Chapter 20 – I Want to Take Sannyāsa

Although there had been some local newspaper coverage of the devotees in Yeoville, Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa Swami felt that it wasn’t enough. Since they had acquired the new temple, most of the focus had been on collecting donations and making members amongst the Hindus – there had been no nāma-saṅkīrtana in the main centre of Johannesburg and the white South Africans there were mostly unaware of the existence of the Hare Kṛṣṇas. Considering how Kṣudhi Dāsa had been expelled from South Africa some years before, some of the devotees were naturally apprehensive about going out and making a public display. Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa Swami and Narasiṅgha Mahārāja however felt that if they were to make any progress in planting the seed of Kṛṣṇa consciousness in South African soil, they would have to eventually come out in the open.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: Johannesburg used to hold a huge midnight parade on New Year’s Eve, so we decided to make ourselves known there. We went down to the city centre with mṛdaṅgas, karatālas, whompers and flags and waited till midnight for them to ring this big bell which would usher in the new year. When the bell was struck, fireworks went off, the crowd started cheering, a band started up and ‘Tadaa!!’ we jumped out thirty metres into the street ahead of the parade with about ten devotees chanting Hare Kṛṣṇa. Everybody, including the police, just thought we were part of the parade. That was how we publicly introduced ourself to white South Africa.
The next day we were all back in the temple trembling – thinking that a police squad was coming to arrest us, but nothing happened. It did happen on a few occasions that the authorities sent some people, incognito, to check us out. They always stood out like a sore thumb, so we knew who they were. The only thing they cared about was that we weren’t inciting the blacks against the apartheid system. We followed all the rules. We didn’t mess with the blacks in South Africa. We just dealt with the Hindus and the whites.

In February, Puṣṭa Kṛṣna Swami was making plans to go to Māyāpura with some of the devotees to attend the annual GBC meetings and to give a report of the preaching to Śrīla Prabhupāda. In his absence, he requested Mahārāja to look after the temple and continue with the preaching. When Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa Swami had the opportunity to meet with Śrīla Prabhupāda in Māyāpura, he enthusiastically showed Prabhupāda photos of the various preaching programs in South Africa.

(Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa Swami with Prabhupāda in Māyāpura, 1975)

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: Two interesting things happened when Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa was showing Prabhupāda the photos. The first was that he showed him a group photo of all the devotees doing hari-nāma. Puṣṭa Kṛṣna had given me Śrīla Prabhupāda’s uttariyā (sannyāsa cape), and I used to wear that as mahā-prasāda. So, there I was in the photo, wearing a brahmacārī dhotī, a kurtā and an uttariyā. Prabhupāda pointed at me in the photo and asked, “Who is this?”
Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa replied, “Oh, that’s our Jagat-Guru Dāsa Brahmacārī.”
Prabhupāda turned to him and asked, “Why is he wearing an uttariyā?”
Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa said, “Well, that’s your mahā-prasāda uttariyā, Śrīla Prabhupāda.”
Then Prabhupāda shook his head and said, “No, no – he should not wear that uttariyā.”

The other thing that happened was that he showed Prabhupāda a photo of our Gaura-Nitāi Deities in South Africa. I was Their pūjārī and I also made Their clothes because nobody there knew how to sow. When Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa brought Them, he only got a couple of crowns from Vṛndāvana, and there were no clothes, so I had to stitch all the clothes myself. But I couldn’t figure out how to make dhotīs for the Deities, so I found it easier just to make luṅgis for Them – the luṅgis were all different colours with nice jhārī and small plastic pearls stitched on the front. They were beautiful. So Puṣta Kṛṣṇa showed a photo of Gaura-Nitāi to Prabhupāda – They were looking very gorgeous, wearing crowns, bangles, earrings, necklaces, flower garlands, tulasī-mañjarīs, sitting on a nice siṁhāsana with a velvet background – but Prabhupāda noticed that They were wearing luṅgis, and told Puṣṭa Kṛṣna, “Oh, you are presenting Mahāprabhu as a sannyāsī! We do not worship Caitanya Mahāprabhu as a sannyāsī. This should not be done.”

