These excerpts have been taken from Satswarup dasa
Goswami’s Prabhupada-lilamrita ch 11-12.
With the manuscript for Volume Three complete
and with the money to print it, Bhaktivedanta Swami once again entered the
printing world, purchasing paper, correcting proofs, and keeping the printer on
schedule so that the book would be finished by January 1965. Thus, by his
persistence, he who had almost no money of his own managed to publish his third
large hardbound volume within a little more than two years. At this rate, with
his respect in the scholarly world increasing, he might soon become a
recognized figure amongst his countrymen. But he had his vision set on the
West. And with the third volume now printed, he felt he was at last prepared.
He was sixty-nine and would have to go soon. It had been more than forty years
since Shrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati had first asked a young householder in
Calcutta to preach Krishna consciousness in the West. At first it had seemed
impossible to Abhay Charan, who had so recently entered family
responsibilities. That obstacle, however, had long ago been removed, and for
more than ten years he had been free to travel. But he had been penniless (and
still was). And he had wanted first to publish some volumes of
Shrimad-Bhagavatam to take with him; it had seemed necessary if he were to do
something solid. Now, by Krishna’s grace, three volumes were on hand.
Shrila Prabhupada: I planned that I must go to America.
Generally they go to London, but I did not want to go to London. I was simply
thinking how to go to New York. I was scheming, “Whether I shall go this way,
through Tokyo, Japan, or that way? Which way is cheaper?” That was my proposal.
And I was targeting to New York always. Sometimes I was dreaming that I have
come to New York.
Then Bhaktivedanta Swami met Mr. Agarwal, a Mathura
businessman, and mentioned to him in passing, as he did to almost everyone he
met, that he wanted to go to the West. Although Mr. Agarwal had known
Bhaktivedanta Swami for only a few minutes, he volunteered to try to get him a
sponsor in America. It was something Mr. Agarwal had done a number of times;
when he met a sadhu who mentioned something about going abroad to teach Hindu
culture, he would ask his son Gopal, an engineer in Pennsylvania, to send back
a sponsorship form. When Mr. Agarwal volunteered to help in this way,
Bhaktivedanta Swami urged him please to do so.
Shrila Prabhupada: I did not say anything
seriously to Mr. Agarwal, but perhaps he took it very seriously. I asked him,
“Well, why don’t you ask your son Gopal to sponsor so that I can go there? I
want to preach there.” But Bhaktivedanta Swami knew he could not simply dream
of going to the West; he needed money. In March 1965 he made another visit to
Bombay, attempting to sell his books. Again he stayed at the free dharmasala,
Premkutir. But finding customers was difficult. He met Paramananda Bhagwani, a
librarian at Jai Hind College, who purchased books for the college library and
then escorted Bhaktivedanta Swami to a few likely outlets.
Mr. Bhagwani: I took him to the Popular Book Depot at Grant
Road to help him in selling books, but they told us they couldn’t stock the
books because they don’t have much sales on religion. Then we went to another
shop nearby, and the owner also regretted his inability to sell the books. Then
he went to Sadhuvela, near Mahalakshmi temple, and we met the head of the
temple there. He, of course, welcomed us. They have a library of their own, and
they stock religious books, so we approached them to please keep a set there in
their library. They are a wealthy asrama, and yet he also expressed his
inability.
Bhaktivedanta Swami returned to Delhi, pursuing
the usual avenues of bookselling and looking for whatever opportunity might
arise. And to his surprise, he was contacted by the Ministry of External
Affairs and informed that his No Objection certificate for going to the U.S.
was ready. Since he had not instigated any proceedings for leaving the country,
Bhaktivedanta Swami had to inquire from the ministry about what had happened.
They showed him the Statutory Declaration Form signed by Mr. Gopal Agarwal of
Butler, Pennsylvania; Mr. Agarwal solemnly declared that he would bear the
expenses of Bhaktivedanta Swami during his stay in the U.S.
Shrila Prabhupada: Whatever the correspondence
was there between the father and son, I did not know. I simply asked him, “Why
don’t you ask your son Gopal to sponsor?” And now, after three or four months,
the No Objection certificate was sent from the Indian Consulate in New York to
me. He had already sponsored my arrival there for one month, and all of a
sudden I got the paper.
At his father’s request, Gopal Agarwal had done as he had
done for several other sadhus, none of whom had ever gone to America. It was
just a formality, something to satisfy his father. Gopal had requested a form
from the Indian Consulate in New York, obtained a statement from his employer
certifying his monthly salary, gotten a letter from his bank showing his
balance as of April 1965, and had the form notarized. It had been stamped and
approved in New York and sent to Delhi. Now Bhaktivedanta Swami had a sponsor.
