The final days of our summer festival tour on the Baltic Sea coast in Poland were bittersweet. While tasting the nectar of sharing our good fortune with others, we knew it would only last a few days more. Now the drums, accordians and kartalas have gone silent. The loud chanting of Krsna's sweet holy names are no longer resounding along the beaches. Nowhere do we see the large crowds that assembled each evening in front of our stage. And gone are the many people eager to purchase our books on the absolute truth. O Lord Caitanya! Savior of the fallen! We are all weeping in separation from the glorious service You entrusted to us. Please engage us again!

Entire album at below link https://goo.gl/EKWr05

By Mina Sharma

Devotees from across the UK came together today in Leicester for the first ever ISKCON UK National Convention, organised as part of the celebrations for ISKCON’s 50th anniversary.

Taking place in ISKCON Leicester’s magnificent Grade II listed building in the city centre, hundreds of devotees took part in a day of collaboration and learning, and celebrated the successes and new developments taking place in the UK today. This was the first time in the history of ISKCON UK that a maha sanga was organised on this scale.

Inspiring presentations were delivered by many senior devotees, including HH Bhakti Charu Swami, who spoke about unity in diversity in ISKCON. In addition, devotees heard from GBC HG Praghosa Das, who spoke about HDG Srila Prabhupada and celebrating the successes of ISKCON UK, and from GBC Minister for Communications HG Anuttama Das, who delivered a talk on ISKCON being 50 years young and roaring on.

There were also a number of exciting workshops delivered by devotees from across the UK; HG Jahnavi Harrison discussed kirtan yoga, HG Visnu Murti Das ran a deity worship workshop, HG Visvambhara Das spoke about the art and science of book distribution and HG Sutapa Das discussed sankirtan and outreach.

It was an inspiring day that really fostered a sense of unity and positive communication, and celebrated the wonderful achievements made by ISKCON temples from across the UK.

Mina Sharma
ISKCON UK National Head of Media and Communications
ISKCON 50 UK Media Coordinator

By Ravindra Svarupa dasa

We conditioned souls are originally Krishna conscious living entities, but owing to a desire to be independent of God and to be the Supreme ourselves, we have fallen from our original position and become covered by maya (illusion), who provides us with false identities of gross and subtle matter. By the grace of Krishna and His pure devotees we fallen souls can regain our original Krishna consciousness and in so doing go back to Godhead.

This simple dramatic narrative tells the story of who we are, where we came from, how we fell, and how we can be restored. Srila Prabhupada tells us this story, and so do the previous acharyas and the scriptures. This story is the profoundest truth about ourselves, and there is no fault in it.

Yet the story becomes complicated when we discover (from the identical infallible sources) that the souls in the spiritual world are nitya-siddha, eternally or perpetually liberated souls, and that no one falls from the spiritual world. Further, the souls in the material world are nitya-baddha, eternally or perpetually conditioned, and we learn that their conditioned state is anadi, or without any beginning. These statements, also, are true without a doubt.

How can these facts be reconciled with the story of fall and redemption?

It is necessary to recognize that the seemingly straightforward linear narrative is more complicated than it appears because the narrative’s scope of action spans two “worlds,” one eternal and the other temporal.

We can get some sense of the relation between these two worlds if we recollect the temporal structure of the material universe as presented in Srimad-Bhagavatam. As one ascends from Martya-loka (our level or plane), through Svarga-loka (the plane of the enjoying and administrating demigods, or devas), and further through Mahar-loka and so on (the planes of the austere sages) to Satya-loka (the plane of Lord Brahma), time progressively dilates. Thus, as 360 years go by here in Martya-loka, only a year passes for the devas in Svarga-loka. And 300 billion years have to come and go down here for a single year to transpire in Satya-loka for Lord Brahma.

Srimad-Bhagavatam mentions that when Brahma, on earth, kidnapped the cowherd boys and calves from Krishna, the victims were gone a complete year by human experience, but for Brahma, operating on Satya-loka time, only a moment (a truti) had passed. A truṭi lasts exactly 8/13,500 of a second.

On another occasion Maharaja Kakudmi, seeking a husband for his daughter Revati, took her to Satya-loka to ask Lord Brahma to arrange the match. Brahma kept them waiting until he had finished hearing a recital by Gandharva musicians. When Kakudmi finally presented his request, Brahma burst out laughing. Everyone Kakudmi would have wanted for his daughter was long gone, for twenty-seven yuga cycles had passed (about 160 million years) while the supplicant and his daughter cooled their heels in the anteroom.

A live television broadcast on Satya-loka of events on Martya-loka would disclose everything moving with dizzying speed, a blur of mountains rising up and dissolving away, oceans swelling and shrinking, peoples and civilizations rushing on and off the earth. By the same token, a live broadcast on Martya-loka of current events on Satya-loka would transmit motion so slow as to be undetectable by normal human vision. Only time-lapse photography, snapping the shutter every thousand years or so, would disclose activity.
Keeping all this in mind, imagine the temporal structure of the universe depicted in the form of an equilateral triangle, with the base representing Martya-loka. Its width at the base stands for the duration of the universe in our years—that is, 311 trillion 40 billion years. As we go up, the triangle narrows, so that at the level of Brahma the duration of the universe (still depicted as the width of the triangle) is 100 of his years.

Now continue up the universe, past Satya-loka. The unit-measure of duration continues to dilate, time slows more and more, and finally, at the point where the material realm borders the spiritual, time has its stop. Here, at the apex of the triangle, we reach the point of translation between material and spiritual worlds, between time and eternity.

This is the “now moment of eternity,” an everlasting instant without past or future. We have seen how, when we go up the universe, a unit-measure of time includes more and more of our years. What then happens when we take that process to the limit, as we do when we reach the apex? That single climactic moment embodies time without beginning and end. From this point of view, the lifetimes of a trillion, trillion Brahmas are over as soon as they begin. Who can even express such inconceivable things?

It remains to be mentioned, for the sake of thoroughness, that the apex of our triangle marks the limit of the ascent to the Absolute by mystical speculation. According to mystic speculators, the everlasting moment of eternity is necessarily spent in stasis, immobility. Vaishnavas, however, pure devotees of the Lord, know of transcendental variegatedness and activities. Although eternity is described as having no past or future, there is still sequence (for there are lilas, pastimes); and knowledge, bliss, and beauty eternally increase.

