semi-suicide

Bhavananda: Everyone says, Srila Prabhupada, that liver is good, digestion is good, your heart is good.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: Simply you're not taking enough foodstuffs.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: But it's not a fact that you cannot eat, because when we gave you the enema, there was stool. Which shows that everything you ate turned into stool or was digested. The only problem was because of lack of energy or strength, you can't pass the stool out. But it's not a fact that it didn't get digested.    (More...)

Bhavananda: Srila Prabhupada, please try. Srila Prabhupada, your presence on this planet is the only thing which is keeping the onslaught of the Kali-yuga from really taking effect. We have no idea even what will happen if you should leave.    (More...)

Prabhupada: It is not in my hands. Krsna-Balarama.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: I think Krsna and Balarama want you to fight, Srila Prabhupada.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: You'll take chana after bathing, washing face, and...? That's when you took it yesterday. Every one of us is in agreement. All of your disciples are in agreement that you require to force yourself to eat and drink more. What can we do if you don't...    (More...)

Prabhupada: When I don't take anything, I feel more comfortable.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: But you don't get better. That is the policy of death.    (More...)

Prabhupada: But if I become discomfortable, that will be...    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: But that's only temporary, this discomfort. It's only temporarily until one gets better. Medicine is only required until one gets better. Then he can throw out the medicines.    (More...)

Prabhupada: Ah. Ahhh! Jaya Krsna-Balarama. Now I am feeling don't force.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: [aside:] Now that he's not eating or drinking anything and no medicines [indistinct].    (More...)

Bhavananda: But your urine is cloudy again.    (More...)

Prabhupada: Whatever it may be... If you leave me to my fate, I'll feel comfortable.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: He said, "If you leave me to my fate, then I feel comfortable. But if you force me, then I feel uncomfortable." Is that right, Srila Prabhupada?    (More...)

Hari-sauri: But the other day you said that to fast like this means suicide.    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: I asked you the other night if you would fast, that you should not fast until death. And you said, "No, no. That is suicidal."    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: Puzzled. I mean, we are not able to let you go, Srila Prabhupada. We are not strong enough. We want you to be with us. We need you longer.    (More...)

Prabhupada: Anyway, what can be done? You give me that preparation?    (More...)

Tamala Krsna: We met. Svarūpa Damodara and I spent an hour at Bhagatji's house. Bhagatji brought him. So he's going to do that Trust. He says in three or four days' time he can finish it, Bhaktivedanta Swami Charity Trust, with the aims and objects we have given. Then I talked about that squandering amendment. So he explained that the best way to do it is that we amend it to say that they always get 250 rupees for their maintenance, and the other 750 rupees, instead of fixing it in their names, fix it in the name of ISKCON, and ISKCON executors of the will shall see that they give them the money at the time of seven years for the purposes of three: purchasing property, business, and for buying government stocks. And the profits from those, they can do anything they want with. He said don't let them put the 750 rupees in their name, because then they can do anything they want with it, squander it. But if you put the money in fixed deposit in ISKCON's name, then ISKCON can give them the money after seven years, for those three purposes. So if you approve, then he can make an amendment clause, and then you can sign it, and then it can be done. He understood everything very perfectly. He said actually... He understood it perfectly. Actually, because everything belongs to ISKCON, the whole will is more or less a moral, spiritual guidance, because legally everything is already ISKCON's. So I said, "But we want it to be morally and guided spiritually. To us, this is the will. Whatever this will says, we must follow, as Prabhupada's disciples." He said, "Then I can make an amendment, which would be like that, that every month they'll get 250 rupees for their whole lifetime, and the 750 rupees will be put in fixed deposit for seven years in the name of ISKCON, and at the end of that, the ISKCON executors of the will, will give them each the money each month, fifteen hundred rupees, for the purpose of..., in those three ways, and that the money should not be squandered." He said that way, if ISKCON sees that the money is being squandered, then they stop giving them that money and they'll just give 250 rupees. Two hundred fifty rupees they must get. And Radharani De, she may get always one thousand rupees. She is older. Let her have that. Whatever she does is her business with the money. And, I think, this is a very good way. And we'll all make sure that they get the money, but they must use it properly. It's Krsna's money.    (More...)

