Waves of Devotion

Dhanurdhara Swami November 18th, 2024

Last week I wrote about the special features of Brahmā-vimohana-līlā. It was the last commentary Śrīla Prabhupāda wrote and the last pastime in the kaumāra-līlā phase of Krsna’s life. It emphasizes an essential siddhānta (philosophical conclusion) that readers need to understand before proceeding in their study of the Tenth Canto of the Bhāgavatam. Most importantly it shows Śrīla Prabhupāda’s almost superhuman and determined effort to complete it. While studying that līlā, I noticed something else—Śrīla Prabhupāda in his last days not only reveals the deep philosophical conclusions found there, but also provides a unique view of the world through his own eyes inspired by the story he was commenting on. Some examples:

The Beauty of Vrindavan

“Vṛndāvana forest is always filled with the chirping and cooing of birds like cuckoos (kokila), ducks (haṁsa) and cranes (sārasa), and it is also full of peacocks (mayūrākule). The same sounds and atmosphere still prevail in the area where our Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma temple is situated. Everyone who visits this temple is pleased to hear the chirping of the birds as described here (kūjat-kokila-haṁsa-sārasa).” (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.13.5, purport)

His Appreciation and Concern for the Society He Created

“Like the whorl of a lotus flower surrounded by its petals and leaves, Kṛṣṇa sat in the center, encircled by lines of His friends, who all looked very beautiful.” (Bhāgavatam 10.13.8)

Śrīla Prabhupāda comments:

“The present Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement is an attempt to keep Kṛṣṇa in the center, for if this is done all activities will automatically become beautiful and blissful.” (Bhāgavatam 10.13.8, purport)

His Strong Desire to Establish the Scientific Basis of Krsna Consciousness

I was in Vrindavan during Śrīla Prabhupāda’s last days with us, when the Bhaktivedanta Institute held its first “Life Comes from Life” conference there. I was also there when his scientist disciples, who hosted and made presentations in the conference, came into his room directly from the conference’s closing ceremony to give Śrīla Prabhupāda a report. Obviously, they were still wearing their suits and ties, the attire they wore to the conference, instead of the robes that they would normally wear especially when seeing Śrīla Prabhupāda. When Śrīla Prabhupāda saw them in their suits, he immediately ordered Tamal Krishna Mahārāja, his secretary, to bring them chairs. His disciples, however, hesitated and responded that they were his students and happy to just sit at his feet. Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, insisted, “No, you are respected scientists!” indirectly expressing his appreciation for their service. Evidently, by his response the importance of this type of preaching was very much on his mind and that comes through in his purports to this chapter, specifically in the ones describing the moment Lord Brahmā became bewildered by Śrī Krishna’s mystic power. Śrīla Prabhupāda saw Brahmā’s pride and consequent bewilderment as analogous to the position of the modern-day atheistic scientists, who like Brahmā feel they can control or play God by their superior intelligence, but who are ultimately defeated.

“In a similar position are the scientists and philosophers who want to overcome the mystic power of Kṛṣṇa. They challenge Kṛṣṇa, saying, ‘What is God? We can do this, and we can do that.’ But the more they challenge Kṛṣṇa in this way, the more they are implicated in suffering. The lesson here is that we should not try to overcome Kṛṣṇa…instead of defeating Kṛṣṇa, Brahmā himself was defeated, for he could not understand what Kṛṣṇa was doing. Since Brahmā, the chief person within this universe, was so bewildered, what is to be said of so-called scientists and philosophers?” (Bhāgavatam 10.13.44, purport)

His Appreciation of His Empowerment by Krishna and the Consequent Success of his Movement

Verse 49 describes the Viṣṇu forms Krishna manifested when He duplicated all the cowherd boys and calves. There it is described that He was surrounded by devotees worshipping Him by bhūri-puṇya (the greatest pious activity) which Śrīla Prabhupāda translates as chanting and hearing. Śrīla Prabhupāda comments on the power of his saṅkīrtana movement:

“In our Kṛṣṇa-Balarāma Temple in Vṛndāvana, there is a tamāla tree that covers an entire corner of the courtyard. Before there was a temple the tree was lying neglected, but now it has developed very luxuriantly, covering the whole corner of the courtyard. This is a sign of bhūri-puṇya.” (Bhāgavatam 10.13.49, purport)

In the next verse the description continues:

“Those Viṣṇu forms, by Their pure smiling, which resembled the increasing light of the moon, and by the sidelong glances of Their reddish eyes, created and protected the desires of Their own devotees, as if by the modes of passion and goodness.” (Bhāgavatam 10.13.50)

