Chapter 24 – Mahārāja Makes a Promise

(The Indian High School, Dubai)

They eventually reached The Indian High School – a tall building painted off-white and terracotta, with grand columns at the entrance. It was early morning, and cars were coming and going, with Indian parents dropping off their children. Mahārāja observed as a car stopped, and a young boy and girl in school uniforms quickly jumped out and dashed into the school. The father, behind the wheel, waved them goodbye before driving off. However, when he noticed Mahārāja and Ṛkṣarāja standing in their saffron dhotis, he did a double-take. Turning the car around, he made a U-turn and pulled up beside them. He rolled down the window, smiled warmly and said, “Namaste, Swami-jī! You are from?”
“We’re from the Hare Kṛṣṇa temple in Nairobi,” Mahārāja replied. “We heard there’s a nice Hindu community here in Dubai, and we’d came to do some programs.”
“Oh very nice,” the Indian man beamed. “And you are staying where?”
“Well, we just arrived last night, and actually…we don’t know anyone here,” Mahārāja said. The man raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised at the thought of two foreign sādhus arriving in a new country to do programs without any plans for accommodation.
“Please, Swami, you come with me!” he insisted.

Without another word, they climbed into the back of his car, and in half an hour, they found themselves within the compound of a large mansion. The man knocked on the front door, and a servant quickly ushered them into a hallway and then into a large living room. The first thing they noticed was how opulent the interior was. The floors were polished white marble, and the walls were adorned with large paintings of kṛṣṇa-līlā in ornate frames. An elaborate chandelier hung from the ceiling, while in one corner stood a large statue of Gaṇeśa. The unmistakable smell of sandalwood incense filled the air.

Turning to the gentleman who had brought them there, Ṛkṣarāja exclaimed, “Wow! Is this your house?”
Laughing, the man shook his head and pointed towards the end of the room. There, nestled adjacent to the living room, was a small temple room. Inside, a rotund, white-haired gentleman sat in front of a painting of Śrīnāthjī. Dressed in a white silk kurta and pyjama, he was chanting on a solid gold japa-mālā, encrusted with diamonds. This was Vitthalbhai Patel – one of the most successful, and pious, diamond smugglers in Dubai.

Seeing his friend with the two devotees, Vitthalbhai immediately stood up and greeted them with a beaming smile. After briefly speaking to his friend in Gujarati, he took Mahārāja by the arm and led him and Ṛkṣarāja into his living room where he wasted no time in asking about them about the purpose of their visit to Dubai. When he heard about their first night in Dubai, he closed his eyes and sadly shook his head. “Yes, this is a big, big problem here, Swami. These people make so much money, but they spent it all on alcohol and women. Many of the Indians that come here are away from their families and this is what they get up to…some jiggery-pokery! Very bad! I have some guest quarters – please, you both must stay here. Whatever you need, you just tell me. I am also a kṛṣṇa-bhakta, so it is our duty to serve His devotees.”

Vitthalbhai went on to tell his guests that he was a follower of Vallabhācārya, the famous 15th century saint and contemporary of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu. Vallabhācārya was a worshipper of Gopāla-Kṛṣṇa, and although he was originally from South India, his sampradāya has its roots in Vṛndāvana where Vallabhācārya began the Puṣṭi-mārga sampradāya. Most of his followers come from Gujarat, where his teachings have flourished for centuries.

An hour or so later, Vitthalbhai’s servants escorted Mahārāja and Ṛkṣarāja to the guest quarters, and after they had taken bath, Vitthalbhai invited Mahārāja into his study. “Your guru-jī, Śrī Bhaktivedānta Swami is great! He is spreading the Name of Kṛṣṇa and the knowledge of Bhagavad-gītā all over the world. It is so wonderful! I’d like to make a small donation to him. Can you make sure he receives it personally?”
Instinctively, Mahārāja responded, “Oh yes, of course.” But then, a thought struck him – “How am I going to do that?”
Vitthalbhai opened a drawer and pulled out a cheque book. “How do I spell guru-jī’s name?” he asked.
Mahārāja replied, “Do you have a pen? I can write it down on a piece of paper for you.”
From the same drawer, Vitthalbhai took out a pen and handed it to Mahārāja. As it passed into his hand, Mahārāja first noticed its weight, then saw that it was solid gold, with a large green emerald perched on top. The pen alone was a shock for Narasiṅgha Mahārāja, but the real surprise came when Vitthalbhai wrote the cheque and handed it to him. Mahārāja’s eyes widened as he saw the amount – $12,000!
As they left the study, Vitthalbhai once again asked Mahārāja, “So, you will give the cheque to guru-jī yourself, yes?”
Mahārāja nodded. “Yes, yes – definitely!”

