The Passing of Krishna Mohan

July 3rd, 2001

Ye anilo prema dhana?

When I returned from my walk today, a neatly written message by Giri-Govardhana was left on my desk evidently relaying a message she received by phone from Ekachakra:

?I am at the house of Dadu (Krishna-Mohan). If you could call and talk to the family, it would be very much appreciated.?

I called hoping to speak to Dadu and was deeply saddened to find out that he passed away peacefully yesterday morning at the age of 83. I am confident of his destination, but he will be missed dearly.

Krishna-Mohan was an older Indian gentleman, a retired doctor, who imbibed genuine humility. He would visit me weekly in my room when I stayed in Towaco, falling down to the ground like a rod begging me for my mercy every time. He would often cry and sincerely express his insignificance and his need for grace. I felt embarrassed since, although he considered me his guru and revered me with the deepest reverence, I looked at him as my senior both in age and devotion. By the force of his sincerity I would sit or recoil on the edge of my couch, praying that he would soon rise and relieve me of my shame, but he would not rise quickly. He was absorbed in full submission to Krishna through His devotee. It was a personal and deep mediation, governed by the heart and not dictated by obligation or time. I sat and waited for him to rise, praying to Krishna to accept his devotion and prayers.

One time Vraja Kishor, a lover of Dadu, was in the room watching him begging for my mercy. When he left, Vraja Kishor was quite moved. I appreciated what he said to say about Dadu, paraphrasing Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu’s response to the humble entreaties of Rupa and Sanatana: “His humility is breaking my heart!”

Barring the extraordinary mercy of the Lord or His devotee, how many lifetimes must it take to make one’s heart so soft and kind? Dadu drew the spontaneous affection of all because he wasn?t envious of anyone, almost exemplifying the prayer of Srinivas Acarya to the six Gosvamis?dhiradhira-jana-priyau priya-karau nirmatsarau pujitau.

Dadu was an elderly and respected doctor from Punjab, but he wasn’t dry. In personal dealings he instinctively knew the art of spontaneous affection and no barrier of age or culture could dam his expression of it. No matter who it was, one would immediately feel the joy of loving dealings in his presence. Actually, Dadu was rasika; he loved Krishna, and he understood that love in a way that he could easily apply that love naturally to whomever he met. I remember when Raghunatha, from the band Shelter, came to a program that I was doing at his house on Christmas Day. He had never met Dadu or his wife, Satyabhama, before, but by the end of the evening they seemed to have such a deep bond of affection, almost an intimate relationship. It was like that with all the young devotees who met him. I have never seen such an elderly gentleman who could relate with these young devotees with such intimacy?or with anyone for that matter. It was indeed a rare gift from God.

The last time I saw Dadu was three weeks ago, the day after he returned from the hospital for the last time. A few days before, Jahnava had called me from Dallas and offered me a ticket to see saintly Mother Kirtida before she also left this world. I have some regret in not being able to take up her offer, but it was Krishna’s will, since I was able to see Dadu that Thursday and would have missed seeing him for the last time.

When I arrived it was obvious that Dadu?oxygen tubes in his nose, pale, and very weak?was in a very precarious condition after his third heart attack and a bout of pneumonia. We sang Vraja bhajans for almost an hour as he lay on the sheet-covered couch in the living room by Radha-Shyamasundar, his Deities, smiling in approval, and even sometimes struggling to play along with a small set of kartalas. When I was to about to leave, I was shocked that he
somehow managed to get down from the bed, fall to the floor, and pay dandavats at my feet with tears in his eyes, begging for mercy. I felt so bad. I could only think about how bad it was for his health?his head bowed to floor, the blood rushing to his head?but he ignored by pleas. “Dadu, Dadu, get up! This is not good for your health!” Finally Anjali, his granddaughter, was able to gently encourage him to rise. He sat back on the couch, thanked me for coming with his gentle smile and a shine from his kind eyes.

I love Dadu and I now pray to him, a great soul with Krishna, to open my heart like him, without fear, to the love of the devotees.

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