Srila Prabhupada's Departure for preaching in the west.
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These excerpts have been taken from Satswarup dasa Goswami's
Prabhupada-lilamrita ch 11-12.
With the manuscript for Volume Three complete and with the money to print it,
Bhaktivedanta Swami once again entered the printing world, purchasing paper,
correcting proofs, and keeping the printer on schedule so that the book would be
finished by January 1965. Thus, by his persistence, he who had almost no money
of his own managed to publish his third large hardbound volume within a little
more than two years.
At this rate, with his respect in the scholarly world increasing, he might soon
become a recognized figure amongst his countrymen. But he had his vision set on
the West. And with the third volume now printed, he felt he was at last
prepared. He was sixty-nine and would have to go soon. It had been more than
forty years since Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté had first asked a young
householder in Calcutta to preach Kåñëa consciousness in the West. At first it
had seemed impossible to Abhay Charan, who had so recently entered family
responsibilities. That obstacle, however, had long ago been removed, and for
more than ten years he had been free to travel. But he had been penniless (and
still was). And he had wanted first to publish some volumes of Çrémad-Bhägavatam
to take with him; it had seemed necessary if he were to do something solid. Now,
by Kåñëa's grace, three volumes were on hand.
Çréla Prabhupäda: I planned that I must go to America. Generally they go to
London, but I did not want to go to London. I was simply thinking how to go to
New York. I was scheming, “Whether I shall go this way, through Tokyo, Japan, or
that way? Which way is cheaper?" That was my proposal. And I was targeting to
New York always. Sometimes I was dreaming that I have come to New York.
Then Bhaktivedanta Swami met Mr. Agarwal, a Mathurä businessman, and mentioned
to him in passing, as he did to almost everyone he met, that he wanted to go to
the West. Although Mr. Agarwal had known Bhaktivedanta Swami for only a few
minutes, he volunteered to try to get him a sponsor in America. It was something
Mr. Agarwal had done a number of times; when he met a sädhu who mentioned
something about going abroad to teach Hindu culture, he would ask his son Gopal,
an engineer in Pennsylvania, to send back a sponsorship form. When Mr. Agarwal
volunteered to help in this way, Bhaktivedanta Swami urged him please to do so.
Çréla Prabhupäda: I did not say anything seriously to Mr. Agarwal, but perhaps
he took it very seriously. I asked him, “Well, why don't you ask your son Gopal
to sponsor so that I can go there? I want to preach there."
But Bhaktivedanta Swami knew he could not simply dream of going to the West; he
needed money. In March 1965 he made another visit to Bombay, attempting to sell
his books. Again he stayed at the free dharmaçälä, Premkutir. But finding
customers was difficult. He met Paramananda Bhagwani, a librarian at Jai Hind
College, who purchased books for the college library and then escorted
Bhaktivedanta Swami to a few likely outlets.
Mr. Bhagwani: I took him to the Popular Book Depot at Grant Road to help him in
selling books, but they told us they couldn't stock the books because they don't
have much sales on religion. Then we went to another shop nearby, and the owner
also regretted his inability to sell the books. Then he went to Sadhuvela, near
Mahalakshmi temple, and we met the head of the temple there. He, of course,
welcomed us. They have a library of their own, and they stock religious books,
so we approached them to please keep a set there in their library. They are a
wealthy äçrama, and yet he also expressed his inability.
Bhaktivedanta Swami returned to Delhi, pursuing the usual avenues of bookselling
and looking for whatever opportunity might arise. And to his surprise, he was
contacted by the Ministry of External Affairs and informed that his No Objection
certificate for going to the U.S. was ready. Since he had not instigated any
proceedings for leaving the country, Bhaktivedanta Swami had to inquire from the
ministry about what had happened. They showed him the Statutory Declaration Form
signed by Mr. Gopal Agarwal of Butler, Pennsylvania; Mr. Agarwal solemnly
declared that he would bear the expenses of Bhaktivedanta Swami during his stay
in the U.S.
Çréla Prabhupäda: Whatever the correspondence was there between the father and
son, I did not know. I simply asked him, “Why don't you ask your son Gopal to
sponsor?" And now, after three or four months, the No Objection certificate was
sent from the Indian Consulate in New York to me. He had already sponsored my
arrival there for one month, and all of a sudden I got the paper.
At his father's request, Gopal Agarwal had done as he had done for several other
sädhus, none of whom had ever gone to America. It was just a formality,
something to satisfy his father. Gopal had requested a form from the Indian
Consulate in New York, obtained a statement from his employer certifying his
monthly salary, gotten a letter from his bank showing his balance as of April
1965, and had the form notarized. It had been stamped and approved in New York
and sent to Delhi. Now Bhaktivedanta Swami had a sponsor. But he still needed a
passport, visa, P-form, and travel fare.