An hour or so later, Mahārāja and Ṛkṣarāja were called for lunch, where they met Vallabh, Vitthalbhai’s younger brother. Vallabh was just as warm and friendly as Vitthalbhai. The meal that was served was unlike anything the two devotees had ever experienced before.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: Vitthalbhai had a cook who had previously worked for a Mahārāja in India. The food was ridiculously opulent. We were served on solid silver thalis. And it was thick, thick silver – not some thin plate that you could slice your finger on! I lost count how many preparations there were. At least there must have been more than twenty. I actually felt a bit bad. At one point, I turned to Ṛkṣarāja and told him, “We don’t even offer the Deities in our temples this much!”

During lunch, Vitthalbhai was speaking to Vallabh in a very animated way, and although most of the conversation between them was in Gujarati, Mahārāja could make out that he was praising the achievements of Śrīla Prabhupāda. Finally, Vitthalbhai told his brother about the $12,000 donation he had given, and Vallabh became so inspired that he declared, “I will also give the same! I have to fly to Surat this evening for a wedding – when I return in a week or so, I’ll write out a cheque for you.” Mahārāja and Ṛkṣarāja couldn’t believe their ears.

For the entire month of January they held programs in Dubai at the homes of Vitthalbhai’s friends and contacts, successfully making many new life-members. Many times, Vitthalbhai would accompany them to the programs and listen to Mahārāja speak from Bhagavad-gītā. One night, after returning to Vitthalbhai’s house following a program, Vitthalbhai called Mahārāja aside with a serious look on his face. “Swami-jī, I have something to confess,” he said, his tone more subdued than usual. “You told me that you have only been reading Bhagavad-gītā for a few years. I have been reading this book my whole life – my whole life! But I have no clear understanding. I listen to your classes and your understanding seems so clear. You are so convinced that Kṛṣṇa is the God, and there isn’t any verse in the Gītā that troubles your mind. But me – so many things in Bhagavad-gītā trouble my mind. I can’t understand why.”
Mahārāja was quiet for a moment and then replied. “I don’t know. I am very fortunate to have Śrīla Prabhupāda as my guru. All I can say is that when you have a good teacher, then the student naturally learns easily.”
Vitthalbhai slowly nodded and was quiet for a while. Finally, he said, “Yes, it is a fact. I never had a guru to teach me Bhagavad-gītā. I have just read it on my own.”

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: Later, I told this to Rkṣarāja and we marvelled amongst ourselves, because while we were preaching, we had received so many positive comments from people whose culture, religion and life was all about Bhagavad-gītā. Yet here we were, young boys, out in the world with our Bhagavad-gītās, preaching – and we seemed to have a clearer understanding than they did. So, we realised, “Yes, this is our paramparā connection.”

Towards the end of the month, Vallabh returned from India, but he brought with him bad news.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: When Vallabh went to India, he told his mother, “Oh, one nice foreign Swami-jī came and Vitthal gave him a cheque for $12,000, so I also want to give him $12,000.” But his mother was a staunch follower of Vallbhācārya, and she convinced him not to. “No, no – we have not even given this amount to our own sampradāya.” So Vallabh said that he could only give us $2000.
Ṛkṣarāja was peeved and told him, “Do you know the story of King Nṛga?” He told him the story of King Nṛga, how there had been some discrepancy in his giving charity to the brāhmaṇas, and how he was cursed to become a lizard. Then we told Vallabh, “You can’t do this.” So now he was stuck between his mother and us. In the end, the mother won and he only gave $2000, but promised to give more later. We let him off the hook…

By the beginning of February, Mahārāja found himself at a crossroads. On one hand, he was meant to be collecting funds to pay off Brahmānanda Swami’s debt to the BBT in Los Angeles. However, now he had a $12,000 cheque that he had promised to personally deliver to Śrīla Prabhupāda. While alone in his room at Vitthalbhai’s house, pondering over this dilemma, there was a knock at the door. It was Vallabh.

“I feel bad that I couldn’t give you the amount I promised,” Vallabh said sheepishly. “And since you’ll be going to India soon to give my brother’s cheque to your guru-jī, I’d like to cover your airplane tickets.”
“Er, sure,” Mahārāja replied in a somewhat dazed state. “Thank you…thank you very much!”

A few minutes later, Ṛkṣarāja entered the room. “What’s the plan, prabhu? When are we going back to Nairobi?”
“We’re not,” replied Mahārāja.
Ṛkṣarāja was confused. “Oh. So then?”
Mahārāja sighed. “It’s already February. Gaura Pūrṇimā is in four weeks, Śrīla Prabhupāda is in Māyāpura.” He held up Vitthalbhai’s cheque. “And I made a promise.”
A slow smile spread across Ṛkṣarāja’s face as it dawned on him. “You mean…”
“Yes,” said Mahārāja, beaming. “We’re going to India!