But he still needed a passport, visa, P-form, and travel fare.
The passport was not very difficult to obtain. Krishna
Pandit helped, and by June 10 he had his passport. Carefully, he penned in his
address at the Radha-Krishna temple in Chippiwada and wrote his father’s name,
Gour Mohan De. He asked Krishna Pandit also to pay for his going abroad, but
Krishna Pandit refused, thinking it against Hindu principles for a sadhu to go
abroad—and also very expensive.
With his passport and sponsorship papers,
Bhaktivedanta Swami went to Bombay, not to sell books or raise funds for
printing; he wanted a ticket for America. Again he tried approaching Sumati
Morarji. He showed his sponsorship papers to her secretary, Mr. Choksi, who was
impressed and who went to Mrs. Morarji on his behalf. “The Swami from
Vrindavana is back,” he told her. “He has published his book on your donation.
He has a sponsor, and he wants to go to America. He wants you to send him on a
Scindia ship.” Mrs. Morarji said no, the Swamiji was too old to go to the
United States and expect to accomplish anything. As Mr. Choksi conveyed to him
Mrs. Morarji’s words, Bhaktivedanta Swami listened disapprovingly. She wanted
him to stay in India and complete the Shrimad-Bhagavatam. Why go to the States?
Finish the job here.
But Bhaktivedanta Swami was fixed on going. He told Mr.
Choksi that he should convince Mrs. Morarji. He coached Mr. Choksi on what he
should say: “I find this gentleman very inspired to go to the States and preach
something to the people there…” But when he told Mrs. Morarji, she again said
no. The Swami was not healthy. It would be too cold there. He might not be able
to come back, and she doubted whether he would be able to accomplish much
there. People in America were not so cooperative, and they would probably not
listen to him. Exasperated with Mr. Choksi’s ineffectiveness, Bhaktivedanta
Swami demanded a personal interview. It was granted, and a gray-haired,
determined Bhaktivedanta Swami presented his emphatic request: “Please give me
one ticket.”
Sumati Morarji was concerned. “Swamiji, you are so old—you
are taking this responsibility. Do you think it is all right?”
“No,” he reassured her, lifting his hand as if
to reassure a doubting daughter, “it is all right.” “But do you know what my
secretaries think? They say, “Swamiji is going to die there.’”
Bhaktivedanta made a face as if to dismiss a foolish rumor.
Again he insisted that she give him a ticket. “All right,” she said. “Get your
P-form, and I will make an arrangement to send you by our ship.” Bhaktivedanta
Swami smiled brilliantly and happily left her offices, past her amazed and
skeptical clerks. A “P-form”—another necessity for an Indian national who wants
to leave the country—is a certificate given by the State Bank of India,
certifying that the person has no excessive debts in India and is cleared by
the banks. That would take a while to obtain. And he also did not yet have a
U.S. visa. He needed to pursue these government permissions in Bombay, but he
had no place to stay. So Mrs. Morarji agreed to let him reside at the Scindia
Colony, a compound of apartments for employees of the Scindia Company.
He stayed in a small, unfurnished apartment
with only his trunk and typewriter. The resident Scindia employees all knew
that Mrs. Morarji was sending him to the West, and some of them became
interested in his cause. They were impressed, for although he was so old, he
was going abroad to preach. He was a special sadhu, a scholar. They heard from
him how he was taking hundreds of copies of his books with him, but no money.
He became a celebrity at the Scindia Colony. Various families brought him rice,
sabji, and fruit. They brought so much that he could not eat it all, and he
mentioned this to Mr. Choksi. Just accept it and distribute it, Mr. Choksi
advised. Bhaktivedanta Swami then began giving remnants of his food to the
children. Some of the older residents gathered to hear him as he read and spoke
from Shrimad-Bhagavatam. Mr. Vasavada, the chief cashier of Scindia, was
particularly impressed and came regularly to learn from the sadhu. Mr. Vasavada
obtained copies of Bhaktivedanta Swami’s books and read them in his home.
Bhaktivedanta Swami’s apartment shared a roofed-in veranda
with Mr. Nagarajan, a Scindia office worker, and his wife.
Mrs. Nagarajan: Every time when I passed that
way, he used to be writing or chanting. I would ask him, “Swamiji, what are you
writing?” He used to sit near the window and one after another was translating
the Sanskrit. He gave me two books and said, “Child, if you read this book, you
will understand.” We would have discourses in the house, and four or five
Gujarati ladies used to come. At one of these discourses he told one lady that
those who wear their hair parted on the side—that is not a good idea. Every
Indian lady should have her hair parted in the center. They were very fond of
listening and very keen to hear his discourse.