The passport was not very difficult to obtain. Krishna Pandit helped, and by
June 10 he had his passport. Carefully, he penned in his address at the
Rädhä-Kåñëa temple in Chippiwada and wrote his father's name, Gour Mohan De. He
asked Krishna Pandit also to pay for his going abroad, but Krishna Pandit
refused, thinking it against Hindu principles for a sädhu to go abroad—and also
very expensive.
With his passport and sponsorship papers, Bhaktivedanta Swami went to Bombay,
not to sell books or raise funds for printing; he wanted a ticket for America.
Again he tried approaching Sumati Morarji. He showed his sponsorship papers to
her secretary, Mr. Choksi, who was impressed and who went to Mrs. Morarji on his
behalf. “The Swami from Våndävana is back," he told her. “He has published his
book on your donation. He has a sponsor, and he wants to go to America. He wants
you to send him on a Scindia ship." Mrs. Morarji said no, the Swamiji was too
old to go to the United States and expect to accomplish anything. As Mr. Choksi
conveyed to him Mrs. Morarji's words, Bhaktivedanta Swami listened
disapprovingly. She wanted him to stay in India and complete the
Çrémad-Bhägavatam. Why go to the States? Finish the job here.
But Bhaktivedanta Swami was fixed on going. He told Mr. Choksi that he should
convince Mrs. Morarji. He coached Mr. Choksi on what he should say: “I find this
gentleman very inspired to go to the States and preach something to the people
there…" But when he told Mrs. Morarji, she again said no. The Swami was not
healthy. It would be too cold there. He might not be able to come back, and she
doubted whether he would be able to accomplish much there. People in America
were not so cooperative, and they would probably not listen to him.
Exasperated with Mr. Choksi's ineffectiveness, Bhaktivedanta Swami demanded a
personal interview. It was granted, and a gray-haired, determined Bhaktivedanta
Swami presented his emphatic request: “Please give me one ticket."
Sumati Morarji was concerned. “Swamiji, you are so old—you are taking this
responsibility. Do you think it is all right?"
“No," he reassured her, lifting his hand as if to reassure a doubting daughter,
“it is all right."
“But do you know what my secretaries think? They say, “Swamiji is going to die
there.'"
Bhaktivedanta made a face as if to dismiss a foolish rumor. Again he insisted
that she give him a ticket. “All right," she said. “Get your P-form, and I will
make an arrangement to send you by our ship." Bhaktivedanta Swami smiled
brilliantly and happily left her offices, past her amazed and skeptical clerks.
A “P-form"—another necessity for an Indian national who wants to leave the
country—is a certificate given by the State Bank of India, certifying that the
person has no excessive debts in India and is cleared by the banks. That would
take a while to obtain. And he also did not yet have a U.S. visa. He needed to
pursue these government permissions in Bombay, but he had no place to stay. So
Mrs. Morarji agreed to let him reside at the Scindia Colony, a compound of
apartments for employees of the Scindia Company.
He stayed in a small, unfurnished apartment with only his trunk and typewriter.
The resident Scindia employees all knew that Mrs. Morarji was sending him to the
West, and some of them became interested in his cause. They were impressed, for
although he was so old, he was going abroad to preach. He was a special sädhu, a
scholar. They heard from him how he was taking hundreds of copies of his books
with him, but no money. He became a celebrity at the Scindia Colony. Various
families brought him rice, sabjé, and fruit. They brought so much that he could
not eat it all, and he mentioned this to Mr. Choksi. Just accept it and
distribute it, Mr. Choksi advised. Bhaktivedanta Swami then began giving
remnants of his food to the children. Some of the older residents gathered to
hear him as he read and spoke from Çrémad-Bhägavatam. Mr. Vasavada, the chief
cashier of Scindia, was particularly impressed and came regularly to learn from
the sädhu. Mr. Vasavada obtained copies of Bhaktivedanta Swami's books and read
them in his home.
Bhaktivedanta Swami's apartment shared a roofed-in veranda with Mr. Nagarajan, a
Scindia office worker, and his wife.
Mrs. Nagarajan: Every time when I passed that way, he used to be writing or
chanting. I would ask him, “Swamiji, what are you writing?" He used to sit near
the window and one after another was translating the Sanskrit. He gave me two
books and said, “Child, if you read this book, you will understand." We would
have discourses in the house, and four or five Gujarati ladies used to come. At
one of these discourses he told one lady that those who wear their hair parted
on the side—that is not a good idea. Every Indian lady should have her hair
parted in the center. They were very fond of listening and very keen to hear his
discourse.
