Priti-laksanam A Forum for Vaisnava Discussion "Offering gifts in charity, accepting charitable gifts, revealing one's mind in confidence, inquiring confidentially, accepting prasada and offering prasada are the six symptoms of love [priti-laksanam] shared by one devotee and another."ÑNectar of Instruction, Text Four In the service of His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, Founder-Acarya of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness. Articles and letters appearing in this newsletter do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher. Send all correspondence to Priti-laksanam, P.O. Box 1952, Alachua, FL 32615 or via the LINK/COM address. (904) 462-7981; (904) 462-7979. NECTAR SECTION Madhurya-kadambini Sixth Shower of Nectar Enchantment of the Heart Visvanatha Cakravarti Thakura When the taste for doing bhajana reaches extreme depth and Krsna becomes the very object of oneÕs devotional service, one attains to asakti or attachment. At the stage of asakti, the desire creeper of bhakti bears clusters of buds heralding the swift appearance of the flowers of bhava and then fruits of prema. The difference between ruci and asakti is that ruci mainly has bhajana, devotional practice, as its subject, while asakti mainly has the Lord, the object of bhajana, as its subject. Actually, ruci and asakti have both as their subjects, but they differ in that ruci is the immature stage of attachment, while asakti is the mature stage. Asakti polishes the mirror of the heart to such a state the reflection of the Lord suddenly seems to be visible there. ÒOh! My mind is being carried away by material desires, let me fix it on the Lord!Ó Prior to asakti, on realizing his mind has bee noverpowered by material objects and desires, the devotee by his deliberate effort almost withdraws his mind from them and tries to fix it on the LordÕs form, qualities, and so on. At the appearnace of asakti, however, absorption of the mind in the Lord is automatc, without effort. Even at the stage of nistha, a devotee is unable to detect how and when his mind withdraws from topics of the LrodÕs form, qualities, and so on and fixes itself on materias affairs. On the contrary, at the stage of asakti one doesnÕt know how and when his mind withdraws from material topics and spontaneously absorbs itself in topics of the Lord. One below the level of asakti can never experience this. Only a devotees on this level can know what is asakti. Early in the morning, seeing another devotee, heÕll begin talking. ÒWhere are you coming from? You have, perhaps, a salagrama-sila in the lovely case hanging from your neck? Chanting softly, your tongue is quivering every moment by tasting the nectar of KrsnaÕs name. I donÕt know why youÕre giving your darsana to an unfortunate person like me and making me joyful. Tell me about all the holy places youÕve visited. Describe all the saintly souls youÕve met and what realizations theyÕve blessed you with. YouÕre perfecting yourself and others also.Ó In this way heÕll pass som time driking nectar in intimate talks. Elsewhere, seeing another devotee, heÕll say, ÒThe enchanting scripture under your arm is making you appear very elegant, thus I can guess youÕre very learned and realized. Kindly recite one verse of the Tenth Canto for me and bring life to the cataka birds of my ears awaiting the nectar raindrops of its meaning.Ó Hearing the devoteeÕs explanations, his hair stands on end in ecstasy. Going elsewhere, seeing an assembly of devotees, heÕll say, ÒOh, today my life will be successful, for the association of devotees will destroy my sins.Ó Thinking in this way, he pays obeisances to them falling like a stick on the ground. Being welcomed with affection by the most erudite maha-bhagavata, the crown jewel of all devotees, he sits before him in crounched posture. He humbly begs from him with tears in his eyes, ÒOh, master, you are the crest jewel of physicians able to eradicate the grave material disease that afflicts all living entities within the three worlds. IÕm the most fallen and depraved person. Please take my pulse, diagnose my malady, and advise me what medicine and diet to take. By that miracle drug, give me my desires nourishment.Ó Overjoyed with the merciful glance of that maha-bhagavata and his trickling nectar of sweet words, he remains a few days to serve that devoteeÕs lotus feet. At times wandering in the forest, full of love, heÕll intuitively interpret the natural movements of the animals and birds as signs of KrsnaÕs favor or disfavor with him. ÒIf Krsna is showing His mercy to me, then the deer in the distance will come toward me three or four steps. If He isnÕt, then sheÕll turn and run away.Ó On the outskirts of a village, seeing a small brahmana boy playing who reminds him of the child-saint, Sanaka, heÕll enquire from him, ÒWill I see Vrajendra-kumara?Ó ÒNo.Ó Hearing that simple syllable, heÕll deliberate on whether to take the answer on face value or seek a deeper meaning. At times heÕll remain in his house like a very wealthy but miserly merchant greedy for treasure. ÒWhere shall I go? What should I do? HowÕll I get my hands on my desired object?Ó With a worn face heÕll be lost all day in thought like this while dreaming, standing, or sitting. When asked by his relatives whatÕs the matter, heÕll sometimes act like a mute, and at other times, feigning normality, he hides his inner feelings. His friends will apologize, ÒRecently heÕs become scatter-brained.Ó His neighbors will conclude heÕs an idiot by birth. The followers of mimamsa (the philosophy of Jaimini) will think him a fool. Those who study Vedanta will consider him illusioned. The practitioners of pious activities will say heÕs misguided. The devotees will say heÕs attained the essential truth. The offenders will say heÕs a pretender. But that devotee, oblivious to honor and dishonor, having fallen into the current of the great celestial river of attachment to Lord (asakti), simply continues in the same manner. _______________________________________ ESSAYS _______________________________________ Tribhuvanesvari, My Godsister and Friend Manjari dasi San Francisco, CA Tribhuvanesvari devi dasi was born Tuija Rita Marianne Salomaa on February 3, 1951 in Helsinki, Finland. She lived, for almost 43 years, a life of great intensity, love, pain and accomplishment. Tribhuvanesvari was an artist, a musician, a healer, and a disciple of His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. After a hard-fought battle with breast cancer, she died on January 12, 1994. She is survived by her parents and sister, her husband, Vicaru dasa, and her children, Sean Kari, age 22, Devesha, age 14, and Gitanjali, age 9. Tribhuv is remembered and loved by her many friends. Here are a few memories. They offer a brief glimpse of the many facets of our sparkling, jewel like Godsister. Tribhuvanesvari was wild, fun and funny, with the punning wit of someone for whom English is a second language. She was never boring, always intensely feeling something. At the same time, she was frequently in physical pain and dissatisfied with her work and life. Tribhuv always felt that she didnÕt belong here, like she was from another planet, another dimensionÑPleiades to be exact. Actually, she was quite certain about it. I have no way of knowing, but it was clear she was not ordinaryÑshe had extraordinary gifts and talents. Her music was celestial. It elevated your consciousness to hear her play piano. Her mother said that when Tribhuv was five, she would watch her older sister take piano lessons. When her sister was finished, she would climb up on the piano bench and play the entire piece from memory. She once composed a classical piece that she explained was really meant to be a symphony. And as she played it, she would interject, ÒHereÕs where the violins come in . . . There should be horns here . . .Ó She would be hearing the instruments in her mind. Her hearing was unusually acute. She once sang a mesmerizing song based on the nuances of tone that only she could discern in the single beat of a drum. Another time she composed a haunting melody with the slow toot of pan pipes. She put the names of Tulasi to song, and Gopinatha and Hare Krsna to piano. It is for her art, however, that Tribhuvanesvari is best known. If an artist can be stereotyped, she was the epitome: flamboyant, scatter-brained, at times deeply depressed, able to turn anything she touched into beauty. She was driven to express herself, impelled to create. Her home was a gallery of her eclectic designs: paintings, sculpture, lamps, masks, rattles and room dividers. One of her first services for the Toronto Temple was to paint pictures of Krsna. She met her husband when he supervised this artwork. ÒOne of the things that struck me about her was how effortlessly she painted,Ó Vicaru said. ÒShe copied these pictures from the books and then improved on them. Invariably they were better than the originals.