodā that I can do this,” he said. “I keep remembering that you are my spiritual master.” But Śrīla Prabhupāda allowed himself to be ordered by Kīrtanānanda. Similarly, Bhavānanda, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, Bhakti-caru, Upendra, and other servants coaxed Śrīla Prabhupāda to follow certain diets and cared for his body constantly. The other devotees were reminded of the story of Īśvara Purī, who gave intimate bodily service to his spiritual master, Mādhavendra Purī, when Mādhavendra was in the last stages of his life and apparently invalid. According to the Caitanya-caritāmṛta, it was by this menial, bodily service that Īśvara Purī proved his love for his spiritual master and was allowed to become the spiritual master of Lord Caitanya.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had deferred the lessons in dying in favor of giving his disciples an unparalleled opportunity to serve him in pure and simple love. And he allowed this not only for a few, but for whoever came to Vṛndāvana. Many came, and all were allowed to enter Śrīla Prabhupāda’s room, massage his body, and sit with him as long as they liked, day and night, chanting the holy name for his pleasure. Śrīla Prabhupāda also recommenced his translating, and this was done openly. Whereas previously he had always worked in solitude, he now encouraged all devotees to come as he lay in bed dictating his Bhaktivedanta purports. He was giving himself completely and declaring it also, telling the devotees present, “Never leave me,” and “I cannot live without your company.” They had asked him to stay, and he had agreed, consigning himself completely to their care.

Those who were blessed to have this service felt themselves passing over all barriers of reluctance to serve, as well as all barriers of material desire. By intimately serving Śrīla Prabhupāda, they felt the strength of complete surrender and sensed that this would sustain them always, even when Śrīla Prabhupāda eventually did depart from the world.

Prabhupāda also continued speaking, as he had in recent months, about being unafraid of death and being fixed in transcendental knowledge. When receiving a presentation of some of his books recently printed in Portuguese by Hṛdayānanda Goswami, Prabhupāda encouraged him and said, “This is life. The material world is just bones. The bones are not our real life. Our real concern is the living force. The bones may remain or go – it doesn’t matter. The real life is sustaining the bones. There is even a history that there was a ṛṣi who had only bones. So there is a science by which you can sustain life by only bones. Hiraṇyakaśipu did it.”

“You are also doing it, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Tamāla Kṛṣṇa said.

“So take care of the bones as long as possible,” said Prabhupāda, “but the real life is here, always remember that. The material world means we are simply all protecting bones and flesh together. But they have no knowledge of what they are.”

And when Ātreya Ṛṣi visited Śrīla Prabhupāda and asked that he visit Tehran, Prabhupāda said that he was ready to go, but “Now you have to take a bundle of bones.” These were, of course, the same themes that Prabhupāda had always taught, the same themes that were in his books. But the lessons were more poignant and striking when Prabhupāda applied them to his own situation.

More than one devotee compared Prabhupāda to Bhīṣmadeva, who gave important instructions in his last days. As Bhīṣma felt no pain and delivered learned and loving discourses even from his “bed of arrows,” and as Bhīṣma determined by his own will the time of his departure from the world, so Śrīla Prabhupāda spent his last days oblivious to his physical condition, defying death, and instructing his spiritually innocent sons. But Prabhupāda’s sons could no longer stand by and simply hear the philosophical lessons. Prabhupāda had accepted their affection when they had cried for him to stay with them, and now they wanted to express that affection in the only world they understood, a world with Śrīla Prabhupāda living and talking with them, laughing or reprimanding them, as he liked. They wanted him to eat and drink and become physically strong again.

But again Śrīla Prabhupāda seemed to change, and he began refusing food and drink. He had postponed his passing away to exchange lovingly with his disciples, and yet at the same time, by refusing to eat or drink, he was showing his preference for passing away. He admitted, when pressed, that it was an impossible course of action – to live without food or drink. Nor did he expect or want miracles. If he was to get better, it would be by taking nourishment. But for reasons of his own, he would not eat. He said recovery was material, and he didn’t want it.

He kept closely in tune with the will of Kṛṣṇa, allowing the holy name to sustain him. The doctors who came were often puzzled, but those who were Vaiṣṇavas understood and respected his prerogative. Prabhupāda’s servants made anxiety-filled attempts to induce Prabhupāda to take regular treatment. But Prabhupāda preferred to take only kīrtana and Bhāgavatam, while at the same time sustaining a willingness to live. He empathized with his disciples’ anxiety and patiently explained the puzzling situation they were in. He wanted their care, and he allowed them to try and treat him, knowing that it was bringing them more and more into a surrender of love. But gradually it became more clear that Kṛṣṇa’s will was indicating Prabhupāda’s departure.

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” Bhavānanda coaxed, always working on the assumption that Prabhupāda could stay if he wanted, “your presence on this planet is the only thing that’s keeping the onslaught of the Kali-yuga from really taking effect. We have no idea even what will happen if you leave.”

“It is not in my hands,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda, with perfect clarity of consciousness. “Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma.”

