February 2016

February 29, 2016: He Who Charms the Heart

As the sun was setting we walked down the parikrama path and just before Kesi Ghat we turned right into the small lanes winding through Vrindavan town to the Radha Raman temple. When we arrived we took darsan of He who charms the heart of every resident in this transcendental abode. The perfect ending to a perfect day in the most perfect town in creation.

Original album and Comments on Facebook

February 21, 2016: The Singing Janitor

Whenever Indradyumna Swami Maharaja comes to Mumbai he stays at the home of his disciple Narottam Dasa Thakur Das and his wife Manjari Devi Dasi. Today, Narottam had come with him to the hospital for his PET scan, a checkup for any recurrence of the cancerous skin cells he had had surgically removed last year.

“I’m doubly nervous,” Maharaja said to Narottam as they sat in the waiting room. “What if the cancer comes back? I’ll have to go through another operation and all the rest.”

“We’re all praying for you,” said Narottam.

“And I’m nervous about the scan,” Maharaja said.

“Why?” asked Narottam. “Scans don’t hurt.”

“I know,” Maharaja said. “But it gives me the creeps when they lay me out on the table and roll me into that machine. It’s as if they were feeding me into the mouth of some big monster.”

The Swami looked across the room and saw a janitor pushing a broom across the floor. “And just look at that guy over there,” he said. “He’s talking loudly to himself and laughing at his own jokes. It’s annoying, and it makes everything worse.”

“Maybe he’s a little crazy,” said Narottam.

“He’s not crazy,” said the man next to us. “I come here often and always see him. He’s just eccentric.”

The janitor strode past them, his thinnish frame dressed in a khaki-colored uniform, his brown eyes darting here and there. He was pushing his broom in wild motions, seemingly unaware of the patients in the room. Indradyumna Swami Maharaja could see that others were disturbed by him too.

“Now he’s singing to himself,” Maharaja said to Narottam. “And off key at that.”

The man next to them laughed. “He keeps the place pretty clean, though,” he said. “And he means well.”

The receptionist behind the desk called out to the sweeper. “Mahesh! Deliver this package to Doctor Agarwal. He’s in room sixteen on the fourth floor.”

Mahesh’s broom made a loud clattering sound as he dropped it on the floor and hurried over to the desk. “Yes, Ma’am,” he said. “Right away, Ma’am.” His voice was high-pitched and reedy. As he walked toward the elevator he read out the address on the parcel in a loud voice. “Doctor Agarwal, room sixteen, fourth floor. Wow! A big package of stuff for the doctor!”

As the elevator doors closed, obscuring his grinning face, Indradyumna Swami Maharaja breathed a sigh of relief. “Eccentric is an understatement,” he said to Narottam. “Anyway, it’s quiet at last.”

But just ten minutes later the elevator door opened and he was back. “Done!” he shouted. He hurried to pick up his broom and began sweeping again in the same big strokes, all the while singing in his shrill voice. The noise was oppressive, but Maharaja managed to doze off for a few minutes till he heard his name being called over the loudspeaker. The Swami walked into the examination room, where he saw several nurses and, to his surprise, Mahesh busily organizing items in a medical cabinet. “Oh no,” Maharaja thought. “What’s he doing here?”

“Mahesh,” said one of the nurses over her shoulder, “could you kindly take this bag to Doctor Reynolds in room 404.” Mahesh didn’t say a word as he danced across the room to collect the bag. He opened the door with a theatrical flourish and disappeared down the hallway.

“While we are preparing the solution for your scan,” the nurse said to Indradyumna Swami Maharaja, “please put on this hospital gown and then come and sit in this chair.” He went into another room to put on the gown, then came back.

“Ouch!” The nurse was sticking a needle into a vein on his wrist. Out of the corner of his eye, Maharaja saw that Mahesh had come back into the room. Suddenly, his chair began to slip under the pressure of his weight and knocked against the table where the nurse had all her equipment. A glass bottle teetered on the edge, and as she reached out to grab it, she accidentally yanked the needle out of Maharaja’s wrist.

“Mahesh!” she called, “Quick! Help!”

Mahesh dashed across the room, caught the bottle and put it back on the table. The nurse picked up the syringe, which was now in his lap. “Mahesh,” she said, “could you please hold this gentleman’s chair while I inject him.”

“Yes,” he said. He gripped the chair with both hands, a serious look on his face.

“Ouch!” The nurse found another vein. Mahesh leaned over and, to Maharaja’s surprise, began to speak in fluent English. “Sir,” he said, “this is a most auspicious day for me. Somehow by dint of my past pious activities, I have the good fortune to serve a sadhu. Such opportunities are rare.”