If we were to continue with our figure of a triangle, we would have to envision the two lines of its sides extending through the apex to form a second, inverted triangle. Let this triangle, with its base up and its apex down, signify the spiritual realm of transcendental variegatedness as it expands beyond the zero point of nirvana. The figure of the two triangles, apex to apex, is simply another representation of what the Bhagavad-gita signifies by the metaphor of an inverted tree, a reflection of the original tree standing on the water’s bank.

Our minds boggle even at the “now moment of eternity” of the impersonal speculators. Even further from our conceptions is a realm in which transcendental time, which has neither past nor future, allows for activities—pastimes—and ever-increasing qualities of beauty, joy, and knowledge.

Now to consider the issue before us, we must not only contemplate that inconceivable eternal realm, but we must think about it in relationship with our world of past, passing, and to come. Let us proceed to do so.

As we have seen, the transcendental realm is eternal present, an everlasting instant. Every soul in that realm must accordingly be characterized as nitya-mukta, eternally liberated. This includes the souls that come from the material world. For if a soul enters that realm from the material world, can we ask, “When did that soul arrive?” The question does not apply. Once the soul gets there, that soul can only be nitya-mukta. He has, necessarily, always been there. This is the logic of eternity.

Now let us go to a matter equally inconceivable. Let us say, for the purposes of discussion, that a soul “falls” from eternity and sojourns in the material world. When did he enter the material world? We can only say that the fall is a non-temporal act that renders the conditioned soul bound from all time. The history of his incarceration in time has no beginning. The conditioned soul has always been conditioned. Strictly speaking, the question of when does not apply. Although bondage is not the soul’s original condition, the state of bondage is necessarily described as anadi, or beginningless, and the conditioned soul himself is characterized as nitya-baddha—eternally bound or conditioned. There was no time when he was not bound.

Yet such souls can attain release and enter the spiritual realm. Let us say that the soul who has fallen from that realm into beginningless bondage now returns. The duration of that bondage spans time without limit, as we have seen. Yet now, if we inquire, from the perspective of eternity, “How long has that fallen and restored soul been absent?” the answer is “He never left.” Or, alternatively, “The question does not apply.” For the logic of eternity dictates that no one falls from eternity—even if he does so.

The logic of eternity also dictates that no conditioned soul can begin his eternal life—even though he does so. In considering both falling from and returning to transcendence, we must accept the logic of eternity to be true to what is real.

Thus we see that while it is true that no one falls from the spiritual world, we in fact have done so, and yet there is no contradiction.

The dramatic narration of a life with God, a fall from that life, a sojourn in the alien world of illusion, and a final restoration to God is not a fiction. It is a profound truth. It need not be rejected on the mistaken notion that it conflicts with other, equally true, statements of authorities.

For our better understanding, however, we need to be aware of one simplification that takes place—quite naturally—in the telling of the narrative of fall and redemption. This is the representation of all the events in the story as though they take place on a single temporal continuum. For example, we habitually characterize our entry into time as though it were itself a temporal occasion, a dateable event. However, as we have seen, once we become conditioned, we have always been conditioned.

Similarly, we think of our rebellion against God as a distant, aboriginal event, one that took place long ago and far away, in that world. In truth, that single act of rebellion is perpetual; that very same aboriginal event is taking place right now. We have only to look into our hearts to confirm this.

Furthermore, when we “return” to the spiritual world, it will only be to discover that indeed we never left, and “there” has always been right “here.” We are right now with Krishna, for Krishna consciousness is our svarupa, our eternal identity. We need only wake up and see where we are.

All this is known to Srila Prabhupada and to the acharyas, previous teachers. They know how one can fall from a place no one falls from, enter into an ignorance that has always been, and return to a place one never actually left. Because such matters are inconceivable to mundane minds, when teachers speak of such things their words may seem contradictory. But in one way or another they all tell the whole truth.

By Satyaraja Dasa

The kindness of strangers played a pivotal role in ISKCON’s pre-history.

Last year I had the good fortune to meet Gopal and Sally Agarwal, an elderly couple who played a significant role in ISKCON’s origins. They are forever etched in the devotees’ collective memory as two of the Western world’s earliest recipients of Srila Prabhupada’s mercy. It was the Agarwals who hosted him in the fall of 1965, before ISKCON was even nominally born, giving him shelter, hospitality, friendship, and love. Indeed, for one month their home served as Prabhupada’s earliest refuge outside India.

As Prabhupada acquainted himself with the Agarwal home in Butler, in western Pennsylvania, he saw a typically quiet American town nestled in the hills, a town that has changed little since his brief visit those many years ago.

Last year, Nitai Dasa, a grand-disciple of Srila Prabhupada’s, organized a celebration in Butler to commemorate Prabhupada’s time there. Appropriately, the event was convened at the Butler Cubs Club, at 113 South McKean Street, the YMCA that served as Prabhupada’s sleeping quarters during his days with the Agarwals. In fact, the Agarwals were the guests of honor at the event. Sally addressed the audience of largely ISKCON devotees, including Radhanatha Swami, Varshana Swami, and Candrashekhara Swami. Dr. Allen Larson gave the keynote speech. Now a retired professor of philosophy at Slippery Rock College, in Butler, in 1965 he invited Prabhupada for his first college lecture in the West.

One of the lasting fruits of the Butler event, at least for me, was making contact with Sally and Gopal, charming and good-hearted people with unique and profound memories of Srila Prabhupada. For several months afterward, we kept in touch by phone and email, and they shared many wonderful stories about their time with my spiritual master. Although they never became devotees in the usual sense of the word, Prabhupada engulfed their consciousness, changing their lives and perceptions in innumerable ways. A detailed account of their interaction with Krishna’s pure devotee appears in Satsvarupa Dasa Goswami’s Srila Prabhupada-lilamrita, and this short article might serve as an addendum to that story.

The Mission Begins

A small occurrence can lead to a monumental event. A dry seed in hand may look insignificant, but inside is a plant-to-be. So it was when a businessman from Agra—Mathura Prasad Agarwal—offered a venerable and exceptional monk, whom the world would eventually know as His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, sponsorship in the Western world. As Srila Prabhupada undoubtedly told Mathura Prasad at the time, he had been instructed by his spiritual master to spread the timeless message of Krishna consciousness—the science of God realization—worldwide. The pious businessman could thus surmise that helping this particular sadhu would mean assisting him on his journey to the West; it would be the only assistance Prabhupada would need or want from him. Prabhupada would soon travel abroad and change religious history by founding the Hare Krishna movement.

