September 25, 1966 : New York
Mukunda: The Swami's programs continued to grow in popularity. More people began attending the morning sessions as well, and I began to think that the Swami really was managing to acquire a "society" of some sort after all. Then one morning, out of the blue, he made an announcement at the end of his class. "I'm going back to India in two weeks," he said, rather casually. People glanced at each other and whispered. How could he just be "going back to India?" What about his temple? What about all of us?
"Well, someone's going to need to look into the details of this," I said. "We should try to see if it can be renewed without him having to leave the States." That evening we met again to see if anyone had found out more. Bruce (Brahmananda Prabhu), a husky wrestler in his early twenties, had called immigration and discovered that visitors from India could renew their visitor visas only once.
The next morning, at Wally's urgent request, Ginsberg came to the temple to discuss the matter with all of us after the Swami's class. "Swamiji, do you want to stay in America?" he asked rather matter-of-factly. The Swami slowly looked around at us one by one. I had never seen such a sad expression on his face before. He seemed forlorn, like a father looking at sick children that he now had to leave alone to fend for themselves. The Swami cleared his throat and said in a whispery, hoarse, almost imploring way, "Well, I have my students here."
"Well, someone's going to need to look into the details of this," I said. "We should try to see if it can be renewed without him having to leave the States." That evening we met again to see if anyone had found out more. Bruce (Brahmananda Prabhu), a husky wrestler in his early twenties, had called immigration and discovered that visitors from India could renew their visitor visas only once.
The next morning, at Wally's urgent request, Ginsberg came to the temple to discuss the matter with all of us after the Swami's class. "Swamiji, do you want to stay in America?" he asked rather matter-of-factly. The Swami slowly looked around at us one by one. I had never seen such a sad expression on his face before. He seemed forlorn, like a father looking at sick children that he now had to leave alone to fend for themselves. The Swami cleared his throat and said in a whispery, hoarse, almost imploring way, "Well, I have my students here."
Two days later, he turned up at the temple with good news: he'd been able to get the Swami another six-month extension on his visitor's visa. Bruce had gone around to all the regulars attending the Swami's evening program to ask for donations to cover the legal fees, and we gave Ginsberg back his three hundred dollars, so grateful that he had given us a little bit longer with the Swami. Bruce had even been to Central Park and approached strangers, mostly tourists, begging for money so his "father" could stay in America.
Reference: Miracle on Second Avenue - Mukunda Goswami
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