In his purport Śrīla Prabhupāda references the commentary of Sanātana Gosvāmī to explain that although a pure devotee has no personal desires, the Lord’s glance enthuses such a devotee with a desire to perform devotional service which the Lord also maintains. This commentary apparently very much inspires Śrīla Prabhupāda and again he reflects on the wonderful temple he built in Vrindavan where he is residing:

“In Vṛndāvana there is a place where there was no temple, but a devotee desired, ‘Let there be a temple and sevā, devotional service.’ Therefore, what was once an empty corner has now become a place of pilgrimage. Such are the desires of a devotee.” (Bhāgavatam 10.13.50, purport)

His Desire for His devotees to Go Deeper in Krishna Consciousness

“Such purification can be achieved very easily by rādhā-kṛṣṇa-bhajana…”

(Bhāgavatam 10.13.53, purport)

This post is already too long for a Monday Morning Greeting. I could have given even more examples. In a previous post, I even argued that the very last sentence that Śrīla Prabhupāda wrote in the last commentary of the Brahmā-vimohana-līlā perfectly outlines his legacy—“The Significance of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s Last Written Words”.

I pray this post helps to give one just a glimpse of what Śrīla Prabhupāda was thinking and seeing in his last days with us.

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Dhanurdhara Swami November 11th, 2024

I hope the title doesn’t seem too presumptuous, but it was the best I could come up with in terms of this week’s topic. Let me explain. First, some background.

A few years ago, I began to lecture on Brahmā-vimohana-līlā from the thirteenth chapter of the Tenth Canto of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam. As I was finishing the chapter and marveling at the depth of some of its long purports, a question arose in my mind. Was there anything special about this chapter that impelled Śrīla Prabhupāda to dictate such a comprehensive commentary on it? It seemed an almost impossible task for one bed-ridden, at the very end of life and in significant pain.

As I considered whether there is some special significance to the story that may have inspired Śrīla Prabhupāda to make an almost superhuman effort to complete it, the first thing that caught my eye was the special position of the Brahmā-vimohana-līlā. It is the last pastime in Krishna’s kaumāra-līlā (age 1-5), the first of Krishna’s three age divisions, preceding paugaṇḍa (age 6-10), and kaiśora (age 11-15). Did Śrīla Prabhupāda push himself so that at least one age division was nearly complete before he left? I think there was something even more urgent on his mind that inspired him.

The Brahmā-vimohana-līlā, perhaps more than any other story in the Bhāgavatam, vividly establishes an extremely essential siddhānta (philosophical conclusion)—the topmost position of the divinity of God as a simple cowherd boy, Śrī Krishna.

Lord Brahmā had witnessed the power of Krishna in killing the Aghāsura demon. Shortly after, in contrast, he witnessed Krishna having a picnic with His friends. A doubt then arose in his mind about the position of Krishna, and that doubt is expressed in the simple phrase yajña-bhug bāla–keliḥ—is the young cowherd boy Krishna yajña-bhuk, the omnipotent lord who accepts all the innumerable offerings of sacrifice, or is he just bāla-keli, a simple boy playing with friends? To find out he decides to test Krishna by stealing all the cowherd boys and calves and hiding them in his lair. When he quickly returns to Vrindavan, however, he is shocked. Not only are all the cowherd boys and calves somehow exactly in the place where he had just stolen them, but each of them demonstrates that they are expansions of Krishna by manifesting an overwhelming display of aiśvarya (opulence or power). Temporarily blinded by the effulgence of those Viṣṇu forms he becomes stunned. When he finally regains his consciousness and with great difficulty opens his eyes, he again sees sweet Krishna standing alone in Vrindavan just as before, as a simple village cowherd boy with a morsel of food in his hand searching everywhere for the calves and his cowherd friends. Now fully realizing that the yajña-bhuk (the omnipotent Lord) is bāla-keli, this simple cowherd boy, he becomes overwhelmed with ecstasy, bathes Krishna’s lotus feet with his tears of joy, and offers prayers.

So that is the background information for our conjecture about what was in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s mind that led him to use the last drop of his strength and acumen to complete his commentary on this pastime. I will offer what I think Śrīla Prabhupāda was thinking:

“Historically, and even today, Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavism has been plagued by sahajiyism where devotees impose their material conceptions on the pastimes of Radha-Krishna līlā. In the very next pastime after Brahmā-vimohana-līlā in Chapter Fifteen, Krishna enters the age of paugaṇḍa and his relationship with the gopīs is first introduced. I am concerned that my young disciples may misunderstand those pastimes. Let me therefore at least finish this important pastime that so forcefully demonstrates that the yajña-bhuk is the bāla-keli. So with all my strength let me push on to complete the kaumāra-līlā to give my disciples just one more important tool to help inoculate them from common misunderstanding of thinking of Krishna as mundane when His love of the gopīs is introduced in the next pastime.”

