HIDDEN HISTORY OF KUSAKRATHA PART - II

[Guest guest]

During the time leading up to and after the week long initiation of July

21st at the Brooklyn Temple, Bhakta Peter along with almost everyone else

would go out on Harinam Sankirtan during the day. It was a decidedly

colorful group and a big group it was -seventy to eighty plus brahmacaris

and increasing daily!! Once, a congregational member named Zubin, who was in

in the tie-dye business had donated a bunch of tie-dye kurtas. Who could

forget brahmacaris adorned in tie-dye kurtas? Almost everyone had tired of

the novelty, but it seemed that Kusa had worn his longer than most of us.

This combined with his unique and haphazard dhoti style along with two

different socks was an unforgettable sight. Of course, if you weren't

careful to lift your dhoti while ascending or descending the filthy subway

steps you were to sure to pick up an ever-widening decorative grayish-black

border.

 

Before the big initiation Kusa was thinking that the four regulative

principles should be embraced by the devotees more enthusiastically. Just

after Srila Prabhupada gave Kusakratha his name, Prabhupada asked him to

state the regulative principles which he did. Then immediately he asked him

which one he like the best and Kusakratha kind of lost it -half gasping

-laughing he replied, "Srila Prabhupada, you are reading my mind."

Srila Prabhupada was also laughing, and this pastime was caught in a classic

photo appearing in an early Vyasa Puja book.(1972?)

 

I was told that when Kusakratha first saw Srila Prabhupada in Buffalo, he

was rolling on the ground back and forth in front of him. Although it

appeared very weird to the devotees at the time, in retrospect this is

actually a natural way to approach a pure devotee. Balavanta related that

when they began the Atlanta temple, Kusakratha was one of the original

founders and although very eccentric performed nice service.

 

Giriraja Swami remembers when there were hardly any devotees in Boston,

Bhakta Peter used to sit in the hallway at the entrance to the building with

his back to the wall and legs outstretched, absorbed in reading Prabhupada's

books. When sleep overcame him he would simply lie down in the same spot and

take rest. The first thing a guest would see was Peter, slouched in the

hallway reading or sleeping. Satsarupa Maharaja wrote to Prabhupada asking

what to do. Prabhupada wrote back, "What's the matter? Can't you tolerate?"

Twenty years later when Giriraja visited New Dwarka and saw Peter he asked

curiously, "Who's that?" A devotee told him, "Oh, that's Kusakratha." Kusa

was now famous for translating so many scriptures. Although Maharaj saw so

little potential, Prabhupada saw much more.

 

At the Brooklyn temple I would sometimes plead with Kusa to sketch or do

something in art. He would just say that he had no inclination, although

because of my persistence he did show me a sketch he had drawn that seemed

to me half-heartedly done. It seemed to be his way of discouraging me from

bugging him anymore.

 

Kusa never liked cold weather so he left Brooklyn for warmer climates. I saw

him briefly in the famous 1972 festival in New Vrindavan, and he told me

again how he couldn't tolerate cold weather. I don't remember seeing him

again until 1975 when I returned from India and he was residing in San

Diego. Jayatirtha was GBC in those days and he became a great admirer of

Kusa for his expertise in sastra. J.T. organized several retreats with Kusa

and the zonal leaders to enthuse others to scrutinize Srila Prabhupada's

books. After that J.T. wanted Kusa to give special evening seminars to all

the devotees in New Dwarka. On the first night the temple was filled with

expectant devotees. Several boards exhibited Kusa's summary descriptions of

Bhagavad Gita chapters. Devotees perused these summaries awaiting Kusa's

appearance. I began to sense that something could be going wrong, so I ran

outside to find Kusa. There he was, near the alley, in the rain. I said,

"Everyone is waiting for you." He just blurted out, "Tell them to move."

Then I saw some women congregating at the entrance so I asked them to move.

Kusa didn't appreciate microphones or any loud noises so he spoke without

any amplification. He gave some homework tests for everyone to bring the

next evening. The next evening Jadurani handed me all the ladies' papers. I

said, "Here are the women's papers." He said, "I don't want them," so I

returned the papers to Jadurani. Rameswara was denouncing the classes as

overemphasizing jnana-knowledge, but it had the good effect of encouraging

people to put their heads to the books.

 

The time of the 1976 Gaura Purnima festival was drawing near, and J.T.

decided to sponsor Kusa's plane ticket. I asked Kusa later if he had ever

bathed in the Ganga and he said that he had put his toe in. In those days he

used to wear several hooded sweatshirts even on the hottest day in Mayapur.

 

Sometime after the 1976 festival I was in front of the L.A. temple and I saw

Kusa walking toward me from Venice Boulevard. First thing he said was that

he was worried that he may have been banned from the L.A. temple, and in

fact- all of the temples. He recounted that while in India TKG had asked him

to visit the Radha Damodar buses upon his return to the U.S. just to enthuse

the brahmacaris in studying. He seemed to be doing okay until he was

pressured on one bus to clean and perform other chores while the men were

out distributing. One over-zealous swami decided to kick him off the bus and

made sure he was unwelcome at the local Chicago temple as well. Kusa had

hitchhiked from there back to L.A. and here he was. I assured him that there

was no chance of anyone heeding that swamis orders here in New Dwarka.

