This movement is eternal.

As Prabhupada's secretary-servant, I appeared to everyone to be content and occupied. But it didn't take much for me to keep the flame going in my restless meditation about going to preach versus staying back as servant. Through his correspondence, his lectures, and his room and roof darsanas, Prabhupada continued to urge his disciples and all listeners to take up the outgoing preaching spirit. As the typist of his letters, I was regularly in contact with this urging. To Dayananda in Dallas he wrote, "It is especially nice to hear that the boys are becoming first-class preachers; that is needed. Without preaching our institution becomes all rubbish." To devotees in England he wrote, "Go on printing and distributing as many books as possible; this is your real work and your personal success. I am enclosing the names of thirteen new disciples recommended. This is a result of our preaching propaganda, when our family members increase." To Pancaratna in New York he wrote, "Your list of achievements by college course, Yoga Club, and programs in general is very impressive, particularly that you have a regular four-credit college course at Fordham University wherein the students are required to read some of my books." To Haribasari in Washington State he wrote, I am very indebted to all of you for your untiring efforts to see that every man and woman in America gets one of my books." To Balavanta in Atlanta he wrote, "If anywhere they will take seriously the principles of Bhagavad-gita As It Is, that is America." And to Sri Govinda dasa in Chicago he wrote, "When I came to America in the beginning, I began to expand it and it is now going on and there is no question of it stopping, so long as we are sincere. Therefore go on with your lifetime plans making secure and distributing of books. There is no cessation. This movement is eternal." I wanted to go out and preach. I couldn't help myself from thinking of it and desiring it. Sometimes I thought, "I am sure that with suitable arrangements and a replacement, Srila Prabhupada would not be sorry to have me go and preach." But then I thought, "Why am I not content to remain with Krishna's pure devotee? This is offensive!" I remembered what Nanda-kumara had said about staying with Prabhupada as his servant for ten years and then going to preach. I was getting to the point where I could always bring up a rationalization for my going to preach?and then follow it with a reason or example to prove why I should not go. I recalled that when Guru dasa, the temple president of Vrindavana, was massaging Prabhupada one day and expressing how much he would like to be Prabhupada's servant, Prabhupada had scoffed at the thought. "This smearing oil is not important," Prabhupada had said. "Anyone can do this. You have more important work." But then, while reading Caitanya-caritamrita, I came upon an account of how Svarupa Damodara and Raghunatha Gosvami were engaged in the personal service of Lord Caitanya: "This confidential service was the personal care of the Lord. Svarupa Damodara, acting as His secretary, attended to the Lord's baths, meals, rest and massages, and Raghunatha dasa Gosvami assisted him." On one hand, Prabhupada's letters and talks abounded with exhortations to go out and preach, and yet as I read his books, I kept finding passages which reinforced the viewpoint that it was best not to ask for anything, but to serve silently. I discovered the following in the Krishna book: "My dear Lord, You have kindly asked me what You can do for me. In answer to this I simply request that I may not forget Your lotus feet at any time. I do not care where I may be, but I pray that I may be allowed to constantly remember Your lotus feet." The benediction which the sage Narada asked of the Lord was the ideal prayer of all pure devotees. A pure devotee never asks for any kind of material or spiritual benediction from the Lord, but his only prayer is that he may not forget the lotus feet of the Lord. I tried to pin down my back-and-forth mind by writing in my diary. While writing an entry, I would sometimes succeed in reaching a conclusion: I have become a hearer rather than a preacher. So let me do it. Let me thoroughly absorb the message from the lips of my spiritual master. Not just the formal lectures but everything he says and does. Let me not become lax in my duties, for that would be contempt by familiarity. Let me serve and hear and that will be my perfection. I should not be agitated that I am being kept by my guru's side as his constant companion. When guru and Krishna want me to go out and preach, they will send me out. "A dumb man can speak like a great orator." I should not think I am losing time by hearing and staying by Srila Prabhupada! Take the benefit; become pure by personal association. Be careful in secretarial duties and be thankful you are protected. But in another mood, I drew