Volume 6, Chapter 6

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Diary of a Traveling Preacher

 

Volume 6, Chapter 6

 

By Indradyumna Swami

 

April 14 - 28, 2005

 

 

"Tales of Wonder"

 

 

As our two-month tour of the American temples was coming to a close, I found

myself drawing on my body's reserve energies. Our schedule of two or three

programs a day meant I rarely went to bed before midnight. Constantly on the

move, traveling back and forth through different time zones, eating

irregularly, and sleeping in a different home every other day had become a

taxing routine and had taken its toll on me.

 

In Alachua, Florida, I fainted one morning as I left the temple. A devotee

helped me outside and sat me on the lawn. "Maharaja," he said, "you'd better

slow down. Take it easy."

 

"Actually I'm in good shape," I replied. "I had a full medical checkup in

Mumbai two months ago, and the doctors said I was fine."

 

"Then why did you faint?" he asked.

 

I did my best to smile. "It's the last leg of the trip," I said. "I'll be

okay. Don't worry."

 

As I sat on the lawn recuperating, I thought back on the past two months.

"If I had to do it over again," I said to myself, "I wouldn't change a

thing."

 

I love my life as a traveling preacher. I relish preaching in any given

place and then picking up and moving on. Even before I was a devotee I had

traveled the length and breadth of America by the time I was 14 years old.

When I accepted sannyasa at 29 and started traveling extensively, it was the

perfection of that desire. It was no longer the wanderlust of a restless

teenager, but the solemn duty of spreading the mission of the Lord.

Remaining fixed in that service has required keeping focused on the goal -

and never looking back.

 

I often remember Srila Prabhupada's words as he handed the danda to a new

sannyasi in Mayapura: "Don't look back and think you have left anything

behind, and never envy the position of the materialistic householders."

 

Forget the past that sleeps and ne'er

The future dream at all

But act in times that are with thee

And progress thee shall call.

 

[srila Bhaktivinode Thakur, Saragrahi Vaisnava, 16th stanza]

 

But the past eight weeks had been pure preaching, and there was no harm in

reflecting on the many highlights that came to mind: big temple kirtans at

morning programs, selected verses from Srimad Bhagavatam that I had enjoyed

speaking on, numerous sweet bhajans by Sri Prahlad, and the special feasts.

 

But the most precious memories of all were of the many devotees I'd met. The

nectar of their association far outweighed any austerities I'd encountered.

And I'd had plenty of association.

 

I suddenly realized that I was alone for the first time in months, sitting

there on the lawn. I laughed out loud.

 

Many devotees came to mind, big and small. I remembered a middle-aged woman

on Harinam in New Orleans who caught my attention because she seemed to be

the happiest of all the devotees there. After the Harinam, as we all walked

back to the van, she approached me.

 

"Maharaja," she said, "my name is Sarva Laskmi dasi, and I'm the happiest

woman on earth."

 

"I won't contest that," I said smiling.

 

"I'll tell you why," she said. "In the 1960s I committed a horrible crime

and was sentenced to 90 years in jail."

 

My eyebrows went up.

 

"But several years ago," she continued, "some devotees started a bhakti yoga

program in the federal penitentiary where I was incarcerated. I began

attending the programs and soon took up Krsna consciousness in earnest.

 

"I was trying hard to become a good devotee, so I also became a model

prisoner. Two years later, after my spiritual master, Bir Krsna Maharaja,

initiated me inside the prison, I was suddenly granted a full pardon and

released.

 

"No official explanation was ever given why they let me go, but I knew it

was simply Krsna's mercy. Now I try to share my good fortune with those who

are prisoners in the jailhouse of material existence by preaching Krsna

consciousness."

 

As the woman left, I could only marvel at the clemency of the prison

officials, and even more at the mercy of the Lord. And more surprises came

at the Sunday feast the next day.

 

During the program, a woman devotee asked me to bless her baby. She held the

child up and said, "He's special."

 

"Of course," I replied, thinking that all mothers think their babies are

special.

 

She smiled. "No," she said, "he really is special. He hardly moved in my

womb. In fact, I didn't know I was pregnant until the eighth month."

 

My eyebrows went up again.

 

"I had been experiencing a number of medical problems," she continued, "but

one particularly bad day I visited my doctor. Suddenly he got a surprised

look on his face. "Young lady," he said, "you're pregnant!"

 

Her husband smiled and nodded his head. "I wish the child well," I said. "I

pray this may be his last birth in the material world."

