Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma TSKP

Meeting With Our Guru

You call, "Where is Gurudasa!" I come, expectant, eager to serve, prepared for the unexpected.

Nama om visnu padaya: I offer my obeisances to the lotus feet of you, Srila Prabhupada. Krsna-presthaya bhūtale: you are very dear to Lord Krsna.

Reverently I bow down, an air of eternity pervades the room, a seriousness of purpose found nowhere else. Conviction sets the mood and inspires me also, offering some small service, it becomes secondary, to the adventure for our mutual Lord, a small bluish boy. He can do so much. I try to write this but cannot express your greatness nor my love for you.

Your one knee is up in the air, like a great building of the future, your hand rests on the peak of your knee, your head rests back, relaxed, but you see everything.

When coming to see you a gravity is always there, even in our light joking which occurs often, interspersed with the business at hand. I watch interview after interview, with others also, sometimes in Hindi or Bengali, although the words are a montage passing by, the words still convey the same dedicated, serious love of Lord Krsna-dhira-engaging whomever you meet, changing their thinking, towards a higher philosophical understanding, or to render some service, or if nothing else to accept some prasada. "Give them prasada," you say as people are going. Now after watching you for so long I automatically do this, without asking.

People come to you, never taking your darsana lightly. You want to give them the highest goal of life, Krsna consciousness. You want everyone to be happy, sometimes you have to administer the medicine by coaxing the seemingly bitter pill of surrender into them, sometimes cutting out the diseases we still carry, sometimes you engage us, as if we are holding a horse's mouth open and forcing the medicine in. Then with an encouraging word, whoever receives your mercy runs out of your room eager to execute the service you prescribe.

Anything may happen in your presence-you are transcendentally situated. You may question a new idea very carefully-"What makes you think your contribution is different?"-or you may ask "What is our goal? "To love Krsna," we answer. "Why?" you challenge. Or you may ask, "How do you know Lord Krsna is God?" You propose the answer and if it is not exact enough-"That is your dogmatism." You want us to be sure of what we are doing, many times you seem to question just to see if we are convinced or determined; if challenged and we remain silent "silence means affirmation" affirmation of whatever the opposing viewpoint is. Another time you questioned like a tornado, question after question. Each question was harder to answer. The questions took on technical rather than philosophical qualities, no bluffings, no abstractions. Srila Prabhupada's voice thundering like a cyclone and tornado combined. I simply said, "I am a great fool"; you said extremely quiet and soft, "One must remain a fool before his spiritual master. Lord Caitanya said that." Then the mood became philosophical. By your questioning you train us to be careful, hard as iron, soft as a rose.

Sitting in your new Mercedes 200SL Lotus Chariot, our elbows sometimes touching, you speak to a life member in the front seat. You are so quiet, contained, sure, peaceful, powerful. All of Lord Krsna comes from you; you are not separate from Lord Krsna. Lord Krsna stays in His abode, yet runs faster than everyone. You also stay and we cannot keep up with you, and when you travel we cannot keep up with you. You told of a Bengali proverb: an intelligent man can make thirteen rupees by sitting, another less intelligent man gets twelve rupees by traveling. Either way whether you travel or sit down we cannot keep up with you. Sometimes you sit so still your automatic watch stops.

Assorted facts fill the air, you are a storehouse of transcendental wisdom:

"Hot jalebis cure colds.

"Some rich men used to bury a live child with their hidden treasure so that when the child dies, he would become a ghost and guard the treasure.

"Mustard oil on the body, not in the body.

"Now as we import dry milk from the West when before there was an abundance of cows, now we are importing brahmanas from the West.

"A language does not consist of yes, no, very good.

"Do things cooperatively, for if you fail, no one person is to blame and if there is success, all persons get credit.

"The scientists research useless things. They say the poison is colorless, odorless and tasteless. How can they test that the poison is tasteless?" (And you imitate a dying scientist whose last words are "It is tasteless!")

"There were yogis who were able to eat mercury and then make gold from their urine." Then you laugh, "That is how they maintain themselves."

"They say that you don't see Krsna. How they can say you don't see, if they don't see? Just like you may have a lover and when you think of that lover you see, but the other person doesn't see your lover. They cannot see that you do not see Krsna. A man in Bengal was a writer and there was an accident in front of his window. He did not see because he was absorbed in writing. We are absorbed in Krsna, we can see Him." Little anecdotes spice your teachings.

As the Bengali countryside passes I think of the years you have sacrificed for us all, leaving the wonderful shelter of Radha-Damodara to execute your Guru's orders. We too must go where you bid us, do what pleases us most.

