Searching for Inner Peace at the Hare Krishna Temple
This article, "Searching for Inner Peace at the Hare Krishna Temple," was published in The Philadelphia Inquirer, April 18, 1971, in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.
Happiness is a Spartan existence and chanting the Mahamantra 1700 times it day
By ROBERT A. CHERRY
JUST about the time the author of these words kisses the day goodbye, the people about whom they were written welcome-in the morn, which proves only that my hours are unsuitable for any work but free-lance writing, never mind being a full-time devotee of the Hare Krishna temple.
It is 4 A. M. and although I have been in bed 15 minutes, Nayana Bhiram has already taken his first shower of the day, offered milk and honey to his Lord, and recited his prayers; in the next four hours he will attend classes in spiritual literature, continue reciting prayers (in fact, he will recite more prayers on this day, than most of us say in a lifetime), offer food to his God, and then eat his morning meal.
By noon of this day, and every day, save Sunday, Nayana will be on the corner of Broad and Chestnut sts., chanting with other devotees an ancient prayer designed to change the consciousness of their fellow Philadelphians.
No small task, they hope to accomplish this through transcendental sound vibrations, brought to you, free of charge, by chanting the following prayer, known as the Mahamantra:
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare
Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare
That's all it takes, 16 words of sanskrit to change one's consciousness, though to be on the safe side, devotees repeat the prayer at least 1,700 times a day.
Some will recognize the words from Beatle George Harrison's song, "My Sweet Lord," little realizing the prayer existed before the Beatles, even before England.
If your consciousness needs changing and you want the Krishna people to change it, here's how to spot them, lest you walk past them on our crowded center city streets.
Look for a group of men and women in their early twenties, wearing pastel gowns, with a bag of beads slung across their chests, a white streak of clay drawn down their foreheads, and an expression of empty happiness on their faces. Oh yes, the men shave their heads, except for a tuft of hair left dangling in the back. And please don't repeat my brother-in-law's blunder, by asking one of them if he is an Iroquois Indian.
More than likely they will seek you out, so don't feel badly if at first you fail to recognize them.
The first time I observed the Krishna people. Enga Prabhu approached me, wearing the most blissful expression I was to see that day, and said: "Hare Krishna. We are members of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), founded in 1966 by His Divine Grace, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada. The goal of the society is to attain a love of God (Krishna) by following the process of bhakti-yoga. That is what you are watching." She pointed to six devotees dancing and chanting on the corner.
As I later learned, although His Divine Grace, A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, founded the society he did not discover Krishna consciousness. Devotees believe there was never a time when that did not exist, since Krishna is the original name of God.
Millions of years ago, according to the Bhagavad-gita, one of the religion's scriptures, Lord Krishna (God) transmitted his teachings to Vivasvan, the god of sun. Somewhere along the line disciplic succession was broken until Lord Caitanya, a reincarnation of Krishna, appeared in India 485 years ago. Then disciplic succession broke down once again, but thanks to Swami Prabhupada's materialization five years ago, everything is back to normal.
When my conversation with Enga ended, I stepped aside to listen to the chanting and to watch her address the next pedestrian. It was an elderly woman, who heard essentially the same message as I. In addition, she learned that ISKCON is non-sectarian and that they hold a feast every Sunday. As the woman began to move on, Enga asked her if she could help out with a small donation, which she could not.
Fortunately for the devotees, who have no other source of income, there were people who could help out, though to what extent the devotees would not reveal. All they said is, "Krishna makes sure we get enough."
Sankirtana, or public sin ging, supposedly spreads the love of God to all who chant His holy name, Krishna. It's hard to tell how much love is passed out on Chestnut st., but the daily performance always attracts a crowd.
Reaction to the devotees varies. One young girl said they looked retarded, while another gave they them all her loose change. Asked why, she said, "I believe people should get back to God. Besides, I know they need money, so I helped out." A man wanted to make a donation, but was afraid it would be misinterpreted. "If I give you money," he said, "you'll never leave this corner to go out and earn a living."
When they do leave the corner usually around 4 P.M., it isn't to earn a living, but to return home, which for them is a rambling, three-story Victorian structure at 641 E. Chelten Ave.
Outwardly it is no different than any other house in this section of Germantown, save for a neon sign bearing the letters I-S-K-C-O-N attached to the front porch, not unlike the kind of sign one finds on the home of a chiropodist.
Here the followers, 24 at latest count, eat, sleep, pray and devote every waking minute to Krishna. And each Sunday they conduct a service and feast, from 4 to 6:30 p. m., to which the public is cordially invited.
This member of the public entered the home through an unlocked door on the side. I was greeted by the fragrance of incense and one of the devotees, Lalit Kamur, arrayed for the festivities in a robe of gold.
We were in a small reception room. Before leaving, Lalit requested I remove my shoes, which I did, placing them amid many other pairs. Then we walked through an empty room (later the site of our feast), and prepared to enter the temple. I say prepared because, first, Lalit had to draw a telok with clay on my forehead which, he explained, marked my body as a temple of the Lord.
We entered the parlor of the house, which had been converted into a temple. Lalit prostrated himself and prayed to Krishna. I hoped he was praying for both of us, since I was too busy taking in the splendor of the moment.
Krishna people are vegetarians, so if you go expecting the head of a pig, don't be disappointed.
Whether we had a feast or not, is open to debate. Whatever you choose to call it, here is what was so graciously served to us on paper plates, not more than ten minutes after it had been blessed by Krishna: rice and tomatoes; a concoction of creamed wheat, peas, carrots and squash; dates, figs, and bananas fried in a whole wheat batter; and potatoes and cabbage.
While we ate, the devotees talked to us about their religion. Even when they talked to each other, they spoke only about Krishna. In fact, that is all they speak about.
***********************
They can't gamble,
drink intoxicants,
or have sex
before marriage
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In addition to being vegetarians, devotees are not permitted to gamble, to drink intoxicants or to have sex before marriage, or once married, with anyone but their spouse.
But don't think their lives are monotonous; after all, they can read or listen to music, just so long as it has something to do with Krishna. So what if they go to bed at 9:30 and don't watch television or go to the movies. When Hollywood casts Charlton Heston as Lord Krishna, then they'll go to the movies.
Nayana, age 25, who was known around Teaneck, N. J., as Daniel Haber, is a graduate of Rutgers University, where he was interested, he said, in film and drugs. He said the Philadelphia chapter is two years old and that there are 30 ISKCON chapters world-wide. The Philadelphia chapter distributes literature to schools and libraries and visits prisons and mental hospitals. They are always well received, especially at the mental hospitals.
He and his wife, Daivisaktidevi, a graduate of Cheltenham High School, and the other married couples, each have a private bedroom, even if they don't have beds.
Photo 1: In the shadow of the Provident National Bank, at Broad and Chestnut, Hare Krishna devotees chant and solicit donations, their only source of support.
Photo 2: A tray of food is placed on the altar in ISKCON's Germantown temple as a symbolic offering to Krishna.
Photo 3: Devotees use no silverware. Fingers suffice.
Photo 4: Baldness is bliss at ISKCON.
Photo 5: Hare Krishna devotee Charlotte Johnson gives the pitch to a bemused passer-by.