And that’s what I think was in the mind of Śrīla Prabhupāda when he pushed himself to complete against all odds the Brahmā-vimohana-līlā.

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Dhanurdhara Swami November 4th, 2024

I assume that all of you, even though many of you live outside the United States of America, know that tomorrow is the election to select their next president. The country is split in half, extremely polarized, over this issue. When the results are in, it seems that half the country, the group whose candidate lost, will be highly distraught, with many predicting a disaster approaching Armageddon. A week ago, a Vaiṣṇava who supports Harris wrote me:

This political contest for POTUS, IMO, is really about enlightenment values vs oligarchy. Its outcome will have profound repercussions, internationally as well as nationally.

Recently a Trump-supporting Vaiṣṇava sent me a slew of quotes from Śrīla Prabhupāda which he interprets to say the opposite, that the election is really about Marxism vs God consciousness with profound repercussions if the left-leaning democratic party prevails:

Now, if they are serious to check this communistic movement, save the American country, as well as the whole world, then they must be very serious to understand what is God and what is trust in God. Otherwise this communistic movement will finish the civilized human society. (Morning walk, Los Angeles, December 12, 1973)

I am not questioning that these gentlemen may have sincere legitimate concerns. There very well may be catastrophic consequences caused by this election. What I am concerned with here, however, is the effect of obsession about this election on one’s consciousness. I think that would be Śrīla Prabhupāda’s main concern. This post will offer three considerations on this issue to help us to protect our bhakti, whichever way one leans and regardless of the results tomorrow. I was reading something today that I found relevant in regard to today’s discussion. It’s from a bhakti sādhaka’s realizations about the obstacles to devotion and is in the form of a story about a disciple’s openhearted discussion with his Guru about his lack of taste for chanting.

Want to protest against the injustice in this world? When we ourselves are ridden with so many follies, how can we rid the world of its evil? When our own hearts are black, how can we purify others? We ourselves are in darkness, how can we hold the torch for others? We are in material bondage, how can we liberate others?

Of course, as followers of Śrīla Prabhupāda we are concerned about the world, and distributing spiritual knowledge is part of our process of purification, but I think we all get his point.

During this time when even devotees are calling on people to be politically involved according to their own passionate convictions, here are the guardrails I am putting around myself to protect my nāma-bhajana during Kartik: Avoiding criticism, avoiding idle talk, and seeing the world with a more cosmic viewpoint.

Avoiding Criticism

Criticism is worse than envy, because envy is within the heart and criticism is when that envy comes out and is expressed to others. What about constructive criticism? That’s a long discussion, but mostly our criticism is born of the false ego. If you want a taste of the holy name, best to avoid criticism. I therefore found this simple recommendation from Caitanya-bhāgavata both inspiring and a warning to those choosing to enter the political sphere:

“Krishna will easily deliver the one who chants His name constantly without committing nindā.” (Caitanya-bhāgavata Madhya-khanda 9.246)

The Bengal word in verse is aninduka, literally one who doesn’t criticize. In other words, Krishna gives special mercy to such a person.

Avoiding prajalpa (idle talk)

We may have righteous aims, but if we get sucked into the internet, we risk our spiritual life. Upadeśāmṛta lists prajalpa as one the six main obstacles on the path of devotion. Śrīla Prabhupāda is very strong about this:

“Therefore we always advise, ‘Don’t read newspaper. Don’t read any other book,’ because it is full of grāmya-kathā, grāmyaiḥ [village or loose talk]…The same thing repeated. ‘Here there is flood, where there is train disaster, where there is accident, and political, and one politician is giving speech, another politician is giving speech…’ These externally very attractive news, we should avoid it completely. We shall simply talk of Kṛṣṇa. That is the safest method.”

Developing a cosmic perspective

Śrīla Prabhupāda says it all:

“The buildings, furniture, cars, bungalows, mills, factories, industries, peace, war or even the highest perfection of material science, namely atomic energy and electronics, are all simply bewildering names of material elements with their concomitant reactions of the three modes. Since the devotee of the Lord knows them perfectly well, he is not interested in creating unwanted things for a situation which is not at all reality, but simply names of no more significance than the babble of sea waves. The great kings, leaders and soldiers fight with one another in order to perpetuate their names in history. They are forgotten in due course of time, and they make a place for another era in history. But the devotee realizes how much history and historical persons are useless products of flickering time.” [emphasis mine] (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 2.2.3, purport)

Just a few more thoughts. When Svarūpa Dāmodara and Rāmānanda Rāya asked Śrī Caitanya how to get prema, he gave a four-fold process: Humility, tolerance, respect, and chanting always. The word for respect is māna-dena, offering respect to one and all.