Ó Today four of her paintings hang in the Toronto Temple and one, a painting of the naming ceremony of Krsna and Balarama, is in Srimad-Bhagavatam. One of TribhuvanesvariÕs best loved applications of her art was painting Deities. The Toronto Temple valued her painting Radha-Ksiracora Gopinatha so much they paid her way to Canada. ÒShe was the best Deity painter ever,Ó said Toronto president, Bhakti Marg Swami. ÒOur Radharani was already unique, but when Tribhuvanesvari would paint her eyes and lips, Radharani was just stunning. Stunning.Ó Tribhuvanesvari painted the Deities in Berkeley whenever it was needed. Srila PrabhupadaÕs Deity, Govinda, whose repeated washings had left his silver form almost paint-free, was revealed by Tribhuvanesvari to be to-die-for handsome. Just before the last Ratha yatra she started chemotherapy. After treatment she would go straight to the temple to paint Lord Jagannatha, not returning home until late at night. The treatment made her weak and her body was wracked with pain. Once she collapsed in agony while painting. ÒI really thought she was going to leave her body right there,Ó the pujari, Satya said. ÒShe was screaming in pain.Ó But Tribhuv didnÕt leave; she waited until the pain had subsided and resumed her work. Pain was a part of TribhuvanesvariÕs life, even before cancer. She had been married and had a son, Sean, when she was nineteen. Sean had been cared for by her mother because after the divorce TribhuvÕs life had been unstable. But after she joined the temple and especially after she got remarried, she wanted Sean to live with her. But her mother would not give him up. A bitter court battle was fought and Tribhuv lost custody. She was devastated. At that time, Srila Prabhupada came to Toronto. During a press conference, reporters were trying to make Prabhupada make a sexist remark by asking about women in the movement. Srila Prabhupada said that women who have joined the Hare Krsna movement were suffering before, ÒYou can ask any of them,Ó he said, and looked directly at Tribhuvanesvari. He went on, ÒI promise any woman who joins this movement that theyÕll have a good husband to take care of them.Ó Perhaps it was TribhuvanesvariÕs suffering that gave her the gentle compassion and kindheartedness for which she is remembered by all her friends. During her mid and late thirties, she became involved in New Age and Native American healing circlesÑintensely involved, of course; for Tribhuv there was no middle ground. Tribhuvanesvari had an extraordinary ability to experience other realities, or paranormal phenomena. She was psychic, she would have dreams that would come true, she saw little gnomes in the Toronto temple. When they were first married, Vicaru was amazed: ÒShe described a dream to me and I found myself listening to another world, another plane of consciousness. And I thought, ÔWho is this person?Õ Here I just made a huge commitment and there is this other side to her that is so far out. But that was the way she was. These things were real to her and within that reality she was quite consistent.Ó She used these healing paths to understand and accept herself and her feelings of alienation, and to calm her inner demons. In each one of these experiences, she would become a teacher; she was so anxious to give and share the realizations she received. Because Tribhuvanesvari, first and foremost considered herself a devotee of Krsna, Krsna took care of her. Her realizations in whatever she did always brought her back to Him. An example is her connection to Pleiades. Pleiades is known in Vedic terminology as the Krittika constellation. The Krittikas were demigoddesses from whom Kartikeya (the son of Lord Shiva, also known as Mars, the God of War) gets his name. Tribhuv was born in Scandinavia, which she liked to say was derived from the Sanskrit word Skanda, another name for Kartikeya. She just loved these patterns of connectionÑand they all brought her back to Krsna. Toward the end of her life, she seriously worshiped Lord Nrsimhadeva, chanting the Nrsimha-kavacha-stotram from the Brahmanda Purana three times a day and distributing the prayers to all her friends. She worshipped Lord Nrsimhadeva because of the protection He gives his devotees, especially in times of danger or distress. Not surprisingly, Lord Nrsimhadeva is also the worshipable Deity of Kartikeya. ÒTribhuvanesvari did not have an easy death,Ó relates Viddhi Bhakti, who took care of her through much of her illness. ÒShe did not want to leave her children.Ó Once, when Srila Prabhupada was lecturing in New York, he said, ÒDeath is when the body becomes too painful and the soul has to leave.Ó Tribhuv suffered from ever-increasing pain during the last year and a half of her life. She did not want to die and, as long as she had a chance, fought hard, first with nutritional therapy and finally with Western medicine. But at the end, when she knew there was no hope, she slipped away very quickly. Vrnda devi, her dear friend, understood why. She told this story at her funeral. ÒWe were on sankirtana in Toronto. You remember the old daysÑ30 below and we would be out in saris and long underwear. All of a sudden this beautiful woman comes running out of a restaurant and starts to stuff something in my book bag. I look and itÕs butter! ÔItÕs for Krsna,Õ she says, ÔHeÕs the butter thief isnÕt He?Õ Somehow Tribhuv had heard about Krsna stealing butter and she was stealing it from the restaurant she worked in to give to Him. Eventually the owner found out and was going to fire her. But just as he was about to tell her she was fired, she said, ÔHold it. I quit.Õ So, the doctors were giving her six months in a terminal condition but she said, ÔOh no. IÕm out of here.Õ Ò Tribhuvanesvari left her body during a kirtana led by her husband. Her mother, her children, and many of her friends were present. She was a wonderful friend. We will miss her greatly. Remembrances Ksiracora, TribhuvÕs Godsister from Toronto: ÒTribhuvanesvari was the first person to turn me on to stealing maha sweets. I happened upon her on the balcony and she said, ÒOh, youÕve found me. Sit down, sit down.Ó And she showed me how to eat the barfi and puris sheÕd nipped from the cabinets. You wrap the barfi inside the puris. Delicious. ÒTribhuvanesvari and Vicaru were married with four other couples. In those days everyone was austereÑa ripped shirt was a sign of asceticism. But Tribhuvanesvari was never into that. The whole wedding was late because she was getting dressed. When she finally walked into temple room, though, she was so beautiful she took our breath away. She was like spring incarnate. The devotees were not used to seeing such beauty in human form and they were embarrassed. But as I saw it, aversion was just the opposite of attraction. ÒOne day, when the temple was still on Gerard St., the devotees decided to check out the attic. They brought down 19th century books and letters and pottery. In retrospect they could have given them to a museum, but they didnÕt think of that and threw everything out. A few days later all the devotees got attacked by ghosts. I think Tribhuvanesvari was the first. They would have visions and dreams of three men doing horrible things and would wake up feeling hands on their bodies. We had kirtanas, blew conchshellsÑdid everything we could. Finally Tribhuv called her sister, Hilkka. Hilkka went up to the attic and, after some time came down. She said ÔThere are three men up there. You took some of their belongings. They want them back.Õ But we had thrown them out. HilkkaÕs hands were dirty from the attic. We asked if she wanted to wash them. ÔNo,Õ she said, ÔIÕm taking it home. They wonÕt bother you again.Õ And she walked out. We were never bothered again. I tell you this to show that she came from an extraordinary family.Ó Satya, TribhuvÕs Godsister from Berkeley: ÒThe Deity, Govinda, is small, about 10Ó tall. His helmet is very small also. And on his helmet are tiny jewels. Tribhuvanesvari painted each jewel with such care. She was meditating on decorating Govinda with rubies, emeralds diamonds and pearls as she painted. ÒWhile she was painting, she had her daughter, Gita, reading Krsna book. The scene was so beautiful, I started to cry. ÒOne time, as she was painting she told me that Prabhupada told her that once she started to paint she should not stop because the Deities are eating or being offered arati or anything. But when I had to offer arati to the Deities, she humbly asked, ÔDo you want me to go?Õ Ò Karlapati, TribhuvÕs Godsister from Marin: ÒShe had amazing humility,Ó her friend, Karlapati recalls. ÒShe thought of herself as the most fallen, the most desirous of KrsnaÕs association. One of her lamentations was that she wasnÕt doing anything, wasnÕt able to preach. But the proof that she was that so many people who have nothing to do with Krsna were brought closer to Him through Tribhuvanesvari.