Every day he would go out trying to get his visa and P-form as quickly as
possible, selling his books, and seeking contacts and supporters for his future
Çrémad-Bhägavatam publishing. Mr. Nagarajan tried to help. Using the telephone
directory, he made a list of wealthy business and professional men who were
Vaiñëavas and might be inclined to assist. Bhaktivedanta Swami's neighbors at
Scindia Colony observed him coming home dead tired in the evening. He would sit
quietly, perhaps feeling morose, some neighbors thought, but after a while he
would sit up, rejuvenated, and start writing.
Mrs. Nagarajan: When he came home we used to give him courage, and we used to
tell him, “Swamiji, one day you will achieve your target." He would say, “Time
is still not right. Time is still not right. They are all ajïänés. They don't
understand. But still I must carry on."
Sometimes I would go by, and his cädar would be on the chair, but he would be
sitting on the windowsill. I would ask him, “Swamiji, did you have any good
contacts?" He would say, “Not much today. I didn't get much, and it is
depressing. Tomorrow Kåñëa will give me more details." And he would sit there
quietly.
After ten minutes, he would sit in his chair and start writing. I would wonder
how Swamiji was so tired in one minute and in another minuteï Even if he was
tired, he was not defeated. He would never speak discouragement. And we would
always encourage him and say, “If today you don't get it, tomorrow you will
definitely meet some people, and they will encourage you." And my friends used
to come in the morning and in the evening for discourse, and they would give
namaskära and fruits.
Mr. Nagarajan: His temperament was very adjustable and homely. Our friends would
offer a few rupees. He would say, “All right. It will help." He used to walk
from our colony to Andheri station. It is two kilometers, and he used to go
there without taking a bus, because he had no money.
Bhaktivedanta Swami had a page printed entitled “My Mission," and he would show
it to influential men in his attempts to get further financing for
Çrémad-Bhägavatam. The printed statement proposed that God consciousness was the
only remedy for the evils of modern materialistic society. Despite scientific
advancement and material comforts, there was no peace in the world; therefore,
Bhagavad-gétä and Çrémad-Bhägavatam, the glory of India, must be spread all over
the world.
Mrs. Morarji asked Bhaktivedanta Swami if he would read Çrémad-Bhägavatam to her
in the evening. He agreed. She began sending her car for him at six o'clock each
evening, and they would sit in her garden, where he would recite and comment on
the Bhägavatam.
Mrs. Morarji: He used to come in the evening and sing the verses in rhythmic
tunes, as is usually done with the Bhägavatam. And certain points—when you sit
and discuss, you raise so many points—he was commenting on certain points, but
it was all from the Bhägavatam. So he used to sit and explain to me and then go.
He could give time, and I could hear him. That was for about ten or fifteen
days.
His backing by Scindia and his sponsorship in the U.S. were a strong
presentation, and with the help of the people at Scindia he obtained his visa on
July 28, 1965. But the P-form proceedings went slowly and even threatened to be
a last, insurmountable obstacle.
Çréla Prabhupäda: Formerly there was no restriction for going outside. But for a
sannyäsé like me, I had so much difficulty obtaining the government permission
to go out. I had applied for the P-form sanction, but no sanction was coming.
Then I went to the State Bank of India. The officer was Mr. Martarchari. He told
me, “Swamiji, you are sponsored by a private man. So we cannot accept. If you
were invited by some institution, then we could consider. But you are invited by
a private man for one month. And after one month, if you are in difficulty,
there will be so many obstacles." But I had already prepared everything to go.
So I said, “What have you done?" He said, “I have decided not to sanction your
P-form." I said, “No, no, don't do this. You better send me to your superior. It
should not be like that."
So he took my request, and he sent the file to the chief official of foreign
exchange—something like that. So he was the supreme man in the State Bank of
India. I went to see him. I asked his secretary, “Do you have such-and-such a
file. You kindly put it to Mr. Rao. I want to see him." So the secretary agreed,
and he put the file, and he put my name down to see him. I was waiting. So Mr.
Rao came personally. He said, “Swamiji, I passed your case. Don't worry."
Following Mrs. Morarji's instruction, her secretary, Mr. Choksi, made final
arrangements for Bhaktivedanta Swami. Since he had no warm clothes, Mr. Choksi
took him to buy a wool jacket and other woolen clothes. Mr. Choksi spent about
250 rupees on new clothes, including some new dhotés. At Bhaktivedanta Swami's
request, Mr. Choksi printed five hundred copies of a small pamphlet containing
the eight verses written by Lord Caitanya and an advertisement for
Çrémad-Bhägavatam, in the context of an advertisement for the Scindia Steamship
Company.