ISKCON members know the story well: After an arduous journey by ship, landing first in Boston harbor and then in New York, Prabhupada emerged in the Western world, bringing centuries of tradition and the precious gem of Vedic knowledge for all who would have it. He was required by law to meet and stay with his sponsors, Mathura Prasad’s son Gopal and daughter-in-law Sally. The Agarwals held the legal documents enabling Prabhupada to enter America. They offered him their home in Butler, Pennsylvania, as his first foreign sanctuary.

It was 1965, and the couple was in their mid-30s, married only six years earlier. Sally, a Caucasian Methodist born in Pittsburgh, was just getting to know her husband’s Indian culture. She was excited that a real-life swami would be staying in their home.

As Sally tells it, the Agarwals received Prabhupada’s initial letter in early September, and he included a picture so that they might recognize him when he arrived.

“Using this picture,” relates Sally, “my husband met him in Pittsburgh, since he was coming in on the Greyhound bus from New York City. Gopal had worked it out with Traveler’s Aid to get him to Pennsylvania. So we met him. It was about midnight when they reached Bulter, and, poor fellow, he was tired from his constant journeying, and the only place we could set up for him was our couch.”

There wasn’t much of an alternative. The Agarwal residence, a small townhouse apartment, consisted of few rooms, with two upstairs bedrooms occupied by the two children, Kamla Kumari (their three-year-old daughter) and Brij Kumar (their newborn son). After Prabhupada left, the couple had two more children, Indu and Maya, born in 1969 and in 1971, respectively.

Since the Agarwal apartment had so little space—and because they didn’t want Prabhupada confined to their couch, night after night—they decided it would be better if he stayed at the YMCA, spending morning, noon, and evening with them until he was ready to call it a day. This was the Butler Cubs Club on South McKean Street, just a few blocks from the Agarwal home.

In a recent conversation with Sally, she told me about those first few weeks with Prabhupada:

He was so gentle, accommodating, and kind. I felt like he was Gopal’s father—a grandfather around the house, if you know what I mean. He played with Kamla and Brij. He just loved children, even when Brij teethed on his sandals! He just laughed and had a good sense of humor about everything. Sometimes he would tell us of his mission, but he always respected my Methodist background, never trying to convert me or to push his beliefs on us. He wasn’t talking about starting a movement or anything like that. But he was serious about distributing his books. He had brought them from India, and he saw his life’s mission as bringing this profound knowledge to the West, to reveal what he knew in the English language. We came to love his sincerity, his knowledge, and his warmth. I cried when he had to leave Butler.

Sally loves to mention, too, that her baby daughter may have been the first in the West to detect Prabhupada’s holiness: “Once, my three-year-old, Kamla, seeing Swamiji in the robes of a holy man, called him ‘Swami Jesus.’ He merely smiled and said, ‘And a child shall lead them.’”

A Swami in Butler

Soon after Prabhupada arrived, Sally hurried off to all the local newspapers, and shortly thereafter a feature article appeared in the Butler Eagle: “In fluent English, Devotee of Hindu Cult Explains Commission to Visit the West.” A photographer had come to the Agarwals’ apartment and had taken a picture of Srila Prabhupada standing in the living room, holding an open volume of Srimad-Bhagavatam. The caption read, “Ambassador of Bhakti-yoga.”

The article began:

A slight brown man in faded orange drapes and wearing white bathing shoes stepped out of a compact car yesterday and into the Butler YMCA to attend a meeting. He is A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swamiji, a messenger from India to the peoples of the West.

The article quoted Prabhupada as follows:

“My mission is to revive a people’s God consciousness,” says the Swamiji. “God is the Father of all living beings, in thousands of different forms,” he explains. “Human life is a stage of perfection in evolution; if we miss the message, back we go through the process again. …” If Americans would give more attention to their spiritual life, they would be much happier, he says.

At Prabhupada’s request, Gopal held a kind of open house in his apartment every night from six to nine. The family would invite friends and neighbors to hear “the Swami” talk about exotic India, and about Vedic philosophy and mysticism. The Agarwals knew many intellectuals, and people came from neighboring towns just to hear him speak.

Lecturing to large groups was clearly among his many talents. But this was only his formal persona. The Agarwals saw another side, too, one that was quaint and friendly, down-home and endearing. For example, Gopal tells the story of how Prabhupada would cook lunch for them daily, demonstrating how to prepare meals in authentic Vaishnava style.

He had the curiosity and wonder of a child, too, says Sally: “He was fascinated by laundry machines, by washers and dryers, and the frozen vegetables in the freezer. Apparently, these were not common things in India, and he talked about them for hours and hours. He always talked about modern developments and how they could be used in God’s service.”

At times, Prabhupada’s presence in the Agarwal home led to minor challenges. Sally tells the story of when he washed his clothes in their upstairs bathroom:

“Oh man! I didn’t know it at the time, but he washed his two simple cloths every night. You see, he only owned two monk garments at the time, and every day he’d wash them. He would be busy in the bathroom sink upstairs, drenching the bathroom floor for the longest time—slop, slop, slop. Gopal had to go up there one day and explain to him that you can’t do that in America, you have to be careful with water. In India the floors are cement, mud, or clay, and so it doesn’t matter if you slop it up. But in our country, when the bathroom is on the second floor, it definitely matters! And then he spread his outfit, his two pieces of cloth, on the grass just outside our apartment complex, which was quite a sight in our local neighborhood.”

Still, Sally and Gopal deeply appreciated his presence in their home, and, increasingly, so did many others in the Butler community.

Sally reminisces in the Lilamrita about her own pleasant interactions with him:

He was the easiest guest I have had in my life, because when I couldn’t spend time with him he chanted, and I knew he was perfectly happy. When I couldn’t talk to him, he chanted. He was so easy, though, because I knew he was never bored. I never felt any pressure or tension about having him. He was so easy that when I had to take care of the children he would just chant. It was so great. When I had to do things, he would just be happy chanting. He was a very good guest. When the people would come, they were always smoking cigarettes, but he would say, “Pay no attention. Think nothing of it.” That’s what he said. “Think nothing of it.” Because he knew we were different. I didn’t smoke in front of him. I knew I wasn’t supposed to smoke in front of Gopal’s father, so I sort of considered him the same. He didn’t make any problems for anybody.

The First Preaching in the West

Prabhupada spoke to various groups in the Butler community, including the Lions Club, where he received a formal document proclaiming “Be it known that A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami was a guest at the Lions Club of Butler, Pa., and as an expression of appreciation for services rendered, the Club tenders this acknowledgment.”