Ó Speak the Truth, But Speak it Palatably Akhilesvara dasa Quebec, Canada Srila Prabhupada comments: ÒIn this material world only palatable truth should be spoken. . . . Devotees always humbly offer respect to everyone, but when there is a discussion on a point of sastra, they do not observe the usual etiquette, satyam bruyat priyam bruyat. They speak only satyam (truth), although it may not necessarily be priyam (palatable).Ó Vaisnava Verse Book The Toronto Ratha-yatra festival was blissful. With a few devotees, we are heading back to the temple by bus. Suddenly, one of us notices that someone had forgotten their purse on the seat. We point it out to the lady nearest to it. She grabs the purse, rushes to the front, and tells the driver to stop the bus. She then runs in the street to find the owner. The brahmacari sitting next to me feels like sharing his realization on the incident and tells me in confidence: ÒA devotee would have kept the money and used it for Krsna.Ó I am French from France, so I have a hard time with the ÒAmerican mentalityÓ to the extent where I developed a kind of inferiority complex. It originated during the time when Bhagavan and his men were in France. IÕve recovered now, more or less. I was not sure if the brahmacari was just joking or if he was serious, so I looked at him attentively trying to read his thoughts. I have seen him around for some time. He always appeared sober, serious and enthusiastic; the kind of devotee we would like to have in our temples. Indeed, they are getting very rare these days. He was not a Prabhupada disciple, and I didnÕt know who was his guru. He was smiling at me waiting for an answer. I wasnÕt sure how to respond. So, I decided to be straightforward and said: ÒWell, I certainly would have done the same thing as the lady.Ó ÒThatÕs not what Prabhupada said,Ó was his answer. ÒHe wrote in his book that if someone finds some money in the street and ignores it, he is misbehaving; itÕs better to pick it up and bring it to the owner. But better than that, is to take it and keep it for the service of Krsna.Ó I was shocked. I knew the reference he quoted from Srila Prabhupada, but thatÕs not what Prabhupada was saying; I couldnÕt paraphrase him. I tried my best to rectify the misconception by stressing the fact that a devotee, unless he is on a very advanced platform of spiritual life, should always behave according to the highest moral codes of humanity. But he stuck to his belief. Frustrated, I tell him: ÒYou think as you like; I gave you my opinion.Ó I kept silent, ignoring him. After a few minutes he spoke again: ÒActually you are right.Ó He went on explaining how in Vrndavana a merchant made a mistake, and gave him 3,000 rupees extra. He took the money without saying anything. But a few days later, the merchant came back and told him about the mistake. Our brahmacari couldnÕt remember such an incident and he kept the difference. However, before leaving Vrndavana, he felt so guilty that he gave back the money through someone else. Another loss for ISKCON. ÒYou see,Ó I acknowledged happily, Òwe are not so transcendental as we would like to believe; weÕd better stop with all those bad habits and stick to morality before everything else.Ó Next day, instead of the Srimad-Bhagavatam class, there was an istagosthi given by Anuttama Prabhu on communication. He came actually to give a workshop on this matter. He explained to the assembled devotees how to answer the phone, to always be kind to others, proved through examples that it is more rewarding in the long run to have an attitude of servitorship toward the karmis, especially those who come to visit the temples, that someone in the BBT had found a revolutionary idea: we should cultivate the people who buy our books (the word revolutionary was used), etc. Anuttama is a nice fellow; he is doing a good service and he has the aptitude for it. I enjoyed his presentation and the nice and funny examples he gave, but I was upset listening about moral instructions we usually receive when we are in grade 4 or 5. I am forty years old now and living with a Movement that is supposed to be teaching the highest values in life. Twenty years ago I left the Christians and the Muslims with their basic principles and here I am at the starting point again. Obviously something went wrong. But there was another thought which disturbed me. While I was listening to Anuttama, I was feeling uneasy with his approach. At the end of his lecture, I revealed my bewilderment, but I couldnÕt figure out his answer. What I actually told him, was that he dealt only with the disease, but failed to expose its sources. I think this is the crucial problem. Naturally, if we can solve the disturbances where they originated, everything else will be adjusted and we will save much energy. After the class I tried my best to have a talk with him, but he was in a hurry for an appointment he had with a journalist. In our brief exchanges I reiterated my first question: ÒWhy are devotees acting with so much incivility?Ó ÒThey are too fanaticalÓ was his answer. ÒFanatical!Ó I repeated. ÒWhy are they fanatical?Ó No time for an answer. He was already running back to the temple trying to find his partner he had to go with to the important appointment. Somehow or other destiny did not allow me to communicate with him. LetÕs speak frankly. When I came back to Montreal I read a nice article in Priti-laksanam by Chitraketu dasa but which puzzled me by his conclusion. Here it is: ÒOf course, it needs to be borne in mind that such prescriptions come under the heading of Niti-sastra, or moral instructions of the regulation of human society, and as such they may or may not be applicable to the devotee who works under the direct instruction of the Lord.Ó Why do we always insinuate that in our Movement some devotees are beyond those rules? Why donÕt we just be realistic and stop all the nonsense that is going on in the name of Krsna. An example: how many went in the streets with stickers collecting for schools, hungry children or some fictitious charitable trust, and are now still doing it for their grha? ÒOh, they gave so many years of their life for spreading Krsna consciousness, therefore we should see this so called deviation (to use an euphemism) as a legitimate one (not to say transcendental),Ó is our attitude toward them. A classical example, among others, which has helped to create this confusion, is the passage in the Mahabharata when Maharaja Yudhisthira is asked to lie for the sake of Krsna. It is repeatedly given by lecturers to stress the exalted position of a devotee. We misunderstand our real position; we are looking at devotees with an ideal vision, instead of a practical one. What is the cause for this, who is responsible and how to solve the problem? These are the questions. So Much to Say . . . Bhuvanapavini dasi California First, let me say that I was astounded to receive copies of Priti-laksanam from a Godsister so soon after I began chanting japa again. This is coming to me at a time when I must fight physical aversion (actual nausea while chanting) because so much pain is attached to my past engagement in temple life. There is so much I want to say, so much I want to get out of my system. I do not have a computer (or even know how to use one), so I hope you will accept my letter. Thank you for providing this forum. I moved into the temple in 1972 because I knew that Krsna is God and that the Bhagavad-gita was the Absolute Truth. Little did I know that what was to follow were to become the most painful experiences of this life. Over the next 15 years, I saw women beaten, children neglected and abused, sensitive men berated. IÕve seen wives and children abandoned while their husbands and fathers went off to start new families or to take premature sannyasa only to fall down then start new families. I have seen my son, at age 6, punched hard in the stomach by his asrama teacher for not chanting during japa. I watched as an asrama teacher repeatedly beat the face of his student into a gravel road. I watched as our gurukula boyÕs education was ignored, while they slipped further and further behind. I watched as ashram teachers verbally destroyed the self esteem of children of all ages in their attempt to . . . what . . . bring their students into submission? I listened to teachers instruct boys on the evils of females while I was supposed to teach my girl students to become Òchaste and faithful wives.