Conclusion: Sādhu Beware!

So that’s the Monday Morning Greetings Election Special from Vraja, the land of Krishna and thus the bluest state in the whole world.

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Dhanurdhara Swami October 28th, 2024

I’m very busy during Kartika and just getting some regulation in my vrata and I didn’t have time to write. Let me offer this week something that represents my feelings about Vṛndāvana. I think it may be my first Monday Morning Greetings, although it wasn’t called that at the time. It was written almost 25 years ago and is it is still one of my favorites.

Home at Last!

October 6, 2000
Delhi / Vṛndāvana

I entered a myriad of signs lining the path exiting the airport, held by various drivers searching for their pick-up. I wasn’t sure if the message announcing my arrival had reached Vṛndāvana, so I was anxiously searching for my name. What a relief to spot the smiling face of Gopal, our vrajavāsī driver!

All of my entries into Vṛndāvana have been similar: the feeling of unworthiness, the grime of my long journey representing the contamination of a prolonged stay in America, the instant relief of a yamunā-snāna (bath), and the happiness of seeing my old vrajavāsī friends. The water at Keśī-ghāṭa was deep and flowing swiftly. It was five o’clock and the sun was beginning to set in the west, sending a reflection of yellow light through its waters like a pathway cutting diagonally to the base of the ghāṭa where I was sitting. I carefully entered her waters, and facing the shimmering golden pathway, I reflected on the natural beauty of Vraja. After chanting my gāyatrī, I waded like a child in her soothing waters. Home at last!

After five minutes Ramesh, my auto-rickshaw driver, calmly pointed to the last step of the ghāṭa, about twenty feet to my left. A large snake sat there with a fish in its mouth. I don’t know how to describe my reaction other than that I tried to remain calm and dignified, but I still somewhat panicked. Quickly placing my hands two feet above me on the steps, I swiftly kicked my right foot up onto the first step of the ghāṭa and vaulted myself out of the water—or, I should say, tried to vault myself out of the water. I floundered and fell back in. I finally made it out and quickly moved up a few steps to where I had placed my things. As I looked to my right, about ten feet to the other side of the snake, I saw a sādhu calmly washing his loṭā. He was smiling and gesturing to me. He was laughing and flapping his right hand, which obviously represented to him my panic in getting out of the water. He laughed and laughed.

The vrajavāsī children, who were the only other people there and had been sporting blissfully in the Yamunā when I arrived, were also amused; their cunning smiles and laughter representing the anxiety and carefree hearts of young, simple children.

I looked at the sādhu again and heard, “Baba!” I couldn’t exactly hear what he was saying, but I intuitively understood him very clearly. “What are you so afraid of? Don’t you realize that Kṛṣṇa is in everyone’s heart?” As I walked up to the top of the ghāṭa and turned right to find my rickshaw, I looked back. The sādhu was still laughing and flapping his right hand. I also began to laugh and enjoy the fun. We maintained eye contact, both laughing until I drifted out of sight. By Kṛṣṇa’s mercy, I had entered the dhāma.

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Dhanurdhara Swami October 21st, 2024

Śrī Krishna was extremely pleased with Śrī Nārada for inadvertently causing Him to experience the taste of separation from His own devotees. He offered Śrī Nārada any benediction he wanted. To those who are uninformed about the nature of bhakti, his choice will seem surprising.

[Nārada said:] “Śrī Kṛṣṇacandra, please grant that no one will ever feel he has enough of Your mercy, Your devotional service, or pure love for You, the reservoir of ecstasy.” (Brhad-bhagavatamrta 1.7.135)

Here rests the essence of bhakti, never to be satiated. Why is that so? Again, I will resort to analogy to try to help make this very subtle point clear. Bhakti, or eagerness to serve God, is like the thirst for water. When one is thirsty three things happen. First, one is eager for water. Next, one feels a lack of water and is naturally humbled. Lastly, for the thirsty the taste of water is intensified. Similarly, in bhakti these same three things occur—one is eager or thirsty for bhakti, one feels a lack of bhakti and is humbled, and finally one’s taste for bhakti increases. In other words, what Śrī Nārada understood is that to feel satiated in bhakti means that the thirst, humility, and taste in bhakti will level off and eventually diminish.

To further understand Śrī Nārada’s request that the devotees never feel satiated in devotion, it is also helpful to understand the substantial difference in our analogy between the thirst for water and the eagerness for bhakti. When one quenches one’s thirst, the eagerness for water, one’s sense of being bereft of it and one’s taste for water all naturally decrease. But bhakti is itself the eagerness for God, and when one fills oneself with bhakti, the result is different than thirst being quenched. Rather than one’s eagerness or thirst for bhakti being slaked or diminished, one’s thirst for bhakti, one’s humble sense of lacking it, and one’s taste for bhakti naturally increase. Śrī Nārada was thus in fact asking for the blessing that as one advances on the path of bhakti, that the intrinsic insatiable nature of bhakti never has any limits.

