Diary of a Traveling Preacher By HH Indradyumna Swami Maharaj-vol6

[Guest guest]

Dear Devotees

PAMHO,AGTSGM,AGTSP

This diary of maharaj is an eye

opener as how Lord krishna protects his devotees and

also the importance of sharing his nectarian names

with others

yr hs

radhabhava gaur das

 

Volume 6, Chapter 11

 

By Indradyumna Swami

 

June 2-4, 2005

 

 

"The Debate"

 

 

Throughout my Russian preaching tour, I had been

corresponding by email

with

Sri Prahlada das about managing my time better. My

schedule has been so

intense the last six months that I have found little

time to study, an

essential practice for one who lectures two or three

times a day. As I

grow

older, I also find myself hankering to spend more time

chanting japa as

well

as worshiping my beloved Deities each morning.

 

I was falling behind in my email correspondence as

well. There are

often

hundreds of emails waiting to be answered. Many of

them are letters

from

disciples who need urgent attention.

 

One of my last destinations on the tour was Rostov, in

southwestern

Russia,

and soon after arriving there, I went online and

discussed the issue

again

with Sri Prahlada. We came to the conclusion that I

would have to

sacrifice

something in my busy schedule. Because a devotee's

spiritual practices

are

his first priority, he may need to realign that

commitment from time to

time, as he accepts other responsibilities. In order

to perform my

diverse

duties I would have to be fixed in the most essential

one, my sadhana.

 

"When a person is steady in the duties for which he is

qualified, he

easily

becomes qualified for the next level of duties."

 

[srila Bhaktivinode Thakur, Jaiva Dharma]

 

I wrote to Sri Prahlad that I certainly couldn't

compromise on my

preaching,

which was my first and foremost duty to my spiritual

master. Neither

could I

further reduce basic activities like sleeping, which I

had long ago

minimized because of the very nature of my preaching,

namely late

programs

and festivals.

 

I suggested to Sri Prahlada that I cut back on my

writing, beginning

with my

diary. Each chapter takes an average of 8 to 10 hours

to write, over

several

days, and often, the only time I have for writing is

after midnight. In

place of the diary I proposed writing a summary of my

activities to my

disciples twice a year.

 

Sri Prahlada's reply came immediately. "Srila

Gurudeva," he wrote, "you

can't do that. Many people, both devotees and

nondevotees, read your

diary."

 

"Something has to go," I replied.

 

Sri Prahlada's last message of the day came. "Think it

over a hundred

times

before you decide to stop," he wrote.

 

As I drifted off to sleep that night the question ran

through my mind

again

and again. "I won't think about it anymore tonight," I

said to myself.

"I'll

think about it tomorrow, but it seems the only

answer."

 

The next day, after the morning program, Uttama-sloka

das came to my

room.

"A local TV station has just called the temple," he

said. "They want to

know

if you would like to be a special guest on a talk show

tonight. The

host is

a famous TV personality."

 

"Is it an important show?" I asked.

 

Uttama-sloka smiled. "It's very popular," he said.

"Four million people

watch it twice a week."

 

"Okay," I said. "We can go."

 

That afternoon, as I was getting ready to go to the

program, a woman

devotee

came up to me. "Maharaja," she said, "did they tell

you that the host

of

that talk show often challenges his guests, making

them feel awkward

with

difficult questions?"

 

"Really?" I said. "No one mentioned it to me. I'm sure

if Uttama-sloka

had

known, he would have said something."

 

"That's one reason the show is so popular," she said.

"He's very good

at it.

He's quick and sharp. Famous people often turn down

his invitations to

the

show."

 

I started feeling a little nervous. "Uh...Is that so?"

I said.

 

I thought for a moment. "I'm not an expert debater

like Jayadvaita

Maharaja

or Umapati Swami," I said, trying to smile. "But I can

hold my own."

 

"Be careful, Maharaja," she said. "He's made fun of a

lot of guests."

 

On the way to the television studio I quietly chanted

japa and thought

of

Krsna's pastimes in order to make my mind peaceful.

Going into a

confrontation in a relaxed mode is a technique I

learned from my mother

when

I was young. I was athletic, and before swimming

meets, when most of my

teammates were busy with last-minute warm-up

exercises, I was off to

the

side, relaxing and reading a book to take my mind off

the competition.