Ó I watched as leading men in the movement volleyed for position like a bunch of material politicians while we couldnÕt even keep the japa room warm for the women and girls in the winter. I watched as my health, mental and physical, declined with overwork and was told that I had to go beg for money for my sonÕs shoes. (18 hours of active service just wasnÕt enough, I guess). There is so much more, so very much more that touched my life and the life of my children personally that if I were so inclined could be a damning book. But that is not my intention. Instead let me say to those devotees who have helped me along the way, thank you for your Vaisnava kindness. Those whose actions and words cut into my heart and the heart of my children, I forgive you. Those devotees who have, in ignorance, harmed physically, emotionally and spiritually those whom you were supposed to protect, shame on you, for what goes around comes around. For the students I have had in gurukula, please forgive me for the many ways I certainly failed you but remember me for the love I have/had for you all. Also I ask the forgiveness of any Godsisters whom I may have hurt by words or deeds over the years. Twenty-two years later, I still know that Krsna is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. I still am His part and parcel and Srila Prabhupada is still my spiritual master. No matter where we are, these things never change. No matter what body we are in, no matter what circumstances we are placed in, no one can take that away. Regarding Celibacy Vrndavanalila dasi California Why is it so ÒunpopularÓ for a devotee to be celibate in ISKCON? When we took our initiation vows didnÕt we promise no illicit sex? I have been celibate for a long time and the devotees seem to think that the only reason I am celibate is because I must be some kind of lesbian freak. It seems that a devotee who refuses to engage in illicit sex like everyone else does is labeled a homosexual. The way I see it is that it is OK to be celibate. I promised at initiation that I would not engage in illicit sex and therefore I donÕt period. I wish celibacy would become ÒpopularÓ in ISKCON. IÕm tired of having to defend my celibate lifestyle as though IÕm some sort of criminal. ItÕs like a person has to ÒapologizeÓ for leading a celibate lifestyle. Family Life and Krsna Consciousness Evolving impressions Rohininandana dasa England An Edinburgh bedside: ÒIÕve just met some amazing guys! TheyÕre sort of monks. TheyÕve got no money. They wear curtain lining material and whatever food they have they share with anyone who happens to be around.Ó High Street Kensington: ÒHey man!Ó ÒEr, yes?Ó ÒYou donÕt have to smoke dope to get high. Chant Hare Krsna!Ó Kentish Town late one summer evening: Desolate street. Derelict houses. A night shelter for winos and bums. A group of angelic monks float over the rubble and rubbish. Aloof and radiant. TheyÕve missed the last tube back to their temple and need a place to rest. They lie on the floor wrapped in thin shawls. Visitors from another planet? They get up and leave at 3:30am. Oxford Street on a cold, wintry day: Rain sluices down. Grinding traffic. Anxious shoppers hurry along. Bright, warm lights of promise in all the windows. I watch devotees weave along the pavement. Bright wet faces. Smudged tilaka. Rain bounces from shaved heads. ArmsÑlike flagsÑhigh in the air. Odd socks. No socks. Sodden mrdangas. A sticky mass of sweets in a basket. Pure joy! I join the London Radha-Krsna Temple: Transcendence. Other-world. Maya or Krsna. Us and them. In or out. ÒYouÕre not that body! Hari Bol! Hari Bol!Ó Monks and nuns. No children. No old people. Prabhupada, the ÒVaikuntha man,Ó the eternally young leader of a youth movement. Our understanding: material lifeÕs an abomination, a kind of death. Spiritual life is everything. Sex means material and no sex means spiritual. Women, children and family life are just aspects of sex. You only get married if you canÕt control your sex urge. Who in their right mind wants to get married? Better get up at 2:30am, chant your head off, then hit the street and chant and distribute literature like crazy. Remember, ÒAll karmis are miserable, Prabhu. They only want sex.Ó A child moves into the temple with his mother: We didnÕt think about how heÕd come to be. He was there, thatÕs all. A temple mascot. One of us, a brahmacari. He ran around the temple and we played with him. He must have been a demigod in his last life. News: One PrabhuÕs got married! What a shock! I thought he was a big devotee as well. The Maharaja said that women join ISKCON just to get a husband, to snare a man. One of themÕs captured a brahmacari. HeÕs fallen down into the deep well. We shouldnÕt talk about it. WhatÕs there to talk about when someone gets entangled with one of those Maya devis?. . . Unless theyÕre also interested in such stool. WeÕre not human beings, weÕre spirit souls. Krsna consciousness is for the strong. Those who want to get married are weak. And who wants to look weak? More marriages: ÒIÕm sorry Prabhu, IÕve got to go now, my wifeÕs waiting for me.Ó Children: Noisy; an interference; products of sex; future hope (somehow). After my marriage: Am I really married? The wife: Woman; faceless servant; helpmate; sexual channel; mother; object to renounce. I preach in distant places. ÒRight now, although IÕm not with my wife, IÕm confident that sheÕs serving Krsna and she knows the same about me.Ó Years of shame roll by. A House for Everyone: Krsna consciousness is a spiritual culture, a way of life. The grhastha-asrama is an asrama, a place of spiritual culture. Not a compromise of Krsna conscious principles; an application of them. The grhastha-asrama is important because our Society rests upon it. I lift my head up and say, ÒYes, IÕm a grhastha, I love my wife and children. IÕm a devotee and I can preach.Ó Radha Priya is a person, a friend, a partner and I love many things about her. My understanding is not the understanding. My way is not the way. Time with my family is devotional service; part of my sadhana; fun. London Rathayatra: Summer sun. The roar of kirtana. Nothing else but the Name. Traffic stops. Lord of the universe. People stare. Saffron/White; colored flags and saris. Babies in pushchairs or back packs. Grandparents. Tribal elders. PrabhupadaÕs family. Pure joy! Fact or Fiction? Visoka dasa Badger, CA IÕm writing this in the hope that others will be spared some of the pain. We all get our fair share of it. The sastra relates how the jiva enters the forest of enjoyment and hears the harsh sound of cricketsÑthis is compared to the pain of criticism and backbiting. We all suffer from this, because the maya potency of Krsna is very expert to see that everybody suffers in this world. But devotees should be getting a minimal amount. I try to write stories of imagination, with a transcendental purpose in mind. When the story fulfills this purpose, then the use of imagination is justified. But using imagination to speculate about our Godbrothers and Godsisters, or to speak ill of others, (especially without evidence) is surely a disease in the mind of the identifier, as is explained by Maharaja Yudhisthira in Mahabharata, ÒLake of deathÓ chapter, and the ÒBull of religionÓ chapter in Srimad-Bhagavatam 1-3. Gossip or gramya-katha is not favorable to anyone, not the speaker or listener, nor the victim of the gossip. Sometimes a form of gossip is a useful tool of communication, like if there is some disgusting news, then a grape-vine serves to relay that information around the village. If such unpalatable news is unfit for publication or public announcements, then a gossip type of network is justified, if the news is factual. But to concoct stories about others and spread them as facts is . . . need I say? Like when a male devotee heard that everybody thought he was molesting his daughter. The thought never entered his mindÑbut it sure entered the minds of others. It was inconceivable to him to think of such a thing . . . to violate the dignity of his daughter, to try to get some last ditch sense grad at his age, at the expense of someone he loved. It is more inconceivable that some Godbrother or sister made this up and violated his dignity and his daughterÕs dignity. (and I heard that the fabrication was perpetuated by a group whose area of expertise is relationships and honestyÑand he never got any apologies) This is a true story! He was disgusted but he forgave whoever it was. He can understand, because heÕs no pure devotee either. Polluted thoughts have entered his mind lots of times, (but nothing as bad as that). I have other Godbrothers who have been dogged by similar slanders. One Godbrother was driven out of a couple of temples by unfounded gossip. It really hurts, let me tell you. So please, letÕs all stick to the facts of conclusive evidence and not fall prey to fiction that hurts othersÑlest we invite the pain of reaction back on ourselves, by committing offenses to other devotees. (Is everybody aware of the grave nature of aparadhas to devotees? No, it doesnÕt have to be a pure devotee, there are still reactions for little devotees! Read Madhurya Kadambini!) Also, let not the fear of reactions be our main motive. LetÕs sincerely think about the pain that gossip brings to others. Better to approach that Prabhu and ask him about it, and talk to him (or her), and not participate in gramya-katha, and ask forgiveness from those weÕve hurt already. Hare Krsna. ÒHelp! IÕve Fallen and CanÕt Get Up!