Chapter 34 – The Soul of the Festival

(Prabhupada’s letter to Jagat-guru Swami, 1977)

Upon receiving Prabhupāda’s reply, whatever doubts Mahārāja had were dispelled. He would often recall that in the years of hardship and disappointment following Śrīla Prabhupāda’s departure, the words of assurance in that letter remained a constant source of strength.

After spending a month in Bombay, Mahārāja travelled with Śrīdhara Swami and several saṅkīrtana devotees to Māyāpura for the Gaura Pūrṇimā festival. One of the first things Mahārāja did upon arriving was to remake his daṇḍa. Just before his sannyāsa initiation in March 1976, he had hastily gathered four thick green bamboos and bound them together. Now, ten months later, the bamboo had dried, twisting and curving backward so that the top of his daṇḍa resembled a ski. Apart from this, the bamboo was too thick at the base, making the daṇḍa cumbersome to carry. One morning, noticing a cluster of thin, dry bamboo stacked against the wall of the gośālā, Mahārāja selected four of them, returned to his room, dismantled his daṇḍa, and carefully rewrapped it using the same cloth.

So many international devotees arrived for the Māyāpura festival that there was scarcely enough room to accommodate them all. The ‘Long Building’ was still under construction; those fortunate enough to secure a room often had to squeeze eight to a space, while others slept on the roof, enduring clouds of voracious mosquitoes. Bathing and bathroom facilities were also inadequate. Yet despite these austerities, the devotees tolerated everything, eager only for the opportunity to see and hear Śrīla Prabhupāda.

However, when Prabhupāda finally arrived from Bhubaneshwar on February 7th, devotees noticed how frail he looked. Even before attending the Kumbha Melā in January, Prabhupāda had complained of feeling unwell, and at the Melā itself, he had fallen ill. In Bhubaneshwar, although he continued giving classes, his morning walks had become less frequent. Yet despite these signs, most devotees still believed that Prabhupāda would remain with them for many years to come.

While in Māyāpura, Prabhupāda gave fewer Bhāgavatam classes than usual, delegating most of the morning sessions to his senior disciples. What Mahārāja and the majority of devotees did not realise was that, behind the scenes, Prabhupāda’s health was steadily deteriorating. On March 10th, he travelled to Navadvīpa to visit Śrīla Śrīdhara Mahārāja at Śrī Caitanya Sārasvata Maṭha, and upon leaving, he nearly collapsed. Over the following weeks, he became feverish, lost his appetite, and found it increasingly difficult to pass urine. Some days he felt unusually weak, and needed help to walk, while on other days he could summon bursts of energy, masking the seriousness of his condition. When Prabhupāda did have strength, he would sometimes down to the temple, carried on a chair, to give class.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: When I first became a sannyāsī I had some prerogative and I did take advantage of that prerogative. A normal brahmacārī couldn’t just walk into Prabhupāda’s room and talk to him. As a sannyāsī, I had that privilege. You could never go on a morning walk with Prabhupāda unless you were invited by a GBC or a sannyāsī. You had to beg a senior man to attend a morning walk. But once you were a swami, there was no restriction.

When Prabhupāda would give class, all the sannyāsīs would be sitting very close, all around him. So, when I became a sannyāsī, I sat down to hear his class with all the other swamis. He was speaking very softly into the microphone, and I spent two days sitting there, close to Prabhupāda and I couldn’t hear what he was saying!
Then, on the third day, I just took my daṇḍa and sat where I used to sit when I was a brahmacārī in 1976. I used to sit four pillars back where there was a speaker. From there, I could hear so clearly what he was saying.
Then the complaints came – “Oh, why is Jagat-Guru sitting separately? Why isn’t he sitting with the other sannyāsīs? We’re not good enough for him – is that it?”
There was all this social bunk! When I used to take darśana of the Deities, I would stand in the middle of the temple room along with the other devotees, but when you’re sannyāsī, the devotees always push you to the front! I used to tell them, “Stop this!” I would stand where I used to stand before, and the other sannyāsīs would say, “Oh, just see! He thinks he’s special!”
I was like, “It’s not that I’m special – but all of you are dancing at the front, and I can’t see the Deities. From the middle, I can see Them. I’m where I like to be.”
I didn’t read in any of Prabhupāda’s books that because you’re a sannyāsī, you have to always be at the front, or because you’re a sannyāsī, you have to sit down right in front of your guru. I never read that, so where did that come from?