Floating down the roads of Bengal, we ride silently in your new 200SL chariot, you view everything with clear blazing vision, curiosity with spiritual perspective combined. I too, like a child, try to view everything that passes by the window, so much going on, so much to see, everything living, everything personal, children, bullock carts, straw huts, bathing ghats, water buffalo, dogs, bicycles, dahl drying on the road, palm trees. So much to see, a variety of senses, yet I am pulled to see you, to disregard all that is going on around and gaze on your lotus face as the Bengal scenery floats by, as if the planet's zooming instead of the trees. That is your divine trick, I see you instead of the externals. You sit with your hand in the air, a flower between your long golden fingers, caressed by you, remaining ever fresh, unharmed during the whole journey. Your face concerned for the whole of humanity, your eyes beam compassionately, eyes no one can equal, combined with an unshakable strength, you see everything, your feet planted firmly on the ground, relaxed, sure of Lord Krsna's protection, you inspire the devotees of the world.

I see you instead of the variegatedness, you have attracted me to the divine instead of the mundane, you constantly trick everyone this way, "Think of Lord Krsna, not maya," and because every movement of your eyes is preaching, you constantly engage in Krsna's service anyone who meets you.

You scoff at the material world, the same one that everyone embraces, yet you remain a gentleman in its domain. You tell humorous story upon story to describe the absurdity of fallible soldiers of illusion and through humor we can laugh at ourselves, at humanity's useless struggle and then try to embrace a higher taste. You tell us that material life means falldown, still the foolish man embraces the temporary pleasures and pains despite his seeing everything decay before him. Despite his brothers being jailed, he steals. You mock the foolishness. A man is sawing a branch (you demonstrate), sawing himself on the limb, cutting in such a way that he will fall. His friend comes and says, "If you cut that way you will fall down." "Don't tell me how to cut, I know," says the blinded fool, and when he falls on the ground he says to his friend, "Oh, you are a great astrologer, you can see the future."

Another story teaches us to be responsible for our actions. A man is beating someone with a trick, the police constable comes and charges you are beating that man. "Oh, no, it is not me beating him, it is the stick." You demonstrate that we must be responsible and not blame others.

We blunder with the blunt tool of narrow minds, not seeing that you want us to understand Krsna in a living spontaneous manner. Instead we try to make His teachings a geometric cement and steel formula. You teach us to be real devotees, not artificial but joyous and loving, sages who honor time and circumstance and we still choose to embrace hard and fast rules.

I remember years ago how you told us of the smarta brahmana who had two fish-shaped brass little dishes, kosit and kosu. This brahmana was pouring oblations of Ganges water back into the river. After finishing the oblations he put his two brass fish-shaped cups on the river bank and went to say his Gayatri mantra. After Gayatri, upon returning to the bank to get his cups, he saw cups of the same size and shape. The other brahmanas had left them on the bank. The next day, to avoid the same mix-up, he placed a small clay ball in the cups, before saying his Gayatri. When he went to retrieve his cups he saw all the brahmanas' cups had little clay balls in them, as the thought that the clay ball was an esoteric ritual that they did not know, so being smarta brahmanas they imitated blindly. "Sarble sing is dead," and half-hen logic were given at that time also.

How can we count the gifts you give us, you are training us all, lions, tigers, dogs, cats, gangsters and cheats, like a lion tamer in the circus of illusions. Mad men prisoners in the material world, you point out "who is crazy and who is sane." For ten years I meditate on how you try to show us that we are not this body. We still take refuge in this cage of mucus, bile, stool and bone. If we realized this simple fact there would not be any fighting. Again you illustrate with example and story. "When someone calls you prabhu, you should not think 'Come here and wipe my shoes.'" We are like children beating their father while arguing over which part to massage. The tendency to be envious is recounted by this dialogue: "did you hear of such and such a high court judge?" "No, it cannot be, he is not qualified to be a high court judge." "No, no it is true, he is a high court judge." "Alright, he may be a high court judge, but he must not be getting any salary!"

You warn us not to cheat, and I realize that you know that we are not very advanced. It is not a cheap thing. We vacillate from devotee to cheat a thousand times daily. Again you have to spoon-feed us with stories, as the Srimad-Bhagavatam and Bhagavad-gita are not imbibed in our frivolous state. This you illustrate with the story of a motivated devotee, the fictitious man from Bengal, Gopala Bon, who is stringing a garland of bokul flowers. (Bokul is a flower as well as a vegetable mixed with other vegetables.) His friend asks, "What are you doing?" "Oh, I am making a garland for Lord Krsna," says Gopala. "do you mean to say that Lord Krsna will come here and take this garland from you?" his friend asked. "That is my plan. If Lord Krsna doesn't come and take this garland, then I shall fry it up and eat it." Another time Gopala Bon is walking down the road with a basket of wheat on his head, and a strong wind comes and scatters the wheat in all ten directions. Then Gopala folds his hands together and says, "Govinda bhoga."