That same afternoon, we head for a Cistercian monastery near the small town of Yarra Glen, forty miles northeast of Melbourne. Prabhupada usually wants me to drive him wherever we are. I guess he's trusted my driving since the early days, when we hurtled down the 101 in San Francisco together. Each time we were somewhere different, though, I'd have to sit behind the wheel in some new weird car and try to figure out where the turn signals were, usually hitting the windshield wipers instead. Today, I'm driving a medium-sized Australian Holden sedan, Prabhupada in the passenger seat, heading north in rush-hour traffic on the "wrong" side of the road and trying to follow directions uttered by Upananda from the back seat in his Aussie twang. Eventually the traffic clears, and when we at last turn right up a narrow, winding, gravel road, we find ourselves transported a thousand years into the past. The Cistercian Order of the Strict Observance, better known as the Trappists, is an austere order of Catholic monks that traces its roots back to A.D. 1098 The Trappists lead a regulated life of contemplation, prayer, and congregational chanting, with an emphasis on manual labor and self-sufficiency. In 1954, a group of Irish monks moved onto a thousand-acre tract in the rolling hills near Melbourne and called it Tarrawarra Abbey. It's autumn now, harvest season on this side of the world, and as we motor up the mile-long drive lined with giant eucalyptus trees to the hilltop abbey, we're struck by the bountiful countryside around us: sheaves of wheat stacked in the fields, huge baskets of grapes piled at the ends of rows in the vineyards, cows grazing in belly-high grass. "What are those mountains in the distance, Upananda, behind the abbey?" "Those are the Victorian Alps, part of the Great Dividing Range - they're covered in snow in winter." The whole scene looks like an idyllic Romantic pastoral painting. We explain to Prabhupada what little we know about cloistered Christian monks, their place in Western history, and how in isolation they have preserved the strict principles of their faith, and Prabhupada says, "Yes, it is just like our New Vrindaban ashram." As we pull into the courtyard, the sense of returning to a distant time is augmented by the sight of thirty monks, black scapulars over white cassocks, gathered to greet us-one now coming forward to reverently place a garland of fresh-cut roses around Prabhupada's neck and then bow, head to the ground, like the pope has come to visit. Most of the monks bow with him, and we know this is going to be a special occasion. Father Daniel guides Prabhupada to an elaborate, elevated chair in the timber-paneled hall, and the brotherhood assembles before him on simple wooden chairs.

As usual, Prabhupada is amazing. He pitches his words perfectly, finding the common ground. He notes the historical aspects of both our faith and theirs, saying that religion is sanatana-dharma, the "eternal occupation," and that the origins of Krishna consciousness are "practically prehistoric," establishing his precedence in ancient authority. And like you ascetic Catholics, he says, we understand the importance of parampara, the generational handing down of pure religious principles, unchanged, through disciplic succession. We are in rare company. Prabhupada says, "Out of many millions of persons, one is interested to make his life successful. And out of millions of successful persons, one can very rarely understand what is God." And this is our strongest bond, he says: "Our definition of religion is to accept the orders of God. That's all. It doesn't matter what religion you are following. You may be Christian, I may be Hindu, another may be Muhammadan, but the test of religion is how one has developed his God consciousness."

The monks eat it up, seeing that our faith and practices are so similar to theirs, even down to the shaved heads and exotic robes. There is a feeling of instant brotherhood, cross-institutional familiarity. Prabhupada is the dynamic authority, delivering the gospel in a way they understand. These men are well versed in Latin, so Prabhupada's liberal use of Sanskrit only solidifies their conviction that he is for real. Forefinger and thumb of his left hand resting on thigh and curled in a circle, his right hand flows from one powerful gesture to another: two fingers pointing, this way, that way, then clutching the air, then forming his palm in a cup, always moving, in mudras of emphasis. Sometimes he scratches his neck or raises his glasses, closes his eyes tight, then opens them wide and looks into their hearts-and the monks are transfixed. After the lecture, Hanuman Swami opens the floor to ques-tions, and eight monks, some with lilting Irish brogues, stand to make profound queries, like, "How do we know God?" and