Mr. Choksi: I asked him, “Why couldn't you go earlier? Why do you want to go now
to the States, at this age?" He replied that, “I will be able to do something
good, I am sure." His idea was that someone should be there who would be able to
go near people who were lost in life and teach them and tell them what the
correct thing is. I asked him so many times, “Why do you want to go to the
States? Why don't you start something in Bombay or Delhi or Våndävana?" I was
teasing him also: “You are interested in seeing the States. Therefore, you want
to go. All Swamijis want to go to the States, and you want to enjoy there." He
said, “What I have got to see? I have finished my life."
But sometimes he was hot-tempered. He used to get angry at me for the delays.
“What is this nonsense?" he would say. Then I would understand: he is getting
angry now. Sometimes he would say, “Oh, Mrs. Morarji has still not signed this
paper? She says come back tomorrow, we will talk tomorrow! What is this? Why
this daily going back?" He would get angry. Then I would say, “You can sit
here." But he would say, “How long do I have to sit?" He would become impatient.
Finally Mrs. Morarji scheduled a place for him on one of her ships, the Jaladuta,
which was sailing from Calcutta on August 13. She had made certain that he would
travel on a ship whose captain understood the needs of a vegetarian and a
brähmaëa. Mrs. Morarji told the Jaladuta's captain, Arun Pandia, to carry extra
vegetables and fruits for the Swami. Mr. Choksi spent the last two days with
Bhaktivedanta Swami in Bombay, picking up the pamphlets at the press, purchasing
clothes, and driving him to the station to catch the train for Calcutta.
He arrived in Calcutta about two weeks before the Jaladuta's departure. Although
he had lived much of his life in the city, he now had nowhere to stay. It was as
he had written in his “Våndävana-bhajana": “I have my wife, sons, daughters,
grandsons, everything, / But I have no money, so they are a fruitless glory."
Although in this city he had been so carefully nurtured as a child, those early
days were also gone forever: “Where have my loving father and mother gone to
now? / And where are all my elders, who were my own folk? / Who will give me
news of them, tell me who? / All that is left of this family life is a list of
names."
Out of the hundreds of people in Calcutta whom Bhaktivedanta Swami knew, he
chose to call on Mr. Sisir Bhattacarya, the flamboyant kértana singer he had met
a year before at the governor's house in Lucknow. Mr. Bhattacarya was not a
relative, not a disciple, nor even a close friend; but he was willing to help.
Bhaktivedanta Swami called at his place and informed him that he would be
leaving on a cargo ship in a few days; he needed a place to stay, and he would
like to give some lectures. Mr. Bhattacarya immediately began to arrange a few
private meetings at friends' homes, where he would sing and Bhaktivedanta Swami
would then speak.
Mr. Bhattacarya thought the sädhu's leaving for America should make an important
news story. He accompanied Bhaktivedanta Swami to all the newspapers in
Calcutta—the Hindustan Standard, the Amrita Bazar Patrika, the Jugantas, the
Statesman, and others. Bhaktivedanta Swami had only one photograph, a passport
photo, and they made a few copies for the newspapers. Mr. Bhattacarya would try
to explain what the Swami was going to do, and the news writers would listen.
But none of them wrote anything. Finally they visited the Dainik Basumati, a
local Bengali daily, which agreed to print a small article with Bhaktivedanta
Swami's picture.
A week before his departure, on August 6, Bhaktivedanta Swami traveled to nearby
Mäyäpur to visit the samädhi of Çréla Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté. Then he
returned to Calcutta, where Mr. Bhattacarya continued to assist him with his
final business and speaking engagements.
Mr. Bhattacarya: We just took a hired taxi to this place and that place. And he
would go for preaching. I never talked to him during the preaching, but once
when I was coming back from the preaching, I said, “You said this thing about
this. But I tell you it is not this. It is this." I crossed him in something or
argued. And he was furious. Whenever we argued and I said, “No, I think this is
this," then he was shouting. He was very furious. He said, “You are always
saying, “I think, I think, I think.' What is the importance of what you think?
Everything is what you think. But it doesn't matter. It matters what çästra
says. You must follow." I said, “I must do what I think, what I feel—that is
important." He said, “No, you should forget this. You should forget your desire.
You should change your habit. Better you depend on çästras. You follow what
çästra wants you to do, and do it. I am not telling you what I think, but I am
repeating what the çästra says."
As the day of his departure approached, Bhaktivedanta Swami took stock of his
meager possessions. He had only a suitcase, an umbrella, and a supply of dry
cereal. He did not know what he would find to eat in America; perhaps there
would be only meat. If so, he was prepared to live on boiled potatoes and the
cereal. His main baggage, several trunks of his books, was being handled
separately by Scindia Cargo. Two hundred three-volume sets—the very thought of
the books gave him confidence.
When the day came for him to leave, he needed that confidence. He was making a
momentous break with his previous life, and he was dangerously old and not in
strong health. And he was going to an unknown and probably unwelcoming country.
