Just see the different natures
Visakha Devi Dasi: After the lecture in Vrindavana, Prabhupada returned to his room for a breakfast prepared by his dear Yamuna Devi, a chef par excellence. Yamuna’s singing stirred the heart, her Deity worship was meticulous and stunning, she was friendly and, it seemed, without pride. In the Akash Ganga temple room some months before, I'd observed Yamuna sitting cross-legged, spine erect on a mat on the floor, listening to Prabhupada speak. Her eyes were closed and tears were streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto her sari. I'd never seen anyone react to words that way, and it made me long to hear what she was hearing. Now in Vrindavana, Yamuna wasn't sitting with us for the talks but was busy with service.
One morning Yamuna said to me, “You want to come to buy some yogurt for Prabhupada with me?”
“Sure," I said. As we walked the short distance to Loi Bazaar, Yamuna reviewed what she'd be making for Prabhupada’s lunch that day. “He hasn't had toor dal for a while, so I’ve soaked some toor dal to make a soup, with of course chapatis on the side. I have some fresh okra so I'll make that with shredded coconut, and I’ll make dahi vadas as well,” she said. Dahi vada, fried and spiced urad dal puffs soaked in creamy yogurt, was what had inspired our mission. “I have everything I need except the yogurt," Yamuna said as we entered Loi Bazaar and turned left toward the throbbing heart of the market.
By this time of day, Loi Bazaar was in full swing, bustling with shoppers, bicycle rickshaws with their piercing horns sounding, shop owners peddling their wares, haggling customers, children laughing as they skipped to school, and a few cows, dogs, hogs, and monkeys peppered here and there. Yamuna and I, now going single file to wend through the crowds, passed shops selling Deities of Radha and Krishna along with paraphernalia to dress and decorate them, shops selling traditional Indian dress (dhotis, kurtas, colorful saris, and woolen chaddars), shops with japa and neck beads made of sacred tulasi wood hanging from dozens of hooks that covered their walls and ceiling, fruit and vegetable stands, stores selling medicines, electric wares, jewelry, souvenirs, garlands, holy books, and sweets, until we finally came to a six-foot-wide place that I'd previously overlooked. Its specialty was milk and milk products.
The middle-aged man squatting on the ledge where the store opened to the street seemed like hed just stepped out of a shower. His black hair glistened, his face and skin were smooth and clean and the red and blue lungi he wore seemed new. He was smiling broadly at Yamuna as he swayed, still squatting, to the container of fresh yogurt and removed its woven dried leaf covering. The flies seemed less interested in this store than in other sweet and milk stores.
“This is the place Prabhupada used to get his milk when he was living alone in Vrindavana before he came to the U.S.,” Yamuna told me.
“Really! And is this the same person who was there then?”
“No, this is his youngest brother."
“Oh!” Suddenly everything about this store and the man in it seemed special.
“Dahi," Yamuna said to the man.
“Kitna?” he replied.
“Doh. Bara," Yamuna replied. The man examined two large rinsed clay cups to insure they were clean and deftly filled them both with thick yogurt, re-covered the large yogurt container and then covered both cups with leaves. Yamuna, smiling, paid him and, now she and I, each carrying a cup-one hand under and the other over it to keep its leaf covering in place, walked back the same way we'd come.
Just before we reached the Radha Damodara temple kitchen area, a large and aggressive male monkey jumped in front of us, stood up with teeth bared and began to lunge for the coveted yogurt. Yamuna, who had a dramatic bent, instantly screamed her mighty scream, threw her cup of yogurt high into the air and ran into a nearby room. As the clay cup hit the ground, broke, and the yogurt splattered, the monkey was momentarily distracted. I, decidedly undramatic and intent on protecting Prabhupada’s yogurt, covered my cup more tightly, curled my body over it to hide it from the monkey, and also ran into a room. Hearing of Yamuna and my differing reactions to this little misadventure, Prabhupada chuckled and commented, “Just see the different natures.”