At the time, I could not understand it as well as I do now. It was actually very painful for Śrīla Prabhupāda to see. It is not a happy day when Caitanya Mahāprabhu takes sannyāsa. If you hear about that story in Caitanya-bhāgavata, you will see how it is a great tragedy for the residents of Navadvīpa when their most beloved Nimāi Paṇḍita takes sannyāsa. So even though the luṅgis were covered in jewels and jhārī, just seeing that Mahāprabhu was not wearing a dhotī with a pleat, that alone spoilt the whole thing. Śrīla Prabhupāda was very dissatisfied. Immediately, Puṣṭa Kṛṣna sent me a telegram – “PRABHUPĀDA SAYS MAKE PLEATS ON DHOTĪS”

(Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa Swami and Narasiṅgha Mahārāja in Johannesburg – Narasiṅgha Mahārāja wearing Prabhupāda’s uttariya)

Apart from this, another significant incident occurred while Puṣṭa Kṛṣna Swami and all the devotees were in Māyāpura.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: During that time I had a dream. Śrīla Prabhupāda suddenly appeared and began walking toward me with his cane in hand. I bowed down and offered my obeisances. When I raised my head a little to see Śrīla Prabhupāda’s face he placed his lotus foot on my head. The next moment I awoke from the dream – it was 2am. I was extremely enlivened and my consciousness was very clear. Unable to sleep, I remained the balance of the night chanting japa.

When Puṣṭa Kṛṣna Swami returned to South Africa, he sat down with Mahārāja and told him how appreciative he was – not only because he had remained in the Yeoville temple and taken care of things while other devotees had gone to Māyāpura, but also that his sincere preaching had borne so many results. Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa related to him some of the talks that he had with Śrīla Prabhupāda and how Prabhupāda had asked him about each and every devotee in South Africa. Prabhupāda was especially happy to hear about Mahārāja and his preaching amongst the Indian community, and inquired who had stayed back to take care of the Deites and the temple.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: Puṣṭa Kṛṣna Swami then told Śrīla Prabhupāda my name and Srila Prabhupada said, “I am very pleased by the sacrifice he has made.” Of course, in every temple in the world there were plenty of devotees who stayed back each year to manage the temples and look after the Deities, and no doubt Śrīla Prabhupāda was pleased with them all. However, at the time, Śrīla Prabhupāda was especially concerned about Kṛṣṇa consciousness being established in South Africa and he therefore noted my service.

At the end of the conversation, Prabhupāda told Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa that if one pleases the spiritual master, he can ask something from him. Then Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa smiled and said, “Well, Śrīla Prabhupāda said he was very pleased with your service – so now you can ask for something. What do you want?”
Mahārāja replied, “I want to take sannyāsa.”
Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa had already seen a number of brahmacārīs desiring to take sannyāsa – many of them for the wrong reasons, so he inquired, “Why do you want to take sannyāsa?”
Without missing a beat, Mahārāja responded, “Because that will give me more opportunities to surrender and serve.”
Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa was more than satisfied with the answer and immediately wrote a letter to Śrīla Prabhupāda recommending Jagat-Guru Dāsa Brahmacārī for sannyāsa.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: When I heard these things from Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa Swami, I took it as further confirmation of my dream. My relationship with Śrīla Prabhupāda is always transcendental – that is to say, it does not depend on time and space. By the transcendental line of faith, surrender, and service we are forever connected with the lotus feet of our most Divine Master.

It wasn’t long before Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa received the news that Mahārāja had been put on a one year waiting list for sannyāsa, and since it was the requirement for all sannyāsa candidates to travel and preach for one year, Brahmānanda Swami (who was the GBC for all of Africa) decided that Mahārāja should first go to the island of Mauritius for a few months.