Ó Kamalasana dasa Vrndavana, India I know most of us are easily able to keep the vows and do our sadhana. But some people donÕt and every few years or so I cross paths with someone who is experimenting with psychedelics in their Òpursuit of excellence.Ó Everyone had a rationalization. ÒWell, Krsna says he is the healing herb,Ó ÒIn India the sadhus smoke ganja because it helps you be celibate,Ó ÒReality is for people who canÕt handle drugs,Ó ÒBy following the rules you arrive at the point where you must abandon the rules in order to transcend.Ó I had my own brush with that back in 1976. Since some rare individual may need to go through the same lesson as I, hereÕs what happened for me. Shortly after purchasing Bhagavad-gita (1972) I found a bucket full of marijuana in the basement of the company I worked for. I smuggled it out and brought it home. Before I began to use it I read that purport in Bhagavad-gita where Srila Prabhupada says: ÒThere are many pseudodevotees of Lord Siva who want to indulge in smoking ganja (marijuana) and similar intoxicating drugs, forgetting that by so imitating the acts of Lord Siva they are calling death very near.Ó I never heard that marijuana was harmful but just on the strength of reading that one sentence it was surprisingly easy to throw all that marijuana in the garbage, no struggle, no regrets. Simply because Srila Prabhupada said so. ÒNo intoxicationÓ Bas! I moved into Sri Sri Radha-Govinda Mandir (430 Henry Street Brooklyn N.Y.C.) a few months later then a few months later I took the vows and did a strict sadhana for a few years. But, unfortunately every once-in-a-while I wondered: ÒWhy not use the psychedelic drugs along with this sadhana? I had some amazing experiences. My mind unfolded like anything, no care about eating, sleeping, mating, defending, those concerns were atomic size while contemplating the mysteries of universe on drugs. Why is it forbidden to use these substances?Ó I doubted the process, blooped and went to Hawaii of course! A place where the Òmagic mushroomsÓ are readily available for the taking. After chit-chatting with the locals, I was sufficiently educated about the mushrooms to feel Òready to go,Ó I was Òhot to trot,Ó excited by anticipation that Ònow I am going to really experience something.Ó Everything was ready, I put the drugs into the body and pretty soon I was Òhigh,Ó trying to read Bhagavad-gita, if the words would just keep still so I could read them. With a lot of effort I could scan a sentence but the mind would pick a interesting word and focus on all the different possible meanings of it then go off on a tangent and by the time I realized what was going on and pulled back to the task of understanding the sentence, I lost the original train of thought, so, reading was not possible. Chanting was as futile but for different reasons. The mind was constantly shifting and moving about in abstract ways. I was in a very ÒhighÓ state but I knew that: ÒThis is not Krsna consciousness,Ó my self was not awakened on the transcendental platform. So, a few trys were unsuccessful, of course, you go up you come down, it seemed incredibly high but there was no mind control, what to speak of any eternal transcendent awakening. A few times a month I used to hitch-hike to the main library in Lihve. I walked in, went to the philosophy category, plopped down onto the floor, blindly reached over and pulled out any book, cracked it open and began reading. The first words I saw were the beginning of a chapter called ÒThe Drug Dilemma.Ó After reading about 8 pages I was cured. Right there is the why of no intoxication. My experimentation was successfully concluded. I refocused more firmly than ever on the true path of evolution into Krsna consciousness. ÒSuch experiences with these drugs hinder progress toward God consciousness. For while it is true that they attune you to God, they attune you as to the relationship you had with God before you became fully identified in matter. This world is not a place that should be escaped. The material world is an opportunity of transformation. The ÒselfÓ is already transcendental, you disinfect the consciousness of the three modes of material nature by performing acts of sacrifice, not by blasting a hole in your etheric body allowing consciousness to Òleak outÓ onto the astral plane. With the drug they are having an experience with God, but it is not that which will help them to function more effectively toward spiritual realization. Hence, in the drug experience we find a devolutionary influence, a anti-evolutionary influence. This is to indicate that the state of the individuals body/mind relationship will be degraded or set back upon the path by the use of psychedelic drugs. The use of all these (marijuana, alcohol, LSD) are a tendency of the individual to escape responsibility. ÒIn the search for God, in a realistic approach, there is no place for these drugs; the chemical stimulation of inadvertent activity in the glands of the body will not evolve the soul. No putting of chemicals into the body can possible bring about spiritualization the more. Those who take to the use of drugs and rationalize this upon the basis of spiritual progress, deceive only themselves. They can not find any knowledge whatever that will lead them beyond matter. Yes, the drug experience can lead to an awareness of being in prison, but it cannot give the key to unlock it, to move out of it. You are quite capable intellectually of knowing that you are in a prison and that there is something outside of it, without the drug experience.Ó So this is the advice of what to do if you did use drugs. Cleanse the body with sauna baths, or exercise where there is considerable sweating. Wholesome association, good food, plenty of vitamin C, some vitamin E is good to overcome such harm and the lethargy, the general sense of lack of responsibility that oft arises in the minds of those who have used drugs. There is a mention that dark green leafy vegetables are the most valuable food to use. Basically the drug experience can not help you evolve in to Krsna consciousness, the drug experience is a hindrance, a set back. So if you want off the samsara do no dissolve your subtle body with psychedelic drugs. Some quotes, Srila Prabhupada: ÒThis marijuana, LSD, it will spoil everything.Ó Maktamanda Swami (a Shivite): ÒIf drugs could help your spiritual life, I would be giving them out to you.Ó Also, in ÒTales of PowerÓ Don Juan told Carlos that the drugs he used severely damaged the physical body, and that drugs are not necessary for the mystic experience. Oh, my God! what to speak of mescaline, peyote, psylocybin, marijuana, DMT, purple microdot, windowpane, Mr. Natural, orange sunshine, simply a thought of near beer is enough to destroy your sadhana. So be careful the road to hell is a 8 lane super highway, but the path into Krsna consciousness is a narrow pathway (too narrow to walk on). Planting the Seed Dayananda & Nandimukhi Prabhus Washington D.C & New York We are writing to outline events we are planning as part of Srila PrabhupadaÕs centennial year. In 1996, we celebrate the hundredth anniversary of Srila PrabhupadaÕs birth and the thirtieth anniversary of the founding of ISKCON. We feel it is only fitting to give tribute to Srila PrabhupadaÕs warriorlike preaching spirit by conquering New York, the birthplace of ISKCON, for Krsna. Our strategy is cultural conquest. 1. Krsna rock concert in Central Park 2. Book exhibit in NY Public Library 3. Debate w/ scientists on origins of life 4. Art exhibition of Krsna paintings 5. Concert of traditional Indian dance and drama 6. Temporary temple in Battery Park with dioramas, nagar kirtana and prasada distribution. 7. Film on Prabhupada at a Manhattan theater 8. Public mural of PrabhupadaÕs preaching 9. Grand reunion for devotees and friends 10. Prabhupada memorial in Tompkins Square Park The events will be held in prominent New York venues such as Lincoln Center, Carnegie Hall, and the New York Public Library. Our intention is to attract many people to Krsna consciousness through cultural programs, and to engage many devotees in the realization of these goals. WeÕre excited by the response thus far. In just one month more than 20 devotees have pledged commitment of some sort to these projects. We are still looking for advisors and consultants to help us design each event. Please contact Dayananda dasa (301) 770-4010 or Nandimukhi devi dasi (718) 784-2459. ________________________________________ In Response to Articles in Previous Issues _______________________________________ ÒLook at BTGÓ Devi dasi Manhattan Beach, CA You complain that BTG should be Òturbo-charged,Ó a Òsuperweapon for destroying ignorance,Ó a Òpreaching publication,Ó rather than Òspeaking to our concerns, our interests, our questions.