Śrīla Prabhupāda always spoke clearly, logically, and with complete devotion to Kṛṣṇa. Up until the last he dealt with practical matters, forming a Bhaktivedanta Swami Charity Trust for reconstructing ancient temples in Bengal and arranging final details regarding ISKCON properties and monies. Through all dealings he stayed always alert, and he absorbed himself in kīrtana and Bhāgavatam.

But it became obvious to his disciples that, despite his promise, he was again moving inevitably towards giving the final lesson. He was teaching that love was beyond death, that a disciple’s love could call the spiritual master back to the world to stay, and that a pure devotee has the ability to stay in the world beyond his allotted time. Meanwhile, however, he was progressing steadily to the final point. The devotees didn’t feel angry with him or cheated that he was doing so. He had told them that he had free will given by Kṛṣṇa. And they also, by their free will, had asked him to stay, and he had agreed. But they knew he was not obliged. If, despite their prayers, Lord Kṛṣṇa was telling Śrīla Prabhupāda that he should come back home to Godhead, what could they do but accept? If Śrīla Prabhupāda was accepting, then they would accept also. Nothing, however, could change the fact of their surrendered love; it had now become a solid pact that could not be vanquished by any material changes. They had passed the test of eternal loving service, and that could not be taken away by death.

Up until the end there were interludes of sweetness as well as displays of Prabhupāda’s indomitable mood of fighting for Kṛṣṇa. One day Prabhupāda’s sister Pisimā arrived unexpectedly, and Prabhupāda asked her to cook kicharī. At that time Kīrtanānanda was trying to put Prabhupāda on the road to recovery by gradually increasing his liquids, and Kīrtanānanda and the other devotees opposed the idea of his suddenly eating solid foods. But Śrīla Prabhupāda insisted.

“It doesn’t matter whether what she cooks does good to me or bad,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “She is a Vaiṣṇavī. It will be good for me.” He then began speaking in an extremely humble way. “Probably I became a little puffed up because of my opulence and success,” he said. “Now God has shattered that pride. If you don’t have your body, what is there to be puffed up about?”

Bhakti-caru Swami protested, “Śrīla Prabhupāda, whatever you have done, you have done for Kṛṣṇa.”

“That may be, but in this world, unknowingly you commit offenses.”

When Pisimā heard this, she exclaimed, “No, no, he never committed any offense.”

“You cannot ever commit offenses,” said Bhakti-caru. “You are God’s very dear one. How can you commit offenses?”

“I am a little temperamental,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda. “I used to use words like rascal and so on. I never compromised. They used to call it ‘A club in one hand and a Bhāgavatam in the other.’ That is how I preach. Anyway, make arrangements for my sister.”

There were also visits from Śrīla Prabhupāda’s Godbrothers, and again Prabhupāda asked forgiveness for his offenses. One time, Niṣkiñcana Kṛṣṇadāsa Bābājī, Purī Mahārāja, Āśrama Mahārāja, Ānanda Prabhu, Puruṣottama Brahmacārī, and about twenty others came and sat next to Prabhupāda’s bed. He was resting when they arrived, and they joined the kīrtana until he awoke. When he saw them, he asked to be raised up. Sitting in the center of his bed with his Godbrothers all around, he addressed them.

“All over the world there is a beautiful field to preach Kṛṣṇa consciousness,” he said. “I didn’t care whether I would be successful or not. People are willing to take. They are all taking also. If we preach together, the saying of Mahāprabhu, pṛthivīte, will come true. We have everything. Spread the holy name and distribute prasādam. There is a beautiful field. In Africa, in Russia, everywhere they’re accepting.”

When Prabhupāda began asking his Godbrothers to forgive him, they protested. “You are the eternal leader,” one of them asserted. “You rule over us, guide us, and chastise us.”

“Forgive all my offenses,” Prabhupāda repeated. “I became proud of all my opulence.”

“No,” said Purī Mahārāja, “you never became proud. When you started preaching, opulence and success followed you. That was the blessing of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu and Śrī Kṛṣṇa. There cannot be any question of your being offensive.”

When Śrīla Prabhupāda presented himself as mahā-patita, greatly fallen, Purī Mahārāja did not accept it. “You have saved millions of people around the world,” he said. “Therefore there is no question of offenses. But you should be called mahā-patita-pāvana [the great savior of the fallen].”

Prabhupāda’s disciples regarded Prabhupāda’s asking for his Godbrothers’ forgiveness as a manifestation of his humility. But they were also puzzled. Certainly Prabhupāda’s Godbrothers were sincere in saying Prabhupāda had committed no offense. Whatever he had done, he had done for Kṛṣṇa. But Śrīla Prabhupāda was also sincere in asking for forgiveness. That was the beautiful gem of his humility – to ask everyone for forgiveness.