myself a picture of a preaching life: As one preaches continually to nondevotees, discusses the philosophy of Krishna consciousness with devotees, reads, writes, chants, and does not become over-involved in business management, a potency develops. He becomes immersed in these activities more than someone who is not so constantly preaching. This I see as the glory of sannyasa. Taking advantage of the privilege to preach, he trains his tongue to speak only of Krishna. As Prabhupada often explains, he travels all over the world to spread the message of Bhagavad-gita. Austerity, cleanliness, regulated following of principles, outer preaching programs to distribute Krishna's mercy?in battle against Mayavadis and atheists, jolly in spiritual identity, he represents his spiritual master and Krishna. In clearer moments I could see that there was nothing inherently wrong with either traveling and preaching or being the secretary-servant. The real point was what did Srila Prabhupada want? Finally, I committed myself to asking him for permission. Otherwise, my condition would only get worse. I had already caught myself thinking that my duties were not important. Although there was a risk in asking Prabhupada, I knew I had to take it. I had to hear it from him, as Arjuna had inquired from Krishna, "This is my doubt, O Krishna. I ask You to dispel it completely. But for Yourself, no one is to be found who can destroy this doubt."" I decided to ask Prabhupada at the first opportunity. But that was not so easy. My habit was to approach Prabhupada in a mood of awe and reverence. I rarely went into his room uncalled for. I was aware that I had special access to Srila Prabhupada, and I did not like to take advantage of it. I was placed close to Prabhupada not so that I could ask him my questions but so that I could serve him. Certainly this question was important to me, but unless I could ask the question as a form of rendering service, I did not want to take his time. Moreover, even from the viewpoint of my self-interest, I had to choose the right time to approach him. It could not be done in the brief space before he took prasadam or during the time when he dictated letters, since at those times he might be prone to deal with it very quickly. Nor should I approach him if it meant interrupting him from a grave, solitary mood. Days went by, therefore, before I found the opportunity. I continued my service, and sometimes spoke alone with Prabhupada or asked him questions, but not the big question that was on my mind. One evening I thought to ask him when he came down from his darsana on the roof. We were alone in his room, and Prabhupada began speaking to me. "The sannyasis should read and preach all over the world," he said. "People speak English everywhere, so defeat these rascals. There is immense field of work all over the world." I wanted to ask then and there, but somehow I couldn't, and so I asked about something else instead. "Srila Prabhupada, in addition to my other duties, should I study your books?" "How else will you progress?" said Prabhupada. Although he spoke brusquely, it was a joy to hear. "You have to have a clear conception of siddhanta. People will come and you'll have to defend." On another occasion, I went with Prabhupada to the house of his friend, Mr. Mahadevia. While giving Prabhupada his massage there, I prepared myself to ask the question, but before I could, Prabhupada began speaking angrily about the philosophy of daridra-narayana. "They say that to serve the poor is to worship God," said Prabhupada. "They take the actual worship of Narayana as something fictitious and apply the name "Narayana" to the poor man. Nowhere is this stated in the Bhagavad-gita. But if every man is Narayana, then why not the animals? If they want to serve the common man and call that service to God, then they should not kill the goats or cows." Prabhupada's forceful speaking caught my full attention, and I put my question aside. "Our objection," he said, "is not that they serve the poor, but that they bring Narayana into it. Narayana is in the spiritual world. Daridra is in the material. Don't mix them. It is a great insult to Narayana. Moreover, they are not even serving daridra. They say that the devotee is wasting his time and money worshiping the Deity when there are so many poor. But we are feeding the poor?distributing prasadam." While engaged in the vigorous effort of massaging Prabhupada, I also took up the voice of opposition to his argument. Prabhupada was well-acquainted with my "opposing views," and he welcomed them, as fuel to his fiery preaching. "But they charge that we do not feed enough people," I said, "and they say that we should give employment also." "But that we do," said Prabhupada, "We have about one hundred centers and thousands of students. We feed and employ." "But they say we will not help daridra," I said, "unless he joins our religion." "But