Ó However, good preaching is always an interaction between people rather than a one-way deposit of information. It is just as important to understand your audience, as it is to know your philosophy. I believe that Jayadvaita MaharajaÕs statement was made with this strategy in mind. Good teachers know how to communicate complex ideas so they can be easily understood. Comprehension failures often result from the language used to express an idea, rather than from the difficulty of the idea itself. In order to communicate effectively, we need to consider many things: What is the purpose of the communication? What are the listenerÕs characteristics: age, culture, knowledge, social status? And how much does the listener know or want to know about the topic? The answers to these questions should shape the nature of the communication, although most people never consciously consider them. GENERAL RULES FOR GOOD COMMUNICATION (Taken from MatlinÕs book, Cognition) Rule 1: Tell listeners what you believe they want to know. Consider how you would answer a simple question like, ÒWhere do you live?Ó If I met you in Europe, you would probably say, Òin the United States.Ó On a college campus, you might respond, Òin the dorms.Ó The answer would depend on the context of the question, and what you thought I wanted to know. The level of information you choose to convey depends on the purpose of the communication. Rule 2: Vary the style of your communication, depending on the knowledge, culture, age, and status of the listeners. Beliefs, knowledge, and expectations of the intended audience should determine which words are used, and how much detail goes into a communication. The difficulty does not reside in the information, but in the listener-information interaction. Rule 3: Tell the truth. When you speak, it is assumed that the information conveyed is truthful. This is imperative for meaningful communication. In general, the process breaks down when the listener suspects the speaker is violating this rule. We can take a hint, here, about the viability of misrepresenting ourselves in any sphere of activity. Although we can say we are lying for Krsna, we may also lose credibility in our overall preaching effort! Rule 4: Use straightforward, simple language. It is a far more difficult task to express complex thoughts in simple language than to express simple thoughts in complex language. Rule 5: Give listeners a balance between new and known information. Too much new information will be hard to follow; while too much known information will be boring. The ratio of new-to-known information should be determined by the difficulty of the communication. The educational process, if successful, should foster the transformation of new information into the listenersÕ system of known information. In other words, the more we can relate Vaisnavism to their already-known ideas, Òconcerns, interests, and questions,Ó the greater the chances of convincing them about the Absolute Truth. Every good salesperson knows that getting people into a mode of agreement is the best way to close a deal! Dawn Visoka dasa Badger, CA This chapter is a ÒbookÓ written around the beginning of the 21st century, and is a Òbook within a bookÓ subplot of a much bigger main plot, which takes place many thousands of years later. The ÒbookÓ is being read aloud at a world council of Brahmins meeting in Jaipur, India. My name is Bhimasena, and I am writing this book for the sake of future generations, so they may know the beginnings of the new world here on our isle of Sierra, and on the isles of what used to be a large mass of land, once known as North Amerika. This is the story of my family and my friends and spiritual brothers and sisters, of how we struggled to build a new life from the ruins of the great cataclysm, and how we reached out to the other isles and the world beyond, and how the Coalition conquered the entire globe. Times were dark in Kali-yuga, in late twentieth century North Amerika. The country plunged into a pit of despairÑas youth became black hearted beasts with no feeling or compassion. Driven by lust and anger, these animals walked on two legs and roamed the streets in fancy cars and murdered fellow beings without remorse. The social fabric stretched and tore into chaos as the Amerikan dream turned to ghastly nightmare. No beastly or immoral act was sparedÑas young, old and unborn fell to the killing knife and bullet. As for the animals, Kali proved to be a living hell of a short miserable life meant for a tingling taste sensation. The karmic volcano erupted in great violence and mother earth had surely had her fill. All that screamed of decency and sanity within the universe cried out, ÒEnough, enough! End this madness, stop this abomination now!Ó Time of destruction was nigh at hand, and mass violence appeared as a cure for the hate in menÕs hearts. Then the signs appeared in the sky and hearts of all good men and women. The gentle animals grew restless and dogs and wild coyotes and wolves bayed and howled senselessly day and night. A collective psychic thing happened, like how great flocks of birds will suddenly know when and where to fly for great distances and rendezvous for mating season, so in a similar fashion, numbers of good men and women and children suddenly flocked to the foothills and mountains just prior to that fateful day. And my elders were equally psychic, and knew that it would be so, and were ready for the coming of pious souls, and had long prepared for self sufficiency of a community, and had learned the ways of the land and secrets of nature and the ways of life in harmony with the land and animals. And so we were ready for the event that so many gifted of far vision had seen beforehand. Simultaneously with the coming of the pious, there were those in the mountains with wickedness in their hearts, and they had somehow found some pressing business down in the valley on that day. As they went down the mountain, they were passed by the good people going up the mountain. The good folk waved, but the evil ones were not friendly, as they were hurrying toward a watery fate. Then it happened. First was seen dark clouds and lighting in the sky as a sign and then great quakes came as a cosmic hammer that pounded the earth relentlessly, and hills rolled and shook with colossal force and massive fires and billowing black columns of smoke rose in all directions. The lands crumbled and broke away and sunk and oceans swelled and crashed up to the foothills, and all else was engulfed with water. The Pacific had come up to our abode and had covered all we had known before, all that lay beyond the base of our hills. The sky blackened and dark clouds and lightning filled the sky with rainless thunder and flashing for days, and then a solid rain fell for a week and washed the soot out of the sky. When all cleared away, we went down to the ocean front and saw huge waves crashing along the base of the foothills and the great sea stretched out before us, as far as we could see. I looked down to the beach and bodies were seen floating and tossed by the waves, and I felt pity in my heart. My mother saw my sympathy and said that it was a way for the earth to cleanse herself. The earth had been too long defiled from the karma of violence and the filth that putrefied her surface. ÒA time of reckoning has come,Ó she said sagely, as she held me close. ÒKarma has come to bear . . . a vengeance has come to reap sweet justice.Ó That day was so heavy . . . especially for us kids, (and I was just a boy at the time). It is not every day when this kind of stuff happens, like so many people wiped off the map, and so many animals suddenly snuffed out . . . but they probably died better, as they were earmarked for a cruel death anyway. The heavy reality just shook us. It was hard for us kids to understand that some people we knew before, were dead. On the other hand, we all felt such inner joy that Kali-yuga had undergone a transformation with all itÕs hardware, like missiles and ugra-karma factories and slaughterhouses and war machines . . . all of it just flushed down the toilet . . . so to speak. We were really smiling about that. Several islands were left, and all Kali-yuga machinery wiped out, and we felt great. All gone and good riddens . . . all in one stroke . . . really far out. It felt not so bad, when it eventually became known to us that most of the pious souls were guided by inspiration to move to the regions of the isles in time, before the cataclysm hit, and likewise, many of those with evil hearts were inspired to leave. It seemed that a kind of cosmic scales weighted and balanced out everything in the end. So we sent messenger birds out to search for other areas of survival . . . For copies of the entire story contact Visoka in Badger at the address given in the Ads section ÒNovel Series, Fiction.