 

At the last moment I'd step up to the starting block

and fix my mind on

the

contest. If I worried too much about whether I'd win

or lose, I'd

expend too

much energy. It may have been an unconventional

approach, but it worked

and

I won most of my swimming races in high school. As a

result, I was

captain

of the swim team for four years in a row.

 

As we drove into the parking lot of the television

station, I put my

japa

beads aside and pulled out my copy of Prema Bhakti

Candrika, by Srila

Narottam das Thakur. I turned to the following verse:

 

"By the indication of the sakhis, I will offer camara

and betelnuts in

the

lotus mouths of Radha and Krishna. The sakhis, with

Radha and Krishna

in

their midst, are totally aware of the different

services to be rendered

at

appropriate times."

 

[Prema Bhakti Candrika, Text 54]

 

"That's a beautiful prayer," I thought, looking out

the window. "That

is

Narottam das Thakur's eternal seva in the spiritual

world. As Manjulali

Manjari he prepares betelnuts to offer to Radha and

Krsna, and

sometimes he

fans Them too."

 

"Srila Gurudeva! Srila Gurudeva!" said Uttama-sloka.

"What are you

doing? We

have to go now! We're late!"

 

I awoke from my daydream and jumped out of the car. We

walked quickly

to the

building and up four flights of stairs. When we

entered the studio, the

television crew quickly whisked me to the set and

turned on bright

lights.

Uttama-sloka sat near me as my translator.

 

I hardly had time to study the scene around me. I did

notice with

curiosity,

however, that several meters away from me were some

musical instruments

including a guitar, a set of drums, and a harmonium. I

was going to ask

if

the harmonium was ours, when the program's host

suddenly walked onto

the

set.

 

Either he was too busy or he was ignoring me, but he

didn't acknowledge

my

presence until several minutes later, when his

secretary came forward

to

introduce us. As I stood there, I had a strange

feeling that we were

like

two boxers coming out from our corners of the ring to

shake hands

before a

fight. Our brief exchange was cut short by a

technician calling for a

sound

check, and I had no time to study my host.

 

I sat down again. My heart started pounding in

anticipation, so I

pulled out

my book and started to read:

 

"I will constantly desire to serve the lotus feet of

Radha and Krishna

with

loving attachment. Whatever I contemplate during the

practice of

devotional

service, will certainly be achieved upon perfection in

a spiritual

body.

This is the method on the path of attachment.

 

[Prema Bhakti Candrika, Text 55]

 

"Gurudeva!" Uttamasloka called out. "The show starts

in 30 seconds!"

 

I put my book away and focused my attention on the

host.

 

"Look 'em in the eye," my father used to say, "and

most of those

schoolyard

bullies will back down."

 

I looked my host in the eye, but he stared right back.

I couldn't

remember

what my father had said to do next, so I just smiled.

 

The television crew manager said something in Russian.

I thought it

must

have been, "Lights! Camera! Action!"

 

I took a deep breath and prayed to Srila Narottam das

Thakur: "You were

a

rasika bhakta but a fearless preacher as well. I'm too

young a devotee

to

understand the deeper mellows of bhakti, but I want to

be fearless like

you.

Please bless me."

 

"Good evening," our host said confidently as he looked

straight into

the

camera and his unseen audience of millions. "Tonight

we have with us a

leader in the Hare Krsna Movement: Indradyumna Swami,

from America."

 

I had forgotten my hearing aids, and I struggled to

hear Uttamasloka's

translation of the host's words into English.

 

The host turned to me and smiled. "Welcome Swami," he

said.

 

Generally I can understand people by their facial

expressions and body

language. It's a sense one develops after years of

preaching, but with

the

bright lights, I could barely make out the host's

smile.

 

"Was it a warm smile?" I thought. "Truly welcoming me

to the show? Or

was it

a sly smile, like the one a hunter makes just before

he kills his

prey?" I

strained to see him clearly, but the lights were too

bright.

 

"Thank you so much," I said. "I'm truly honored to be

on your show."

 

As Uttama-sloka translated my words, I suddenly

realized that I had a

slight

edge over my host because of the translation. Each

question or

challenge and

each reply would have to be translated, so I would

have a moment to

reflect

on each exchange.

 

"I'll use that to my advantage," I thought, and I

started to develop a

battle plan.

 

"I won't acknowledge the word 'sect' if he uses it to

defame me or

Krsna

consciousness," I thought. "I'll always reply, 'This

religion is this

or

that.'"