Mauritius is an island in the Indian Ocean, which had been colonised by the Arabs, Dutch, British and French at different junctures in its history. France took control of the island in 1715, until the British seized it during the Napoleonic wars. When slavery was abolished in 1834, there was a labour shortage on the sugar plantations in Mauritius. To fill this gap, the British colonial government began recruiting indentured laborers from North India. That is why today, people of Indian descent make up a significant portion of the Mauritian population. Since the principal religion practiced in Mauritius was Hinduism, it was a perfect place for the devotees to preach.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: When I arrived there, I stayed in a place called Quatre Bornes, way up in central Mauritius. I did hari-nāma in the villages and lived on practically nothing. I didn’t have much money, so I mostly ate sugarcane and some vegetables that I would find growing on the side of the road. When I was riding on the buses, I noticed that the people there smoked three cigarettes at a time – two was standard, and three was their morning start-up. I’d never seen people smoke so much in my life!

After a month in Quatre Bornes, Mahārāja came to Port Louis, where he met his old friend, Prabhānu Dāsa, who had previously been with him in the Nairobi temple. Prabhānu, who had just started a preaching centre there, was happy to see Mahārāja again and wanted to show him around the city.

Prabhānu Dāsa: I gave Mahārāja a tour of the town. At that time, a Russian naval vessel was in port and Mahārāja wanted to distribute books to the sailors. I remember that when we approached them, they were cordial, but told us they were not supposed to accept anything from anyone. Undaunted, Mahārāja still managed to break some of their resistance and due to that, probably some of the first books of Śrīla Prabhupāda crossed into Soviet Russia.

We were poor at the time, but it didn’t matter because the life of the saṅkīrtana party in the form of Mahārāja had returned! We were only three brahmacārīs then, but we had a rigorous program of making life members during the day and doing house programs at night. Mahārāja jumped right in. He was never a ‘take it easy’ kind of preacher in my experience. By nature, he was very determined and independent.

He was not very institutionally-minded, but never independent of Śrī Guru. I remember that one day, he asked me if I thought Śrīla Prabhupāda chose the GBC members because they were advanced devotees. I said that I thought Prabhupāda saw some enthusiasm for service in them, and therefore he gave them that responsibility. Mahārāja replied that the danger of pride comes along with a big position, so we have to be careful not to lose sight of the essence of the thing.

While in Port Louis, Mahārāja received the news that Cyavana Swami would be arriving soon. The last time he had seen Cyavana was when he had visited him in hospital after the jeep accident in Zambia. Due to having several broken ribs, a fractured nose and various cuts and bruises, he was under heavy sedation at that time. On seeing Cyavana when he walked through the door of the centre in Port Louis, Mahārāja could see that his friend was not his old self. The accident had obviously taken its toll on him. Apart from losing weight, he seemed somewhat distracted and discombobulated. Nevertheless, Cyavana had resumed his role as the temple president of Nairobi and had written to Śrīla Prabhupāda, requesting that Mahārāja be reinstated to his previous service in Nairobi. Cyavana’s request irritated Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa, who relied on Mahārāja’s presence in South Africa. Śrīla Prabhupāda’s response was straightforward:

Regarding your questions, you have to decide amongst yourselves if Jagad-guru is to come, but if you require his assistance since Brahmananda Swami is not there, that is different thing. (Letter to Cyavana Swami, July 23rd, 1975)

While the two GBCs, Brahmānanda and Puṣṭa Kṛṣṇa, debated over Mahārāja’s placement, Cyavana took matters into his own hands and flew to Mauritius to personally ensure Mahārāja’s return to Nairobi. During the flight back to Africa, Cyavana explained that Brahmānanda Swami was currently in Los Angeles with Śrīla Prabhupāda. Brahmānanda had requested Mahārāja to travel to Malawi, a small country in southeastern Africa with a sizable Indian community. He wanted Mahārāja to spend about a month there to make more members.

Upon returning to the Nairobi temple, Mahārāja learned that an upheaval had taken place in recent weeks. Navayogendra Dāsa, a devotee from India coming from a Kashmiri brāhmaṇa family, had been personally sent by Śrīla Prabhupāda to preach to the Indian community in Kenya. However, tensions arose between Navayogendra and Cyavana, culminating in a heated argument that resulted in Cyavana physically assaulting Navayogendra. In addition, Cyavana had several heated arguments with Śakti Mati and her son. These conflicts, coupled with other incidents, ultimately prompted Navayogendra, Śakti Mati, Caitya Guru, and other Indian devotees to leave the temple and establish their own centre to serve Śrīla Prabhupāda. Cyavana’s immediate response was to take legal action against them, and he quickly contacted a lawyer. Mahārāja was taken aback by this news – it was hard to believe that Cyavana would behave in such a way.

