December 5, 1975
Vrindavana, India
SRILA PRABHUPÄDA would sometimes sit in his darsana room after breakfast and
chat with his servants for a while, usually commenting on the state of the
world in the present day. These moments were especially sweet—to be with
Prabhupäda as he sat, relaxed and casual, and bathe in the warmth of his
intimate association.
This morning was particularly memorable. The sun was shining brightly
through the tall, narrow windows, casting patches of dazzling light on the
clean white sheets on the floor. He sat comfortably in the middle of the
floor, his legs crossed, right ankle resting on the left knee. His fingers
loosely intertwined, he closed his eyes briefly and enjoyed the warmth of
the sun as it danced upon his golden form. Seeing the opportunity, Hamsadüta
and I sat on either side of him, just happy to be with him in a quiet
moment.
He began to reflect on the unfortunate state of the world’s inhabitants. Due
to a lack of knowledge about the Supreme Lord, he said, people are
suffering. Under the false impression of being independent, they commit all
kinds of sinful acts, not knowing and not caring for the results, foolishly
thinking they are free to do as they like. But when the volume of sinful
life becomes too great, they suffer the consequences in the form of
pestilence or war. They think that by politics and meetings they can avoid
such things, but that is not possible. They are helpless to prevent them,
and therefore they receive their punishment through the threefold miseries
of life. At just the right moment, nature brings the demons together and
engages them in war.
To illustrate the point, Prabhupäda gave an amusing but striking example of
how mäyä works.
“In my young days we had one teacher. Whenever there was any misbehavior
between the boys, the teacher would stop them and bring them out to the
front of the class. He would make them stand face-to-face and each take hold
of the ears of the other and on his order make them pull. So the one, he is
pulling, and the other is hurting, so he pulls back even harder, and each
one is pulling and crying. But they cannot let go because the teacher is
ordering, ‘No, you cannot stop. You must go on pulling!’ Similarly, mäyä
brings together one Churchill and one Hitler—‘Now, rascal, pull!’ And
neither can stop. And the foolish people glorify them.”
Hari Sauri Däsa
Los Angeles, California
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