"If you do not like living with devotees,"

There was a big crowd of people waiting as we disembarked in Tokyo airport, but they weren't there to greet Srila Prabhupada. Some of them held up signs to attract the attention of persons they were looking for, and they glanced past Prabhupada with no interest. The people waiting were almost all Japanese, many of the men dressed in Western suits and ties, but soon we saw an American sannyasi, dressed in saffron and carrying a danda, I had never met him but knew he must be Gopala Swami, who I heard had only recently arrived in Japan. He approached Srila Prabhupada, holding his palms together in obeisances, and then told us he had a car waiting. Prabhupada's first words were, "Where is Trivikrama Swami?" Gopala Swami said, "He has gone to Korea." Prabhupada seemed uneasy about the absence of Trivikrama, whom he had expected to be preaching here and greeting us. He said no more as he followed Gopala through the crowded airport to the parking lot while Panditji and I struggled along behind, each carrying two briefcases and two or three bulging shoulder bags. As we rode in a small car with Prabhupada through the congested city, Prabhupada asked me, "Is this your first time in Japan?" I replied, "Yes." I was grateful that he had asked. Although he had so many higher things to consider, he took time to make such an inquiry from an insignificant servant. From the car window we could see factory buildings on both sides and everywhere heavy traffic of small automobiles and pedestrians. The weather was cold?no more beaches and palm trees. "These Japanese workers," Prabhupada said, "are all simply karmis involved in a fruitless pursuit." Gopala Swami told how he had recently come here to stay with the few Western devotees maintaining a small house in the city. Some Japanese youths were coming, but the preaching was difficult because the people were so materialistic. Prabhupada reassured him that results would come if they persisted and distributed books. He mentioned that Sudama, who had been the first to come to Japan on Prabhupada's behalf, had had some success and had even started learning the Japanese language, until he had grown restless and left. We had planned to stay in Tokyo for only twenty-four hours. Gopala Swami took us to the house and showed Prabhupada his room, which was very tiny, like most places in Japan. It was the master bedroom, the largest room in the house, but it was maybe one-fifth as big as Prabhupada's room in Hawaii, and there were no windows. There were four devotees living in the house, and they greeted Prabhupada, although not with a kirtana. Gopala said there was one boy, an initiated disciple of Srila Prabhupada, who was not living at the temple but who was anxiously pressing to meet with Prabhupada and ask him questions. Prabhupada agreed to see him, and within a few minutes of our arrival, while I was still unpacking Prabhupada's briefcases, a young American man, dressed in Western clothes, entered Prabhupada's room offered obeisances, and sat before Prabhupada with a troubled look on his face. Prabhupada was wearing a sweater, with his cadar wrapped around him in the chilly room. "Why don't you live with us?" Prabhupada asked. I got a good inside-glimpse of Prabhupada, both as a world-traveling sannyasi, ready to go anywhere, and as the supreme troubleshooter and maintainer of the devotees in ISKCON. "I am not able to be free living within this movement," the discontented disciple replied. "Where are you living?" Srila Prabhupada asked. There were just a few of us in the room, but it was crowded. I was suffering somewhat from culture shock and from the discomfort of traveling, and it all made me take shelter in Prabhupada more than usual. But I couldn't understand why Srila Prabhupada had to immediately deal with this unsubmissive boy. "I am living in the train station," he said. "The train station?" asked Prabhupada. "What is that like?" The young man began describing his difficult life in the train station. The policemen would often wake him up and throw him out by force. "So you have left us in order to have more freedom," said Prabhupada, "But now you are living under force." "Yes." "If you do not like living with devotees," Prabhupada continued, you will find it even more difficult living under the strict control of the material nature. So give this up and live with us." But the boy remained reluctant, expressing a vague grudge and a misguided philosophy. Prabhupada was encountering some of the same independent spirit he had met in Hawaii, where many persons claimed to be his disciples, but lived apart, espousing various philosophies under the influence of Anandaji and others who spoke against ISKCON. I had hardly ever encountered this influence in the U.S. But I began to realize how things were different in other places around the world, even in ISKCON, and how Srila Prabhupada had to confront many different mentalities and problems as he traveled. About an hour after our arrival, Prabhupada went into the tiny temple room. A few Japanese boys and girls were there waiting, and they received Prabhupada respectfully. He sat on a vyasasana in a particularly relaxed way, leaning back while lecturing to the devotees and guests. At one point he spoke directly about the specific issue he had again encountered. "If one serves the spiritual master and inquires from him," said Prabhupada, "then the spiritual master is very liberal and generous and glad to answer. But in Kali-yuga many disagree even with their spiritual master. One cannot abandon the spiritual master and still claim to understand his instructions. If I say I love Krishna, but I kick His devotee, what kind of love is that? If I want to be Krishna conscious, I should live with the devotees and the Deities. Not that, ?I love Krishna' and go live in a train station" Since we were staying so briefly, I didn't bother to unpack or set up my typewriter. We all stayed up rather late, and then I lay in my sleeping bag on the floor right outside Srila Prabhupada's room. I felt good about my purpose in life, to be a watchdog at the door of my beloved spiritual master, and in that mentality the total strangeness of the mundane surroundings did not affect me. I was not really lying down in a dark hallway in Tokyo; I was outside Prabhupada's room.