Ó Return To New Remuna Mathuresa dasa Alachua, FL In the morning around eight-thirty, after finishing his japa in the motel room, Narada sat on the edge of the bed and phoned the temple. After ten rings he hung up, but thought better of it and dialed again. He wanted to see if Srinatha was there and to find out if they were observing Ekadasi today. New York temple was observing, he knew, but that was a few hundred miles away. Twenty rings and no answer. HeÕd visit anyway and catch the noon arati. While packing his suitcase he dialed once more and let it ring for five full minutes, balancing the receiver on his shoulder. At the check-out desk the motel manager tore a printout of NaradaÕs bill off the computer and gave it a once-over. ÒDarn.Ó she said. ÒComputerÕs on the blink again. This shows the phone rang almost one hundred times on a series of calls you made to Charleston.Ó ÒOne hundred, really?Ó said Narada, caught off-guard by this computer surveillance and glad the manager didnÕt know about temple phones. ÒThatÕs all right,Ó she assured Narada. ÒWeÕve had trouble with this software before.Ó Narada took route 95 south and arrived at the front gate of the farm in his rented car late that morning. The lilac bushes he and Bhakta Rob had planted as six-inch seedlings had formed tall hedges on either side of the driveway. They were leafless now in late fall. In the fields long rows of marigolds stood withered brown and dripping with the morning drizzle. Looked like the gardeners could have done more weeding last summer, and whoever was in charge of mowing the grass must have missed the field borders. Fifty yards up the driveway, standing over six feet tall beside the steps to the wood shop, Narada saw the first sign of lifeÑa brand new, illuminated, red and white Pepsi vending machine. Narada had nothing against Pepsi. He drank the caffeine-free variety occasionally. But was nothing sacred? he joked to himself. Beside the Pepsi machine stood a garbage can with a sign that said ÒRecycle cans here.Ó The wood shop itself, once a bustling part of New Remuna, was padlocked and looked unused, with grass growing between the steps. These eight acres of farmland half an hour west of Charleston had been a project of the Charleston temple in the late seventies. Karuna Moya prabhu, the temple president, had purchased the place to provide the devotees with a retreat from the more hectic pace and cramped quarters at the city temple. For several years the devotees had also run a flower business here, supplying east coast temples with marigolds for Deity garlands. Narada remembered long hot summers spent in the gardens with Bhakta Rob and others, weeding and watering. Since then the city temple had closed, although a grhastha couple still held a Sunday feast at their apartment. Narada went to Europe in Õ79, then to Africa and Indonesia. He returned to the States in Õ86, married and looking for work. He sold paintings for a while with the Cleveland temple but decided he needed his own business. With paintings your salary was almost a concession, as if you were stealing from the temple, which some devotees said you were. Narada and his wife Chandra felt too restricted. With a new baby arriving every couple years, and with the in-laws an ever-increasing presence, they wanted a house of their own. That had led Narada to brush up on his programming skills and join a software company. At present he serviced computers and software in the St. Louis area and had started to receive royalties from two software manuals on which he and Chandra had collaborated. This visit to Charleston was a detour on a business flight to New York to secure a shipment of IBM clones. As Narada turned left between the barn and pasture he saw Godas, New RemunaÕs lone ox, standing with his head against the fence and the old familiar expression on his faceÑdoleful beggarÕs eyes peering through the rails. Godas was a leftover from a former ISKCON farm community in Ohio. His name had been Nandi, after Lord SivaÕs bull, but one of the brahmacaris, noting NandiÕs constant state of agitation (due to loneliness, some said) and his indescriminate appetite, had labeled him Godas, and the name had stuck. Narada pulled close to the fence and rolled down the window. ÒHey Godas! How ya doing, old pal? Hari bol. Been controlling your senses?Ó It was the first chance Narada had had to talk to anyone for hours, and the first time he had greeted anyone outside his family with a ÒHari bolÓ for days. Godas stuck his head over the fence and let Narada scratch between his ears. ÒOK, old boy, gotta go see Gaura-Nitai. Here, take this.Ó GodasÕs eyes widened as he licked half a crumbled Hersey bar from NaradaÕs outstretched palm. Rounding the tool shed Narada got his first glimpse of the temple, once a farm house. He was disappointed with what he saw. Apparently no one had painted the place since the sankirtana devotees did the job on that weekend back in Õ78. There were several broken window panes covered with cardboard, and the front porch looked like it was caving in. A heavy-duty orange extension cord ran loosely from a third floor window down to a basement door. A car without wheels sat on blocks in the backyard, where a sari and a white dhoti hung drenched and windblown on the split rail fence. Two old bikes and an assortment of plastic toys lay scattered around the front yard. Of course, Narada thought, the yard here didnÕt look much different from his own front yard in St. Louis. But that was the point. He kicked off his shoes on the porch and stepped into the lobby. Temples had a pure, transcendental fragrance to them, although he noticed the scent of Pine Sol and stale prasadam mixed with the the aroma of incense. Damn, he was a fault-finder. HeÕd planned this stop at New Remuna, after a twelve-year absence, as a transcendental interlude to his business trip, and he was not going to let his critical side spoil it. In one corner of the lobby two young men, one with a shaven head, the other with long hair and a moustache, sat reading. They didnÕt notice him, it seemed. Narada too felt shy. He looked at his watch and perused the bulletin board. It was eleven forty-five. Fifteen minutes to arati. He fumbled with keys and change in his trousers pockets, hung up his denim jacket, ran his fingers through his curly black hair, and tucked in his shirt neatly around his paunch. ÒHari bol, Prabhu!Ó said a womanÕs voice. Narada looked up and saw Mother Sarmistha descending the stairs to the lobby. She was wearing a blue, flowered sari, holding it at her neck to keep her head covered. In her right hand she had a small round brightly polished silver tray on which she held a fresh yellow rose. The rose and the tray were covered with drops of water. ÒHari bol,Ó said Narada. ÒGlories to Prabhupada.Ó ÒVisiting?Ó she asked, taking a couple steps toward the temple room door. ÒYeah, thought IÕd drop by to see how things were,Ó said Narada. ÒHowÕs Ajamidha doing? ÒHeÕs still in Cleveland. Runs a gallery in the Westside Mall. Sends Bhadra to public school . . . And Chandra?Ó ÒSheÕs at home with the kids. Five kids now.Ó ÒFive? Oh, my.Ó After a minute or two Sarmistha left to prepare for arati. Narada remembered how she and Chandra hadnÕt hit it off in Cleveland. They had been more or less tolerant with each other most of the time, but at home Chandra complained that Sarmistha was overbearing with her position as head pujari and senior devotee. ÔSarmistha-lokaÕ is what Chandra had called the Cleveland temple. Chandra, still Bhaktin Cindy at the time, was dedicated to ISCKON but not inclined to a silent role in temple life. She had a masterÕs degree in business, had run a small travel agency, and was steadily chanting her rounds and reading the books. Why, Cindy asked herself (and Narada), should she take so much guff from Sarmistha? ÒJust try to be cordial and avoid her,Ó Narada had pleaded. ÒSheÕs taking such good care of the Deities.