"When one becomes sinless, would he then experience the indwelling of God?" Prabhupada answers all questions to their complete satisfaction. We follow with kirtan, which quickly moves from the sub-lime to the boisterous as the monks push their chairs away and clap and dance with us, some laughing with glee despite them-selves, their innocent faces glistening with holy rapture. Ba-boom-BOOM! Kirtan ends, the monks bow down while Prabhupada recites Sanskrit prayers, then rise as one, somewhat stunned. (I'm thinking, "See, it's the same thing, but we have more fun!")

Father Daniel raises his arms, hushes everyone, and says, "We would like to thank Swami Prabhupada for his kindness and extreme gentleness in coming to us. We've listened with respect to the words of life divine, and they have warmed my heart, anyway, and given me hope for a family of human brothers to which we belong. I think we are closer to one another now, to the devotees of the temple. It's very beautiful coming here tonight, and I certainly feel that this little meeting, the human brothers under a common Father, is a particular inspiration for coming in contact with a God whom we're all reaching out for but who has many faces. Thank you very much." After the meeting we gather in the rectory around a long wooden table laden with fresh vegetarian food, a banquet right out of the Middle Ages, with heaps of grapes, platters of baked potatoes, and loaves of fresh-baked bread. I speak with the monk seated next to me, and he tells me there are about four thousand Cistercian monks and nuns living in 170 similar retreats world-wide. "Yeah, we call them ashrams," I say. "You'll find such places all over India."

He describes the monks' daily routine, which surprisingly is much like ours:

4 a.m.: Office of Vigils - reading from scripture 6 a.m.: Office of Lauds - Mass, taking the Eucharist, an hour of prayer, then silent breakfast
8 a.m.: Office of Terce, then work in the fields or buildings for three hours
11:15 a.m.: Office of Sext - followed by main daily meal, silent while someone reads aloud, nap
1:40 p.m.: Office of None followed by four hours of work
6 p.m.: Office of Vespers, then a light evening meal, conversation allowed
8 p.m.: Office of Compline, which is sung in unison in the dark-ness, including Psalm 91:

You set your love on me so I will save you; Protect you for you know my name. When you call I shall answer: "I am with you," I will save you in distress and give you glory.

Followed by a final hymn, "Salve Regina":

Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy! Our life, our sweetness, and our hope ... O clemens, o pia, o dulcis Virgo Maria.

One of the monks points to a picture of Mother Mary hanging on the wall and says with reverence, "She is the object of our love." I say, "Yeah, she looks like Krishna's mother, Yasoda." After eating, Prabhupada is led to a room to meet Dom Kevin O'Farrell, the old abbot of the monastery, who had come here from Ireland in 1959. They appear to be about the same age, but Prabhupada is actually twenty-three years older and, compared to the abbot, he seems like a you   (More...)

Prabhupada: They will say, that is... Whatever they... Foolishly whatever they may say, then let them say. Actually he doesn't like to die. Otherwise let there be fire. Why you call fire brigade? Let me die peacefully in the fire. [laughter] Nonsense, he's suffering, but still he says there is no suffering. That is nonsense. That is ignorance. He's suffering every moment, but he does not know why he's suffering. That is ignorance. Just like an animal you are taking into the slaughterhouse. He's suffering, he's screaming, but he does not know, "Why you have taken to slaughterhouse, and I am screaming?" And that is animal life. And when there will be question of "Why I am suffering? I did not want this fire; why there is fire?" that is perfect [indistinct]. Is there any solution? Then there is human life. And if he remains like animal, and simply try to make some remedial measures... He's suffering, undoubtedly, but because he does not take it seriously, therefore he's animal. Animal does not take seriously why he's suffering. That is the distinction between human life and animal life. Suffering is there, but the animal does not take it seriously.    (More...)