Yet beyond the formalities, the morning program came alive during the exuberant kīrtanas that followed Prabhupāda’s class.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: After the Bhāgavatam class, the devotees would start a kīrtana and Prabhupāda would go to the Deities and circumambulate Them three times. At the front there was a big bell, and when he would come around, someone would hand him the rope and he would ring that bell and the kīrtana all around him would become airborne. He would ring the bell with his right hand, raise his left hand slightly, and everyone would start jumping. He liked to see that – not just the children, but men and women in their thirties, and 200 pound sannyāsīs like Brahmānanda and Gargamuni would be jumping and he would smile. It was such an ecstatic, emotional moment. Everyone seemed to be filled with that – what sometimes is described as the indescribable joy of Kṛṣṇa consciousness just due to his association.
That was the normal morning program when he came to give class – greeting the Deities, guru-pūjā, then class, then kīrtana for the Deities, and then Prabhupāda would go back to his room.

(Śrīla Prabhupāda ringing temple bell, 1977, Mayapura)

After the morning program, Mahārāja would join the other devotees for breakfast in the main prasādam hall, spend a few hours reading Prabhupāda’s books, and then take a bath in the Gaṅgā at midday.

One day, after bathing in the Gaṅgā and drying off, Mahārāja sat down to chant gāyatrī, while nearby, Guru-kṛpā Swami and his saṅkīrtana party were splashing, wrestling, and throwing each other into the river. Spying Mahārāja sitting serenely on the bank, eyes closed in meditation, Guru-kṛpā whispered something to his brahmacārīs – suddenly, Mahārāja felt a sharp pain in his upper arm as a large clod of dry mud struck him. He opened his eyes and saw Guru-kṛpā stood behind his group, laughing, as his minions hurled more rock-hard clods of mud at him. The brahmacārīs all thought it was harmless fun, but Mahārāja, on the receiving end of their missiles, bristled with anger. Rising to his full height, Mahārāja began striding towards them. The crowd of brahmacārīs cowered and instinctively parted as Mahārāja advanced on Guru-kṛpā Swami, who was stunned by the intense anger in his eyes. Then before Mahārāja could come any closer, Guru-kṛpā yelled, “Let’s go, boys!”, and he and his men ran back to the temple. Fuming, Mahārāja sat down again, grabbed his beads, and began chanting as loud as he could. Looking back on that day, Mahārāja said he chanted so loudly he could have been heard all the way in Navadvīpa, and gradually, through chanting, his anger dissipated.

On the evening of February 28th, Prabhupāda descended to greet the chief guest, Mr. Mrityunjoy Banerjee, the Education Minister of West Bengal. Together, they cut the ribbon to inaugurate the Long Building and then viewed a photo display on the ground floor, which showcased the various ISKCON temples and projects around the world.

Śrīla Prabhupāda then led the minister to the pāṇḍal in front of the Lotus Building. As Prabhupāda took his seat and was garlanded, Mahārāja took the opportunity to fan him with a peacock fan. Prabhupāda then invited Mr. Banerjee to speak first. Although he praised Śrīla Prabhupāda and ISKCON for their work, his address was pervaded by the familiar māyāvāda ideology of Vivekananda and Ramakrishna, which most Bengalis were accustomed to. He went so far as to claim that Prabhupāda’s movement had spread solely because of its moral strength, giving no emphasis to its spiritual significance.

When it was Prabhupāda’s turn to speak, he politely dismantled every point that the minister had made. After the talk, Prabhupāda and Mr. Banerjee watched the devotees perform a devotional drama.