The essence of Śrī Nārada’s inquiry highlighting the insatiable nature of bhakti also helps resolve one of the tradition’s quandaries: why are prema (heightened devotion) and utter humility considered practically synonymous? Can you imagine at the height of bhakti how deeply and infinitely one thirsts for Śrī Krishna, and thus how deficient in bhakti and utterly humble one feels? And in the same regard, note that Śrī Radha, Who possesses the height of devotion, is also the epitome of humility.

It also offers insight as to why Śrī Caitanya stressed in the third verse of the Śikṣāṣṭakam that a humble person can chant always. Who can chant always? One who can chant with devotion. And who has such a taste for devotion? The humble who are thirsty for God.

“One who thinks himself lower than the grass, who is more tolerant than a tree, and who does not expect personal honor yet is always prepared to give all respect to others can very easily always chant the holy name of the Lord.”

So, in this auspicious month of Kartik, which infuses devotion into our hearts, let us pray to Śrī Radha that indeed we are flooded with devotion, but in the spirit of Śrī Nārada let us pray we still will never have enough of it!

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Dhanurdhara Swami October 14th, 2024

Śrī Uddhava, Śrī Krishna’s most trusted advisor, is described in the Bhāgavatam by Śukadeva Gosvāmī before beginning his narration about how Śrī Uddhava delivered to the gopīs a confidential message from Śrī Krishna:

Śukadeva Gosvāmī said: “The supremely intelligent (buddhi sat-tamaḥ) Uddhava was the best counselor (pravaraḥ – the best; mantrī – adviser) of the Vṛṣṇi dynasty, a beloved friend of Lord Śrī Krishna (kṛṣṇasya dayitaḥ sakhā) – friend and a direct disciple of Bṛhaspati (śiṣyaḥ bṛhaspateḥ sākṣāt)” Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 10.46.1

In this verse three types of intelligence are enumerated: emotional intelligence (the best advisor); devotional intelligence (the beloved friend of Krishna); and śāstric intelligence (a direct disciple of Bṛhaspati). In this post I will define them and show how they were all required for his seemingly impossible mission to pacify the gopīs’ feelings of separation. Why was such a mission seemingly impossible? Just consider the intensity of those feelings. Krishna says to Satyabhāmā:

“And when they cannot see Me they become so torn that the fire of separation leaves them sometimes as though dead and sometimes as though insane.” Śrī Bṛhad-Bhāgavatāmṛta 1.7.97

Before discussing the three types of intelligence that Uddhava demonstrated in pacifying the gopīs, we should understand the general definition of intelligence as ascribed to Uddhava by Śukadeva Gosvāmī.

Buddhi sat-tamaḥ (supremely intelligent)

Buddhi refers to the developed mental faculties that give one the capacity for discernment and understanding. Each of the three types of intelligence gives Uddhava a slightly different tool for discernment and understanding to tackle the task at hand, to pacify the gopīs. The three types of intelligence:

Pravaraḥ mantrī (the best counselor)

Emotional intelligence is the ability to understand and manage one’s emotions and those of other people. We can just imagine how sensitive and patient Uddhava had to be, and how deeply he had to understand and empathize with the gopīs’ plight, in the three months he spent with them dispelling their sorrow. Is there any doubt why Krishna would choose his best counselor for this mission?

Kṛṣṇasya dayitaḥ sakhā (a beloved friend of Lord Śrī Kṛṣṇa)

The condition of the gopīs was so ultra-sensitive that even Krishna Himself was hesitant to attempt to pacify them:

“So their pain won’t be relieved even if they see Me. Their hearts will be so disturbed by thoughts of separation from Me that whatever measures I take for their happiness will only double their grief.” Śrī Bṛhad-Bhāgavatāmṛta 1.7.96

Considering the intense emotional state of the gopīs, Uddhava could not afford to make even the slightest mistake in his counsel. To succeed he therefore needed even more discretion than afforded to him by his mature emotional intelligence. He would need to be empowered with a special intelligence that is only gifted to most beloved devotees.

“To those who are constantly devoted to serving Me with love, I give the understanding (buddhi-yogaṁ) by which they can come to Me.” Bhagavad-gītā 10.10

Śiṣyaḥ bṛhaspateḥ sākṣāt (a direct disciple of Bṛhaspati)

When Śrī Caitanya fainted in the Jagannath Mandir, many thought he had died. It was only Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya who could test and detect that He was experiencing a state of ecstasy. He could do this by dint of his śāstric knowledge, although at the time he was still an impersonalist. Similarly, it was by his vast knowledge as a direct disciple of Bṛhaspati, the guru of the demigods, that Uddhava could recognize that the ten mad expressions of a disappointed lover (citra-jalpa) exhibited by the gopīs were expressions of the highest state of ecstasy. In all ways, Uddhava was therefore the right person for this sacred assignment.