He also gave a talk at the YMCA and at St. Fidelis Seminary College in nearby Herman.

Professor Allen Larsen, then chairman of the philosophy department at Slippery Rock State College, also invited Prabhupada to lecture. A hundred students from three of his classes came to hear. Prabhupada appeared before them with his distinct otherworldly glow and full sannyasi garb—an uncommon sight in the West, and even more uncommon in Butler. He sat down and chanted the Hare Krishna maha-mantra. Then he stood and spoke—a formal but basic lecture on Krishna consciousness—and answered questions from the audience.

Professor Larsen remembers that the program lasted about an hour and forty-five minutes. At the celebration in Butler last year, he recalled:

When I first met him, he told me he had come to the U.S.A. to translate the Vedic scriptures, and as far as I knew that was his only aim of being here. We had tried to talk on the campus. It was a nice day, and he drew up his legs under him and sat in what you call a lotus position. He remarked that trees should be nut and fruit trees. They weren’t—they were just flowering trees, just for show, and I certainly agreed with that.

During our lapses in conversation he would use his prayer beads and recite a Krishna prayer which was hardly audible to me. Although I’ve forgotten many of the details of his talk, it was clear to me that he was a holy man. This just radiated out of his being. It was primarily his composure, his peacefulness, that led me to that conclusion. I had no idea that this quiet man would become a leader of a significant religious movement here and abroad. After all these years, that impression of a holy man has stayed with me.

The lectures in Pennsylvania were a testing ground, Prabhupada’s first indications of how his message would be received in America. The reception was promising. Sally and her husband encouraged him to repeat this formula elsewhere, and Professor Larsen expressed deep satisfaction with having hosted a genuine Indian sadhu.

The Movement Expands

After a month, Prabhupada left Sally and Gopal’s little hamlet, and the seeds of his mission had been sown. While there, he gained experience with American audiences. He saw that people were interested in his books and message, and also that he could endear himself to foreign people. Sally, especially, “came to love the Swami,” as she puts it.

In New York he struggled for almost six months, subjected to a bitterly cold New York winter, the theft of his simple belongings, and the abuse of a drug-crazed roommate. Yet his determination to bring about a spiritual revolution would soon bear fruit.

All the while he kept in touch with Sally and Gopal by letter. Especially Sally, since she was the more gregarious of the two, always ready to engage in conversation and personal exchange. Prabhupada’s correspondence with Sally is a matter of public record, and it is heartening to see his concern for her in those letters.

In May of 1966, Srila Prabhupada, with the help of just two followers, rented a storefront in New York’s Lower East Side, previously a novelty shop with the name “Matchless Gifts.” Early visitors to Srila Prabhupada’s new center were struck by the prophetic name. In July of 1966, he incorporated his institution, ISKCON.

Prabhupada always kept in touch with Sally. In fact, Sally notes that the “celebrity” of being one of Prabhupada’s first contacts in the West is downright fun.

“Our time with Swami broadened my mind a lot,” she says, “because I’m open to that kind of thing. I mean, it’s been a lot of fun. Maya, my daughter, was in the Dallas airport a couple of years ago when she was approached by a Hare Krishna selling the books, asking for a donation. And of course she said that she was Sally Agarwal’s daughter—you could imagine that devotee’s response. There was another occasion: One day Maya and I were in Madrid and there was a Hare Krishna group chanting right near us. But this time, we didn’t tell them who we were—we didn’t want all the commotion. But it’s been fun; it’s been a lot of fun.”

As influential advertising mogul Bruce Barton famously said, “Sometimes when I consider what tremendous consequences come from little things, I am tempted to think that there are no little things.” Mathura Prasad’s pious gesture to Krishna’s most important representative, and the kindness that both Gopal and Sally subsequently showed him in Butler, are certainly not “little things.” Indeed, the consequences of these gracious acts proved to be monumental.

Audio file of Sally Agarwal giving her memories of Srila Prabhupada’s first steps on American soil.Listen, Download

Gopal and Sally discuss Srila Prabhupada’s fascination with frozen foods and other sweet memories.Listen, Download

Hare Krishna, John Herbison embarks on a year long pilgrimage around New Zealand.

By John Bisset

When John Herbison said goodbye to his wife before setting off on a walk, he didn’t say “I’ll see you later”, it was “I’ll be back in about a year”.

The devout Hare Krishna of 30 years has set out on a pilgrimage to mark the 50th anniversary of the Hare Krishna Society’s arrival in the western world.

He left Christchurch 10 days ago with a stroppy horse named Samson and a restored 100-year-old wagon, intent on travelling the length of New Zealand.

Yasoda Dulal with his horse Samson.

The first leg of his spiritual journey will see him walk from Christchurch to Bluff via Queenstown, and then from Bluff to Cape Reinga. His journey will end in Auckland next July as a finale of the 50-year celebrations.

Also known by his religious name of Yasoda Dulal , Herbison visited Timaru 25 years ago during a three-year expedition around New Zealand, walking with oxen. The trip was co-ordinated with followers throughout 100 countries and has inspired him to celebrate that feat as part of next year’s festivities.

Waitaki Valley born and bred, Herbison has always enjoyed a challenge. He has worked as a mountain guide and was involved with search and rescue at Mt Cook in the 1980s before getting married and joining the Krishna group.

Travelling with just the bare essentials, Herbison believes in living a simple, but ‘high-thinking’ life.

He relies on the generosity of others for food and shelter while on his journey. The vegetarian spent the last two nights camped in a paddock at Fairlie. He cooks on an open fire and uses a camp oven to make bread.

“I sleep wherever I can. Sometimes it might be under a tree, sometimes it may be in a hay barn,” he said. “I also use a roll-out Australian swag made of canvas that keeps the frost off me.”

Samson has a bit of an attitude and has been known to wreck wagons. The trip was nearly thwarted when he pulled the two hardwood shafts from the cart soon after leaving Christchurch.

Herbison’s wander involves meeting Kiwi people in remote places, rekindling the simpler and slower way of life that our pioneers shared.

Source: http://www.stuff.co.nz/timaru-herald/71350906/hare-krishna-yasoda-dulal-embarks-on-a-years-pilgrimage

By Ranchor dasa

This paper was the ISKCON keynote address at an Inter-faith conference hosted by our communications group in the UK and devotees in Bhaktivedanta Manor. Twenty Christians and twenty ISKCON members took part in the exchange, which was described by Rev. Michael Barnes SJ as, “one of those rare occasions when head and heart seemed somehow to be united…. I was left wondering why it is that Catholics and Vaishnava Hindus get on so well together.” Ranchor’s paper was very well received and the sincere realisation and gift of presentation it displays can serve us as well in our efforts in dialogue with other faith communities.