(Jagat-guru Swami fans Śrīla Prabhupāda at the pandal program, 1977)

Amid the ongoing Gaura Pūrṇimā festivities, Jayapatāka Swami, the GBC for Māyāpura, had organised a hari-nāma competition – humorously dubbed the ‘Hari Bowl’ by Acyutānanda Swami – open to ISKCON temples and members of the Bengali Vaiṣṇava community.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: It was held in the pāṇḍal and many kīrtana groups from all sorts of āśramas in Bengal were coming to participate. Beforehand, they were given a score sheet and told, “You will be judged according to this fashion.” Now there was some good intent – they wanted them to chant the pañca-tattva-mantra, they wanted them to chant the Mahā-mantra beginning with ‘Hare Kṛṣṇa,’ they wanted them to wear tilaka and neck-beads, and in this way, they wanted to trick many of the Bengali sahajiyā groups to become more bona-fide. There were prizes – gold-plated karatālas, silver-plated karatālas, a silver-plated gong, mṛdaṅgas, packages of prasādam – all kinds of prizes were being awarded. Then all of the ISKCON temples also entered…some temples had their kīrtana groups and everyone was given ten minutes to do their kīrtana. Altogether there must have been about twenty or thirty groups. I remember who was on the panel of judges because I was one of them, along with Acyutānanda, Bhāvānanda, Jayapatāka, and Haṁsadūta.

So, it began – the first was a Bengali group, and we were sitting there with our score sheets. They were doing their thing and Acyutānanda was going, “Neck beads – one point. Tilaka – one point. No Pañca-tattva-mantra – Zero.”

The second group was Satsvarūpa and his library party. They had the Prabhupāda two-step – they had everything. “One point, one point, one point.” They scored pretty high on the externals, although their chanting was pretty boring. Then it was the L.A. temple with Agnideva – again, top marks for everything. That was followed by Guru-kṛpā’s party from Japan. Looking back, it was kind of comical, because the whole thing was basically a choreographed kīrtana – it wasn’t very natural.

The next group was another Bengali kīrtaneer group. They started everything. “Kūrtār, śikhā, tilaka, pañca-tattva-mantra, mahā-mantra – point, point, point, point, point! Nice dancing…”
Then it started…
The man playing the harmonium, picked it up and started dancing with it. The mṛdaṅga player was also dancing and then suddenly, he started wailing into the microphone, “Horeeeeeeeeeeee Kishnoooo…..” crying, like his toe was being crushed in a vice! Acyutānanda was sitting next to me, and he just ripped up the score sheet, and I went, “YUCK!! What is that?”

But that sound, “Horeeeeeeeeeeee Kishnoooo” had already gone all over the whole ISKCON property. At that time, Śrīla Prabhupāda was in his room taking bath, and the speakers were pointing directly at the Lotus Building where he was. In the middle of his bath, he heard that wailing and came right out onto the veranda with his servant, Hari Śauri Prabhu behind him. I looked up, saw Prabhupāda on his veranda looking at us, and I just bailed – I jumped off the stage and went back to my room. Even from there I could see that Prabhupāda was not happy. There was already another group singing on the stage, but as soon as Prabhupāda reached the veranda, Bhāvānanda pulled the plug on the speaker and everything went quiet.

Prabhupāda asked Hari Śauri, “What was that? Find out what was that sound!” So, he sent somebody and they came back with the message. “It is the hari-nāma competition.”
Prabhupāda said, “Hari-nāma competition? It is hari-nāma aparādha!!”
A message was sent down from Prabhupāda to immediately stop the competition. The judges made some excuse to all the groups and Agnideva’s group from L.A. got the top prize, and all the other prizes were distributed freely to the Bengali groups, then all the judges went to the Ganges to take bath.