By employing his high capacity for discernment and understanding honed by his emotional, devotional and śāstric intelligence, Uddhava was successful in his momentous mission. Is it not unreasonable, therefore, to promote Uddhava as one of the most intelligent persons who ever lived?

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Dhanurdhara Swami October 7th, 2024

In a recent post[1] I discussed the powerful use of upamān (analogies) as a pramāṇa (means of evidence) and offered a few original analogies that I composed. For this post, I will offer a few more analogies that I composed inspired by my attempt to explain the following section of the seventh chapter of the Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta and to show the power of this tool in elucidating difficult subjects.

Śrī Nārada is mortified because by entering Dvārakā in uncontrollable ecstasy he inadvertently instigates a scene that reminds Krishna of the gopīs. By doing so he sends his Lord into such a deep state of separation that it appears that the Lord has almost died. To pacify Nārada, who is devastated by what he had precipitated, Krishna explains that rather than being upset with Śrī Nārada, He was pleased. Although the pain of separation is apparently unbearable, it simultaneously causes such a state of unparalleled ecstasy that one actually hankers for it. Śrī Krishna thus shockingly tells Nārada:

“One may want to feel that separation again and may indeed feel distressed if one cannot.”

Gopīparāṇadhana dāsa’s commentary based on Sanātana Gosvāmī’s commentary elucidates the Lord’s point further:

“Judging from the strength of the devotee’s urge to continue suffering viraha-bhāva, that bhāva must in fact be the ultimate happiness.” (Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta 1.7.128, commentary)

I am presently teaching this section of Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta which describes how these seemingly mutually exclusive qualities of agony and ecstasy can exist simultaneously on the level of prema. It helped me to realize even further how helpful upamān (analogy) is in explaining very subtle and, in this case, almost inconceivable, concepts. In fact, an analogy is given in the commentary to help us reconcile this contradiction:

“A material example may help clarify this point: Although the coldness of ice is the opposite of the heat of fire, ice placed on one’s body may feel as hot as burning coal. In this example, the burning sensation from the ice is illusory, the numbing coldness real. Similarly, the pain of viraha-bhāva is a false appearance, disguising the reality of indescribable joy.” (Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta 1.7.128, commentary)

What follows are my own analogies to help communicate how we can understand this seemingly puzzling concept.

Analogy 1

A drama is successful when the audience feels the rasa it encapsulates, whether it’s romance, horror, chivalry or tragedy. Although the emotions can be negative like tragedy and horror, one can immensely enjoy the experience at the same time, as in enjoying a tragedy or a horror film. In the same way, the residents of Vrindavan experience deep separation from Krishna, an apparently negative emotion, but enjoy that emotion at the same time.

Analogy 2

In the last hundred yards of a marathon, when the victor is approaching the finish line, although the fatigue, exhaustion and pain may be increasing, the runner becomes so overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment and joy that the main mood is one of great happiness. In the same way, one in deep separation from Krishna feels increasingly the pain of separation from Krishna, but it intensifies the love for Krishna. As this love is the essence of their happiness, their main mood is one of overwhelming ecstasy.

Finally, the ācāryas tell us that we should not be surprised that these concepts are confusing because they exist in a realm that is beyond this world and therefore require a certain level of personal experience and realization to comprehend.

“The ecstasy of separation is not the miserable experience it seems to outsiders; it is mano-rama, the cause of full satisfaction for the heart. If someone still asks how one can feel happy within misery, he should know that only the rasikas, those who have spontaneous eagerness to taste this prema, can understand it.” (Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta 1.7.126, commentary)

Let me end with another analogy I composed to help us comprehend that it is reasonable that there are certain understandings that take a certain level of experience or maturity to understand.

Just as a very young girl can’t appreciate a romance because she is so many years away from having the experience of love between adults, similarly those not very mature on the path of bhakti lack the experience to comprehend the higher sentiments of perfect devotion where great happiness can be felt within misery.

After studying and teaching this section, I am more convinced than ever that upamān (analogy) is one of the most effective pramāṇas (means of knowing) for subtle and challenging concepts.

[1] https://wavesofdevotion.com/2024/06/10/swamis-analogies/

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Dhanurdhara Swami September 30th, 2024

The immigration officer looked up at me sternly, “Your student visa has expired June 10, 2024!”