Allaying his anxieties, I took his arm and proceeded across the street to

the BBT Sanskrit department, and left him there with Gopipranadhana and

others. Day by day, he advanced his grasp of Sanskrit and was soon

translating simple texts. He was so enthusiastic in the beginning that he

would come up to my studio and attempted to teach me Sanskrit grammar while

I was painting. He was incredulous that I was unable to develop the same

taste for Sanskrit that he now had. I did learn a bit, but in the end I

remained a sudra, simply memorizing a few verses.

 

While in Europe in "78 I started to see some of his manuscripts, but it

wasn't until 1984 that I had any real association again with him. At that

time there were a few small books that he began to publish, but he had big

plans. I was surprised that he had recently purchased a ticket to India at

an exorbitant rate in order to procure as many original Sanskrit and Bengali

works as possible for translation. He was now translating at a feverish pace

and had run out of books. Myself and a couple of others strongly insisted

that he return his ticket and get one that was reasonably priced, but he

refused again and again-not wanting to deal with the situation. After some

days, in touch with Dasaratha-suta he was able to borrow quite a few books

to continue with his translation work, so he now decided not to go to India.

I accompanied him to the travel office, a few blocks away, to get a refund

for the ticket. When we walked in the door he blurted out immediately, "I

want my money back!" When they asked him why, he wouldn't speak to them so I

explained that he would be going later in the year with me. Although he lost

seventy or eighty dollars the ticket was refunded. Some days later I noticed

that Kusa wasn't at mangla arati. He used to stand at the far right side his

ears plugged with toilet paper that would stream down the side of his face.

Later that day I saw him and asked suspiciously, "Where were you today?"

Sure enough, he had flown all the way to San Francisco on a separate ticket

to get his visa which he was unable to get. I reminded him that there was no

need for a visa since he wasn't going to India. He shrugged his shoulders

and said, "Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot."

 

When Kusa translated he would try to work under as strong a light as

possible-practically always natural light. Often he would go to the roof of

the temple and sit in the strong sunlight.

 

Although his father was a simple upholsterer he had received an investment

tip and made some money. He had left Kusa a certain amount. I recall he was

supposed to receive $20,000 at intervals. When he received the first twenty

thousand he was able to launch his Krishna Institute publications and also

pay his rent for some time. After his father's demise his family members had

somehow arranged to prevent him from getting the rest, so he was totally

dependent on the sales of his books which he printed in lots of one hundred,

increasing the cost considerably. Whenever I saw him he would give me the

latest books and sometimes send them to me. He said that I should have an

archive. I used to stay with him at his place when I was in L.A. for

Rathayatra, etc. although it was famously funky. The windows were tightly

shut and although kirtan from across the street was barely audible, he

claimed it was "deafening" and whenever I tried to open a window he

admonished me saying he couldn't handle the "Arctic breezes". In 1985 I had

done a painting of Lord Chaitanya instructing Rupa Goswami which I gave him

to hang on his wall. He told me that for the next fifteen years or so he

took inspiration from that painting. I picked it up when he left for India.

It was quite dusty.

 

Kusa was really bummed out when some traveling salesmen began to pirate his

work. It was difficult for him to maintain his service and simple lifestyle.

For a few years I had helped arrange a regular stipend from an ex-member of

the Sanskrit department who had become quite wealthy and was happy to see

the new books being produced. Kusa was pretty stubborn as far as discounts

go. Once for more than an hour in his room Mahamantra brahmacari was begging

for a discount on buying a bunch of books, but Kusa was humorously

unmovable.

 

At various times Kusa taught gurukula students in L.A. and later in

Vrindaban, sometimes making funny cartoons on the chalkboard as part of his

lesson. Sometimes he wrote spoofs of the perceived foibles of the devotees.

He particularly poked fun at T.V.

watching, sporting events such as ping-pong, and social events. He used to

laugh heartily at these things. He invented original funny expressions

spontaneously such as "dizzydasis". He found it amusing that people were

attending college to learn Sanskrit and in the end were translating

Mahabharata, when there were so much Goswami literatures that needed

translating.

 

I saw Kusa in 2000 in Vrindavan when he told me that still, after several

years, he continued to translate Jiva Goswami's monumental Gopal Champu

which he said was the most difficult task he had ever undertaken. At the

same time he was composing his own poems in Sanskrit and English. These

works are as yet unpublished. He was handwriting everything over the last

few years as his computer had failed and he was unable to get it going

again. I saw him in April and he was serenely detached coming out to chant

for a while every day, take darshan, and get prasadam.

 

 

I'm hoping that other friends of Kusa will share some other memories as

Visoka has so nicely done.

 

 

ys

puskar das