My first attempt at inter-faith dialogue was a bit of a disaster. As a young man of twenty I was out chanting on the streets of the West End with my newly-found brothers and sisters of the Radha Krishna Temple. We danced in a double file along the side of the pavement to the rhythm of drums and cymbals, chanting the Hare Krishna mantra. Turning from Oxford Street up Tottenham Court Road, we found a place where the pavement widened out and paused there to allow a crowd to gather. People began to stop and look on with curiosity, some of them smiling and laughing, or nodding their heads in time with the music.

A few of us started to sell our magazine, Back To Godhead. I was one of those, and as I walked among the crowd, offering it to anyone who looked interested, I noticed a middle-aged man wearing the white collar and black suit of a Catholic priest. With him were a young couple, and the three of them stood at the edge of the crowd. I had grown up as a Catholic, so I thought, ‘Here are some friends from the Catholic church. They believe in God, so I’m sure they’ll understand what we’re doing.’

Smiling broadly, I approached them. To my surprise, as soon as the priest saw me with my saffron robes and shaven head, and a Back To Godhead in my outstretched hand, he recoiled and declared in a loud voice so that others could hear, ‘You’re not singing to God, you’re singing to the devil!’ and he indignantly swept away, taking his young friends with him.

I was puzzled. I had hoped to share a mutual understanding with the priest: after all, he was committed to the service of God, and now so was I. In today’s materialistic society, I thought, those who were serving God should support each other and feel solidarity together. If his reaction was to be typical of other Christians, then I was going to find it difficult to relate to.

I soon found that not all Christians had his attitude, and thankfully many were very appreciative of Krishna Consciousness. Nevertheless, it was clear that inter-religious understanding was not something to be taken for granted, and this gave me a personal sense of purpose. With my extensive Catholic background and my present faith in Krishna, I felt I had a ‘mission to explain’.

I have often been asked why I converted from Catholicism to Krishna Consciousness. My reply is always that I did not convert: I built on the faith I already had. My roots are in Christianity, and I cannot change that. I cannot change the fact that for the first twenty years of my life God appeared to me through Jesus; that my character and morals were moulded by Sisters of the Holy Cross and Benedictine monks; and that a Christian church to me is still a holy place where I intuitively feel at home.

Nonetheless, the question remains: what made me decide to become a devotee of Krishna? One major attraction was the chanting of the Holy Name. The simplicity of just chanting was irresistible. Devotees chant in two ways. One is by singing together, and the other is by private prayer. My first encounter with the singing was on television, when I watched the 73-year-old founder of the Hare Krishna Movement, Srila Prabhupada, being interviewed on Late Night Line-Up in 1969. Prabhupada explained to his interviewer that he had come to Britain to teach how to love God. His wise and kindly face and his sincere voice seemed to tell to me that he knew what he was talking about. ‘And which God are you referring to – the same one as Christians worship?’ asked the interviewer. I wondered what his answer would be. Could he be worshipping the same God as me?

‘Yes, I am speaking of the same God,’ replied Prabhupada. Hearing this, my interest deepened. I had always wanted to learn from someone of another religious tradition about their idea of God.

‘And how do you teach that we should love God?’

‘The easiest and most direct way is to chant His name,’ Prabhupada replied, ‘If you chant the name of God, you can not only love Him, but you can speak to Him face to face, just as I am speaking to you.’ I was intrigued. He spoke with such conviction, but surely it couldn’t be that simple.

Prabhupada got up and walked across to another part of the studio where six of his disciples were waiting with musical instruments. Together they sat in a circle on the studio floor. A rich harmony swelled up from the Indian harmonium and a stringed instrument called a tambura, accompanied by small cymbals and a clay drum. Then Prabhupada began to chant the Hare Krishna mantra, rhythmically, majestically, while the devotees chanted their response. Together they wove a mystical web of transcendental sound that seemed to stretch from the studio right across the country and into my heart.

The closing credits of the programme rolled down the screen and I prayed that the chanting wouldn’t stop, not yet! But too soon it faded away and the screen went blank. From that day I never needed to be convinced of the simple truth that just by chanting the Holy Name it is possible to see God.

Later on, when I met the devotees in person in London, I had another experience with chanting, this time the recitation of the mantra using prayer beads. A japa mala has 108 beads; on each bead the Hare Krishna mantra is chanted. This completes one round. Serious devotees of Krishna are normally expected to chant sixteen times round their prayer beads each day, which takes about two hours. This chanting is done softly to oneself as a meditation. I wanted to live the life of a devotee, but I hesitated to make such a commitment. So on my second visit to the temple I arrived in the early hours of the morning to experience the devotees chanting on their beads.

Let me describe the scene. Outside it was still dark and the pavements were empty. In the small shrine room a dozen men and women were praying. The smell of incense filled the air. The curtains of the shrine were open revealing the sacred images of Radha and Krishna, from Whom a soft golden light cast shadows between the pillars along the sides of the room. At the rear of the room a young man, his beads held out before him and his eyes closed, moved from side to side in a hypnotic dance, absorbed in chanting. Others sat in the shadows, some contemplating the forms of Radha and Krishna or the many devotional pictures hung around the room. Before the shrine a young woman swayed back and forth blissfully smiling as she gazed at Krishna and almost sang her mantras. In one hand were her prayer beads; in the other she held a cord attached to a row of small bells hanging from the ceiling, which tinkled melodically along with her chanting. Everyone chanted softly but intently, and the sounds in the room merged into a harmony of divine sound alive with sacred energy. I was swept up by the atmosphere and sat down to chant with my own beads. That morning, with no need of further encouragement, I completed sixteen rounds without difficulty and knew that I would become a devotee.

As I learned how to chant Krishna’s names on prayer beads, I found I was able to pray to God in a direct, uncomplicated way I had never experienced before. I could feel His presence through the sound vibration of the mantra.

The mahamantra is made up of three names: KRISHNA, RAMA and HARE. Krishna and Rama are names for God. KRISHNA means the most attractive person, and RAMA means the source of all happiness. Both of these names describe God in a very personal way as the focus of devotion and joy. HARE refers to the loving mercy of God, without which we could not know Him. This mercy is personified as Radha, Krishna’s eternal companion. She is the female aspect of Krishna, and the embodiment of pure love and mercy. The mahamantra is a prayer to Mother Hara to engage us in the loving service of Krishna, the giver of all happiness.

