Volume 6, Chapter 2

[Guest guest]

Diary of a Traveling Preacher

 

Volume 6, Chapter 2

 

December 25, 2004 - January 11, 2005

 

 

"Tsunami!"

 

 

Like most people, in the early hours of December 26, 2004, I had no idea

what the word tsunami meant. Had I been a tourist on the beach at Phuket,

Thailand, sunbathing on that ill-fated day the "harbor wave" (the Japanese

translation for tsunami) hit, I probably would not have taken heed when a

vacationing scientist, seeing the sea mysteriously recede several hundred

meters, screamed out a warning to others, "Tsunami!" Tsunami!" and ran for

his life. He survived, but most on the beach didn't.

 

The death toll the deadly wave caused in 12 countries around the Indian

Ocean may never be known, but it is estimated that more than 200,000 people

lost their lives, with many thousands missing. 500,000 were injured and

millions left homeless.

 

I had just arrived in Australia to participate in the Sydney temple's

Christmas marathon festival. The day after Christmas we were returning from

a joyous harinam on Sydney's packed streets when I saw the word tsunami in

the headlines in the evening newspapers. "Huge waves devastate populated

areas in the Indian Ocean!" screamed one.

 

Within hours the world was educated in the deadly phenomenon of a tsunami.

The event was caused by a powerful underwater earthquake near Indonesia. The

energy released by the quake was equivalent to 40,000 "little boys" - the

atom bomb detonated over Hiroshima. It was equal to a billion bolts of

lightning. The explosion was so strong that studies show the earth might

have wobbled on its axis by as much as an inch and the length of the day

altered by microseconds. So forceful as the earthquake that islands

southwest of Sumatra (closest to the epicenter) moved by more than 20m.

 

The quake created 10m waves that fanned out and moved at speeds of

up to 750kph across the ocean, eventually slamming into populated areas.

 

The rest is history, as the media was soon saturated with news of the

destruction the waves caused.

 

Like millions around the world, I sat in disbelief as I read the news

reports. Within hours rescue work began in all the countries affected,

including Indonesia, Thailand, India and Sri Lanka. An unprecedented

out-pouring of sympathy from people around the world would eventually raise

over 5 billion dollars for relief work.

 

A devotee of the Lord is not callous to such catastrophes. He doesn't

simply pass them off as global karma. By his very nature a devotee is

sensitive to the suffering of others. Although Arjuna's concern for his

family members and their suffering is often analysed as a weakness, it has

also been described as characteristic of a pure devotee:

 

"Any man who has genuine devotion to the Lord has all the good qualities ...

as such, Arjuna, just after seeing his kinsmen, friends and relatives on the

battlefield, was at once overwhelmed by compassion for them who had so

decided to fight amongst themselves ... he was a crying out of compassion.

Such symptoms in Arjuna were not due to weakness but to his softheartedness,

a characteristic of a pure devotee of the Lord."

 

[bhagavad-gita 1.28, purport]

 

The more the media revealed the suffering caused by the disaster,

the more I began thinking of helping in the relief work. Although I am

usually busy with various responsibilities, ironically, at that moment I

had the time. Just after the new year, I was planning to go to

Durban, South Africa, for a month-long break.

 

But the past 12 months had been particularly intense, and I sorely

needed time to recuperate my health. I also hankered for time to read and

chant. I had planned to do so in Vrindavan during the month of Kartika,

but had sacrificed the time to take my disciples on parikramas. After

giving the matter much thought, I concluded that because of my physical

exhaustion and need to spiritually replenish myself, I would go to

Durban as planned.

 

On January 2, I arrived at Sydney airport to catch a flight to Mumbai, and

on to Durban. While passing through the airport, I was bombarded with

media coverage of the tragedy. Newspapers and magazines still carried

front-page reports on the devastation. Televisions in lounges aired

heart-breaking scenes of destruction and appeals for help.