then take it even materially," said Prabhupada. "To stop intoxication and meat-eating as we are doing is good for the health." "Srila Prabhupada," I continued, "when I was working with the Welfare Department in New York City, I learned that the poor were actually cheating, taking intoxication with whatever money was given to them." "Actually the collection in the name of material welfare is a great hoax," said Prabhupada. "Usually the people never get the money collected in their name. I knew personally of a political worker who was being trusted with the distribution of powdered milk donated from abroad. The man used to give a token amount to the school, one or two pots, pay the headmaster, and sell the rest to the milkman in Vrindavana." At times like this, even I was not crazy enough to ask permission to leave my duties as Prabhupada's personal servant. Most of the time I spent with Srila Prabhupada was in the course of a duty that didn't allow for the separate discussion I had in mind. Devotees phoned or approached me with questions to ask Prabhupada, and so it was their questions, rather than my big one, that I offered for Prabhupada's consideration. "Prabhupada, the devotees want to know," I asked, "if they might manufacture incense burners in India." Prabhupada replied, "No, they can't manage anything, not even washing their own clothing. Because formerly, as hippies, they gave up all responsibility, they still do not know how to be responsible. So many American boys and girls are like that. Hippies. America's position is not good." "The devotees here in Bombay want to know what is the best way to serve prasadam in the temple." "The best way," said Prabhupada, "is in batches of twelve. Twelve sit down, and they are served hot fresh rice, dal, capatis, and when they are finished they wash, and another twelve sit down. That way everything is hot and fresh. It is nutritious and palatable. Eat substantially and keep your health, but not voraciously." Then I came down with hepatitis. Panditji had come down with it a week before me, and he would regularly talk about it with Srila Prabhupada, telling him about his symptoms, his special diet, and medicine. One day Panditji approached His Divine Grace and told him he was now passing white stool. Srila Prabhupada replied, "I also sometimes have symptoms, but I don't say anything about it. Sometimes I see the stool is white, and I think, ?This is going on.' Then it will again be reddish. Just like now I am feeling some swollen condition in my foot. But I don't talk about it. The Vaishnava avoids too much emphasis on his body." With this as a warning, I tried not to dwell on my disease or allow it to cause inconvenience to Prabhupada. But when Prabhupada heard about it, he recommended I take sugar cane juice and also kerela. He said maybe my illness was due to overwork. I couldn't figure out why Prabhupada said that I was overworking, since my workload in Bombay had become light. Of course, my mind was overworking with its pro-and-con deliberations, but I wasn't sure whether he was referring to that. Finally, one morning after Prabhupada's breakfast I dragged myself with trepidation into his room. He was alone, and it seemed like a good time. "Now or never," I thought to myself and launched into my question. As I began to speak, I had the eerie sensation of hearing my own voice, which sounded weak as if from a distance. "Prabhupada, I was thinking that I would like to change my service and go preach in America." Prabhupada was displeased. That was immediately clear. "This is a concoction," he said sternly. "Preaching means to be fully engaged in Krishna's service in any capacity. Don't be like that Srimati, jumping, jumping." Prabhupada's allusion was to a lady devotee who had written him recently, asking for a change in her designated service. She had been trained up as an artist in making diorama dolls, which was very pleasing to Prabhupada, but in her latest letter she suggested that she give up that service and do something else. It was a crushing blow to be grouped in with her as a whimsical jumper. But that is the right of the spiritual master, and it was true. I attempted a counter argument, but I was like a scrap of paper against a strong wind. I had no hope or even desire to change Prabhupada's decision, but since I had invested so much energy in the idea, I thought I should at least go through the motions and receive his full, merciful reprimand so that I would be completely certain. But even to me, my case seemed ridiculous. "I want to preach more. I don't get many opportunities," I said. "A real preacher preaches everywhere," said Prabhupada. "You can preach here in the temple in the evening instead of me. It will be a great relief for me." "Well, that wouldn't be a relief for anyone else," I said, wincing at the suggestion that I should replace Prabhupada as the preacher. Prabhupada had a few