Srila Prabhupada flew to Auckland -- alone. Due to a mix-up in ticketing and a cancelled flight, Prabhupada's secretary, servant, and Sanskrit editor were temporarily stranded in Sydney. Krsna Tulasi and Jagattarini, who had both arrived in Auckland a few days before, had been busy making final arrangements for Srila Prabhupada's comfort which included the airport reception, transport to the temple, and cooking.
A small band of devotees held a kirtana before the Customs doors, peering in as they opened, trying to catch a glimpse of Srila Prabhupada. Along with the initiated disciples, a group of Auckland rock musicians who had recently become interested in Krsna consciousness were there. Some in jeans, some in dhotis, and all with long hair, they chanted enthusiastically.
Suddenly Prabhupada emerged, wearing a long, thick yellow chrysanthemum garland that reached down to his knees. Attired in shiny saffron cloth, he carried his small white attache case in one hand. To the devotees present, Srila Prabhupada looked wonderfully effulgent, almost childlike in his innocence. Smiling brightly, he appeared unfazed by the inconvenience of traveling alone. After final formalities, Prabhupada walked with the blissful devotees to the waiting car -- a pale blue, beaten-up old Vauxhall Victor that belonged to one of the congregation.
Srila Prabhupada had certainly been greeted by bigger and more formal receptions, with more opulence and fanfare. Prabhupada, however, accepted the humble arrangements graciously. He immediately climbed into the front seat which had been hastily padded with blankets to hide the ripped vinyl and exposed stuffing. As the car drove off, Prabhupada suddenly told Tusta Krsna to stop. Tapping on the window to Jagattarini, he gestured that she should get in the back seat.
Prabhupada's mood was jovial. His entourage, he said, had been held up and were coming in a few hours time. Srila Prabhupada looked around at the surrounding neighbourhood. He began to ask various questions about New Zealand, and Tusta Krsna answered him to the best of his abilities.
New Zealand, consisting of two large islands, lay 2,500km south-east of Australia in the South Pacific Ocean. The first inhabitants to arrive from Polynesia had called their new home Aotearoa, "the land of the long white cloud".
Today, its mild, pleasant climate and ample, lush pasture lands yielded cheap and bounteous dairy products, especially milk, cream and world-class butter. Auckland, situated on the upper part of the North Island, was the largest urban centre in New Zealand, supporting a population of a little less than 700,000.
As the car drove through the quiet, green suburbs, Prabhupada asked about the New Zealand people.
"Do they eat dogs?"
Jagattarini remembered Prabhupada asking the same question on his first arrival in Hong Kong. There, she had answered:"Yes, these people eat dogs", and Prabhupada could immediately judge the standard of the local population.
"No, Srila Prabhupada," replied Tusta Krsna. "They don't eat dogs."
Prabhupada smiled broadly. "Oh, that's very nice."
"And also, Srila Prabhupada," Tusta added from the driver's seat, "there are no snakes in New Zealand."
Prabhupada seemed very impressed. "Oh, that's also very nice." Srila Prabhupada continued to show an active interest for the remainder of the trip, with Tusta Krsna, as far as possible, answering his enquiries.
- From "The Great Transcendental Adventure" by HG Kurma Prabhu
Comments