To be poor and unknown in India was one thing. Even in these Kali-yuga days,
when India's leaders were rejecting Vedic culture and imitating the West, it was
still India; it was still the remains of Vedic civilization. He had been able to
see millionaires, governors, the prime minister, simply by showing up at their
doors and waiting. A sannyäsé was respected; the Çrémad-Bhägavatam was
respected. But in America it would be different. He would be no one, a
foreigner. And there was no tradition of sädhus, no temples, no free äçramas.
But when he thought of the books he was bringing—transcendental knowledge in
English—he became confident. When he met someone in America he would give him a
flyer: ““Çrémad Bhagwatam,' India's Message of Peace and Goodwill."
It was August 13, just a few days before Janmäñöamé, the appearance day
anniversary of Lord Kåñëa—the next day would be his own sixty-ninth birthday.
During these last years, he had been in Våndävana for Janmäñöamé. Many Våndävana
residents would never leave there; they were old and at peace in Våndävana.
Bhaktivedanta Swami was also concerned that he might die away from Våndävana.
That was why all the Vaiñëava sädhus and widows had taken vows not to leave,
even for Mathurä—because to die in Våndävana was the perfection of life. And the
Hindu tradition was that a sannyäsé should not cross the ocean and go to the
land of the mlecchas. But beyond all that was the desire of Çréla
Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté, and his desire was nondifferent from that of Lord
Kåñëa. And Lord Caitanya Mahäprabhu had predicted that the chanting of Hare
Kåñëa would be known in every town and village of the world.
Bhaktivedanta Swami took a taxi down to the Calcutta port. A few friends and
admirers, along with his son Vrindavan, accompanied him. He writes in his diary:
“Today at 9 a.m. embarked on M.V. Jaladuta. Came with me Bhagwati, the Dwarwan
of Scindia Sansir, Mr. Sen Gupta, Mr. Ali and Vrindaban." He was carrying a
Bengali copy of Caitanya-caritämåta, which he intended to read during the
crossing. Somehow he would be able to cook on board. Or if not, he could starve—
whatever Kåñëa desired. He checked his essentials: passenger ticket, passport,
visa, P-form, sponsor's address. Finally it was happening.
Çréla Prabhupäda: With what great difficulty I got out of the country! Some way
or other, by Kåñëa's grace, I got out so I could spread the Kåñëa consciousness
movement all over the world. Otherwise, to remain in India—it was not possible.
I wanted to start a movement in India, but I was not at all encouraged.
The black cargo ship, small and weathered, was moored at dockside, a gangway
leading from the dock to the ship's deck. Indian merchant sailors curiously eyed
the elderly saffron-dressed sädhu as he spoke last words to his companions and
then left them and walked determinedly toward the boat.
For thousands of years, kåñëa-bhakti had been known only in India, not outside,
except in twisted, faithless reports by foreigners. And the only swamis to have
reached America had been nondevotees, Mäyävädé impersonalists. But now Kåñëa was
sending Bhaktivedanta Swami as His emissary.
SPL 12: The Journey to America
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Journey to America
Today the ship is plying very smoothly. I feel today better. But I am feeling
separation from Sri Vrindaban and my Lords Sri Govinda, Gopinath, Radha Damodar.
My only solace is Sri Chaitanya Charitamrita in which I am tasting the nectarine
of Lord Chaitanya's lila. I have left Baharatabhumi just to execute the order of
Sri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati, in pursuance of Lord Chaitanya's order. I have no
qualification, but have taken up the risk just to carry out the order of His
Divine Grace. I depend fully on Their mercy, so far away from Vrindaban.
—Jaladuta diary
September 10, 1965
The Jaladuta is a regular cargo carrier of the Scindia Steam Navigation Company,
but there is a passenger cabin aboard. During the voyage from Calcutta to New
York in August and September of 1965, the cabin was occupied by “Sri Abhoy
Charanaravinda Bhaktivedanta Swami," whose age was listed as sixty-nine and who
was taken on board bearing “a complimentary ticket with food."
The Jaladuta, under the command of Captain Arun Pandia, whose wife was also
aboard, left at 9:00 A.M. on Friday, August 13. In his diary, Çréla Prabhupäda
noted: “The cabin is quite comfortable, thanks to Lord Sri Krishna for
enlightening Sumati Morarji for all these arrangements. I am quite comfortable."
But on the fourteenth he reported: “Seasickness, dizziness, vomiting—Bay of
Bengal. Heavy rains. More sickness."