After a few days, Mahārāja found himself in Lilongwe, the capital of Malawi, and was greeted at the airport by some Gujarati life-members. The plan was that the life-members would introduce Mahārāja to some of their contacts who were not members, he would stay with them for a few days, preach to them, make them members and move on to stay at another house. However, Mahārāja stipulated that whoever’s house he stayed at had to be strict vegetarians – that included no eggs or fish, and they had to be already interested in becoming a life-member. All arrangements were made and over the next month, Mahārāja stayed at the homes of various affluent Gujarati businessmen and made them all members.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: After some time, they sent me to go and stay in this one house, and I planned to stay there for five days. I made it very, very clear that I would only stay with strict vegetarians and they had to become a life-member. So, I was staying with this man and every day, we would talk about the cheque to pay his fee for life membership and he would always say, “Oh, tomorrow Swamiji! You please have your meal.”
They were feeding me three times a day – breakfast, a big lunch, and something in the evening. But daily I would feel ill – something was wrong with my stomach. My head felt as if somebody had poured mud into it. My consciousness was way low. Anyhow, he kept stalling, stalling, stalling about becoming a member.
Then one day some decorators came to do some work in his living room, so his wife said, “Swamiji, come and take lunch at the kitchen table.” So, I sat down with the man, his wife was serving, and I was sitting eating rice and khadi. Then their little kid walks in, opens the refrigerator door to get some soda, and I look inside – there’s three rows of eggs and a big chunk of meat in there! I thought, “Oh God! I’ve been duped!”
I immediately stopped eating and I was so angry. I stormed into the living room, and they followed me apologising and I asked, “Where’s the cheque?”
He said, “Swami, I can’t become a member.”
I thought, “No way!” I told him, “I stayed in your house for five days and you’re a meat-eater! You lied to me!”
“No, no” he said, “We are vegetarian while you are here.”
Then I just sat down on his rug in the middle of the living room and told him, “I’m not gonna move! I’m not gonna eat! I’m gonna pass stool and urine right here until I die – or I get the cheque!”
I said it with such conviction that the husband and wife were scared to death. We had two types of membership – I made him take the big one! He wrote a cheque and gave it to me. Then I told him, “We’re going to the bank, right now!”
I made him take me to the bank and I cashed the cheque with him standing there.
That day I flew out, went back to the temple in Nairobi and fasted on juice for three days because I felt that my consciousness had become so contaminated.

Meanwhile in Los Angeles, Brahmānanda had been in talks with Rāmeśvara Dāsa, the head of the BBT in Los Angeles, who reminded him that the African yātrā still owed them an outstanding debt of $10,000 (which, by today’s rate, would be approximately $50,000). Upon Mahārāja’s return from Malawi, Cyavana told him the situation and said, “We’ve never gone to Ethiopia. There’s a big Indian community there and we have a connection – a priest at a Hindu temple who came here in Nairobi. I have his name and phone number.”

Mahārāja scratched his head, “Er, so I’m going off to Ethiopia alone? Do I get any money for travel?”
Cyavana replied, “I’ll send you with two other brahmacārīs – an Australian devotee named Ajāmila Dāsa and Nirāghadeva Dāsa, a young devotee from England. As for money, before traveling to Ethiopia, you’ll need to collect some by making members in Kisumu.” Before Mahārāja left the office, Cyavana called up the Hindu priest, “Śāstri-jī? This is Cyavana Swami. Our men our coming…”

After a few days, Mahārāja and his two brahmacārīs had arrived in Kisumo, the third largest city in Kenya. Despite all efforts, the collect amongst the Hindu community was very meagre. Eventually, they stopped at a Sikh Gurudwara where they were warmly welcomed, fed, and given a donation of two-thousand Shillings (approx. US$200). The group took a gruelling bus ride across the famous Chalbi Desert which took them through vast stretches of salt flats and sparse vegetation at temperatures exceeding 100°F (around 38°C). Finally, as the sun was setting, they reached a town called Moyale.

