On the last morning in Hong Kong, which was particularly cold, Srila Prabhupada asked me to stay back from the morning walk and make some halava for his breakfast. As usual, the sincere young Chinese men were going on the walk, and so there would be good Krishna conscious questions and answers. I would have liked to have gone walking with Srila Prabhupada up on that Chinese peak. But Bhurijana and his wife were also going along, so Prabhupada had plenty of company. Staying back to cook was my duty.
As usual, I had to hustle up the ingredients, this time from the hotel restaurant. They gave me just enough butter and grains for one portion. For an hour I worked carefully, determined to make good halava. I knew what I wanted: a thick, buttery, hot halava, the grains slightly dark. The right texture, the right amount of water, enough sugar but not too much?
Prabhupada and the devotees came back just as I was finishing. They looked uncomfortable from the cold, and Bhurijana said that he had asked Prabhupada to turn back from the walk because Prabhupada himself looked like he was getting cold. A perfect occasion for halava.
Prabhupada sat for breakfast, and I put a large bowl of the rich halava before him. After about ten minutes, he rang the bell. I entered his room and began cleaning his eating area. He had eaten almost the whole bowlful. I was already feeling blissful when he asked, "Who has made this halava?"
"I did," I replied.
"It is very good," Prabhupada said, and without looking at me he went into the bathroom to wash his mouth. There was always something special about pleasing Prabhupada by cooking?and this time in particular. I had carefully prepared him a bowl of halava, that's all. But my satisfaction upon hearing his words of appreciation was so deep that it vanquished all my anxiety and unhappiness. There is nothing as rewarding as pleasing the spiritual master.
I didn't think we would be seeing much of Anandaji's anti-ISKCON preachings in India, where we were going next. But as far as I could understand, he had attempted to cause a split in Prabhupada's movement. And Prabhupada had repaired it. It seemed to me a most dangerous thing, a split. So I wanted to ask Prabhupada something more about it, although up to now I had not been much involved. At an opportune time, I approached Srila Prabhupada and asked, "Srila Prabhupada, what about splits in our movement?"
Prabhupada immediately cut me off. "There is no such thing as a split," he said. "There is only insincerity, that's all. I chant sixteen rounds and follow the principles and preach and you do also. There is no split. Only if one is insincere and doesn't follow"
I said no more. My very uttering of the word "split" had seemed impertinent to him. I took his fiery reaction to mean that there is no justification for disciples working against the spiritual master's movement. His movement and the directions he gives are perfectly clear, and everyone should follow. If someone doesn't follow, he cannot be credited with creating something separate, as if the "split" is a new spiritual entity. Rather such a person dies spiritually. He becomes asara, or useless, as had the disobedient sons of Advaitacarya, whom Prabhupada had described in a Caitanya-caritamrita purport. Those who leave ISKCON are apa-sampradaya. They are like a branch broken off from a tree; they wither away. At least that is my understanding. And from what I saw of Srila Prabhupada in action as he traveled from Hawaii to Japan to Hong Kong, fighting an outbreak of propaganda against his ISKCON, he gave no credence to a split.
Reference:Life with the perfect master - A personal servants account by Satsvarupa Das Goswami