(Srila Prabhupada preaching at 26 Second Avenue, New York, 1966.)
The storefront itself is only a fifteen by forty foot unfurnished room. Someone had placed straw mats on the floor for sitting. At the far end are two windows, a closed bathroom door, and a badly chipped sink. A bare lightbulb hangs from a cord in the middle of the room, another at the entrance. They are the only lights.
As we wait, others come in. Then, through the back windows, I can see the Swami crossing the courtyard to the storefront. He enters through the hall door and quickly slides off his white pointed shoes. Then he sits on one of the straw mats and faces his new congregation.
His attire is humble, ascetic: a saffron dhoti worn in the style of a sannyasi monk, and a saffron chadar over his shoulders. As he sits erect and cross-legged, his body seems to dwindle. His magnetism and personality are concentrated in his face, large and noble like a Buddha's. It is a serene, meditative, grave face, a tranquil face, encompassing joy, compassion, sorrow, and much more. It is a face unlike any other I have ever seen.
"First you must hear about Krishna from the lips of a pure devotee," the Swami says. "Shravanam. In my childhood, in school, I first heard about America in my geography and history classes. By hearing, I understood, 'Oh, that is a very wonderful country, and it is very far away. If I go there, I will see big buildings and many motorcars.' So I had some mental conception by hearing. Or, you may not have gone to India, but you have some idea of what it's like by reading or hearing. You don't go there without knowing something first. Similarly, if we want to see God, or go to the Kingdom of God, we first must hear. That is the process of sravanam. And kirtanam. Kirtan. You must repeat what you hear: Hare Krishna. This kirtan, or chanting of Hare Krishna, cleanses the dust from the mirror of the mind, dust accumulated by crores and crores of births."
Interrupting the lecture, an old white-bearded Bowery bum enters and walks down the middle of the room. We sit in confused silence. He approaches the Swami.
What to do? The old beggar is wearing a raincoat and battered hat. In his hands are paper handtowels and two rolls of toilet paper. Without speaking, he walks past the Swami and carefully places the handtowels by the sink and the toilet paper on the floor beneath. Then, clearing his throat and muttering something, he turns and walks out.
"Just see," the Swami says with satisfaction. "He may not be in order, but he has just begun his devotional service. Just see how naturally it comes. That is the process. Whatever we have -- it doesn't matter what -- we must offer it to Krishna."
After the lecture, the Swami asks if there are any questions. Someone asks if it is true that he is forming an 'international society,' as indicated by the sign on the window.
"Yes," the Swami says. "Of course, at present, this is our only branch, but this Society we are forming, the International Society for Krishna Consciousness, is meant to teach everyone love of God by this bhakti-yoga process. The other day, someone wanted me to call it the 'International Society for God Consciousness.' He smiles and shakes his head. "But I decided no," he says. "Krishna must be there."
After the questions, the Swami again slices up an apple and hands it to Roy for distribution. Then, seeing that some people are questioning the Swami further, I also approach him.
"Have you ever heard of LSD?" I ask boldly.
"No," he says.
"It's a chemical," I say, vaguely feeling stupid. "Some people think that it can give religious insights or ecstacies. Do you think that could be helpful in spiritual life?"
He looks at me for a moment with childlike curiosity.
"You don't need to take anything for your spiritual life," he says. "Your spiritual life is already here."
"Yes, it certainly is here," I think, standing before the most exalted personality I have ever seen.
Many of the evening lectures, delivered on the Second Chapter of Bhagavad-gita, stress that we are not these bodies but Brahman, spirit.
"Your material situation is not important," we're told. "What is important is that you establish yourselves immediately in spiritual life. The spiritual man sees the Supreme Lord everywhere at every moment, in every living being. Because He loves Krishna, he has this vision. He does not see cows, or men, or women, or fools. He sees only the Supreme Lord. Others may see him as penniless, but he knows that he's the happpiest, richest man in the world."
As we listen, we hardly notice that he is making us Krishna conscious bit by bit, day by day, despite our past karma and mental attitudes.
"A man in Krishna consciousness does not walk around in a fog," he tells us. "No. He works well and with the touch of an expert. When one enters Krishna consciousness, he becomes a poet and writes hymns to God."
(From The Hare Krishna Explosion, Chapters 1 and 3)
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