Volume-15 Chapter-37: A Vaisnava Gentlemen

When you finally came before him in January 1977, Srila Prabhupada immediately saw something special in you. Within a remarkably short time, he entrusted you with translating his books into Bengali, accepted you as his disciple, awarded you the renounced order of life, and drew you into his personal service.

Some devotees served Srila Prabhupada for many years. You came near the end of his manifest pastimes, when his body had become frail and every moment in his association was immeasurably precious. Your personal association with him was brief, yet profound. You served him closely during those final months, and that service shaped the rest of your life.

Anyone who knew you could see it: Srila Prabhupada was the center of your existence.

You did not speak of him merely as the founder of an institution or as a great spiritual teacher from the past. You spoke of him as your eternal master, your shelter, and the person to whom you owed everything. Your love for him appeared in so many forms.

It appeared in your determination to fulfil his instruction to translate his books into Bengali. You completed more than fifty volumes, a lifetime of service in itself.

It appeared in Abhay Charan, the television series through which millions of people in India came to know Srila Prabhupada’s life and achievements.

It appeared in the temples you established, the devotees you trained, the leaders you encouraged, and the difficult responsibilities you accepted within your spiritual master’s movement.

It appeared in Ujjain, where a magnificent temple rose in an astonishingly short time.

It appeared in Mayapur, Kolkata, Panihati, Bangladesh, South Africa, France, America, and wherever else service called you.

But perhaps most of all, your devotion to Srila Prabhupada appeared in the way you treated his followers. You understood that love for the spiritual master naturally extends to his family. You were a gentleman in the deepest Vaisnava sense of the word. You possessed culture, dignity, intelligence, and refinement, but these qualities never made you distant. Your gentleness made people feel welcome. Your affection made them feel valued. Your humility made it easy for them to approach you.

You could lead an important meeting, manage an immense project, give a profound class, sing a beautiful bhajan, or prepare a feast for your godbrothers. In each service, the same quality was present: you wanted to please Srila Prabhupada and the devotees.

The gentleness you possessed, however, was never a weakness. You were strong when strength was required. You accepted responsibilities that others might have avoided. You entered difficult situations and patiently worked to restore harmony. You defended Srila Prabhupada’s position and the unity of his movement. You understood that cooperation was not merely an administrative necessity; it was an offering of love to our spiritual master.

I remember when you visited our festival at the great Woodstock gathering in Poland. You led a blissful kirtan in our temple tent, surrounded by young people who had come searching, often without even knowing what they were searching for. Later I asked what you thought of the festival.

“It’s wonderful,” you said. “It can’t be understood just from photos or videos. You have to see it in person.”

Then I asked the question that was closest to my heart: “Do you think Srila Prabhupada is pleased?” You looked surprised that I would even ask.

“Of course he is,” you replied.

Those few words meant a great deal to me. They still do.

You knew my heart. You understood that behind the festivals, the stages, the tents, the prasadam distribution, and the thousands of young people was one simple desire: to please Srila Prabhupada. Your assurance strengthened me. That is what true friendship among godbrothers should do; it should strengthen our faith in our spiritual master and encourage us in his service.

I also cherish the times we stayed with Giriraj Maharaja in California. The three of us would sit together, speaking about Krishna consciousness, worshipping our Deities, and relishing the simple happiness of being in one another’s association. On one such occasion, you spoke with particular affection of a verse by Srila Prabodhananda Sarasvati, one that reveals something very precious to the heart of every Gaudiya Vaisnava. You carefully wrote it out in your own handwriting and gave it to me. That small act touched me deeply. I treasured the verse then, but now, in your absence, it has become even more precious, for it is a tangible reminder of your friendship and of the spiritual aspiration we shared:

yathā yathā gaura-padāravinde

vindeta bhaktiṁ kṛta-puṇya-rāśiḥ

tathā tathotsarpati hṛdy akasmāt

rādhā-padāmbhoja-sudhāṁśu-rāśiḥ

“To the degree that we surrender to the service of Lord Caitanya, to that same degree we become qualified to serve the lotus feet of Srimati Radharani in Vrindavan.” (Caitanya-candramrta, verse 88)

Such moments may appear simple when they occur: a few godbrothers together, some discussion, some prasadam, some laughter, and the familiar rhythm of devotional service. Only later do we understand how precious those moments were.

As the years pass, our memories of service together become treasures. We remember a smile, a phrase, a gesture of affection, or the particular way a devotee spoke Srila Prabhupada’s name. These things remain long after grand events have faded from memory.

Maharaja, you had so many gifts. You were scholarly, eloquent, musical, capable. You were a visionary. Yet the quality that touched me most deeply was your heart.

You cared for devotees. You were attentive to them. You wanted them to succeed in their service. You rejoiced when something went well for a godbrother or godsister. You were gracious in friendship, generous in hospitality, and quick to offer encouragement.

In a world where leadership can sometimes become impersonal, you showed that responsibility and affection can live together. You demonstrated that one may be firm in principle without becoming hard-hearted, accomplished without becoming proud, and learned without losing simplicity.

Then came that painful year, 2020. While the world was struggling with fear and isolation, you travelled to America with plans to continue your service. When you became ill, devotees throughout the world prayed for you. Kirtans were held in many countries. Disciples, godbrothers, godsisters, and well-wishers called upon Krishna to protect you. But Krishna answered those prayers in a way we did not expect. He took you from our sight.

At that time, I wrote to your disciples that because you had been my close friend for many years, I was crying alongside them. Their grief was, in many ways, the grief of our entire society. You had touched not only your own disciples but devotees throughout Srila Prabhupada’s movement.

Separation reveals the depth of affection. But separation from a Vaisnava does not leave us empty. Instead it turns to remembrance, and that remembrance inspires us to go on serving.

Dear Maharaja, though you have left us, you remain present in your translations.

You remain present in the moving image of Srila Prabhupada in Abhay Charan.

You remain present in the worship of Radha-Madan Mohan in Ujjain.

You remain present in the holy names sung by those whom you inspired.

You remain present in the lives of your disciples, who carry your instructions and your affection within their hearts.

And you remain present in the memories of your friends.

Today, on your Vyasa-puja, I do not wish merely to praise what you accomplished. I wish to thank you. Thank you for your friendship. Thank you for your encouragement. Thank you for showing us that devotion to Srila Prabhupada must be expressed through service to his mission and affection for his devotees. Thank you for reminding us that refinement and humility are not signs of weakness but ornaments of a Vaisnava. Thank you for demonstrating that love for ISKCON means accepting responsibility within it not only in peaceful times, but especially in challenges times.  And thank you for the example of a life completely offered at the lotus feet of our spiritual master.

My dear Bhakti Charu Maharaja, I miss you. I miss your gentle nature, your beautiful singing, your gracious hospitality, and the warmth of your friendship. I miss knowing that you were preaching somewhere in the world, encouraging devotees, building another project, or speaking the glories of Srila Prabhupada.