On the nineteenth, when the ship arrived at Colombo, Ceylon (now Sri Lanka),
Prabhupäda was able to get relief from his seasickness. The captain took him
ashore, and he traveled around Colombo by car. Then the ship went on toward
Cochin, on the west coast of India. Janmäñöamé, the appearance day of Lord Kåñëa,
fell on the twentieth of August that year. Prabhupäda took the opportunity to
speak to the crew about the philosophy of Lord Kåñëa, and he distributed
prasädam he had cooked himself. August 21 was his seventieth birthday, observed
(without ceremony) at sea. That same day the ship arrived at Cochin, and Çréla
Prabhupäda's trunks of Çrémad-Bhägavatam volumes, which had been shipped from
Bombay, were loaded on board.
By the twenty-third the ship had put out to the Red Sea, where Çréla Prabhupäda
encountered great difficulty. He noted in his diary: “Rain, seasickness,
dizziness, headache, no appetite, vomiting." The symptoms persisted, but it was
more than seasickness. The pains in his chest made him think he would die at any
moment. In two days he suffered two heart attacks. He tolerated the difficulty,
meditating on the purpose of his mission, but after two days of such violent
attacks he thought that if another were to come he would certainly not survive.
On the night of the second day, Prabhupäda had a dream. Lord Kåñëa, in His many
forms, was rowing a boat, and He told Prabhupäda that he should not fear, but
should come along. Prabhupäda felt assured of Lord Kåñëa's protection, and the
violent attacks did not recur.
The Jaladuta entered the Suez Canal on September 1 and stopped in Port Sa'id on
the second. Çréla Prabhupäda visited the city with the captain and said that he
liked it. By the sixth he had recovered a little from his illness and was eating
regularly again for the first time in two weeks, having cooked his own kicharé
and purés. He reported in his diary that his strength renewed little by little.
Thursday, September 9
To 4:00 this afternoon, we have crossed over the Atlantic Ocean for twenty-four
hours. The whole day was clear and almost smooth. I am taking my food regularly
and have got some strength to struggle. There is also a slight tacking of the
ship and I am feeling a slight headache also. But I am struggling and the
nectarine of life is Sri Chaitanya Charitamrita, the source of all my vitality.
Friday, September 10
Today the ship is plying very smoothly. I feel today better. But I am feeling
separation from Sri Vrindaban and my Lords Sri Govinda, Gopinath, Radha Damodar.
The only solace is Sri Chaitanya Charitamrita in which I am tasting the
nectarine of Lord Chaitanya's lila [pastimes]. I have left Bharatabhumi just to
execute the order of Sri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati in pursuance of Lord
Chaitanya's order. I have no qualification, but have taken up the risk just to
carry out the order of His Divine Grace. I depend fully on Their mercy, so far
away from Vrindaban.
During the voyage, Çréla Prabhupäda sometimes stood on deck at the ship's rail,
watching the ocean and the sky and thinking of Caitanya-caritämåta,
Våndävana-dhäma, and the order of his spiritual master to go preach in the West.
Mrs. Pandia, the captain's wife, whom Çréla Prabhupäda considered to be “an
intelligent and learned lady," foretold Çréla Prabhupäda's future. If he were to
pass beyond this crisis in his health, she said, it would indicate the good will
of Lord Kåñëa.
The ocean voyage of 1965 was a calm one for the Jaladuta. The captain said that
never in his entire career had he seen such a calm Atlantic crossing. Prabhupäda
replied that the calmness was Lord Kåñëa's mercy, and Mrs. Pandia asked
Prabhupäda to come back with them so that they might have another such crossing.
Çréla Prabhupäda wrote in his diary, “If the Atlantic would have shown its usual
face, perhaps I would have died. But Lord Krishna has taken charge of the ship."
On September 13, Prabhupäda noted in his diary: “Thirty-second day of journey.
Cooked bati kichari. It appeared to be delicious, so I was able to take some
food. Today I have disclosed my mind to my companion, Lord Çré Krishna. There is
a Bengali poem made by me in this connection."
This poem was a prayer to Lord Kåñëa, and it is filled with Prabhupäda's
devotional confidence in the mission that he had undertaken on behalf of his
spiritual master. An English translation of the opening stanzas follows:*
I emphatically say to you, O brothers, you will obtain your good fortune from
the Supreme Lord Kåñëa only when Çrématé Rädhäräëé becomes pleased with you.
Çré Çrémad Bhaktisiddhänta Sarasvaté Öhäkura, who is very dear to Lord Gauraìga
[Lord Caitanya], the son of mother Çacé, is unparalleled in his service to the
Supreme Lord Çré Kåñëa. He is that great, saintly spiritual master who bestows
intense devotion to Kåñëa at different places throughout the world.
By his strong desire, the holy name of Lord Gauraìga will spread throughout all
the countries of the Western world. In all the cities, towns, and villages on
the earth, from all the oceans, seas, rivers, and streams, everyone will chant
the holy name of Kåñëa.