 

Then another woman approached me. "I couldn't help overhearing," she said.

"You know, "I've recently been born as well."

 

After all I'd heard in the last two days, I was ready for anything. "How's

that?" I asked.

 

"I lived in this temple 30 years ago and saw Srila Prabhupada several

times," she said. "But foolishly I left early in my devotional life.

Recently I've come back. I feel hope again. In effect, I've been reborn."

 

"Will you stay with us now?" I asked.

 

"Definitely," she replied. "I'll never leave again."

 

The trip through the United States was filled with nectar - the kirtans, the

stories of how devotees came to Krsna consciousness, the preaching, but the

Lord was saving the best for last.

 

Our last stop was the Miami temple in Coconut Grove, a beautiful property in

a well-known and well-to-do area. Trivikrama Maharaja had come from Orlando

for our visit, and when Sri Prahlad, Rukmini Priya, and I arrived, he

greeted us with a small group of devotees having kirtan.

 

I noted one devotee in particular, who seemed to be especially absorbed in

the chanting. His eyes were closed as he concentrated on the holy names, and

a blissful smile adorned his face. As the kirtan party took us into the

temple, I noticed that his fixation with chanting didn't diminish.

 

"He obviously has a strong attraction for Krsna's holy names," I thought. "I

hope I can get his association."

 

I turned to Trivikrama Maharaja. "Who is that devotee who's relishing the

kirtan so much?" I asked.

 

Maharaja smiled. "His name is Siddha-vidya dasa," he said. "He's our

Godbrother, and he's been part of the Miami temple practically from the

beginning."

 

I couldn't wait to meet him, but during my short arrival talk, I noticed him

get up and go out of the temple. I became anxious that I might not get his

association that day.

 

As soon as I finished my talk, I turned to another devotee. "Where did

Siddha-vidya go?" I asked.

 

"He's getting ready for Harinam," the devotee said.

 

I was surprised because a big program was scheduled in the temple that

evening.

 

"But the program's in just a few hours," I said.

 

The devotee laughed. "You don't know Siddha-vidya. He's been going on

Harinam sankirtan in Miami practically every single day since he joined in

1971."

 

I made a quick calculation in my mind. "Every day for 33 years?" I asked.

 

"For the most part, yes," he replied, "except when he's sick or in India or

there's a special event happening."

 

"He appears to be a humble Vaisnava," I thought, "one of those silent

soldiers in ISKCON who carries on year after year, not wanting any

recognition."

 

"Sometimes he's out there all by himself," the devotee continued. "In Miami

everyone knows him.

 

"Year's ago he was chanting outside the Super Bowl football game, and a

television crew approached him. 'Whose going to win the game?' they asked.

 

"'Krishna,' he said with a big smile. They put that on the evening news, and

he became famous."

 

I became even more anxious to get his association.

 

"He rarely misses a morning program as well," the devotee continued proudly.

 

"Makes sense," I thought. "That's were he gets his taste for the holy name."

 

"Some years ago there was a serious misunderstanding between him and the

local management," the devotee continued. "The management went so far as to

ban him from coming into the temple room. So you know what he did?"

 

"No, what?" I asked.

 

"Every single morning for two and a half years he came and watched the

mangala arati from the window. He was even there during a hurricane."

 

"When can I meet him?" I asked.

 

"On the Harinam this afternoon," the devotee said. "We're all going down to

chant at South Beach."

 

I was the first in the van.

 

South Beach is a hip area of restaurants and cafés stretching half a mile

along the seaside. It is frequented by locals and tourists alike. Though it

was a weekday when our group of 15 devotees arrived, there were plenty of

people walking on the streets and sitting in the sidewalk cafés.

 

I was hoping that Siddha-vidya would lead the kirtan, but in humility he

deferred to Sri Prahlad. Sri Prahlad began to sing and play his accordion,

and our kirtan party was an immediate hit. The area was full of Cubans and

other Latinos, and they couldn't resist dancing to the beat. People soon

began spilling out of the restaurants and dancing with us on the sidewalks.

I wasn't used to such a reaction to Harinam. In Poland people smile and

wave, but here people jumped right into the kirtan party.

 

I was absorbed in the kirtan when I noticed how Siddha-vidya was interacting

with the crowd. He showed no inhibition in welcoming people to join from the

sidelines. Many could not resist his invitation. As we moved along the

sidewalk, he waved at the groups that had gathered to watch us, and many

people waved back.

 

"Hare Krsna, Sid!" a man yelled out.

 

"Hari Bol, fellas!" said another.