(The Chalbi desert in Kenya and on the Ethiopian border)

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: We still have about fifty kilometres to get to the Ethiopian border. It’s evening, there’s no taxis, there’s no nothing! So, we look around and see this old beaten-up Volkswagen van, this junk heap, just sitting outside a bar, so I told Nirāghadeva and Ajāmila, “Wait here.”
I went inside. This bar looked like something out of that old black and white movie, ‘The African Queen.’ It stinks, it’s lit by two dim light bulbs, and there’s about ten or fifteen Africans in there. I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something like, “Yo! Heads up! Now listen y’all!” That’s the way you would do it. You have to remember that the Brits had only just left and there was still some respect for white men in that part of Africa – but you’d have to know when you couldn’t do that also. Anyhow, I said, “I need to hire that vehicle outside to take me and my friends to the Border Post”
Suddenly, this tall African guy stands up and slowly walks over to me, “That’s my van. I’ll take you for a thousand Shillings.”
“Okay,” I said, “So how you wanna do this?”
He paused and said, “Give me five-hundred now, and five-hundred when we get there.”
I gave him five-hundred and he told me, “Wait here, I’ll be back.” It was kind of risky – he could have just taken the money and drove off, but he came back after half an hour and told me that he had gone to get gas. So, we all piled in with our two metal trunks, mṛdaṅga and backpacks – the three of us were in the back and the driver and his buddy were in the front. When we took off it was about nine o’clock at night. It was just a dirt road in the desert, and we weren’t going any faster than ten kilometres an hour. I can remember looking out of the window and it was pitch black!
All of a sudden, we had a breakdown. By that time, it was one o’clock in the morning and we were stuck in the middle of the desert. We had no idea who these guys were. They could have killed us out there! They were tinkering around with the wheel for about forty-five minutes and finally, they changed the tyre and we moved on. By that time, the sky was just turning a little red. Eventually, we got to a small hill and at the top was the border. The driver stops and says, “Okay! You get out here.” We paid him the other five-hundred, and he just turned around and drove off out of sight.
We started walking up about a hundred metres and saw a barbed wire fence and a small gate – that is where the Kenyan border security was. After you crossed that, you carried on walking down an incline and up another hill till you reached the Ethiopian border. The Kenyan border was a little wooden shack with one light bulb burning, and a desk outside, but there was nobody there. Then I saw two legs sticking out from under the desk. It was the border guard. At first, I thought he was sleeping, but I noticed a bottle next to him – he was stone drunk! I tried to wake him up, but he was as good as dead. Then I looked on his desk and saw a stamp and a stamp-pad. So, I set the proper date on the stamp and stamped our passports, and we got our stuff, opened the gate, and dragged our trunks down and up into Ethiopia.
And as we started walking up to the border, about eight army personnel came out on the veranda and were watching as we approached. When the guy at the desk saw us, he almost had a heart attack. He immediately put his revolver on the desk and began loading it as we came in. We gave him our passports, he went through our trunks, eyeing us, and then pointed to our mṛdaṅga and asked, “What is this?”
I told him, “Oh, this is a drum!”
Then Ajāmila opened the drum cover and started playing the mṛdaṅga, belting out, “Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna…”
He immediately grabbed Ajāmila’s hand and stopped him. He shook his head and said, “Don’t do that here!”
“Why?” I asked, “We do this all the time in the streets!”
He was confused, “What do you mean?”
So then we started a kīrtana, and began to dance, and after about ten seconds he stopped us again. “Don’t do this in the streets here – you will be shot dead!”
I thought, “Gee! Nice place we picked to go preach!”

During this time in the Hare Kṛṣṇa movement, devotees shunned newspapers, viewing them as māyā. After all, the antics of the ‘crazy karmīs’ were of little concern to them. For the most part, the devotees remained blissfully unaware of what was happening beyond the spiritual bubble of their temple.

It was little wonder, then, that when Mahārāja and his group entered Ethiopia, they had no idea that they were walking straight into the midst of the Ethiopian Civil War.

(The Ethiopian border in 1975)