 

It was only a 20-minute show, so I braced myself for

an early attack.

 

The host turned to me. "Swami," he said, "can you tell

us why you

joined a

spiritual movement from the East?"

 

"And here we go," I thought. "He's setting me up. He's

getting ready to

denounce Krsna consciousness because it's not

Christian."

 

"Religion is neither Eastern nor Western," I replied.

"It's

transcendental.

It comes from God, from the spiritual world. At

different periods in

the

history of man, God has sent His representatives to

teach human society

as

much spiritual knowledge as the people of the time

could understand.

Therefore, although there may be some superficial

differences, the

essence

of all religions is the same: to love God."

 

"A very articulate answer, Swami," the host said.

 

"He's not fooling me," I thought. "He's flattering me

to get my guard

down,

but it won't work."

 

I breathed slowly, focusing my mind ever more

carefully for the battle

ahead.

 

"I see from your resume that you were you were a

teenager in the 1960s

in

America. Were you ever a hippie?"

 

"So that's it," I thought. "He'll try to link Krsna

consciousness with

the

hippie movement. Well go right ahead, buddy. I've

heard it all before."

 

I decided to deflect the challenge with a smile. "I

was what you might

call

a weekend hippie," I said. "I engaged in some vices,

but I came from a

good

family and I respected my parents. With their

encouragement, I was

serious

about school."

 

He paused for a moment.

 

"Yeah," I thought, "I got him on that one. Come on,

smart guy. Let's

see

your stuff. I'm not scared."

 

I looked at the clock on the wall. "There's still 14

minutes left," I

thought. "He's gonna go for the jugular vein, and

pretty quick too."

 

He laughed. "Okay," he said, "a weekend hippie. But

why do you think so

many

hippies joined the Hare Krishna movement?"

 

"Because they were frustrated with material life," I

said keeping my

cool.

"For all their decadence, my spiritual master said the

hippies had one

good

quality: they had a spirit of renunciation. Some of

them eventually saw

the

futility of material life and realized that Krsna

consciousness was a

positive alternative."

 

"Can you explain to us exactly what you mean by

positive alternative?"

he

said.

 

"What kind of question is that?" I thought. "It's not

a trick question,

and

neither is it a challenge. So what's he up to?"

 

I momentarily lamented that I hadn't had the time to

watch any of the

host's

previous shows to see how and when he attacked his

guests.

 

"He's trying to soften me up by more flattery," I

thought. "Anyway, for

now,

let me take advantage of this and preach to the four

million people

watching

the show."

 

"There is no such thing as perfect happiness in this

world," I said,

"neither for the hippie nor for the gentleman.

Everyone is subjected to

the

four miseries of material existence: birth, disease,

old age, and

death."

 

I looked straight into the camera and paused for a

moment. "Just

preach," I

thought. "Certainly there must be sincere souls out

there hankering for

this

knowledge."

 

"Maybe one cannot find water in the desert," I said,

"But that doesn't

mean

there are not oceans of water somewhere else.

Similarly, the fact that

we

can't find happiness in this world doesn't mean there

is not a world

where

unlimited happiness really exists. This Hare Krsna

movement teaches us

the

process of returning to that spiritual world.

Therefore, it is the

positive

alternative."

 

I began speaking more forcefully. "It's the only

alternative," I said.

"Science and technology can make life a little more

comfortable, but

they

can't stop birth, disease, old age, and death. That

only happens when

we

return to the spiritual world."

 

"Okay," I thought, "you got away with saying a lot

that time. But don't

push

your luck. Let's wait for his next question...or first

challenge."

 

"Well said, Swami," he said.

 

"Thank you" I said. I wondered whether my voice did

not have a tinge of

suspicion in it.

 

"And just exactly what is the process for returning to

the spiritual

world?"

he said.

 

"What's going on here?" I thought. "How long is he

going to play cat

and

mouse with me?"

 

"Chanting the names of God," I replied. "In India

people call God

Krsna."

 

I looked at the clock on the wall. Three minutes left.

 

"Is he going to throw the bomb at the end?" I thought.

"Is that his

technique? Why didn't the devotees prime me?"

 

"Well then," he said, "can you sing Hare Krsna for

us?"

 

I'm sure the audience must have seen my surprised

look.

 

"If you were a weekend hippie," he said, "you must

have learned to play

the

guitar, right?"