For the purpose of preaching, displaying this gem had not always been the most effective way to spread the merciful teachings of Lord Kṛṣṇa in every town and village. But now it could be displayed. In London and now in Vṛndāvana, Prabhupāda was showing his disciples extra affection and gratitude, without the reprimands usually necessary in training disciples. This attitude of complete humility was a symptom of the highest stage of devotional life. Śrīla Prabhupāda had explained in his books that the madhyama-adhikārī, the second-class devotee, makes distinctions between the devotees, the innocent nondevotees, and the demons, whereas the mahā-bhāgavata, or first-class devotee, sees everyone – except himself – as a servant of God. Sometimes, however, the mahā-bhāgavata desires to come down from the first-class platform to the second-class platform, just to take up the most compassionate service of preaching Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Prabhupāda’s disciples had all read of the mahā-bhāgavata stage in the scriptures, and now they were seeing it fully displayed, as Prabhupāda referred to himself as the most fallen and asked for everyone’s forgiveness.

Śrīla Prabhupāda had heard of the program of his disciple Lokanātha Swami, who was taking a small group of men on a bullock cart and preaching in villages throughout India. Lokanātha had told Śrīla Prabhupāda how in the course of their travels they had recently visited tīrthas such as Badarikasrama and Bhim Kapur. Śrīla Prabhupāda was enlivened to hear this, and he then evolved a transcendental desire to go himself on a cart pulled by bullocks to circumambulate the area of Vṛndāvana. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and Bhavānanda, who were serving Prabhupāda with increased intimacy, felt themselves unable to support Śrīla Prabhupāda in his desire, since they thought his fragile body could not survive such rough treatment on the roads.

But Śrīla Prabhupāda reasoned that “Dying on parikrama is glorious,” and he asked them to take him. A controversy developed among the devotees, as some said Prabhupāda’s will to go on parikrama should be immediately honored as an order from the spiritual master; he wanted it, and he should not be denied. The doctor, however, assured them that Śrīla Prabhupāda’s body would not survive the jostling of the cart. The many devotees who crowded around Śrīla Prabhupāda’s bed held different opinions, and Prabhupāda could see this. Following his request, however, Lokanātha went out and hired a cart with bullocks and prepared it for the ride. Lokanātha and Haṁsadūta suggested that the parikrama could go to the city of Vṛndāvana or visit the seven main temples of the Gosvāmīs. But then they said that since the next day was Govardhana-pūjā, Prabhupāda could go to Govardhana Hill. Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, Bhavānanda, and Bhakti-caru, however, protested adamantly against the parikrama.

“One-day experiment,” Prabhupāda said. “It is for one day. Rest assured I will not die in one day.” He liked the idea of going to Govardhana. “And we shall make our cooking there,” he said. Lokanātha Swami, he assured them, was experienced. “Make very good picnic,” he said.

After discussing back and forth, the devotees finally decided that early the next morning they would take Śrīla Prabhupāda in a bullock cart to Govardhana. The majority of the devotees then left Śrīla Prabhupāda alone for the night.

Later that night Śrīla Prabhupāda received a visit from Niṣkiñcana Kṛṣṇadāsa Bābājī, who sat with Prabhupāda, chanting and sometimes speaking in Bengali. Suddenly, Tamāla Kṛṣṇa and Bhavānanda came to Prabhupāda’s bedside. They were in tears and beside themselves with anxiety.

Prabhupāda understood. “You request me not to go?” he asked.

“Well, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “I’ll tell you, I’m getting so upset sitting in the room upstairs. I was walking around. Two of the devotees told me that this road is so bad that if you go on this road you’re going to be jolted back and forth. The road is terrible. I just can’t understand, Śrīla Prabhupāda, why it has to be tomorrow that we have to go. If anybody wants you to travel, I do. But why do we have to go when you’re in this condition? I can’t understand it. Why are we throwing everything out the window that we must go tomorrow? I can’t understand.”

“All right,” said Śrīla Prabhupāda softly, immediately agreeing to their proposal that he not go.

“Jaya, Śrīla Prabhupāda!” said Bhakti-caru, who was also present.

“Thank you, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Bhavānanda with great relief.

“All right. You’re satisfied?”

“Now I am, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Bhavānanda. “Yes. I was in too much anxiety.”

“Never mind. I shall not put you in anxiety.”

“Actually, Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “we’re so much attached to you that you practically drive us to madness sometimes. Tonight we were becoming mad.”

“No, no, I shall not do that,” said Prabhupāda. “Bābājī Mahārāja,” Prabhupāda turned to Niṣkiñcana Kṛṣṇadāsa Bābājī and said, “ – just see how much affection they have for me.”

“Śrīla Prabhupāda,” said Tamāla Kṛṣṇa, “the way you deal with us simply deepens our attachment every moment.”

“It is my duty,” said Prabhupāda, and the devotees laughed warmly, understanding. Yes, they could understand – that was his duty. By all his actions and dealings, Prabhupāda’s intention was to capture spirit souls and deliver them to Kṛṣṇa. His method was loving service, but he did not do it for himself. He was delivering them to Kṛṣṇa. That was his duty.