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Diary of a Traveling Preacher, volume 4 - Chapter 27

 

"The congregation dubbed me "Mullah Maharaja."

 

Middle East, 7th December - 10th December 2002

 

(http://www.traveling-preacher.com/tp071202.htm)

 

 

"Alas, when will that auspicious day arrive when the actual glories of

Vrindavan will be manifested to me? The scriptures are unable to touch

even one millionth portion of its wonderful glories. Great personalities

like Lord Brahma, Lord Siva, Laksmi, Sukadeva Goswami, Arjuna and Uddhava

are unable to get darsana of its confidential form. The yogis cannot

understand the glories of this land through their yogic performances. What

to speak of others, even ordinary Vrajavasis cannot see it. Sri Vrindavan

exhibits her real form only to those fortunate devotees who have taken

shelter of Srimate Radhika."

[Vrindavan-mahimamrta, Sataka 17, Text 60]

 

I returned alone to Vrindavan from our pilgrimage to Puri and Mayapur.

Craig went on to visit the site of Lord Buddha's self-realisation in Bihar

and the Ganges river at Varanasi. I wished him well as we embraced on our

farewell. I was happy that our childhood friendship had evolved into a

deeper, spiritual relationship. Knowing Craig's newfound enthusiasm for

Krsna consciousness, I had no doubt our paths would cross again.

 

In Vrindavan I had mixed feelings. I was attached to the holy dhama, as

much as a neophyte devotee can be, and hankered to continue my bhajan, but

I had accepted an invitation to visit devotees in the Middle East. I was,

therefore, limited to only three more days in India. As I prepared to

leave, I reflected on whatever advancement I may have made during the past

two months. I can't say for sure if I made much progress in purifying my

heart, what to speak of awakening any genuine love for the Lord, and the

glories of Vrindavan still evade me. But I can say that I developed a stronger

desire to become a devotee and follow in the footsteps of those who have a

genuine attachment for Vraja. The most exalted of such devotees is my

glorious spiritual master, Srila Prabhupada, who left Vrindavan to preach

Krsna consciousness throughout the world. Following in his footsteps was

the process to enter into the mysteries of Vrindavan. And so I left,

hoping to return one day more purified in heart and able to understand the

truths of that transcendental abode.

 

My first destination was a small country on the Arabian Peninsula, which

for security reasons (to protect the local devotees) I cannot name. It

would be my first trip to Arabia, and I was excited about the prospect of

preaching in a new place. There are not many countries I haven't

experienced in my 23 years as a traveling sannyasi, and the initial visit

anywhere is always special.

 

The Arabian Peninsula has been populated for thousands of years. In

ancient times, the Arabs achieved distinction at sea. Ships carried goods

to and from the shores of the Persian Gulf and Indian Ocean. Most of the

peninsula is desert, and it is one of the hottest places in the world with

temperatures often reaching 55 degrees Centigrade. But the land yields

oil, which provides much of the region's income. The people of the country

I was visiting are Ibadi Muslims, who practice a strict interpretation of

Islam. The former ruler was opposed to modernization, but was overthrown

by his son in 1970. The new ruler then initiated an overhaul of the country's

infrastructure. Building numerous roads, hospitals and schools (and

encouraging education for women), he is seen as benevolent and is much

loved by the citizens.

 

As my flight circled the capital, it was strange to see that all the

buildings in the city were painted the same shade of white, without

exception. Later I learned that the government oversees all construction,

emphasizing that each and every building has an Arabic design and is

painted the same color. I found the uniform effect tasteful and

attractive.

 

Due to the strict Islamic code, I was required to arrive in non-devotional

dress. Despite the precaution, the immigration officials were suspicious

of me, most likely because of my United States passport. Tensions are high

in this region in close proximity to Iraq, which is currently subject to a

United Nations weapons inspection program. Unconvinced that Iraqi leader

Suddam Hussain is truthful about having no weapons of mass destruction,

America is threatening an invasion. The country I was visiting is

accommodating to the West, allowing U.S. aircraft to fly from its bases

and the stationing of 3,000 U.S. troops on its soil. But in this part of

the world they are always dubious about American intentions, feeling that

America's interest is more in Iraq's oil deposits, which are second only

to those of the increasingly fragile Saudi Arabia.

 

As I passed through Customs the officer in charge called me to the side

and questioned me. I told him I had simply come to visit friends.

Unconvinced, he asked me to open my luggage and empty my pockets. Several

times he asked me to take off my baseball cap (I ignored his requests), but

after scrutinizing my bags he waved me through, warning me not to eat in

public as it was still Ramadan, the holy month of fasting when Muslims eat

only once daily - at night.