Riding in the car, back seat, sitting next to you, the "Krsna Meditation" tape penetrating, the joyous sound of your unmatchable harmonium filling our hearts with glee, you turn and say, "Gurudasa Prabhu, can you play the harmonium like that?" and I realize that you are the best at everything. So many muscular youths fall behind in your transcendental wake. I feel proud sitting with you in the car, not only because it is a special privilege, but because I am proud of you and of being your son and disciple. You outclass us in all respects, as you have the qualities of Krsna. Therefore you are the guru. You can walk farther than any of us in the mornings, dance nicer, think quicker, quote more slokas, open more temples, preach more miles, write more essays, poems, books, and letters, eat less prasada, eat more prasada if the mood strikes, sleep less, read more, think of Krsna more, sing the most beautifully, distribute the most books, attract the most members, make friends with the most devotees, remain transcendentally aloof, the most detached, the most dependent on Krsna, a traveling mendicant and simultaneously the most wealthy, able to smile broader than all, and then one second later appear the gravest. Softness caresses the corner of your eyes, fire blazes from the center, intelligence from the middle, you are able to hold a flower longer than all of us without crushing it, you know us all, we do not know you, and you allow familiarity. You become childlike and then suddenly if we misuse this, you cut us down like a banana in a whirlwind, you disappear as Lord Krsna did when the gopis became proud. You encourage us again and again, using a story as you coax us to be bold for Krsna.

We ask can we put on dramatic plays in the street, you say, "Why not, do it with Nrsimha faces, what you do all will follow. It will become a style." Then you again tell of a Charles Chaplain film you say fifty years before. As follows: Charles Chaplain was at the ball dance (fancy dress ball) and when he went to sit some rascal nailed down his tailing coat. When Charles Chaplain got up, his tailing coat tore in the middle, he did not know it, and when he danced everyone was looking at his torn coat. Charles Chaplain went into the private room and saw in the mirrors that his tails were torn up the middle and so he tore the tail all the way up to the neck and he danced harder as they flapped around. All the people saw this and they too went into the private room and tore their tailing coats and danced. It became the style." Later: "Be bold, if you're going to hunt try for the rhinoceros, and if you're going to thieve go for the government reserve. If you fail, everyone will say "It was impossible," and if you succeed, everyone will say "How great."

You taught us again as we rode to Thakura Bhaktivinoda's Dvadasi Mandir in Bir Nagar, West Bengal. The horn of our old green car failed. Bhavananda Svami and myself were yelling Hare Krsna out the window at all the obstacles on the road, so as to try and warn them of the car coming, but they sometimes did not hear. You then said, "Give me my plate," and you took your cane and banged on the plate and said, "This is our horn." It worked. We banged all the way to Bir Nagar and you laughed. "They will think that this is the latest American style horn and will want to imitate," and you laughed again.

In your history of India lessons to me you made the same point, that anything "made in Britain" was considered first-class. You told how the English came to India and instilled the whole population with the idea of buying British cloth, and how the British administrators were paid in gold via "the home bill," thus depleting the gold reserve, making India dependent on England. Because of this dependency India felt sheltered by Britain and so anything "made in England," done in England, was the style. It still exists today, you go on, "The villager asks if I vote for the British, will they care?" All these stories would not be necessary if we were able to hear you correctly. The sastra simply states the same thing:

"Whatever action is performed by a great man, common men follow in his footsteps. And whatever standards he sets by exemplary acts, all the world pursues." But we need spoon feeding and you take your precious time to do this like a caring mother dropping nectar in our yearning beaks. So we follow in your footsteps and follow your exemplary acts. Now let the whole world pursue.

Your eyes moist, everyone awaiting your next move, you grace us all individually, all different personalities, yet one in your presence. One frivolous becomes serious. The dry become juicy. We must not forget you, we must remain dhira always. We must understand time and circumstances and mostly Prabhus, we must not fight anymore, we must read your instructions, your books daily and chant in-between. You have given us the mercy. Recently on a walk I asked "How does krpa-siddhi work?" You turned on me suddenly and said, "If I give you a hundred thousand rupees and say, 'Take it, take it,' that is krpa-siddhi," and then to emphasize you put your hand in my stomach giving me the imaginary 100,000 rs., saying "Take it, take it! And when you spend, you realize-krpa-siddhi."

It is you who are giving us Krsna. We must take His lotus feet on our head. This is our goal, nothing else. You and He are not separate, that we must realize. I love you, you make me happy. Guru-krsna-prasade paya bhakti-lata-bija. "Now go on and help me push on this movement." We leave your chambers, a new determination. Krsna please engage me in your service. Hare Krsna.

Your servant,

Krsna-Balarama Traveling Sahkirtana Party