On Gaura Pūrṇimā itself, Prabhupāda did not give class, but he initiated over two hundred devotees. Feeling weak, he was unable to chant on all the beads and instructed some of the sannyāsīs to chant on his behalf. After giving the initiates their beads and spiritual names, he retired to his room while the yajña continued.

A few days later, Śrīla Prabhupāda came downstairs once again to give the morning class – an incident that Mahārāja clearly remembered, even though most devotees had paid little attention to it at the time.

Narasiṅgha Mahārāja: Many devotees say that ISKCON went downhill the day after Śrīla Prabhupāda left, but the fact is that many of the leaders were already in māyā. Even when His Divine Grace was present, they were inattentive right in front of him. One day, Prabhupāda came downstairs from his room to give class and I was sitting with my back against a pillar again. I noticed how grave he looked. He was not feeling well, but I think it was much deeper than that.

That day, Śrīla Prabhupāda asked Acyutānanda to sing ‘Jaya Rādhā-Mādhava’, and somebody told him that Acyutānanda wasn’t there. Prabhupāda’s face went down a little. Then he asked for Brahmānanda to sing and he was told that he wasn’t there either – Prabhupāda’s face went lower and he looked sad. The reality was that they were in the building, but they were goofing around somewhere else – they were not at the class where they should have been.
Finally, Jayatīrtha came up to Prabhupāda and said, “Śrīla Prabhupāda, I can sing if you wish?”
Prabhupāda just wiggled his head and Jayatīrtha sang, ‘Jaya Rādha-Mādhava.’ When the kīrtana was over, Prabhupāda stood up and left. Everything went downhill from then on.

From my estimation, if we accept that Nityānanda had entered Prabhupāda’s body, then that was the day I would say that He left. It was due to the offences and the immaturity of the devotees – otherwise how can we understand that he never finished the Bhāgavatam? It’s as if Kṛṣṇa pulled the plug on everything! Kṛṣṇa’s directly empowered representative is there commenting on the Bhāgavatam and he doesn’t even finish the Tenth Canto? Why?

On March 20th, Prabhupāda left Māyāpura for Bombay, where Girirāja Dāsa had organised a pāṇḍal program at Cross Maidan. Despite his physical weakness and recurring bouts of ill health, he remained determined to travel and preach.

Before departing, Prabhupāda had said that in order to make it successful, he wanted the majority of the sannyāsīs and devotees to attend the Vṛndāvana festival after he left for Bombay. Following this instruction, Mahārāja, along with hundreds of devotees, left Māyāpura and travelled to Vṛndāvana.

Although the Vṛndāvana Festival was well attended that year, with classes, kīrtanas and parikramās, it’s very ‘soul’ was Śrīla Prabhupāda – without his presence, it simply wasn’t the same. It was around this time that Mahārāja realized his visa for India was about to expire, meaning he would have to leave the country. His plans for the all‑India saṅkīrtana party would have to be put on hold until his return.

While he was in Vṛndāvana considering where to go for a new visa, he was approached by Jayatīrtha Dāsa. Bespectacled, skinny, and highly intelligent, Jayatīrtha was the GBC for England. Before meeting Śrīla Prabhupāda, he had been a business and philosophy major and had been close to Timothy Leary, the famous LSD ‘guru.’ Upon joining ISKCON, he became a BBT trustee and, in Los Angeles, had turned the devotee-run business Spiritual Sky Incense into a successful financial support for the movement.
“I was wondering, Mahārāja,” asked Jayatīrtha, “What are your plans for the next few months?”
Mahārāja’s first reaction was to think, Oh no, I’m being canvassed by a manager – again!!
“Why do you ask, prabhu?” he inquired.
“Well, we have a book marathon at the end of March, and it would be nice to have a sannyāsī there to encourage the saṅkīrtana devotees.”
Mahārāja paused to consider. He did have to leave India for a new visa, and if he could use the opportunity to help advance saṅkīrtana, that would be worthwhile.

A few weeks later, Mahārāja found himself in Connaught Place in Delhi, purchasing an air ticket to London.