In the spirit of the chanting, I began to think of God as Krishna. It made sense to me that God should be eternally youthful and at play. The wise old man whom I had been shown as a child had never quite fit my image of God, and had left a gap of uncertainty, which I had filled with the vague sense of an unknowable, invisible, all-pervasive Spirit. Now that I had the image of Krishna, I embraced Him through chanting His name, reading about Him and meditating on His picture, and for the first time I felt a personal relationship with God.

While visiting the temple I was introduced to the Bhagavad-gita. I found it quite different from any book I had read before, except the New Testament. It seemed to me they both had the same authentic voice of divine wisdom. The teachings presented by Krishna were profoundly meaningful for me. I had always held an intuitive belief in God and reincarnation, and here I found them both clearly described. As Krishna spoke of the eternal self which is never born and never dies, but which passes from one body to another, I had the feeling that I was hearing words that I had heard before. It was as if I was being reminded of things I had once known but had forgotten.

One teaching made particular sense for me. In the sixth chapter of the Gita Arjuna asks Krishna an important question: ‘What becomes of the one who starts on the spiritual path but who does not reach the end; who falls away because of attraction to the world he has left behind?’ Arjuna’s fear is that if he tries to achieve his spiritual goal but fails, he will end up losing everything in the process.

Krishna’s answer is that one who has begun the path to God is never disappointed. A devotee who fails to complete the path in this life will get the chance to carry on in the next life. So, if I have made a certain amount of progress, and achieved a certain level of understanding in some previous lifetime, that level will be revived in my present life. It is Krishna who reminds me of that spiritual knowledge from within my heart and who makes sure that I am able to continue on my path from the point where I left off.

When I read this I felt Krishna was speaking directly to me. I felt that I must have encountered Krishna in a previous life, and that now He had intervened in my present life to bring me back to His path. With this understanding I decided to make a commitment to Krishna.

Becoming vegetarian was easy, because the food which the devotees ate was so attractive it left me with no taste for meat. It seemed so obvious that meat-eating should be avoided if possible: how could killing animals, who were also God’s children, be compatible with a life of love and service to God? The other rules for temple life were: no gambling, no intoxication and no illicit sex. Cigarettes and alcohol were no problem and I had never gambled. Celibacy was more of a challenge, but I was ready to give it a try, until such time as I might get married. I moved into the temple twenty-four years ago this week.

An important part of my faith since then has been my relationship with my guru as teacher, friend and guide. He always spoke as an expert scholar with deep knowledge of the Vedic scriptures, and his words have been a constant source of inspiration and understanding. My personal feelings towards him, which are like those of a son to a loving father, are at the heart of my belief and commitment to Krishna.

When my faith is tested by difficulties or doubts, it is the certain knowledge that he believes in me, and wants me to stay faithful, that keeps me going. He always said that most of all what made him happy was to see his disciples happy in Krishna consciousness. He defined Krishna consciousness as active service to Krishna, something which everyone can do, even a child, and he very much favoured preaching. His one direct and personal instruction to me was, “Somehow or other, preach.” I carry those words in my heart.

It is not just that he wanted this: the whole line of teachers who came before him, all the way back to Sri Caitanya who founded the Hare Krishna movement five hundred years ago, wanted the same thing. It is a myth that Hinduism has never been a missionary religion: there have been many preachers and reformers in Indian religious history, among whom Sri Caitanya is very great. So when my guru asked me, and all his disciples, to preach, he was only passing on the family values. And he himself practised what he preached. He always said that his only qualification was that he was carrying out the order which he had received from his own guru, to teach Krishna consciousness to the English speaking world.

The knowledge that I have a spiritual father who has asked something from me, and who is relying on me to carry the message of Krishna consciousness into my own community, is at the foundation of my spiritual life. It is mainly because of my feelings for him that I stay in the religious organisation which he founded. Over the years there have been many good reasons to leave – poverty, disagreements, bad leadership and the knowledge that others think I’m crazy to be a Hare Krishna follower. But what keeps me here is my relationship with my guru, my desire to please him and not to let him down, and to pass on to others what he gave to me. How else can a son repay his father’s love?

In the years since becoming a disciple of Srila Prabhupada I have seen many changes. In the early years of the Hare Krishna Movement we tended to keep ourselves separate from outsiders, except to preach to them. The price of joining was high. You had to give up all thoughts of education or a career. We were drop-outs from mainstream society. This marginalised our community from the world about us.

There is something about life on the fringes that is quite appealing in its rejection of materialism and its idealistic spirit. But there are problems arising from the isolation it brings, such as the dispute between our community here at Bhaktivedanta Manor and some of the villagers of Letchmore Heath, which in the past was fuelled by our own isolation from the village community.

This isolation is now diminishing as more and more Krishna devotees are family people living in the wider society. I myself now live as a family man and work for a living as a writer. During the last ten years I have felt the need to establish my own independence and make my own decisions after years of semi- institutional living in Hare Krishna communities. This has made me less dependent on the movement and brought me more in contact with everyday society. My children belong to a generation who are growing up with Krishna Consciousness as their religion in the same way as others are Christians or Jews. Seeing them growing up in a world full of uncertainty, I am more than ever aware of their need for a clear set of beliefs and values on which to base their lives.

In this time of change, the Hare Krishna Movement is very much in need of its links with those sections of society who understand it and with whom we have things in common. This particularly points to the religious community. Some of our most valuable friends come from other religious groups. They are the first to appreciate the problems we encounter as a small religious movement new to this country. We have much to learn from these friends and I hope that they also feel that we have something of value to offer in return.