 

I stopped briefly outside one cafe and joined a group of people watching a

television newscaster describe how some remote areas and islands near

Indonesia still had not been reached by relief workers two weeks after the

tragedy. He said that entire indigenous tribes living in India's Andaman and

Nicobar islands may have perished. Smiling slightly, he described how a hail

of arrows, fired from the forest of one tiny island at an Indian coastguard

helicopter hovering above, suggested there were at least some survivors. But

as I looked around at the crowd watching the report, not one person smiled.

They found nothing humorous in the tragedy.

 

By the time I checked in for the flight, I was again in duality. "People are

suffering in vast numbers," I thought to myself. "The whole world seems to

be reaching out to help them by offering welfare in one way or another.

Surely devotees should be there as well, offering spiritual welfare in the

form of prasadam and the holy names. I have time to help. Perhaps I actually

should go."

 

After checking in, I proceeded towards a security checkpoint near to my

departure gate. As I put my bags on the conveyor belt to be x-rayed, a

security official on the other side smiled at me. After I passed

through a body check, he called me over and asked me to open one of my

bags. As I stood there he said, "It a wonderful thing you're doing."

 

A little surprised, I replied, "Excuse me?"

 

"Going over there to help those people," he said. "I know Hare

Krsnas give out a lot of food here in Australia. But now it's really

needed in those places hit by the tsunami."

 

"But I'm not actually .... " I started to say.

 

"If I could go, I would," he cut in, "but really it's the work of people

like you. It's your business to help others."

 

I stood there speechless.

 

"God will bless you," he said, patting me on the back.

 

I turned and walked towards my departure gate.

 

As the flight took off I looked out of the window. The security man's words

echoed in my mind. "It's your business to help others."

 

"But it's my break," I said to myself. "I need rest," and my thoughts

drifted off to Durban and the warm summer weather, the pool where I'd be

doing my laps every day, the extra rounds I'd be chanting and the books

I'd be studying.

 

"I'm doing the right thing," I thought. "After all, Krsna

says in Bhagavad-gita that a yogi is balanced in his work and recreation.

 

yuktahara viharasya

yukta cestasya karmasu

yukta svapnavabodhasya

yogo bhavati dukha ha

 

"He who is regulated in his habits of eating, sleeping, recreation and work

can mitigate all material pains by practicing the yoga system."

 

[bhagavad-gita 6.17]

 

Only such a balanced program of study and preaching qualifies one to

attain Vaikuntha, the spiritual world. If I was serious about achieving

the perfection of life, I'd have to strike the balance.

 

Exhausted from the long festival in Sydney, I soon drifted off to sleep. It

must have been an hour later that I heard someone address me.

 

"I'm sorry," said the steward. "Did I wake you?"

 

"No," I replied. "It's OK. I was just napping."

 

He sat down in the empty seat next to me.

 

"It's people like you who will make a difference in the lives of those who

are suffering from that horrible disaster," he said.

 

My eyebrows went up as I looked at him in surprise.

 

"When I was younger I often went to your Crossroads center in Melbourne to

eat," he said. "I was pretty down and out at the time. If it wasn't for

your food, I don't know what would have happened to me. You must be going

over to India to feed the victims of the tsunami. Or are you going to Sri

Lanka?"

 

I hesitated to say anything. Taking my silence as an expression of

humility, he put his hand on my shoulder.

 

"Thank you" he said. And then he got up and walked away.

 

The person across the aisle overheard his remarks and nodded his

head at me, appreciating my supposed mission of mercy. Responding, I

slighted bowed my own head - in reality hiding my guilt at receiving such

undeserving praise.

 

I turned and looked out of the window again. It was getting dark. "Is all

this just a coincidence, or is Krsna trying to tell me something?" I

thought to myself. Then while looking at my reflection in the glass, I said

softly to myself: "Putting the mystical aside, the writing is clearly

on the wall. You're off to one of the areas devastated by the tsunami."

 

I took the in-flight magazine out of the seat pouch in front of me and

scanned the world map at the back. Chennai, one of the areas hit by the

wave, was closest to Mumbai, where I would be spending one day before

heading to Durban. Upon landing in Mumbai, I sent an email to Bhanu Swami

asking if he needed help with relief work. He wrote back quickly:

 

"For the moment we are doing prasadam distribution in Chennai where not so

many lives were lost. Sri Lanka is bad and Sumatra is even worse."