Then he quoted a verse from the Padma Purana:

aradhananam sarvesam

visnor aradhanam param

tasmat parataram devi

tadiyanam samarcanam

“My dear goddess, of all types of worship, the worship of Lord Vishnu is the best, and even better than the worship of Lord Vishnu is the worship of His devotee, the Vaisnava.”

“What?” Indradyumna Swami Maharaja said. “How do you know that verse?”

“I study sastra,” he replied softly, still gripping the chair.

“You’re a devotee of Krsna?” Maharaja asked.

“One day,” he said. “One day I hope to become a devotee of the Lord.”

“Are you from a family of Vaisnavas?”

“No,” he said. “I am an orphan. The devotees of the Lord are my family.”

Then he quoted a verse from the Bhagavad Gita:

mac-citta mad-gata-prana

bodhayantah parasparam

kathayantas ca mam nityam

tusyanti ca ramanti ca

“The thoughts of My pure devotees dwell in Me, their lives are surrendered to Me, and they derive great satisfaction and bliss enlightening one another and conversing about Me.”

Indradyumna Swami Maharaja suddenly realized that he had been so busy criticizing him that he hadn’t noticed his peaceful face and his moist, sparkling eyes.

“Sir,” Mahesh said, smiling slightly, “when I saw you in the reception room earlier, I knew in my heart that the Lord had sent you to give hope to all the unlucky people suffering in this place. Your presence alone brings joy.”

The nurse’s voice brought The Swami back to the present. “The injection is done,” she said. “Please go to the next room to wait for your scan.”

“Sure,” Maharaja said. “But first let me ask Mahesh if –––” he turned back to him, but he had gone.

“Where did he go?” Maharaja asked the nurse.

“To sweep, probably,” she replied without looking up.

As Indradyumna Swami Maharaja waited in the adjoining room, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “I misjudged that man,” he thought. “I was ridiculing him in my mind, but he is more of a devotee than I am. I’ve committed a serious offense. I’ll have to beg him to forgive me.”

Suddenly a sign flashed Maharaja’s name. It was his turn for the PET scan. A nurse welcomed him and helped him lie down on the scanning machine. “Stretch your arms over your head,” she said. “You need to lie completely still for a full ten minutes.” Although he had been nervous about the monster, Maharaja relaxed and slowly drifted off to sleep. He woke up when he felt someone touch his feet. The Swami heard a voice singing softly: “Hare Krsna, Hare Krsna, Krsna Krsna, Hare Hare/ Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare.”

Indradyumna Swami Maharaja opened his eyes. It was Mahesh. “Mahesh,” he whispered, “I need to talk to you.”

But again he vanished as quickly as he had appeared. The scan ended and the sense of shame came over Maharaja again. “I’m just an offender,” he thought as he changed into his clothes. Maharaja followed the exit signs until he came to the reception room, now twice as crowded as before. He was signing some papers at the reception desk when he heard the high-pitched voice of Mahesh singing. Maharaja looked up and saw him dancing across the back of the room pushing his broom.

Indradyumna Swami Maharaja rushed across the room. “Mahesh! Mahesh!” he called out. “I need to speak to you!” But before he could reach him, he had disappeared through a glass door. As he danced down the hallway to another part of the hospital, The Swami fell on his knees and prayed for forgiveness:

vancha-kalpa-tarubhyas ca krpa-sindhubhya eva ca

patitanam pavanebhyo vaisnavebhyo namo namah

“I offer my respectful obeisances unto all the Vaisnava devotees of the Lord. They are just like desire trees who can fulfill the desires of everyone, and they are full of compassion for the fallen conditioned souls” [Sri Vaisnava-pranati].

As he stood up, Maharaja suddenly remembered that he was in a crowded waiting room. Everyone was staring at him.

“Let them stare,” Indradyumna Swami Maharaja thought. “At the worst they’ll think I’m crazy; at the least they’ll think I’m eccentric. But I’ll know I am paying my respects to the wonderful Vaisnava I unexpectedly met today.”

Srila Prabhupada has written:

“Your complaint is that you have met two of my young disciples in California and they appeared to you as having ‘a very negative outlook towards the people they meet.’ Of course, I do not know the case, what are the circumstances, but kindly forgive my beloved disciples for any un-kindness or indiscretions on their part. After all, to give up one’s life completely for serving the Lord is not so easy thing. And maya, or the illusory material energy, she tries especially hard to try to get back and entrap those who have left her service to become devotees. So sometimes in the neophyte stage of devotional service, in order to withstand the attack of maya and remain strong under all conditions of temptation, young or inexperienced devotees will adopt an attitude against those things or persons possibly harmful, threatening to their tender devotional creeper. To come to that platform of understanding things as they are, that is not a very common thing, and therefore such persons who attain to it, they are described as ‘great souls.’”

[Srila Prabhupada letter to Lynne Ludwig, April 30, 1973]