I would like to think that every religious group has something unique to contribute to the world, especially in this age of materialism. If Krishna Consciousness has something to offer, I think it is the combination of a clearly articulated philosophy of the soul, karma and reincarnation as taught in the Bhagavad Gita with devotion to a very personal God in the form of Krishna: a God of grace who shows mercy, forgiveness and love. This personal God pervades the universe. In the words of Krishna in the Bhagavad-gita:

I am the taste of water, The light of the sun and moon, The heat in fire, The fragrance of the earth And the life of all that lives. (BG. 7.8-9)

God is not just present in the world about us, He also lives in the heart of every living being. This mystery is taught by Krishna:

I am in the heart of every being, Giving knowledge, remembrance and forgetfulness. (BG. 15.15)

Although God dwells in my heart, and although He knows everything about my past, present and future, I do not know Him. But Krishna teaches that I can know Him through bhakti, or loving service-a ceaseless act of love which fills every waking moment:

Whatever you do, whatever you eat, whatever you offer or give away, whatever hardships you undergo-make these an offering to Me. (BG. 9.27)

This is the basis of our daily life as devotees of Krishna. We try to relate all our actions to Him, so that even the simplest deeds, like eating breakfast or putting out the rubbish, become a meditation upon God. Through such constant devotion, Krishna is revealed to His devotee. As He says:

To those who are constantly devoted to serving Me with love, I give the understanding by which they can come to Me. (BG. 10.10)

This is the essence of Krishna’s teachings in the Bhagavad-gita. When He is served with constant love and devotion He reveals Himself. He releases His devotee from the karma of past sins and from all material attachments, filling His devotee’s heart with the light of pure knowledge of Him. Bhagavad-gita teaches us to look for God as our dearest friend-who knows us better than anyone else, who accompanies us through countless lifetimes in this world, and who invites us to live with Him forever.

There are many stories of Krishna which help us understand Him in a personal and loving way. Krishna lives in the eternal forest of Vrindavan, the source of all life, where He is surrounded by His friends, the cowherd girls and boys, and looked after by His mother and father, Yasoda and Nanda. When He was a small boy, Krishna and His brother used to go out and play with their young friends. One day, when they came home for lunch, Krishna’s brother and the other boys complained to Yasoda:

‘Mother, Krishna has been eating clay.’

Yasoda caught Krishna’s hand and said, ‘Why have you been eating earth? All the boys are complaining about you.’

‘Mother,’ said Krishna, ‘they’re all lying. I never ate any clay. They just want to get me into trouble. If you believe them, why don’t you look inside my mouth and see.’

‘Very well, open your mouth.’

So Krishna did as He was told and opened His mouth. Inside His mouth, Yasoda saw the whole creation. She saw mountains, islands, oceans and planets; the sun, moon, stars, and outer space; she saw all the universe; and she saw herself, with her child Krishna on her lap. She was dumbstruck. She didn’t know whether she was dreaming or was actually seeing something real. She thought she must be mad.

In this troubled state, she began to pray, ‘Let me offer my respects to the Supreme Lord, under whose influence I am thinking that Nanda is my husband, that I am queen of this village, that the cowherd men and women are my subjects, and that Krishna is my son. All these illusions are brought about by the power of the Lord. I pray that He will always protect me.’

Seeing her bewildered condition, Krishna overwhelmed her with feelings of love. She forgot her confusion and turned her attention back to Krishna. Taking Him on her lap, she gave Him a big hug full of motherly love and thought, ‘Krishna is my own child.’

Stories such as this are powerful ways of meditating upon God as a personal, loving and accessible friend. I should emphasise that they are not mere stories: they are windows to a higher reality allowing devotees to actually experience the presence of Krishna.

All over the world in the late twentieth century children of Christians have adopted Krishna Consciousness as a means to understanding their place in the universe, and as a way of exploring their feelings for God. My own view of this phenomena is based on my understanding of reincarnation as taught in the Bhagavad-gita. As I mentioned earlier, Bhagavad-gita teaches that God revives a person’s faith in Him from one lifetime to the next, so that the soul may gradually progress on her path back to Godhead. It is my belief that some in the West, through repeated births in Christian countries, have found a personal and devotional faith in God, and that this faith has brought them to Krishna.

The growth of Krishna Consciousness outside India forms part of a wider spiritual transition in the West. This transition is from an age of institutional religion dominated by the duality’s of punishment and reward, heaven and hell, sacred and profane, to an age of holistic religion which reveals God’s presence in the heart of the individual, in the natural world, in daily life and in the community: a personal religion based not on fear but on love.

In closing, I must give mention to a man who encouraged me on my path at a crucial time many years ago. In 1970, when my father discovered that I was about to move into the Krishna temple, he asked me to spend a week with the Benedictine monks of Worth Abbey, who had educated me, to discuss my decision with them. I gladly went down to Sussex and had a wonderful time chanting in the woods and telling them all about Krishna. On the eve of my departure back to London the saintly Abbot, Dom Victor Farwell (now sadly deceased), called me to his room. He told me some of the monks were worried about me and were preparing to hold a vigil to pray for my soul. However, he said he did not share their worry.

‘If I was your age,’ he assured me, ‘I would do exactly as you are. May God bless you!’ So I began my life as a devotee of Krishna with his blessings, and, I felt in my heart, with the blessings of Jesus Christ.

This paper was originally delivered at an Inter-faith conference entitled, ‘The Experience of God’, hosted by ISKCON and held at Bhaktivedanta Manor, England, on 10 September 1994.

By Kesava Krsna dasa

Do we come to Krsna Consciousness to advance? If so, does that advancement have to be recognized by others, to earn a generous pat on the back? And perhaps to hear something like “You are so advanced prabhu” to which we either feigningly or embarrassingly recoil in protest, or return the compliment with “I am very fallen and unqualified”. While these crèches are well meaning, until we come to the real advanced stage beyond the three modes of material nature, our perceptions of spiritual advancement can be tainted and misapplied, mistaking it for material ability, imitative behavior, and motivated actions, above average knowledge or intelligence, or sentimental hype and so on.

Another incorrect notion is to standardize a blanket estimation of advancement to all devotees, who may differ in their approach to Krsna Consciousness, some being more refined than others, some more introverted or extroverted, frontline or background, seen or unseen, practicing in the temple or at home, doing thankful or thankless tasks and more.

By combining Lord Krsna’s assessments with Lord Kapila’s in the third canto of Srimad Bhagavatam, we can generally gauge the outlook on spiritual advancement according to those colored by the gunas. Someone influenced by tamo-guna will think he is very advanced, and will likely consider someone not so advanced to be advanced. One in raja-guna will also think he is advanced, along with those who glorify his stupendous deeds. In sattva-guna, one will not think he is advanced, but he can succumb to pride. He can recognize advancement in others. These are distinct from advancement above the modes.