more choice words, and then I said that I was sorry and that I could see that he was right. And so I had the answer to my long-awaited question. Retiring to the veranda in a devastated condition, I began my usual morning duties by typing Prabhupada's letters. I steadily typed out about six letters, as if I were in a normal state of mind. But then I wrote a letter to Srila Prabhupada and placed it at the top of the pile of letters. I then approached Srila Prabhupada for his massage, as usual. He didn't mention anything about my disastrous question, nor did I bring it up again. In fact, he was silent for the entire massage. Later, after he had taken his lunch and gone to rest in bed, I walked into Prabhupada's front room and picked up the stack of letters. My own letter was still on top, and I read it again to myself. Dear Srila Prabhupada,Please accept my humble obeisances. I am very ashamed for the whimsical way I spoke to you this morning, saying I was not enthusiastic from "not preaching."But your words have saved me. I realize real preaching is to be engaged in your service in any capacity.Actually I am very happy with my present duties, and I do not wish to have anything changed. I was simply under the influence of maya when I spoke.Now I am only afraid you will think I am whimsical and unsteady. I only wish to remainYour servant,Satsvarupa dasa Goswami Then I noticed Prabhupada had hand written something, a short note, in the upper right-hand margin of the page. Thank you very much.May Krishna save you fromcalamities. You arevery pure. I had written my letter with genuine shame and fear, thinking, "What have I done?" I had begged forgiveness. As I wrote I wanted more than anything that Prabhupada keep me in my service as his secretary-servant. Perhaps it was presumptuous of me as his servant to write such a letter, but at the time I was beyond my usual relationship of passive awe and reverence. I was desperate to express myself to Prabhupada in a mood other than the whimsical one in which I had asked my foolish question. I was aggressively anxious. I had to know his reply. Prabhupada's note is a great personal treasure in my life. I was not sure exactly what it meant, except that it was his kindness and that he was accepting me despite my faults. Why he wrote, "Thank you very much" is inconceivable. When he wrote, "May Krishna save you from calamities," I took it to mean that this event was one calamity and that there would be more. As a conditioned soul within the material universe, I would be subject to many calamities from the fourfold and threefold miseries, but Srila Prabhupada, as my spiritual master, was praying to Krishna that I would be saved. From Prabhupada's teachings I knew this to mean that I should always remember Krishna and never forget Him, through all trials and calamities. And this was Prabhupada's assurance to me of his well-wishing protection. Krishna is everyone's protector, and Srila Prabhupada is the protector of all his disciples. When he wrote, "You are very pure," I took it to mean, "You are a rascal for whimsically desiring to jump from your duty, but now that I have corrected you and you have written this letter of sincere apology, which I accept, I consider you a simple, foolish disciple. You have submitted to your spiritual master, so you are rectified; you are pure." Nothing more was said of the exchanges, and I applied myself to the duties of secretary-servant with more simplicity and renewed conviction and faith that serving Srila Prabhupada was the best preaching for me. In ending my story, I wish I could write here that after this incident I lived "happily ever after" in perfect obedience to Srila Prabhupada?with no other thought. But that is not a fact. I still had some reversions to my desire to "go preach," and thus I proved to be a less than ideal disciple. As throughout this narrative I have mentioned the faults of devotees such as Panditji, Bhurijana, Nanda-kumara, and others, so neither was I perfect. In fact, if I were to give myself a grade for the whole performance as secretary-servant, I think I would deserve, at best, a grade of C. But I do believe it was at least a passing grade, by the grace of the lenient, perfect master, Srila Prabhupada. I did hold fast?although at times shakily?to his order that I give up concoctions and serve him as he desired. I stayed as his secretary-servant. And so, with Prabhupada's and my passport as well as our round-the-world airline tickets in my briefcase, and with my face growing daily more yellow with jaundice, I accompanied Prabhupada, my beloved master, to Hyderabad, the first step on our far-ranging tour. Now I have told the story, and the truth is out?my only qualification as a devotee is that I am held up by the mercy of my spiritual master. That is the glorious truth. All glories to Srila Prabhupada, the perfect master. All glories to those who serve his order.