Every day he would go out trying to get his visa and P-form
as quickly as possible, selling his books, and seeking contacts and supporters
for his future Shrimad-Bhagavatam publishing. Mr. Nagarajan tried to help.
Using the telephone directory, he made a list of wealthy business and
professional men who were Vaishnavas and might be inclined to assist.
Bhaktivedanta Swami’s neighbors at Scindia Colony observed him coming home dead
tired in the evening. He would sit quietly, perhaps feeling morose, some
neighbors thought, but after a while he would sit up, rejuvenated, and start
writing.
Mrs. Nagarajan: When he came home we used to
give him courage, and we used to tell him, “Swamiji, one day you will achieve
your target.” He would say, “Time is still not right. Time is still not right.
They are all ajnanis. They don’t understand. But still I must carry on.”
Sometimes I would go by, and his cadar would be on the
chair, but he would be sitting on the windowsill. I would ask him, “Swamiji,
did you have any good contacts?” He would say, “Not much today. I didn’t get
much, and it is depressing. Tomorrow Krishna will give me more details.” And he
would sit there quietly.
After ten minutes, he would sit in his chair
and start writing. I would wonder how Swamiji was so tired in one minute and in
another minuten Even if he was tired, he was not defeated. He would never speak
discouragement. And we would always encourage him and say, “If today you don’t
get it, tomorrow you will definitely meet some people, and they will encourage
you.” And my friends used to come in the morning and in the evening for
discourse, and they would give namaskara and fruits.
Mr. Nagarajan: His temperament was very adjustable and
homely. Our friends would offer a few rupees. He would say, “All right. It will
help.” He used to walk from our colony to Andheri station. It is two
kilometers, and he used to go there without taking a bus, because he had no
money.
Bhaktivedanta Swami had a page printed entitled “My
Mission,” and he would show it to influential men in his attempts to get
further financing for Shrimad-Bhagavatam. The printed statement proposed that
God consciousness was the only remedy for the evils of modern materialistic
society. Despite scientific advancement and material comforts, there was no
peace in the world; therefore, Bhagavad-gita and Shrimad-Bhagavatam, the glory
of India, must be spread all over the world.
Mrs. Morarji asked Bhaktivedanta Swami if he would read
Shrimad-Bhagavatam to her in the evening. He agreed. She began sending her car
for him at six o’clock each evening, and they would sit in her garden, where he
would recite and comment on the Bhagavatam.
Mrs. Morarji: He used to come in the evening
and sing the verses in rhythmic tunes, as is usually done with the Bhagavatam.
And certain points—when you sit and discuss, you raise so many points—he was
commenting on certain points, but it was all from the Bhagavatam. So he used to
sit and explain to me and then go. He could give time, and I could hear him.
That was for about ten or fifteen days.
His backing by Scindia and his sponsorship in the U.S. were
a strong presentation, and with the help of the people at Scindia he obtained
his visa on July 28, 1965. But the P-form proceedings went slowly and even
threatened to be a last, insurmountable obstacle.
Shrila Prabhupada: Formerly there was no
restriction for going outside. But for a sannyasi like me, I had so much
difficulty obtaining the government permission to go out. I had applied for the
P-form sanction, but no sanction was coming. Then I went to the State Bank of
India. The officer was Mr. Martarchari. He told me, “Swamiji, you are sponsored
by a private man. So we cannot accept. If you were invited by some institution,
then we could consider. But you are invited by a private man for one month. And
after one month, if you are in difficulty, there will be so many obstacles.”
But I had already prepared everything to go. So I said, “What have you done?”
He said, “I have decided not to sanction your P-form.” I said, “No, no, don’t
do this. You better send me to your superior. It should not be like that.”
So he took my request, and he sent the file to
the chief official of foreign exchange—something like that. So he was the
supreme man in the State Bank of India. I went to see him. I asked his
secretary, “Do you have such-and-such a file. You kindly put it to Mr. Rao. I
want to see him.” So the secretary agreed, and he put the file, and he put my
name down to see him. I was waiting. So Mr. Rao came personally. He said,
“Swamiji, I passed your case. Don’t worry.”
Following Mrs. Morarji’s instruction, her secretary, Mr.
Choksi, made final arrangements for Bhaktivedanta Swami. Since he had no warm
clothes, Mr. Choksi took him to buy a wool jacket and other woolen clothes. Mr.
Choksi spent about 250 rupees on new clothes, including some new dhotis. At
Bhaktivedanta Swami’s request, Mr. Choksi printed five hundred copies of a
small pamphlet containing the eight verses written by Lord Chaitanya and an
advertisement for Shrimad-Bhagavatam, in the context of an advertisement for
the Scindia Steamship Company.
