"Dillinger."

Carrying our Pan Am round-the-world tickets, Srila Prabhupada, Panditji, and I boarded the flight in Los Angeles. It was my first plane ride with Srila Prabhupada, who was by now a seasoned world traveler. As the plane took off over the ocean Srila Prabhupada sat back tolerantly, strapped into his seat and peacefully chanting japa. He was almost eighty years old and yet despite inconvenience he refused to stay put in his comfortable Los Angeles garden suite. Prabhupada knew he had to travel to each ISKCON center to keep his disciples in an inspired state for preaching Krishna consciousness. He was personally spreading his movement and teachings. I thought how he had been preaching to us in Los Angeles that we should "not sleep," but always "make propaganda." He wanted devotees everywhere to hear these things and see it personified in him. He had said we should never do anything without thinking, "Am I eating this for Krishna? Am I speaking for Krishna? Time is so precious." Even though his disciples had his books, they had to hear from him personally, and therefore he traveled. We had packed a meal for Srila Prabhupada?sabjis, samosas and sweets?and we served it to him in flight. The stewardesses came by smiling and said we seemed to have a better lunch than they were offering. In their ignorance of Prabhupada they offered us liquor. Prabhupada accepted a 7-UP and invited us to take them also. I carefully arranged everything on his plate upon the airplane tray and sat by offering him more of each preparation as he ate. Upon finishing, he said that we should now eat also. It was awkward to sit on the same level as Prabhupada and eat, but on the crowded plane there was no alternative, and Prabhupada expected it. Now we were no longer in an ISKCON temple with dozens of devotees surrounding Srila Prabhupada and helping us meet his desires. It was just me and Panditji, surrounded by nondevotees who had little interest in Srila Prabhupada. I felt protective of him, although he was actually protecting all of us. Still, it was my duty to think and act that way on behalf of all the devotees in the world. The plane was already uncomfortable for Srila Prabhupada, and I wanted to make it less so, forgetting my own comforts. At least I wanted to assure Prabhupada that I was ready, willing, and able to serve him. In flight the airline showed "Dillinger," a movie about the life of the infamous bank robber-killer. Srila Prabhupada didn't use the earphones, but he began to watch the full-color film, which was filled with realistic gunfights. I also watched, sitting beside him, and at one point he said to me, "it is just like real life." In one scene the plainclothes policemen raided a mobster's apartment. They broke down the door with their feet, found the mobster and his girl in bed, and fired machine guns over their heads, frightening them to raise their hands and surrender. Prabhupada asked me whether the men breaking into the apartment were the bandits. I said, no, these were actually the police. He made a few comments, one time saying, "it is all simply violence and no purpose." Although at first he seemed interested in the phenomenon and techniques of the lifelike film-illusion, after about a half-hour he seemed disgusted with it and stopped looking. For me it was a treat to see how he was curious, even as a maha-bhagavata, to see into the workings of Krishna's material energy; it was a memorable delight to be with him in such an unusual situation and to see him completely Krishna conscious, as usual, even while looking on briefly at "Dillinger."