 

Sri Lanka was obviously closer, so I called the temple in Colombo and spoke

with the temple president, Mahakarta prabhu.

 

"We're not equipped to do any significant relief work at the moment," he

said, "but we hope to build it up."

 

My last chance was Indonesia. But by evening I had learned that Gaura

Mandala Bhumi, the devotee in charge of ISKCON there, had sent out a

communication that for the moment there was not much he and the other

devotees could do, as the affected area was 2,000km away and

difficult to access.

 

With no relief work in sight, the next day I boarded my flight to South

Africa.

 

Arriving in Durban early in the morning, I quickly settled into my quarters

at the temple. Placing all my books neatly on a shelf near my desk, I

thought, "I'll start with Caitanya-caritamrta and after a few days I'll

begin the second volume of Brhat Bhagavatamrta." While arranging my CDs in a

drawer in the desk, I thought, "And I'll listen to three lectures of Srila

Prabhupada each day, and several of my godbrothers as well!"

 

At noon I gave instructions to the cooks: "I'd like simple healthy

prasadam while I'm here. Lots of salads."

 

And to my assistant, Anesh, I said, "Register me with the local gym. I'll

swim in the pool for two hours every day."

 

By the evening I had made a schedule for myself, beginning with rising at

2am and going to bed by 8pm. "After six weeks I'll be as fit as a fiddle," I

joked with Anesh.

 

"And well read, too," he replied with a smile.

 

It was getting late and as I prepared to take rest, I said to Anesh, "Please

download my mail before I go to sleep."

 

As I dozed off I heard Anesh say, "You have four emails, Srila Gurudeva."

 

"Who are they from?" I said half asleep.

 

"Well, the first one's from Mahakarta das in Sri Lanka," he said.

 

My eyes popped open and I jumped out of bed.

 

"I have been thinking about you since you spoke to me when I was at

Trincomalee," Mahakarta began. "We are doing prasadam distribution

successfully there as we have some local support to help us.

 

"But during the past two days there have been many offers of help from

devotees around the world who are willing to donate money and even volunteer

for our relief work. Please, I am begging you to come and help us

coordinate everything."

 

I sat for several moments in the chair, thinking to myself.

 

"Gurudeva," said Anesh. "It's getting late. You should to go to bed."

 

"Maybe Krsna actually is trying to tell me something," I said softly to

myself.

 

"What's that?" said Anesh.

 

I looked up. "Book me a ticket to Sri Lanka as soon as you can," I said.

 

He was dumbfounded. "Gurudeva! Book you to where? Sri Lanka? You just

got here!" he said.

 

Throughout the next few days, I solicited donations from local devotees for

the work ahead. They gave generously, like people around the world were

doing.

 

As the devotees drove me to the airport for my flight on January 11, my

heart beat in expectation of the mission ahead. An historic opportunity

was at hand. Much of the world was aiding the suffering of the people

affected by the tsunami. Billions of dollars of aid was pouring into

the area. All the main humanitarian organizations were mobilizing and tons

of food, medicine and clothing were on their way. ISKCON could hardly

match such resources. But we had our part to play. As humble as our

effort would be - a little prasad and some kirtan of the holy names - these

things are of a spiritual nature, capable of delivering one beyond the world

of birth and death.

 

As I boarded the flight to Colombo I knew I had taken the right decision. A

devotee is duty bound to put others' interests before his own.

 

But what about my striking the balance of sadhana and preaching in order

to go back to the spiritual world?

 

If the words of the steward on the airplane proved true, I had nothing

to worry about.

 

"It's your business to help others," he'd said. "God will bless you."

 

"The self-effulgent Vaikuntha planets, by whose illumination alone all the

illuminating planets within this material world give off reflected light,

cannot be reached by those who are not merciful to other living entities.

Only persons who constantly engage in welfare activities for other living

entities can reach the Vaikuntha planets."

 

[srimad-Bhagavatam 4.12.36]

 

indradyumna.swami (AT) pamho (DOT) net

 

www.traveling-preacher.com

Official website for Diary of a Traveling Preacher