Mr. Choksi: I asked him, “Why couldn’t you go
earlier? Why do you want to go now to the States, at this age?” He replied
that, “I will be able to do something good, I am sure.” His idea was that
someone should be there who would be able to go near people who were lost in
life and teach them and tell them what the correct thing is. I asked him so
many times, “Why do you want to go to the States? Why don’t you start something
in Bombay or Delhi or Vrindavana?” I was teasing him also: “You are interested
in seeing the States. Therefore, you want to go. All Swamijis want to go to the
States, and you want to enjoy there.” He said, “What I have got to see? I have
finished my life.”
But sometimes he was hot-tempered. He used to get angry at
me for the delays. “What is this nonsense?” he would say. Then I would
understand: he is getting angry now. Sometimes he would say, “Oh, Mrs. Morarji
has still not signed this paper? She says come back tomorrow, we will talk
tomorrow! What is this? Why this daily going back?” He would get angry. Then I
would say, “You can sit here.” But he would say, “How long do I have to sit?”
He would become impatient. Finally Mrs. Morarji scheduled a place for him on
one of her ships, the Jaladuta, which was sailing from Calcutta on August 13.
She had made certain that he would travel on a ship whose captain understood the
needs of a vegetarian and a brahmana. Mrs. Morarji told the Jaladuta’s captain,
Arun Pandia, to carry extra vegetables and fruits for the Swami. Mr. Choksi
spent the last two days with Bhaktivedanta Swami in Bombay, picking up the
pamphlets at the press, purchasing clothes, and driving him to the station to
catch the train for Calcutta.
He arrived in Calcutta about two weeks before
the Jaladuta’s departure. Although he had lived much of his life in the city,
he now had nowhere to stay. It was as he had written in his
“Vrindavana-bhajana”: “I have my wife, sons, daughters, grandsons, everything,
/ But I have no money, so they are a fruitless glory.” Although in this city he
had been so carefully nurtured as a child, those early days were also gone
forever: “Where have my loving father and mother gone to now? / And where are
all my elders, who were my own folk? / Who will give me news of them, tell me
who? / All that is left of this family life is a list of names.”
Out of the hundreds of people in Calcutta whom
Bhaktivedanta Swami knew, he chose to call on Mr. Sisir Bhattacharya, the
flamboyant kirtana singer he had met a year before at the governor’s house in
Lucknow. Mr. Bhattacharya was not a relative, not a disciple, nor even a close
friend; but he was willing to help. Bhaktivedanta Swami called at his place and
informed him that he would be leaving on a cargo ship in a few days; he needed
a place to stay, and he would like to give some lectures. Mr. Bhattacharya
immediately began to arrange a few private meetings at friends’ homes, where he
would sing and Bhaktivedanta Swami would then speak.
Mr. Bhattacharya thought the sadhu’s leaving
for America should make an important news story. He accompanied Bhaktivedanta
Swami to all the newspapers in Calcutta—the Hindustan Standard, the Amrita
Bazar Patrika, the Jugantas, the Statesman, and others. Bhaktivedanta Swami had
only one photograph, a passport photo, and they made a few copies for the
newspapers. Mr. Bhattacharya would try to explain what the Swami was going to
do, and the news writers would listen. But none of them wrote anything. Finally
they visited the Dainik Basumati, a local Bengali daily, which agreed to print
a small article with Bhaktivedanta Swami’s picture.
A week before his departure, on August 6,
Bhaktivedanta Swami traveled to nearby Mayapur to visit the samadhi of Shrila
Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati. Then he returned to Calcutta, where Mr. Bhattacharya
continued to assist him with his final business and speaking engagements. Mr.
Bhattacharya: We just took a hired taxi to this place and that place. And he
would go for preaching. I never talked to him during the preaching, but once
when I was coming back from the preaching, I said, “You said this thing about
this. But I tell you it is not this. It is this.” I crossed him in something or
argued. And he was furious. Whenever we argued and I said, “No, I think this is
this,” then he was shouting. He was very furious. He said, “You are always
saying, “I think, I think, I think.’ What is the importance of what you think?
Everything is what you think. But it doesn’t matter. It matters what sastra
says. You must follow.” I said, “I must do what I think, what I feel—that is
important.” He said, “No, you should forget this. You should forget your desire.
You should change your habit. Better you depend on sastras. You follow what
sastra wants you to do, and do it. I am not telling you what I think, but I am
repeating what the sastra says.”
As the day of his departure approached,
Bhaktivedanta Swami took stock of his meager possessions. He had only a
suitcase, an umbrella, and a supply of dry cereal. He did not know what he
would find to eat in America; perhaps there would be only meat. If so, he was
prepared to live on boiled potatoes and the cereal. His main baggage, several
trunks of his books, was being handled separately by Scindia Cargo. Two hundred
three-volume sets—the very thought of the books gave him confidence.