 

"It won't work, Mister," I thought. "If this is how

you think you're

going

to embarrass me, you've got another think coming."

 

I reached over and picked up the 12-string acoustic

guitar. I quickly

tuned

it and started strumming chords and singing along. The

guitar had a

beautiful sound, like the one I had owned as boy. I

closed my eyes and

chanted Hare Krsna, every once in a while doing a

little riff of notes

on

the strings.

 

"Excellent Swami," came the voice of my host behind

the bright lights.

"Now

could you sing on the little Indian organ, just over

there?"

 

"Am I dreaming or what?" I thought, trying not to show

my confusion on

camera. "What's gotten into him?"

 

I picked up the harmonium, placed in on the small

table in front of me,

and

began singing Hare Krsna again. I'm not sure how long

I went on, but

when I

finally opened my eyes and looked at the clock, I saw

the show had gone

overtime.

 

"One more quick question, before we finish" said my

invisible host.

"Something I've always wondered about. Why do bad

things happen to good

people?"

 

"Just stay cool," I thought. "Don't try to figure out

what's happening.

Just

speak. Remember, four million people are listening."

 

I sat up a little straighter and leaned towards the

camera for

emphasis. "To

understand the answer to that question," I said, "you

have to learn

about

karma and reincarnation. Karma is a subtle law of

nature that dictates

that

we are responsible for our actions. Put simply, if you

do good, then

good

will come back to you. If you do bad, then bad will

come back to you."

 

"Just like a boomerang," I continued. "The aborigine

throws it with

great

force, and it comes back to him. Similarly, if one

performs impious or

sinful deeds in this life, then he will be obliged to

suffer the

reaction

later, possibly in his next life."

 

I looked at the clock. Thirty-five minutes had passed.

I wasn't going

to ask

what was happening. I had to bring my explanation to a

conclusion.

 

"Death means the demise of the body," I continued.

 

Now Uttama-sloka's translation seemed to be working

against me. The

whole

process was taking so long.

 

"We are not the bodies," I said. "We are the soul

within the body.

Until the

soul becomes self-realized, a lover of God, he has to

continue taking

birth

in this material world. And because our past lives are

generally a

mixture

of good and bad deeds, we sometimes see a good person

receiving the

results

of his bad deeds, from a former life."

 

The host turned toward me. "Swami," he said, "we have

to thank you for

taking your valuable time to be with us this evening,

as well as for

your

enlightening words and your beautiful singing as

well."

 

He turned towards the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen,"

he said, "from me

to

you, that's all for tonight. Thank you."

 

I just sat there dumbfounded.

 

As the lights dimmed and the host sat for a few

moments talking with

the

television crew, I saw him clearly for the first time.

He was handsome

and

well dressed, and he had an air of confidence. When

the crew left, he

stood

up and walked toward me with a smile on his face.

 

Several devotees, who had accompanied me, ran up just

as he reached me,

and

a woman devotee began speaking to him. "Thank you very

much for being

so

respectful to my spiritual master," she said. "I've

seen what happens

on

most of your shows."

 

The host turned towards me and extended his hand. "I

have to be

respectful,"

he said. "You see, I read his diary on the Internet."

 

I was speechless. I just stood shaking his hand

firmly, acknowledging

his

graciousness. After a few moments, the television crew

called him over.

He

bowed his head respectfully to me, then turned and

left.

 

With that we departed. The whole way back to the

apartment I didn't say

a

word. I was spellbound from the whole experience.

 

That night I tried to write to Sri Prahlada on email

and explain what

had

happened. After several tries, I gave up. I was too

tired. I simply

sent the

following message:

 

"I've decided to continue writing my diary on a

regular basis. I'll

tell you

more when we meet again. For now I can only say the

Lord works in

mysterious

ways."

 

Then I went to bed.

 

"Realization means you should write, every one of you,

what is your

realization. What for this Back to Godhead is? You

write your

realization,

what you have realized about Krsna. That is required.

It is not

passive.

Always you should be active. Whenever you find time,

you write. Never

mind,

two lines, four lines, but you write your realization.

Sravanam,

Kirtanam,

writing or offering prayers, glories. This is one of

the functions of

the

Vaisnava. You are hearing, but you have to write

also."

 

[srila Prabhupada, Brahma Samhita lecture, Los

Angeles, August 14,

1972]

 

 

 

 

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