Some years ago, in certain parts of our devotee world, there was a trend in growing big wide sikhas as big as Chinese noblemen. Sometimes, after a devotee had returned from the Holy land nicely tanned, he would also speak with Indian pronunciation as though he had lived there for almost half a lifetime. Because these devotees tended to be influential, these exotic traits were soon adopted. For us Bhaktas who, during japa times were trying to curb our rabid minds by head banging, foot stomping, whirling dervishes and high decibel chanting, to see the sagely calmness in our distinguished guests was something to aspire for. It was as if they were boats of serenity in the midst of the turbulent ocean of Bhakta japa. Quite soon some of our leaders acquired the pronunciation and eventually, many op us vere talking like betevans op the holy dhama. It vecame bogue. Durving classes, the sfeakers would boice their bery bery vise heartpelt vealizations to the portunate listeners. This pancy sfeaking comvined vith ourv vig sikhas must habe made us peel quite imfortant. This vell meaning vut misguided vay op trying to peel adbanced did not vork so vell, so apter some time ve all reberted vack to ourv oviginal accents. Such imitative behavior is a symptom of passion as it was intended in part to impress among our social circles and was therefore ‘enacted from a sense of false ego’ BG. 18.25.

One extended Christmas marathon in which devotees were selling commercial products, it culminated in a win for a devotee who received the traditional uproarious rousing moment of victory complete with bashing whompers, clanging kartels and walloping mrdangas, loud jayas and hand stomping on the floorboards which became outstretched to clamor for the feet dust of the victor as he strolled to the Vyasaasana. The cacophony heightened even further when the disciple was embraced by his Guru. Without diminishing his achievement, and a nice day to remember, this devotee quite soon left the association of devotees. He confided that during the marathon he visited the cinema frequently, did not follow sadhana principles properly, and relied purely on his expertise as a salesperson to succeed. We have to ask, was the glorification all in vain? Was it an informed measure of whether he was truly advanced or not? Indeed he was considered advanced. Realizing the facts however, the estimation was based on deed alone, ignoring the internal suspect mood which has to be ‘….without knowledge of the truth, and which is very meager’ BG.18.22. combined with ‘….what ought to be done’ BG.18.30. because devotees like to glorify others.

Srila Prabhupada says in BG.14.20. purport:’ when one is freed from the influence of the modes of material nature, he enters into devotional service’. If we consider this in the case of a devotee who stringently follows all the rules of sadhana and attends every temple programme, yet he is flustered with those who do not come to his standard. Are we to assume he is transcendental? Highly advanced? Is it not that if one were above the modes his understanding would at least be in the mode of goodness, in which case he would not do ‘what ought not to be done’ BG.18.30. that is not to criticize others. There is a likelihood of karma-misra-bhakti infestation. Same applies to those who think themselves learned, yet are judgmental about others who fall short of their flair for discussing Sastra. A warning is sounded in BG.14.6. purport:’ the difficulty here is that when a living entity is situated in the mode of goodness he becomes conditioned to feel that he is advanced in knowledge and is better than the others’. Jnana-misra-bhakti results in a hardening of the heart which will be unable to attain transcendence.

So what is true advancement? How do we recognize it? Is it so rare? In BG.2.71. purport Srila Prabhupada says: ‘….desire for becoming Krsna Conscious is actually desirelessness’ and ‘….real desirelessness is desire for the satisfaction of Krsna’. In effect, desirelessness is – vyavasyatmika buddhir – which later on in BG.11.54. is described as ‘undivided devotional service’ by which one can ‘enter into the mysteries of My Understanding’. This understanding, this entrance, given by the grace of the Spiritual Master, is what determines an advanced devotee’s demeanor. He has the greatest respect for all things connected to the absolute nature of devotional service and has a friendly disposition towards them. He is privy to – rahasyam hy etad uttamam – he can understand the mysteries of this science. BG.4.3. such a devotee is not mystified by the seeming contradictions found in Srila Prabhupada’s instructions given according to time, place, and circumstance. He is not swayed by pedantic arguments, preferring to bathe in the drops of mercy flowing through our parampara. For one who has not gotten the mercy of Srila Prabhupada, Srila Prabhupada and his teachings will forever remain a conundrum, a puzzle, to manifest as diversions from the truth.

For practical purposes, the advanced vaisnava’s behavior can be discerned. For one, he will never engage in Sadhu-ninda, for he is fearful of that, ‘what is to be feared’ BG.18.30. He abides by the positive and negative injunctions of the scriptures, ‘what ought to be done, and what ought not to be done’. He does not act independently of Sri Guru’s orders, ‘what is liberating’. He will not contravene such orders, ‘what is binding’.

The topic of Sadhu-ninda is given such importance because one can be desensitized to its effects. Persistent exposure to hearing criticism of vaisnavas can cause this, which is so insidious as to be unnoticeable by many. When one realizes his taste for chanting is waning, it is of concern. Advanced devotees just cannot, will not and do not offend vaisnavas. Can one be said to be thinking of Krsna while doing so? Highly unlikely. As BG.18.58. says, ‘if however, you do not work in such consciousness but act through false ego, not hearing Me, you will be lost ‘. Lost where? Perhaps in the misunderstood banyan tree.BG.15.3-4. Even though the taste has gone, if one continues to practice devotional service without making palpable advancement it may just drag on as in –niyamagrahah – performing regulations just for the sake of it.

The definitive description of advancement has to be Srila Rupa Goswami’s kindness. He says – bhajana-vijnam – that an advanced soul performs devotional service without – ananyam – deviation, and whose – hrdam [heart], is completely devoid of the propensity to criticize others – anya-nindadi-sunya. Such a vaisnava’s association is most desirable, and he has a natural relish for chanting Hare Krsna – svadvi – but chants carefully, every day – adarat-anudinam. Sri Upadeshamrta 5 & 7.

While it is nice to glorify devotees who are expending an effort trying to please Sri Sri Guru and Gauranga, and whenever any discussion centers around who is advanced and who is not, we should bear in mind the following “One has to learn this science of activities in terms of the modes of material nature, otherwise one’s life will be misdirected”. BG.14.19.

Thank you, your servant, Kesava Krsna dasa –GRS.

Lecture on Food for the Soul by HG Charu Prabhu

(Charu Das was initiated by Srila Prabhupada in 1970. He has been President, variously, of the Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, and Berkeley (USA) temples. He served on the BBT library party in 1976, received Bhakti Shastra in 1979, and was Life Membership Director in Los Angeles for 10 years in the 1980's.)

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Lecture on Independent Desires by HH Niranjana Swami on 13 Aug 2015 at Dnipropetrovsk

(His Holiness Niranjana Swami was born on December 10, 1952, in Lowell, Massachusetts, USA. In 1972, his spiritual search took a turning point when he saw a Bhagavad-Gita As It Is, on the counter of a bookshop in Washington, DC.)

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