When the day came for him to leave, he needed that
confidence. He was making a momentous break with his previous life, and he was
dangerously old and not in strong health. And he was going to an unknown and
probably unwelcoming country. To be poor and unknown in India was one thing.
Even in these Kali-yuga days, when India’s leaders were rejecting Vedic culture
and imitating the West, it was still India; it was still the remains of Vedic
civilization. He had been able to see millionaires, governors, the prime
minister, simply by showing up at their doors and waiting. A sannyasi was respected;
the Shrimad-Bhagavatam was respected. But in America it would be different. He
would be no one, a foreigner. And there was no tradition of sadhus, no temples,
no free asramas. But when he thought of the books he was
bringing—transcendental knowledge in English—he became confident. When he met
someone in America he would give him a flyer: ““Shrimad Bhagwatam,’ India’s
Message of Peace and Goodwill.”
It was August 13, just a few days before
Janmashtami, the appearance day anniversary of Lord Krishna—the next day would
be his own sixty-ninth birthday. During these last years, he had been in
Vrindavana for Janmashtami. Many Vrindavana residents would never leave there;
they were old and at peace in Vrindavana. Bhaktivedanta Swami was also
concerned that he might die away from Vrindavana. That was why all the
Vaishnava sadhus and widows had taken vows not to leave, even for
Mathura—because to die in Vrindavana was the perfection of life. And the Hindu
tradition was that a sannyasi should not cross the ocean and go to the land of
the mlecchas. But beyond all that was the desire of Shrila Bhaktisiddhanta
Sarasvati, and his desire was nondifferent from that of Lord Krishna. And Lord
Chaitanya Mahaprabhu had predicted that the chanting of Hare Krishna would be
known in every town and village of the world.
Bhaktivedanta Swami took a taxi down to the
Calcutta port. A few friends and admirers, along with his son Vrindavan,
accompanied him. He writes in his diary: “Today at 9 a.m. embarked on M.V.
Jaladuta. Came with me Bhagwati, the Dwarwan of Scindia Sansir, Mr. Sen Gupta,
Mr. Ali and Vrindaban.” He was carrying a Bengali copy of
Chaitanya-caritamrita, which he intended to read during the crossing. Somehow
he would be able to cook on board. Or if not, he could starve— whatever Krishna
desired. He checked his essentials: passenger ticket, passport, visa, P-form,
sponsor’s address. Finally it was happening.
Shrila Prabhupada: With what great difficulty I
got out of the country! Some way or other, by Krishna’s grace, I got out so I
could spread the Krishna consciousness movement all over the world. Otherwise,
to remain in India—it was not possible. I wanted to start a movement in India,
but I was not at all encouraged.
The black cargo ship, small and weathered, was
moored at dockside, a gangway leading from the dock to the ship’s deck. Indian
merchant sailors curiously eyed the elderly saffron-dressed sadhu as he spoke
last words to his companions and then left them and walked determinedly toward
the boat.
For thousands of years, krishna-bhakti had been known only
in India, not outside, except in twisted, faithless reports by foreigners. And
the only swamis to have reached America had been nondevotees, Mayavadi impersonalists.
But now Krishna was sending Bhaktivedanta Swami as His emissary.
SPL 12: The Journey to America
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Journey to America
Today the ship is plying very smoothly. I feel
today better. But I am feeling separation from Shri Vrindaban and my Lords Shri
Govinda, Gopinath, Radha Damodar. My only solace is Shri Chaitanya Charitamrita
in which I am tasting the nectarine of Lord Chaitanya’s lila. I have left
Baharatabhumi just to execute the order of Shri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati, in
pursuance of Lord Chaitanya’s order. I have no qualification, but have taken up
the risk just to carry out the order of His Divine Grace. I depend fully on
Their mercy, so far away from Vrindaban.
—Jaladuta diary
September 10, 1965
The Jaladuta is a regular cargo carrier of the
Scindia Steam Navigation Company, but there is a passenger cabin aboard. During
the voyage from Calcutta to New York in August and September of 1965, the cabin
was occupied by “Shri Abhoy Charanaravinda Bhaktivedanta Swami,” whose age was
listed as sixty-nine and who was taken on board bearing “a complimentary ticket
with food.”
The Jaladuta, under the command of Captain Arun Pandia,
whose wife was also aboard, left at 9:00 A.M. on Friday, August 13. In his
diary, Shrila Prabhupada noted: “The cabin is quite comfortable, thanks to Lord
Shri Krishna for enlightening Sumati Morarji for all these arrangements. I am
quite comfortable.” But on the fourteenth he reported: “Seasickness, dizziness,
vomiting—Bay of Bengal. Heavy rains. More sickness.”