As the vast mercy of Çré Caitanya Mahäprabhu conquers all directions, a flood of
transcendental ecstasy will certainly cover the land. When all the sinful,
miserable living entities become happy, the Vaiñëavas' desire is then fulfilled.
Although my Guru Mahäräja ordered me to accomplish this mission, I am not worthy
or fit to do it. I am very fallen and insignificant. Therefore, O Lord, now I am
begging for Your mercy so that I may become worthy, for You are the wisest and
most experienced of all…
The poem ends:
Today that remembrance of You came to me in a very nice way. Because I have a
great longing I called to You. I am Your eternal servant, and therefore I desire
Your association so much. O Lord Kåñëa, except for You there is no means of
success.
In the same straightforward, factual manner in which he had noted the date, the
weather, and his state of health, he now described his helpless dependence on
his “companion, Lord Krishna," and his absorption in the ecstasy of separation
from Kåñëa. He described the relationship between the spiritual master and the
disciple, and he praised his own spiritual master, Çré Çrémad Bhaktisiddhänta
Sarasvaté, “by whose strong desire the holy name of Lord Gauräìga will spread
throughout all the countries of the Western world." He plainly stated that his
spiritual master had ordered him to accomplish this mission of worldwide Kåñëa
consciousness, and feeling unworthy he prayed to Lord Kåñëa for strength. The
last verses give an unexpected, confidential glimpse into Çréla Prabhupäda's
direct relationship with Lord Kåñëa. Prabhupäda called on Kåñëa as his “dear
friend" and longed for the joy of again wandering the fields of Vraja. This
memory of Kåñëa, he wrote, came because of a great desire to serve the Lord.
Externally, Çréla Prabhupäda was experiencing great inconvenience; he had been
aboard ship for a month and had suffered heart attacks and repeated seasickness.
Moreover, even if he were to recover from these difficulties, his arrival in
America would undoubtedly bring many more difficulties. But remembering the
desire of his spiritual master, taking strength from his reading of
Caitanya-caritämåta, and revealing his mind in his prayer to Lord Kåñëa,
Prabhupäda remained confident.
After a thirty-five-day journey from Calcutta, the Jaladuta reached Boston's
Commonwealth Pier at 5:30 A.M. on September 17, 1965. The ship was to stop
briefly in Boston before proceeding to New York City. Among the first things
Çréla Prabhupäda saw in America were the letters “A & P" painted on a pierfront
warehouse. The gray waterfront dawn revealed the ships in the harbor, a
conglomeration of lobster stands and drab buildings, and, rising in the
distance, the Boston skyline.
Prabhupäda had to pass through U.S. Immigration and Customs in Boston. His visa
allowed him a three-month stay, and an official stamped it to indicate his
expected date of departure. Captain Pandia invited Prabhupäda to take a walk
into Boston, where the captain intended to do some shopping. They walked across
a footbridge into a busy commercial area with old churches, warehouses, office
buildings, bars, tawdry bookshops, nightclubs, and restaurants. Prabhupäda
briefly observed the city, but the most significant thing about his short stay
in Boston, aside from the fact that he had now set foot in America, was that at
Commonwealth Pier he wrote another Bengali poem, entitled “Märkine Bhägavata-dharma"
(“Teaching Kåñëa Consciousness in America"). Some of the verses he wrote on
board the ship that day are as follows:*
My dear Lord Kåñëa, You are so kind upon this useless soul, but I do not know
why You have brought me here. Now You can do whatever You like with me.
But I guess You have some business here, otherwise why would You bring me to
this terrible place?
Most of the population here is covered by the material modes of ignorance and
passion. Absorbed in material life they think themselves very happy and
satisfied, and therefore they have no taste for the transcendental message of
Väsudeva [Kåñëa]. I do not know how they will be able to understand it.
But I know that Your causeless mercy can make everything possible, because You
are the most expert mystic.
How will they understand the mellows of devotional service? O Lord, I am simply
praying for Your mercy so that I will be able to convince them about Your
message.
All living entities have come under the control of the illusory energy by Your
will, and therefore, if You like, by Your will they can also be released from
the clutches of illusion.
I wish that You may deliver them. Therefore if You so desire their deliverance,
then only will they be able to understand Your message…
How will I make them understand this message of Kåñëa consciousness? I am very
unfortunate, unqualified, and the most fallen. Therefore I am seeking Your
benediction so that I can convince them, for I am powerless to do so on my own.
Somehow or other, O Lord, You have brought me here to speak about You. Now, my
Lord, it is up to You to make me a success or failure, as You like.
O spiritual master of all the worlds! I can simply repeat Your message. So if
You like You can make my power of speaking suitable for their understanding.
