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1008 Ways to Remember Srila Prabhupada
<< 14 The day you left >>
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| The days went by quickly at the New Jersey seashore and soon three weeks were up. Each day was filled with joy of living with Srila Prabhupada. It was a peaceful and spiritual environment and the sweetness of his devotional mood sank deep into my heart. By the end of three weeks I was hooked. I had completely fallen in love with Srila Prabhupada. He was my whole life. I had no greater desire than to go on serving him daily, hearing him, seeing him speak, and hearing his enchanted talks about Krsna and His friends, and living in the Goloka environment that surrounded him.
| | Srila Prabhupada was charming, enchanting, sweet, humorous and loving. The love that radiated from his presence healed my heart from all the wounds inflicted by material life. That was my experience. I was after all a child who grew up in a home without my father since my parents had divorced when I was a small child. At two months I was sent to a wonderful, religious aunt, yet I did not really connect with my dad until I was ten years old. So Srila Prabhupada was the perfect father. He knew everything about everything. His protective presence surrounded me. When the day arrived that he was to fly to San Francisco, I was in emotional shambles. I remember so clearly kneeling by the car window just before he left, tears coursing down my cheeks as I looked up into his beautiful glowing golden face. I did not know when or if I would ever see him again. He was going to San Francisco to try to regain his health and from there he talked of going back to India. I was unable to speak very well, being very young and shy, yet somehow I expressed my intense pain at his leaving and my desire to serve him. I wanted him to get well, and if San Francisco or India would help, that was my great hope. Srila Prabhupada looked down from the open car window at a tearful young American girl with no spiritual qualification, yet he knew my heart. He raised his hand in blessing, his face was full of kindness and compassion and seemed to say: everything will be all right. He reassured me with an understanding that and told me: "Chant Hare Krsna. Krsna will arrange for everything". As his car drove away, a part of my heart went with him. Though I resumed my duties of cleaning my apartment, packing the pots and pans and household articles, my desire to see him and serve him grew and grew. He was going to San Francisco only for two or three weeks and then would return to New York. I hope he would return strong and well. Time passed and Srila Prabhupada returned to New York. He was somewhat disappointed as the San Francisco weather had been cloudy and cool, and he felt he needed the warm atmosphere of India. His plans for India were confirmed. When he arrived in New York his stay was brief. He told us he would return to Vrindavana either to get well or to leave for Krsnaloka. We desperately wanted him to get well. We continued our daily prayers to Lord Nrsimhadeva as instructed by him on that fateful night of his stroke. We begged Krsna to bring him back to us. As we gathered at the New York airport and sat on the floor, through my tears I heard the various talks. Srila Prabhupada commented on the Air India wallpaper designs that showed Indian ladies carrying water vessels on their heads. He found the pictures very beautiful. They reminded him of his beloved India. "Just see how graceful. They are wearing saris, carrying water pots. They are looking just like gopis in Vrindavana". Srila Prabhupada turned to Hemavati who was wearing a sari she made from a piece of cloth: "Just see how nice Hemavati looks in her sari. Hemavati you may also learn how to carry water vessels, water pots, just like the gopis, and you will look even more beautiful". Himavati was smiling radiantly, her long blond braid hidden underneath the silky sari.
| | There was a soft and sad kirtan, and the flight was called. We clustered around Srila Prabhupada as if to keep him with us for as long as possible. Here he was - surrounded by his children; most of us in our early twenties, some even younger. This was the final moment. I looked around. Jadurani was in great pain. She loved Srila Prabhupada so much; she could barely open her eyes and could barely breathe. Everyone was sad. I was crying, focused on his face, drinking in every last moment and filling my mind and heart with the desire to see him well and to serve him again. Then he left, he was gone. We watched late into the night as the plane took off. Brahmananda and I kept watching, as the jet streams grew faint; drizzly rain blew in our faces mixed with tears. It was the end of Srila Prabhupada's first lila in the USA. We knew little about Krsna but we knew a lot about loving Srila Prabhupada. Brahmananda and I agreed the rain felt like gopis' tears and the separation set in. It must be similar to the way the gopis felt when Krsna left for Mathura. It seemed to us like the whole world was crying when Srila Prabhupada departed for India.
| | I remember it also well. Most of all I remember, Srila Prabhupada, your compassionate glance as you looked at all your children just before departing for India. This has always been my favorite mood: your mood of love, concern and compassion. Thank you for coming here, for taking so much trouble and thank you coming back again and again and for dealing with all the headaches of starting a big organization. Thank you, Srila Prabhupada, for giving us your love so that we may learn to open our hearts and experience love. Thank you for teaching us to love and for giving us the experience of divine spiritual love without which our hearts are like empty pumping machines. Please remain always on the altar of my heart where I will serve you always with my thoughts and deeds.
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