 

I watched as Siddha-vidya shook hands with several passersby who obviously

knew him. When he raised his hand and slapped a high-five with a black man,

the man smiled warmly, as if an old friend.

 

Siddha-vidya moved easily through the streets. He was in his element -

giving Krsna consciousness to the people. He was a sankirtan devotee to the

core. He loved the people, and they loved him too. When we came close to

some rough-looking men sitting at a table with their girlfriends, I avoided

getting close. But Siddha Vidya approached them with a smile and gave one of

the women a maha garland from the temple Deities. The group roared with

approval. I jockeyed myself to get closer to Sid. I wanted his mercy too.

 

At one point he suddenly turned left off the sidewalk and led us directly

through the doors of a big restaurant. The restaurant had just opened, and

the waiters were still busy setting things up, but as soon as they saw

Siddha-vidya, they dropped everything and started singing, clapping, and

dancing alongside us.

 

I stood back for a moment. "Who is he?" I thought. "Who is this devotee who

inspires people to dance wildly to the sound of Krsna's holy names?"

 

Obviously it wasn't the first time he'd been in the restaurant, but he

seemed to be taking special pleasure in the fact that he had a big group of

devotees with him this time and that Sri Prahlada, who was in true form, was

rocking the house with the sound of the holy names. Even the bartender

raised his arms in ecstasy.

 

As we continued down the street more people whistled and hollered to get his

attention. "This devotee has created a revolution of the holy names in this

little corner of the world," I thought. "By diligently going out day after

day, month after month, year after year, he has melted these people's hearts

and started them on the path of devotion."

 

The Harinam ended after two hours, and people smiled and waved as we drove

off. It was all due to the determined efforts of Siddha-vidya to spread the

glories to the holy names.

 

tebhyo namo stu bhava varidhi jirna panka

sammagna moksana vicaksana padukebhyah

krsneti varna yugala sravanena yesam

anandathur bhavati nartita roma vrndah

 

"I offer my respectful obeisances to the devotees of the Lord. When they

simply hear the two syllables 'Krsna,' their bodily hairs stand up in

ecstasy and they become moved to dance in ecstatic bliss. With their sandals

they expertly extricate the fallen souls deeply sunk in the fetid mud of the

ocean of repeated birth and death."

 

[srila Rupa Goswami's Padyavali, Text 54 by Sri Autkala]

 

My good fortune didn't end with Harinam that day. Before my visit was over I

heard another tale of wonder, attributed to the causeless mercy of the Lord.

 

I was in the temple restaurant just about to begin my meal when I looked up

and saw a man in a suit and tie enter. In the casual atmosphere he looked

almost out of place in such formal clothes. Assuming he was a guest, I was

about to ask a local devotee to invite him to sit with me, but when the

gentleman saw me he immediately paid obeisances.

 

Trivikrama Maharaja spoke up. "That's Murari Gupta das," he said. "He's a

doctor and recently initiated by Bhakti Marg Swami."

 

Murari Gupta came over. After exchanging pleasantries I asked how long he

had been involved in Krsna consciousness. He told me that in 1973 he was 17

and attending his first semester at the University of Florida. While walking

to class one afternoon, he saw Tamal Krsna Goswami preaching to some

students on a lawn of the university.

 

"The Radha Damodar Traveling festival was visiting the campus for a few

days," Murari Gupta said. "Maharaja had arrived early that day, before the

other devotees."

 

"I was interested in the spiritual teachings of the East, and I had read a

version of the Bhagavad Gita several times, so I was immediately attracted,

seeing Maharaja standing there in saffron cloth. Although he was young at

the time, he appeared elderly and wise.

 

"Over the next three days, Tamal Krsna Maharaja spoke with me on several

occasions, encouraging me to join their traveling festival. I wasn't ready,

however. Nevertheless, after they left I started visiting the local

Gainesville temple. Six months later I finally gave up my studies and moved

into the temple. For the next six months I distributed Srila Prabhupada's

books.

 

"Then one day I left to join the Radha Damodar party. I traveled on one of

the buses and continued my service of book distribution.

 

"During the next year I was recommended twice for initiation from Srila

Prabhupada, but both times I refused. It wasn't that I didn't want to take

initiation. Rather, I took it as a serious commitment. I came from a

well-to-do family, where my father had instilled in me the importance of

accepting responsibility seriously. I wanted to be 100 percent sure that if

I took my vows, I would never fail my spiritual master.

