from 1994 Vyasa puja book

[Guest guest]

Dear Srila Prabhupada,

 

Please accept my most humble obeisances on his most auspicious occasion of

your appearance. At this time I remember my good fortune in meeting you many

years ago, and how you showered your boundless compassion upon my unworthy

self.

 

The first time I saw you was a picture in Life magazine in 1967, which had

an article about all the different "yogis" doing their thing in New York

City. As I read the article with interest, I could not help feeling uneasy

with the pictures of the bogus yogis displayed there. They all had beady

eyes, long stringy hair and beards. They looked like crooks and pickpockets.

Then I saw your picture. I was immediately struck by the immense gravity of

your expression, and the atmosphere of peace in which you seemed to be

situated. Again and again I came back to your picture. Finally I took a pair

of scissors and cut it out from the magazine. I thought for a while what to

do with this special prize and then decided to paste it on the door of my

locker at high school. While all my classmates had pin-up girls or sports

stars on their lockers, I had you, Srila Prabhupada. I don't think here

there was a kid in my school who did not come to see your picture at some

time or other to ponder your transcendental pose.

 

I did not know how to pronounce your name and did not even try to remember

it, I simply knew that at some time, somehow, I would become your follower

and learn how to worship Lord Krsna from you. Many moths passed. When spring

vacation came in April of 1968, my older brother invited me to go with him

to New York City. I unhesitatingly agreed to go in hopes of meeting you. I

prayed to God for the good fortune of finding you and your devotees during

my visit to New York City.

 

We took a train from upstate New York. Upon reaching the city, my brother

took me to Greenwich Village. From there we wandered around until we got

lost. We eventually wound up on the Bowery, where I lost all belief in the

greatness of the America way of life. We continued wandering until we

reached Second Avenue. As we were turning on First Street to head towards

the West Side, something suddenly burst into my awareness through the corner

of my eye. It caught my attention like the shining sun popping out from

behind a black storm cloud. It was a store sign which proclaimed: "Hare

Krishna." My head suddenly yanked around, followed by my body. Reflexively I

darted across the busy street and stepped inside the hollowed space of the

26 Second Avenue. Inside I met a teenage girl devotee named Sudarsana. In

the course of our conversation, she informed me that you would be arriving

the next day from San Francisco and that I should come to see you then.

 

You arrived the next morning and that evening I came to New York City to see

you. I entered the temple room and sat on a musty Persian rug not far from

your asana. Other devotees were coming in and sitting all around me. Candles

flickered and incense filled the air. Then the devotees began to slowly

chime the hand cymbals and to thump our rhythms with the clay mrdangas as

they sang your praises with the Sanskrit verse: nama om visnu-padaya

krsna-padaya bhutale, srimate bhaktivedanta svamin iti namine. As the volume

and tempo of the chanting increased, so did the ecstasy of the devotees. The

temple room was crammed full of devotees and guests like myself, who were

all eagerly awaiting your arrival. In the back of the temple room, near a

side entranceway on the left, stood Brahmananda and Pradyumna. Near them

were brahmacarinis - Kancambala, Lilasuka, Indira and Ekayani. They were

frantically jumping up and down to the rhythm of the chanting and repeatedly

screaming "Swamiji" with their shrill voices. I noticed that several

devotees next to the side door had conchshells, but I did not know that

these were for blowing.

 

Suddenly, when the chanting had reached its peak, there was heard the loud

blast of conchshells. To me it sounded like sirens, and since everyone

immediately threw themselves on the ground, I did likewise, expecting an

imminent explosion from a bomb. Instead, however, there was only the gentle

murmur of prayers being recited by the bowed devotees. I raised my head up

to see what was going on. At that moment the side door opened and from

behind it emerged a mass of glowing saffron. As I gazed at you, I realized

that although before our eyes, you were not from this world. You were

present before us at a point where the spiritual plane met the material

plane so that we could have a glimpse of transcendence. With wide blinking

eyes, I watched as you made your way across the crowded room. It appeared to

me that your feet never touched the ground. You obviously had no need for

such trivial things. You sat upon your seat in a dignified manner and

acknowledged the presence of everyone with a reassuring glance. As your

glance caught my eyes, I understood that you saw my naked soul in my heart,

and thus knew everything about me.

 

You picked up your hand cymbals and began chanting the prayers to the

disciplic succession. The mode of the chanting was solemn. As I listened, I

felt that I was awash in an ocean of timelessness. By the prayers you

vibrated I could feel myself connected with Godhead Himself. Then you began

chanting the mahamantra: Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna, Krsna Krsna, Hare Hare;

Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare. There was a stirring among the

assembled devotees. They rose from the floor and began dancing. You were

deeply absorbed in concentration as you lead the chanting. Soon the devotees

were swaying back and forth with the chanting, their arms extended upwards

toward the ceiling. I also danced. As the chanting became more intense, the

devotees jumped and shouted, with tears streaking down their cheeks. My body

was trembling and I was sweating so profusely that my clothes were

completely drenched. I had gone from an ocean of timelessness into the

depths of an ocean of transcendental bliss from which I never wished to

leave.

 

Finally you brought the chanting to an end and proceeded to give a lecture.

I could tell by your expression and the tone of your voice that the subject

was very important, but I was unable to understand very much, because of my

unfamiliarity with your accent. Even so, I listened everything you said.

After finishing the lecture, you retired to your room upstairs. The devotees

rolled out a long plastic mat and placed wooden bowls along both sides. Soon

they were serving hot banana milk.

 

After tasting my first prasada, a devotee named Advaita asked me if I wanted

to see the altar from up close. I agreed. He took me right up to the altar,

which was a wooden framework covered with velvet, and stretched his right

arm toward the picture on the altar. As I looked to see which pictures he

was pointing at, I saw before me a larger version of the same picture of you

which I had pasted on my locker door at high school. I was shocked and

realized that Krsna had brought me to you and that I had to surrender myself

to you as your disciple - I had no other alternative. I knew that it was not

by chance that I was standing before your picture at that time. I also

understood that my decision to surrender myself to you was the most

important undertaking of my entire life. I was scared. I was only eighteen

years old, but my life was no longer mine to live. I would have to abandon

all my personal plans and become your menial servant. I was incapable of

making any other choice. Many years have passed since then, yet my prayer is

still the same: Let me always remain engaged in your service in the

association of your dear devotees. All glories to you, Srila Prabhupada, my

eternal spiritual father. All glories to the wonderful society of devotees -

The International Society for Krsna Consciousness - established by you for

our deliverance.

 

Your humble servant,

 

R.K. Bhaktivaidurya Madhava Maharaja