On the nineteenth, when the ship arrived at
Colombo, Ceylon (now Shri Lanka), Prabhupada was able to get relief from his
seasickness. The captain took him ashore, and he traveled around Colombo by
car. Then the ship went on toward Cochin, on the west coast of India.
Janmashtami, the appearance day of Lord Krishna, fell on the twentieth of
August that year. Prabhupada took the opportunity to speak to the crew about
the philosophy of Lord Krishna, and he distributed prasadam he had cooked himself.
August 21 was his seventieth birthday, observed (without ceremony) at sea. That
same day the ship arrived at Cochin, and Shrila Prabhupada’s trunks of
Shrimad-Bhagavatam volumes, which had been shipped from Bombay, were loaded on
board.
By the twenty-third the ship had put out to the
Red Sea, where Shrila Prabhupada encountered great difficulty. He noted in his
diary: “Rain, seasickness, dizziness, headache, no appetite, vomiting.” The
symptoms persisted, but it was more than seasickness. The pains in his chest
made him think he would die at any moment. In two days he suffered two heart
attacks. He tolerated the difficulty, meditating on the purpose of his mission,
but after two days of such violent attacks he thought that if another were to
come he would certainly not survive.
On the night of the second day, Prabhupada had a dream. Lord
Krishna, in His many forms, was rowing a boat, and He told Prabhupada that he
should not fear, but should come along. Prabhupada felt assured of Lord
Krishna’s protection, and the violent attacks did not recur.
The Jaladuta entered the Suez Canal on September 1 and
stopped in Port Sa’id on the second. Shrila Prabhupada visited the city with
the captain and said that he liked it. By the sixth he had recovered a little
from his illness and was eating regularly again for the first time in two
weeks, having cooked his own kichari and puris. He reported in his diary that
his strength renewed little by little.
Thursday, September 9
To 4:00 this afternoon, we have crossed over the Atlantic
Ocean for twenty-four hours. The whole day was clear and almost smooth. I am
taking my food regularly and have got some strength to struggle. There is also
a slight tacking of the ship and I am feeling a slight headache also. But I am
struggling and the nectarine of life is Shri Chaitanya Charitamrita, the source
of all my vitality.
Friday, September 10
Today the ship is plying very smoothly. I feel today better.
But I am feeling separation from Shri Vrindaban and my Lords Shri Govinda, Gopinath,
Radha Damodar. The only solace is Shri Chaitanya Charitamrita in which I am
tasting the nectarine of Lord Chaitanya’s lila [pastimes]. I have left
Bharatabhumi just to execute the order of Shri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati in
pursuance of Lord Chaitanya’s order. I have no qualification, but have taken up
the risk just to carry out the order of His Divine Grace. I depend fully on
Their mercy, so far away from Vrindaban.
During the voyage, Shrila Prabhupada sometimes
stood on deck at the ship’s rail, watching the ocean and the sky and thinking
of Chaitanya-caritamrita, Vrindavana-dhama, and the order of his spiritual
master to go preach in the West. Mrs. Pandia, the captain’s wife, whom Shrila
Prabhupada considered to be “an intelligent and learned lady,” foretold Shrila
Prabhupada’s future. If he were to pass beyond this crisis in his health, she
said, it would indicate the good will of Lord Krishna.
The ocean voyage of 1965 was a calm one for the Jaladuta.
The captain said that never in his entire career had he seen such a calm
Atlantic crossing. Prabhupada replied that the calmness was Lord Krishna’s
mercy, and Mrs. Pandia asked Prabhupada to come back with them so that they
might have another such crossing. Shrila Prabhupada wrote in his diary, “If the
Atlantic would have shown its usual face, perhaps I would have died. But Lord
Krishna has taken charge of the ship.”
On September 13, Prabhupada noted in his diary:
“Thirty-second day of journey. Cooked bati kichari. It appeared to be
delicious, so I was able to take some food. Today I have disclosed my mind to
my companion, Lord Shri Krishna. There is a Bengali poem made by me in this
connection.”
This poem was a prayer to Lord Krishna, and it is filled
with Prabhupada’s devotional confidence in the mission that he had undertaken
on behalf of his spiritual master. An English translation of the opening
stanzas follows:*
I emphatically say to you, O brothers, you will
obtain your good fortune from the Supreme Lord Krishna only when Shrimati
Radharani becomes pleased with you.
Shri Shrimad Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura, who is very
dear to Lord Gauranga [Lord Chaitanya], the son of mother Saci, is unparalleled
in his service to the Supreme Lord Shri Krishna. He is that great, saintly
spiritual master who bestows intense devotion to Krishna at different places
throughout the world.