 

Outside the terminal I was first greeted by the arid conditions, and then

by Vijaya Venugopal das and Prema Padmini dasi, householder disciples of

Jayapataka Swami who have been instrumental in running what is possibly

ISKCON's most successful Nama Hatta program. There are more than 2,000

members in their congregation, and it is expanding daily. Of course, the

congregation are all of Indian and Bangladesh origin, as the government

forbids the proselytizing of religions other than Islam. Surprisingly,

however, it allows and even facilitates the practice of Chistianity and

Hinduism among foreigners. Due to the large labor force required for

exporting the country's oil, 40% of the population are Indians and

Bangladeshis. Thus, besides several churches in the capital there is also

a Krsna temple (with a beautiful Krsna Deity) and a Siva temple, both said

to be over 150 years old. Vijaya told me that the country's ruler is

tolerant of other religions due to having been educated in India.

 

As I took in the surroundings from the car on the way to Vijaya's home, it

was interesting to see that just about everyone was dressed in traditional

Arabic clothes, the men in flowing white robes with a peculiar head-dress

and the ladies in black robes with only their faces exposed. I noticed

that men and women did not mix freely. Mosques were located throughout the

city, which was immaculate and full of beautiful parks and gardens. Vijaya

told me the city was originally planned with a mosque within walking

distance of any quarter.

 

The lifestyle seemed to reflect Islamic scripture, and this was made clear

as we passed a roundabout on which stood a huge statue of the Koran with

Arabic letters in the middle of its open pages. There were no dogs

anywhere, as Muslims consider them to be unclean. Dogs are to be found

only with foreigners, who are not allowed to bring them on to the street.

The foreigners themselves were well dressed. The government is very strict

about who gains entry. Although tourism is encouraged, backpackers are

prohibited. And if any tourist is foolish enough to carry drugs and is

caught, they may well get a life sentence - a stiff punishment no doubt,

but the result is that drugs are practically non-existent. There were also

no billboards to be seen, and Vijaya said the newspapers are forbidden to

report sensuous topics. Generally they print only good news. Western

society would consider this repressive, but I did note a calm among the

citizens, part of which could be attributed to the lack of advertising and

such sinful activities as intoxication, gambling and illicit sex.

 

My preaching consisted mainly in giving lectures and doing kirtans with

our congregation at the Siva temple, which the devotees rented for the

purpose. Several hundred devotees crammed into a hall attached to the

temple, where we were free to have discourses and loud kirtans. Due to the

potentially watchful eye of the internal security forces monitoring adherence

to the religious code, I was careful to choose my words during public lectures

(as I am now writing this chapter of the diary), so as not to offend

anyone in any way. During lectures, I often heard the numerous mosques

surrounding the temple calling the faithful to worship, and I marveled

that we were able to have krsna katha and kirtan in the midst of such a

strictly Islamic society.

 

I also visited the "labor camp," a congregation of Indian nationals who

provide the work force for the capital. The workers, who come from all

regions of India, are housed in simple wooden barracks just outside the

city. One night, under a starry sky, I gave a class to 500 workers, which

was translated into several Indian dialects. Then we had a rousing kirtan

- which must have projected far into the desert, with its clear, still

atmosphere.

 

Each day, before leaving Vijay's house for the morning and evening

programs, I was obliged to change into non-devotional clothes. Upon

arrival at the program, I would change back into my devotional clothes.

Then before leaving, I would again change back into pants, shirt and

baseball cap. After a while it became quite tiresome, and I asked if I

could simply put on a kandura - the flowing robes the Muslim men wear -

over my sannyasi dress. I figured it would be easier to put on and take

off than my western garb. Vijay and some of the congregation were a little

surprised at the prospect, but eventually agreed. For the rest of my

visit, whenever I went outside I dressed in a kandura, which easily hid my

devotional attire. The local Muslims found it curious and the congregation

dubbed me "Mullah Maharaja."

 

Ramadan came to a close during my visit. The day after the fasting period

is called Eid al-Fitr, a time of festivities for Muslims. The elderly

Indian ladies in our congregation had been begging to cook for me since I

arrived, and had been disappointed that I took only simple prasadam once a

day. So to please them, I suggested they cook a feast on Eid al-Fitr, and I

enjoyed wonderful prasadam while the country's citizens celebrated their

annual festival.

 

After four days the time allotted for my stay expired, and I left without

incident. Once again, I felt privileged to assist Lord Caitanya's sankirtan

movement by traveling to a remote region of the world to spread the glories

of the holy name. My next destination is another Arab country. What

wonderful service does the Lord have for me there? My heart beat in great

expectation, relishing the life of a traveling preacher. By serving Lord

Caitanya's mission, I remain immersed in thoughts of Him.

 

"I took this as the special mercy of the Lord, who always desires

benediction for His devotees, and so thinking, I started for the north.

After my departure, I passed through many flourishing metropolises, towns,

villages, animal farms, mines, agricultural lands, valleys, flower gardens,

nursery gardens and natural forests. I passed through hills and mountains

full of reservoirs of various minerals like gold, silver and copper, and

through tracts of land with reservoirs of water filled with beautiful

lotus flowers, fit for the denizens of heaven, decorated with bewildered

bees and singing birds. . . . After that, under the shadow of a banyan

tree in an uninhabited forest I began to meditate upon the Supersoul

situated within, using my intelligence, as I had learned from liberated

souls." [srimad-Bhagavatam, Canto 1, Chapter 6, verses 10, 11, 12, 15]