What!? There must be some misunderstanding. I applied last October for a one-year extension. It has been granted. Look here under visa expiry date. It says 10/6/2024.

“In India, the month is the second digit. That’s June 10^th.

I then realized what happened. 10/6/2024 was the expiry date of my passport when I entered the country last year. When I applied for a year extension, they could only extend the visa until the validity of my passport, but because 10/6/2024 coincidentally would have been the date for the usual one-year extension, if the 10 stood for the month of October and the 6 stood for the date of the month, I mistakenly thought I was extended for one year. Evidently, American Airlines made the same mistake and allowed me to board my flight to India with an invalid visa. I pleaded my case to the immigration official who called his superiors. Soon two officials came, took my documents, ushered me into a waiting area for the deportation office and told me I should wait while they made further inquiries. A flood of realizations entered my mind.

Waiting is the Greatest Surrender

Surrender means accepting God’s will. When you are waiting for some crucial decision or information, there is nothing you can do about it. You’re left without even a crumb of the illusion of control or participation in the solution. All you are left with is prayer and God’s will. Waiting is therefore the greatest surrender.

You Can’t Buy a Ticket to Vrindavan

I have been coming to Vrindavan for forty-eight years. I travel economy, but this year I had an upgrade for the first time. I never traveled in such luxury. When things go your way, you tend to think you are controlling your destiny. Boy, was Krishna teaching me a lesson. You can only enter Sri Vrindavan by the mercy of Radha, no matter what class you travel and no matter how many years you have been effortlessly allowed entry.

Krishna is in Control

In one sense I passed the time peacefully. At least, I was determined to be equal-minded about my happiness or distress, confident that Krishna protects His devotee, which means that He does what is best. I didn’t know whether that meant granting me entry or deporting me, but I never felt helpless at the hands of the government. It was clear that it was all in Krishna’s hands and they were just pawns to execute Krishna’s will, which would soon be revealed. Of course, it would be painful never to be able to come to Vrindavan again, but that possibility didn’t seem to be on the table. It was only a matter of having this one entry denied.

Spiritual Life Becomes More Intense in Crisis

My chanting, however, was intense. There was a feeling of density in my meditation, in the sense that I couldn’t afford to be lax and leave space for other thoughts. Why does it take crisis to reveal the abject need to thicken our thoughts and feelings in devotion?

Everything is Krishna’s Mercy

After forty-five minutes, another official came, this one dressed in a suit instead of a uniform. I immediately pleaded my case. He looked bewildered and put me on hold and got on his phone. I just stood next to him waiting to see what came next. The original officials came with a well-dressed representative of American Airlines. They kept the documents and said, “Come with us.” Then one of the officials, the nicer one, said, “We granted you entry. You have a ten-year tourist visa in your passport which is still valid. We will let you in on that. But don’t study at any institution. If you want, while in the country, you can apply to switch it to a student visa, but it may not be accepted, and if it is you may have to pay a financial penalty.”

I decided to stay in India on a tourist visa and no longer be affiliated with the institution named on my student visa. I think it’s a much better situation. There were many rule changes I wasn’t aware of, and in the final analysis in many ways I ended up with a better visa than I had before. So, it’s all Krishna’s mercy.

Entry Granted!

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Dhanurdhara Swami September 23rd, 2024

I am fascinated with monastic communities. I recently watched a short documentary about one.[1] Mount Athos is a somewhat inaccessible mountain on the Athos peninsula in northeastern Greece governed as an autonomous region by a community of twenty monasteries and various small and single occupancy hermitages. The architecture of the monasteries is beautiful, and the art decorating them and stored there is priceless. They feature, however, a more traditional monastic life as compared to my more modern and social preaching life as a Hindu monk (sannyāsī). I was impressed and humbled in many ways as I learned about them. I thought it must be so peaceful to just completely leave everything of the world. Could I be so renounced? Maybe one day I can also chuck it all in and just retire completely to Govardhan. Would Śrīla Prabhupāda approve? I’m not sure. But certainly, I could do much better in my renunciation.

I remembered an interview in the documentary with one very educated American born monk, a graduate of Harvard Divinity School, who in his interview talked about how his loving father in the USA on his deathbed requested to see him for one last time. He hadn’t seen him in twenty-seven years. This monk never went, never even thought for a second of going, and was completely unmoved about it. It seemed to me so heartless. I felt for his father. He explained it, however, philosophically. His eternal relationship is with God, all others are temporary. Okay, he’s a traditional monk who left the world with faith in God. Isn’t that what traditional monks do?

What really hit me was another interview with a monk who revealed the “mantra” which all the two thousand monastics living there accept as their mission statement: “Embrace and love death.” They see death as their ticket to heaven and their lives as monks as paying the price of that ticket. That “mantra” really struck me.