Only by Your causeless mercy will my words become pure. I am sure that when this
transcendental message penetrates their hearts, they will certainly feel
gladdened and thus become liberated from all unhappy conditions of life.
O Lord, I am just like a puppet in Your hands. So if You have brought me here to
dance, then make me dance, make me dance, O Lord, make me dance as You like.
I have no devotion, nor do I have any knowledge, but I have strong faith in the
holy name of Kåñëa. I have been designated as Bhaktivedanta, and now, if You
like, You can fulfill the real purport of Bhaktivedanta.
Signed—the most unfortunate, insignificant beggar,
A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami,
On board the ship Jaladuta, Commonwealth Pier,
Boston, Massachusetts, U.S.A.
Dated 18th September 1965.
He was now in America. He was in a major American city, rich with billions,
populated with millions, and determined to stay the way it was. Prabhupäda saw
Boston from the viewpoint of a pure devotee of Kåñëa. He saw the hellish city
life, people dedicated to the illusion of material happiness. All his dedication
and training moved him to give these people the transcendental knowledge and
saving grace of Kåñëa consciousness, yet he was feeling weak, lowly, and unable
to help them on his own. He was but “an insignificant beggar" with no money. He
had barely survived the two heart attacks at sea, he spoke a different language,
he dressed strangely—yet he had come to tell people to give up meat-eating,
illicit sex, intoxication, and gambling, and to teach them to worship Lord Kåñëa,
who to them was a mythical Hindu god. What would he be able to accomplish?
Helplessly he spoke his heart directly to God: “I wish that You may deliver
them. I am seeking Your benediction so that I can convince them." And for
convincing them he would trust in the power of God's holy name and in the
Çrémad-Bhägavatam. This transcendental sound would clean away desire for
material enjoyment from their hearts and awaken loving service to Kåñëa. On the
streets of Boston, Prabhupäda was aware of the power of ignorance and passion
that dominated the city; but he had faith in the transcendental process. He was
tiny, but God was infinite, and God was Kåñëa, his dear friend.
On the nineteenth of September the Jaladuta sailed into New York Harbor and
docked at a Brooklyn pier, at Seventeenth Street. Çréla Prabhupäda saw the
awesome Manhattan skyline, the Empire State Building, and, like millions of
visitors and immigrants in the past, the Statue of Liberty.
Çréla Prabhupäda was dressed appropriately for a resident of Våndävana. He wore
kanthi-mälä (neck beads) and a simple cotton dhoté, and he carried japa-mälä
(chanting beads) and an old chädar, or shawl. His complexion was golden, his
head shaven, çikhä in the back, his forehead decorated with the whitish Vaiñëava
tilaka. He wore pointed white rubber slippers, not uncommon for sädhus in India.
But who in New York had ever seen or dreamed of anyone appearing like this
Vaiñëava? He was possibly the first Vaiñëava sannyäsé to arrive in New York with
uncompromised appearance. Of course, New Yorkers have an expertise in not giving
much attention to any kind of strange new arrival.
Çréla Prabhupäda was on his own. He had a sponsor, Mr. Agarwal, somewhere in
Pennsylvania. Surely someone would be here to greet him. Although he had little
idea of what to do as he walked off the ship onto the pier—“I did not know
whether to turn left or right"—he passed through the dockside formalities and
was met by a representative from Traveler's Aid, sent by the Agarwals in
Pennsylvania, who offered to take him to the Scindia ticket office in Manhattan
to book his return passage to India.
At the Scindia office, Prabhupäda spoke with the ticket agent, Joseph Foerster,
who was impressed by this unusual passenger's Vaiñëava appearance, his light
luggage, and his apparent poverty. He regarded Prabhupäda as a priest. Most of
Scindia's passengers were businessmen or families, so Mr. Foerster had never
seen a passenger wearing the traditional Vaiñëava dress of India. He found Çréla
Prabhupäda to be “a pleasant gentleman" who spoke of “the nice accommodations
and treatment he had received aboard the Jaladuta." Prabhupäda asked Mr.
Foerster to hold space for him on a return ship to India. His plans were to
leave in about two months, and he told Mr. Foerster that he would keep in touch.
Carrying only forty rupees cash, which he himself called “a few hours' spending
in New York," and an additional twenty dollars he had collected from selling
three volumes of the Bhägavatam to Captain Pandia, Çréla Prabhupäda, with
umbrella and suitcase in hand, and still escorted by the Traveler's Aid
representative, set out for the Port Authority Bus Terminal to arrange for his
trip to Butler.
(These excerpts have been taken from Satswarup dasa Goswami's
Prabhupada-lilamrita ch 11-12.)
Note:: Special thanks to Jaya Tirtha Caran prabhu from NZ for allowing us to use some of the content from his site to compile these pages - http://www.hknet.org.nz
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