By his strong desire, the holy name of Lord
Gauranga will spread throughout all the countries of the Western world. In all
the cities, towns, and villages on the earth, from all the oceans, seas,
rivers, and streams, everyone will chant the holy name of Krishna.
As the vast mercy of Shri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu conquers all
directions, a flood of transcendental ecstasy will certainly cover the land.
When all the sinful, miserable living entities become happy, the Vaishnavas’
desire is then fulfilled.
Although my Guru Maharaja ordered me to
accomplish this mission, I am not worthy or fit to do it. I am very fallen and
insignificant. Therefore, O Lord, now I am begging for Your mercy so that I may
become worthy, for You are the wisest and most experienced of all…
The poem ends:
Today that remembrance of You came to me in a very nice way.
Because I have a great longing I called to You. I am Your eternal servant, and
therefore I desire Your association so much. O Lord Krishna, except for You
there is no means of success.
In the same straightforward, factual manner in
which he had noted the date, the weather, and his state of health, he now
described his helpless dependence on his “companion, Lord Krishna,” and his
absorption in the ecstasy of separation from Krishna. He described the
relationship between the spiritual master and the disciple, and he praised his
own spiritual master, Shri Shrimad Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati, “by whose strong
desire the holy name of Lord Gauranga will spread throughout all the countries
of the Western world.” He plainly stated that his spiritual master had ordered
him to accomplish this mission of worldwide Krishna consciousness, and feeling
unworthy he prayed to Lord Krishna for strength. The last verses give an
unexpected, confidential glimpse into Shrila Prabhupada’s direct relationship
with Lord Krishna. Prabhupada called on Krishna as his “dear friend” and longed
for the joy of again wandering the fields of Vraja. This memory of Krishna, he
wrote, came because of a great desire to serve the Lord. Externally, Shrila
Prabhupada was experiencing great inconvenience; he had been aboard ship for a
month and had suffered heart attacks and repeated seasickness. Moreover, even
if he were to recover from these difficulties, his arrival in America would
undoubtedly bring many more difficulties. But remembering the desire of his
spiritual master, taking strength from his reading of Chaitanya-caritamrita,
and revealing his mind in his prayer to Lord Krishna, Prabhupada remained
confident.
After a thirty-five-day journey from Calcutta,
the Jaladuta reached Boston’s Commonwealth Pier at 5:30 A.M. on September 17,
1965. The ship was to stop briefly in Boston before proceeding to New York
City. Among the first things Shrila Prabhupada saw in America were the letters
“A & P” painted on a pierfront warehouse. The gray waterfront dawn revealed
the ships in the harbor, a conglomeration of lobster stands and drab buildings,
and, rising in the distance, the Boston skyline.
Prabhupada had to pass through U.S. Immigration
and Customs in Boston. His visa allowed him a three-month stay, and an official
stamped it to indicate his expected date of departure. Captain Pandia invited
Prabhupada to take a walk into Boston, where the captain intended to do some
shopping. They walked across a footbridge into a busy commercial area with old
churches, warehouses, office buildings, bars, tawdry bookshops, nightclubs, and
restaurants. Prabhupada briefly observed the city, but the most significant
thing about his short stay in Boston, aside from the fact that he had now set
foot in America, was that at Commonwealth Pier he wrote another Bengali poem,
entitled “Markine Bhagavata-dharma” (“Teaching Krishna Consciousness in
America”). Some of the verses he wrote on board the ship that day are as
follows:*
My dear Lord Krishna, You are so kind upon this
useless soul, but I do not know why You have brought me here. Now You can do
whatever You like with me.
But I guess You have some business here, otherwise why would
You bring me to this terrible place?
Most of the population here is covered by the material modes
of ignorance and passion. Absorbed in material life they think themselves very
happy and satisfied, and therefore they have no taste for the transcendental
message of Vasudeva [Krishna]. I do not know how they will be able to
understand it.
But I know that Your causeless mercy can make
everything possible, because You are the most expert mystic. How will they
understand the mellows of devotional service? O Lord, I am simply praying for
Your mercy so that I will be able to convince them about Your message. All
living entities have come under the control of the illusory energy by Your
will, and therefore, if You like, by Your will they can also be released from
the clutches of illusion. I wish that You may deliver them. Therefore if You so
desire their deliverance, then only will they be able to understand Your
message…
How will I make them understand this message of
Krishna consciousness? I am very unfortunate, unqualified, and the most fallen.
Therefore I am seeking Your benediction so that I can convince them, for I am
powerless to do so on my own.
Somehow or other, O Lord, You have brought me
here to speak about You. Now, my Lord, it is up to You to make me a success or
failure, as You like. O spiritual master of all the worlds! I can simply repeat
Your message. So if You like You can make my power of speaking suitable for
their understanding.