When I heard that phrase, I felt some relief, but why? I don’t obsess excessively about death, and my vision is usually philosophical and optimistic. Maybe I still have some lingering fear of death, and the monk shared the phrase with such conviction that it gave me hope to transcend it.

A monk looks at death in a different way. For him real death is not the death of the body, but the death of the false ego, the illusory conception of enjoyer and controller. The consequent attachment with the body is the vehicle to fulfill one’s illusion. Monkhood therefore means practicing death by a fully renounced life. Therefore, instead of living according to the dictates of the body, the monk leaves the world to facilitate a life of the eternal soul fully surrendered to God’s will.

The bhaktas don’t have to leave the world to be renounced. Their renunciation is giving up those things that have no value in serving God. That doesn’t discount the benefit of living and striving for a life more unencumbered by social and economic restraints. And there  is a need for one in my order of monkhood (sannyāsa), to be an exemplar of a simple and renounced life. In that sense, I admire the monastics of Mount Athos and strive also to fully embrace and love death. Isn’t that our philosophy?

“My dear King, if you want to be fearless in meeting your death next week (for actually everyone is afraid at the point of death), then you must immediately begin the process of hearing and chanting and remembering God.” (Nectar of Devotion, Chapter 2)[2]

[1] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6mXl8C4-M_4

[2] This quote by Śukadeva Gosvāmī is paraphrased in the Nectar fo Devotion. If anyone knows where the verse from the Bhāgavatam is located please write us.

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Dhanurdhara Swami September 16th, 2024

As important as speaking the truth, is having the truth understood. To accomplish that you must understand the language of your audience. When I say the language of your audience, I am obviously not talking about the vernacular of a country or people, but how people according to their culture or experience understand different words and concepts within the same vernacular. In other words, the same word may be impregnated with different meanings according to that person or group’s culture and therefore when a preacher/teacher uses a word, it is necessary to understand what that word or concept means to that audience. The most difficult challenge in communicating therefore is when there is a mixed audience where the attendees understand the words and concepts in different ways. I discussed this challenge previously in terms of how various cultures react, some positively and some negatively, when they hear the word or concept “surrender.” As Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books were addressing a very mixed audience, I think communicating effectively to them was one of his greatest challenges.

And just consider how varied his audience was. His listeners were everyone from non-devotees to neophyte and advanced devotees, from progressives to conservatives, and from those foreign to Vedic culture to those immersed in it. We could go on and on.

His teachings also needed to be time tested, as he would be speaking to people through different epochs, and he wanted his books to be the standard books of knowledge for thousands of years in a rapidly changing world.

Another challenge exists because bringing the teachings of Sri Caitanya into modernity is not always popular, no matter how well you try to accommodate the frame of reference of your audience.  Although his aim was to reach everyone, he wasn’t going to water down his teachings like many who came from the East before him.

Was he successful? If so, how did he do it?

In terms of success, it is fact, and he would often point this out, that despite so many translations of the Gītā that came to the west before his own, no one fully imbibed its message and surrendered to Krishna. Thousands became devotees after reading Bhagavad-gītā As It Is. It’s hard to question his success.

My interest in this subject was sparked by preparing for my recent lectures about Sri Radha to honor Her appearance day. While conducting my research, the nature of Śrīla Prabhupāda’s challenge dawned on me. I envisioned his concern while writing his books. If he didn’t restrain immature readers from prematurely dwelling on the pastimes of the gopīs, his movement could be cheapened and lose its reputation. In fact, that had happened previously just a few generations after Sri Caitanya left the world. At the same time, I envisioned him being equally concerned that he offered his followers what Sri Caitanya came to give, “the most sublime and radiant mellow of devotional service, the mellow of conjugal love” (Caitanya-caritāmṛta Ādi-līlā 1.4). What did he do?

He chastely presented the main teachings of Sri Caitanya, by translating the two main foundational teachings of the tradition, the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and the Sri Caitanya-caritāmṛta. Everything is there from the beginning teachings to gopī-bhāva while through his purports the strong restraint from taking the more esoteric teachings cheaply is presented in no uncertain terms. In my preparation I especially marveled at the Kṛṣṇa Book which is basically a straightforward rendition of the verses and commentaries of the Tenth Canto presented in story form. Still, when it came to the five chapters describing the gopīs he added just enough of his own commentary to inoculate one from projecting their own mundane sense of eroticism onto the page. In that way those qualified to go deeper have the essence of Sri Caitanya’s teaching while those with less qualification are protected from abusing it. It looks so simple but that’s the point. That it was done so seamlessly shows Śrīla Prabhupāda’s genius in meeting one of his greatest challenges—to speak the truth to a mixed audience but have that the truth understood by all who are sincere.

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