Ó Narada asked the two young men in the lobby about Srinatha. Srinatha had moved to L.A., they said, somewhere near the Watseka Avenue temple. They didnÕt have his address, but his wife of less than a year, a British devotee, was still here at New Remuna. She was down at the K-mart today at a prasadam table, raising money for Foor For Life and for a used car she had her eye on. Hearing the conchshell blow, Narada and the two young men went to attend the noon arati, joining two girls who had already begun a kirtana. One, dark-haired with enormous silver earrings, was sitting on the floor beating expertly on a fiberglass mrdanga. The other, a short, skinny girl with red hair and glasses, was playing the kartalas, dancing, and leading the Srila Prabhupada pranati prayers. Her high, clear voice filled the temple room. Narada and the others followed, but couldnÕt match her vigor or volume. Narada couldnÕt remember hearing a woman lead kirtana since he first joined in the early seventies in Abbotville, where Chidananda, the president, had evenly divided the arati and hari-nama kirtanas between men and women. This red-haired girl was about the same age Narada had been when he joined. Her enthusiasm brought a grin to his face and made him chant louder, encouraging the other two men. He felt blissful and carefree. The anxiety and uncertainty of his visit was gone, the delapidated condition of the building forgotten or at least reduced in its significance. Besides, he thought, if he and so many other devotees hadnÕt left, maybe the place wouldnÕt be so neglected. Presently, whatever donations he could manage went to the St. Louis temple. The New Remuna temple room, he noted, was spotless, and the altar was glowing it was so clean. He recognized Mother SarmisthaÕs handiwork in the sparkling Deity clothing and ornaments. Gaura-Nitai were wearing green silk dhotis and vests bedecked with sequins and patterns embroidered with silver thread. Their garlands were sparse but colorful and their hair carefully combed and curled. Here in the temple room was the pure core of devotion, surrounded though it may have been by unkempt buildings and grounds. Maybe it was like Srila Prabhupada said about VrndavanaÑthat its outward appearance as a dirty Indian village was a curtain of Maya to keep karmis and Mayavadis away. Had Prabhupada actually said that? And was it relevant here? Feeling he was speculating, Narada shook it off and tuned back to the kirtana. The dark-haired bhaktin with the mrdanga led the Nrsimha prayers until the curtains closed. Narada paid obeisances and went back to the lobby. He was reaching for his coat when the red-haired girl appeared, bright-eyed, with a stack of books in her hands and BTGÕs under her arm. Narada choked. He could recognize a book distributor anywhere, what to speak of here, and he could recognize that at the present moment he was in a book distributorÕs sights. He thought of introducing himself first and explaining that he already had all the books, that he subscribed to BTG, and that heÕd been a devotee since he was her age, but couldnÕt get himself to do it. ÒHare Krsna! IÕm Bhaktin Sharon,Ó she said. ÒIÕm Nathan Burroughs,Ó said Narada, surprised at himself for using his karmi name. ÒHave you been to a temple before?Ó ÒLong time ago,Ó said Narada, turning slightly red. ÒWell, welcome. Will you stay for lunch? We eat food thatÕs been offered with love and devotion to the Deities you saw on the altar. TheyÕre not idols, you know, but real forms . . . Ò ÒOh I wouldnÕt think They were idols,Ó said Narada. ÒSure, I could stay for lunch.Ó ÒGood.Ó She hesitated, looking for a way to present the books and turning a little red herself. Hoping for assistance, Narada glanced over at the two young men, who were seated again reading Gitas, but couldnÕt catch their eyes. ÒSo. Did you print those books yourselves?Ó he asked. ÒNot exactly ourselves,Ó she said with relief. ÒTheyÕre printed in L.A. by the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust.Ó She went on to tell Narada how Srila Prabhupada had sailed to America in 1965 with a trunk full of Bhagavatams and started a storefront temple in New York City. Narada at first felt irritated but soon began to relish the preaching and appreciate how Krsna had set him up for it. Narada learned that he wasnÕt this body, but pure spirit soul, that the soul is part and parcel of Krsna, that the yuga-dharma is to chant the holy names, and that Madonna, inspired by Boy George, had considered joining a temple. This last bit of information was new to Narada, who feigned interest. When Sharon said Jagannatha Puri was in Bengal he started to correct her, but decided against it. Bhaktin Sharon packed her entire discourse into the four or five minutes before prasadam arrived from the kitchen. Devotees put several steaming pots on a table in the lobby alongside a tray of maha prasadam. Since Bhaktin Sharon hadnÕt gotten around to actually selling the books, which were now in NaradaÕs hands, he asked, ÒAre these books for sale?Ó ÒYes,Ó she said. ÒWe just request a donation.Ó Narada gave her a twenty dollar bill for a small Gita, a BTG, a vegetarian cookbook featuring pasta dishes, and a typewritten, photocopied pamphlet entitled ÒISKCON Salutes The Reverend Dr. Martin Luther KingÓ written by a Saci Priya dasa. One of the young men had meanwhile prepared a paper plate of maha which he presented to Narada with the extreme reverence Narada too had once held for a plate of the Deity offering. Not that he was irreverent now, but his digestion wasnÕt as good. Holding the ghee-soaked plate of stone cold maha, including eggplant pakoras and an eggplant-chickpea sabji, he longingly eyed the steaming pots of rice and dal. But the cat still had his tongue and he dutifully honored the maha while talking with the two young men, one of whom turned out to be a student at the University of North Carolina, the other a disciple of Brghu Maharaja who had almost singlehandedly planted and cultivated New RemunaÕs marigold fields the previous summer. Narada learned that Srinatha had left New Remuna after a fight with his wife and that several other devotees were away at a GBC meeting in Dallas. While they were talking, another young man came slowly down the stairs to the lobbyÑfrom the menÕs asrama on the third floor, Narada figured. The newcomer was dressed in nothing but a brahmanaÕs thread, a white v-necked undershirt, and a gamcha. He looked pale and gaunt. Maybe he had just returned from a rough trip to India. He peered into the pots, poked around on the maha tray, and finding nothing to his liking, poured himself a glass of maha water and went slowly back upstairs. No one seemed to notice him, or to notice him as something unusual anyway, so Narada tried to keep his own jaw from dropping. After lunch Narada washed his hands and mouth in the porter closet in the front hall. He was leaving the closet, wiping his hands on his trousers and looking for his coat, when Bhaktin Sharon appeared again, without books this time, but with that same fired-up expression, and holding a strand of tulasi neck beads. Narada still wore neck beads, though only a single strand so that they didnÕt show over his collar. He prepared to buy another set. Bhaktin Sharon had completed the sale and was preaching to Narada about the efficacy of kanthi-mala in warding off the Yamadutas when Mother Sarmistha walked through the doors from the temple room carrying the arati tray. ÒSharon, can I talk to you for a second?Ó Sarmistha whispered, passing by. ÒSure,Ó said Sharon. ÒNice talking with you, Nathan.Ó ÒThanks for everything,Ó said Narada. ÒGood to see you again, Mother Sarmistha,Ó he said with a wave, and went to get his coat. Mother Sarmistha walked over to the stairs and stood on the first step, arati tray in hand, conferring quietly with Bhaktin Sharon. Around the corner at the coat rack, Narada could hear bits of their conversation. Sharon was saying something about selling a Gita and a cookbook while Sarmistha made approving sounds. ÒBut did you know he used to be a devotee?Ó Sarmistha whispered. ÒReally?Ó ÒOh yeah. For a long time.Ó ÒWow.Ó Narada stood by the coatrack, wincing. It wasnÕt the Òused to be a devotee bit that bothered him. He didnÕt know whether to laugh or blush at that. It was true anyway, more or less. Even he and Chandra, though they still chanted and worshiped Deities at home, sometimes talked about the time they spent living in temples as the time they Òused to be devotees.Ó It bothered him more that he might have embarrassed the new Bhaktin, what to speak of making a fool of himself. Why hadnÕt he introduced himself from the start? Was he so used to being ÒNathanÓ with his business associates that he couldnÕt be ÒNaradaÓ with devotees? Or was this all just an accident? Narada waited for a few minutes until the lobby emptied, then stepped out onto the front front porch to get his shoes. Two enormous cats were eating leftover prasadam from a soggy paper plate on the front steps. Bhaktin Sharon was outside, book bag on her shoulder, climbing into a van with the dark-haired bhaktin. She still seemed blissful, yelling out ÒHare Krsna!Ó to him as she closed the van door. Narada got into his own car and headed out the driveway and back to route 95. Thinking over his visit, he laughed and slapped the steering wheel. HeÕd have to drop by again to see the devotees heÕd missed this time. Maybe he could make it a family outing, with Chandra and the kids, for Gaura Purnima next spring. Chandra had expressed a desire to visit the temples where they had served before moving to St. Louis. She might also enjoy seeing New Remuna, his old haunt, for the first time. a