Only by Your causeless mercy will my words
become pure. I am sure that when this transcendental message penetrates their
hearts, they will certainly feel gladdened and thus become liberated from all
unhappy conditions of life.
O Lord, I am just like a puppet in Your hands.
So if You have brought me here to dance, then make me dance, make me dance, O
Lord, make me dance as You like. I have no devotion, nor do I have any
knowledge, but I have strong faith in the holy name of Krishna. I have been
designated as Bhaktivedanta, and now, if You like, You can fulfill the real
purport of Bhaktivedanta.
Signed—the most unfortunate, insignificant beggar,
A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami,
On board the ship Jaladuta, Commonwealth Pier,
Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.A.
Dated 18th September 1965.
He was now in America. He was in a major
American city, rich with billions, populated with millions, and determined to
stay the way it was. Prabhupada saw Boston from the viewpoint of a pure devotee
of Krishna. He saw the hellish city life, people dedicated to the illusion of
material happiness. All his dedication and training moved him to give these
people the transcendental knowledge and saving grace of Krishna consciousness,
yet he was feeling weak, lowly, and unable to help them on his own. He was but
“an insignificant beggar” with no money. He had barely survived the two heart
attacks at sea, he spoke a different language, he dressed strangely—yet he had
come to tell people to give up meat-eating, illicit sex, intoxication, and
gambling, and to teach them to worship Lord Krishna, who to them was a mythical
Hindu god. What would he be able to accomplish?
Helplessly he spoke his heart directly to God: “I wish that
You may deliver them. I am seeking Your benediction so that I can convince
them.” And for convincing them he would trust in the power of God’s holy name
and in the Shrimad-Bhagavatam. This transcendental sound would clean away
desire for material enjoyment from their hearts and awaken loving service to
Krishna. On the streets of Boston, Prabhupada was aware of the power of
ignorance and passion that dominated the city; but he had faith in the
transcendental process. He was tiny, but God was infinite, and God was Krishna,
his dear friend.
On the nineteenth of September the Jaladuta
sailed into New York Harbor and docked at a Brooklyn pier, at Seventeenth
Street. Shrila Prabhupada saw the awesome Manhattan skyline, the Empire State
Building, and, like millions of visitors and immigrants in the past, the Statue
of Liberty.
Shrila Prabhupada was dressed appropriately for a resident
of Vrindavana. He wore kanthi-mala (neck beads) and a simple cotton dhoti, and
he carried japa-mala (chanting beads) and an old chadar, or shawl. His
complexion was golden, his head shaven, sikha in the back, his forehead
decorated with the whitish Vaishnava tilaka. He wore pointed white rubber
slippers, not uncommon for sadhus in India. But who in New York had ever seen
or dreamed of anyone appearing like this Vaishnava? He was possibly the first
Vaishnava sannyasi to arrive in New York with uncompromised appearance. Of
course, New Yorkers have an expertise in not giving much attention to any kind
of strange new arrival.
Shrila Prabhupada was on his own. He had a
sponsor, Mr. Agarwal, somewhere in Pennsylvania. Surely someone would be here
to greet him. Although he had little idea of what to do as he walked off the
ship onto the pier—“I did not know whether to turn left or right”—he passed
through the dockside formalities and was met by a representative from
Traveler’s Aid, sent by the Agarwals in Pennsylvania, who offered to take him
to the Scindia ticket office in Manhattan to book his return passage to India.
At the Scindia office, Prabhupada spoke with
the ticket agent, Joseph Foerster, who was impressed by this unusual
passenger’s Vaishnava appearance, his light luggage, and his apparent poverty.
He regarded Prabhupada as a priest. Most of Scindia’s passengers were
businessmen or families, so Mr. Foerster had never seen a passenger wearing the
traditional Vaishnava dress of India. He found Shrila Prabhupada to be “a
pleasant gentleman” who spoke of “the nice accommodations and treatment he had
received aboard the Jaladuta.” Prabhupada asked Mr. Foerster to hold space for
him on a return ship to India. His plans were to leave in about two months, and
he told Mr. Foerster that he would keep in touch. Carrying only forty rupees
cash, which he himself called “a few hours’ spending in New York,” and an
additional twenty dollars he had collected from selling three volumes of the
Bhagavatam to Captain Pandia, Shrila Prabhupada, with umbrella and suitcase in
hand, and still escorted by the Traveler’s Aid representative, set out for the
Port Authority Bus Terminal to arrange for his trip to Butler.
(These excerpts have been taken from Satswarup dasa
Goswami’s Prabhupada-lilamrita ch 11-12.)