 

"At the same time, my family was putting pressure on me to go back to

school. My parents would visit me in different temples. They were respectful

to Krsna consciousness but insistent that I finish my education. As a

result, I was often in duality as to what I should do.

 

"In Atlanta, in 1974, during a visit by Srila Prabhupada to the temple, I

was again recommended for initiation. But once again I hesitated. I had just

read an article on the importance of initiation written by Srila

Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati, and he was firm about the loyalty of a disciple.

I wasn't sure I met the criteria for being such a surrendered soul.

 

"On the morning of the initiation I was sitting outside the temple,

confused. Suddenly I saw Srila Prabhupada coming my way, returning from his

morning walk, surrounded by many disciples. Srila Prabhupada seemed to sense

my dilemma and spoke a few words of reassurance to me as he passed.

 

"But just before the ceremony began, I left the temple and quickly made my

way back home to Chicago. To make a long story short, I went back to school

and eventually graduated with a medical degree. I was soon a practicing

doctor. Later I married and had three children.

 

"My work often took me overseas where I would visit temples incognito.

Wherever I went I carried a picture of Srila Prabhupada and chanted rounds

on my beads each day. But I never revealed to the devotees I met that I was

a covered bhakta. I was always a guest. I considered myself a thief in the

night. I would come to a temple, see the Deities, take prasadam, and get

some association. But I never offered any service in return.

 

"That all changed, however, after the terrorist attack in New York on

September 11, 2001. At the time I was working in a hospital in Miami, and in

the interest of national security the Florida Department of Health requested

a security check on all doctors and nurses in the state. All our records and

data were scrutinized, and one day I was called into the head office of the

hospital. They had discovered that I had been arrested 17 times in my youth.

I winced as I remembered that all those arrests were in connection with

distributing books during the Radha Damodar traveling party days.

 

"There were no convictions because the police always let us go after a

verbal thrashing, but the head of the hospital did note with concern the

most serious arrest: several other brahmacaris and I had dressed as soldiers

to facilitate our book distribution. We had done it only once but were

caught. The military became involved, but eventually dropped charges.

 

"You can imagine how frustrated I was. I had to do a lot of explaining to

the head of the hospital. But I did not want to ever be questioned again, so

I called my lawyer and asked how to clear the record for good. He checked

with the government and they said they would expunge all information from my

records if I paid a fine of $5,000 and did 100 hours of community service.

 

"As a doctor, it wasn't a big obstacle to pay the fine, but I couldn't

imagine how I would do 100 hours of community service. Suddenly I got the

idea that I could do service at the local Hare Krsna Temple. They were one

of the organizations listed under authorized places for this kind of

service.

 

"I had been visiting the temple incognito, and so no one knew me when I

approached the temple authorities for service. They were happy to let me

serve my 100 hours in temple duties, and so several times a week I would go

to the temple and wash pots.

 

Boy, were the devotees surprised when they finally learned I was a doctor!

They were even more amazed when they found out I was actually a devotee who

had served on the Radha Damodhar party for a couple of years. They were kind

to me, and gradually I became fully reinstated in Krsna consciousness.

Eventually I became the temple treasurer. And now, of course, I'm the temple

doctor.

 

"On December 18, 2004, 32 years after meeting the devotees, I finally took

initiation from His Holiness Bhakti Marg Maharaja."

 

"I'm glad you finally made it," I said. "I wish you all success."

 

Soon after my visit to Miami I left America for Europe. As I boarded the

flight to London, I reminisced once again on the nectar of associating with

devotees like Siddha-vidya and Murari Gupta. I would miss them. The only

consolation was that on the other side of the ocean, I would meet more

devotees, and more again wherever my travels took me. Such is the great

mercy of the Lord."

 

hari smrty ahlada stimita manaso yasya krtinah

sa romancah kayah nayanam api sananda salilam

tam evacandrarkam vaha purusa dhaureyam avane

kim anyais tair bharair yama sadana gaty agati paraih

 

"When the devotees remember Lord Hari, their hearts become overwhelmed with

bliss, their bodily hairs stand erect, and their eyes become filled with

tears of joy. O Earth, these devotees are the best of men. Please carefully

maintain them for long as the sun and the moon shine in the sky. What is the

use of your carefully maintaining those other burdensome persons who are

simply intent on coming and going to and from the house of Yamaraja?"

 

[Padyavali, Srila Rupa Goswami, Text 55 by Sri Sarvananda]

 

indradyumna.swami (AT) pamho (DOT) net

 

www.traveling-preacher.com

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