Remembering Srila Prabhupada - You mind your own business!

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You mind your own business!

 

One day in Calcutta I received another short, but merciful chastisement. It had

to do with the kitchen in the Calcutta temple, which I found chaotic, and, in

some details, unclean. Srila Prabhupada had asked me to learn how to cook

shukta from his sister, Pisima, and so I was observing her working in the

kitchen.

 

I had met Pisima in 1973 and found her kind to sannyasis -- she liked to bring

them food -- and she was of course very devoted to her brother, Srila

Prabhupada, constantly coming by to bring him a tiffin full of preparations

cooked in mustard oil and heavy with spices. Devotees sometimes dreaded

offering them to Prabhupada, fearing they would cause him indigestion, but

Pisima had a free pass to enter Prabhupada's room whenever she desired and to

offer him her devotedly prepared foodstuff.

 

Prabhupada particularly liked her shukta. He had taught me in Los Angeles how

to make this wet vegetable preparation using kerela (bitter melon), squash,

cauliflower, potatoes, pakora, eggplant and yogurt, and I had written it down

in a notebook. But I had never mastered the intricate steps necessary to make

it to Prabhupada's satisfaction. Although I could not speak any Bengali and

Pisima could not speak any English, I watched her very carefully and took

notes. She had her own techniques and ingredients for shukta in addition to

what Srila Prabhupada had showed me, and I tried to study and memorize each

step. For two successive days -- the duration of our stay in Calcutta -- I

watched the operation and felt that on the next occasion I could do it myself.

 

During the course of my lessons, I was sometimes bewildered by conditions in

the kitchen. Actually, there was no kitchen per se, no separate room with a

sink or cooking range, only a small space in the rear of the temple building

with a bucket of flaming coals for cooking and a bucket of water for washing

pots. And the methods of Indian cooking were totally strange to me. They did

everything in a simple, nonmechanized fashion-like cutting vegetables while

squatting on the floor.

 

The shortage of space created a chaotic situation. Bengali ladies came in and

out on errands, and workers moved around the kitchen on business unrelated to

Prabhupada's lunch. Understanding neither Bengali nor Hindi, I usually couldn't

tell what people were doing, and I worried that the lunch would be delayed.

 

Pisima seemed to be delaying also. Catching her attention and pointing to my

watch made no impression on her. I had to stand by and observe without any hope

of changing things, even when I saw something I thought wasn't up to

Prabhupada's standard. Something about the use of water bewildered me, and in

one of my entries into Prabhupada's room, I made a derogatory remark for which

I paid dearly. My tone was not flippant but again, anxiety-filled. I had

thought I should inform him of the strange things going on.

 

"Srila Prabhupada," I began, "you say that the Indian culture is suci, cleaner

than America which is mleccha, but it appears to me that the kitchen here is

dirty -- "

 

"You mind your own business!" Prabhupada said sharply. His words were like a

slap and immediately brought me to my senses. There was no need for more

discussion. I left his room and hurried back to the kitchen to get his lunch,

realizing that I had fallen into mundane, pro-Western faultfinding. Why had I

allowed myself to get unnecessarily worked up just because of some cultural

differences? Prabhupada wasn't concerned, so why should I be? I remembered

running to him in confusion about how to handle guests. He had told me,

"Everything is all right." Now he had said the same thing in a different way:

mind your own business. Don't get on the mental plane of rejection and

acceptance about temporary things. Don't identify with the body and mind,

thinking, "I am an American." Just mind your own business. Serve your spiritual

master and don't worry.

 

When I returned to his room, carrying his tray filled with little stainless

steel cups containing the different preparations cooked by Pisima, Prabhupada

was very patient and pleasant. He knew far better than I did that the material

world is a chaotic place and that a devotee has to keep a cool and sober head.

And he also knew, to a degree that I could not imagine, the soothing shelter of

Krsna's lotus feet.

 

- From the "Life with the Perfect Master" by HH Satsvarupa Dasa Goswami

 

 

 

 

 

CHANT HARE KRISHNA HARE KRISHNA KRISHNA KRISHNA HARE HARE

HARE RAMA HARE RAMA RAMA RAMA HARE HARE AND BE HAPPY

Your humble servant

radhabhava gaur das

 

 

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