India has everything

India has everything, the full spectrum, ranging from supreme purity to utter hypocrisy. After I cleared immigration at the Delhi airport, the customs officer pulled me out from the queue, and with a "Jai Maharaja," ushered me on my way, without delay. Today at the Bhaktivedanta Ashram at Govardhan, as I chanted japa in the courtyard, a construction worker suddenly emerged and, palms pressed together, he offered his respects. While renovating a room, the Holy Name had caught his ear, and therefore he had come out, impelled to honor the chanter. Right--such behavior would never happen anywhere else in the world.

But there is also the other side; therefore I never recommend that unseasoned devotees travel around India alone. One emerging devotee, after seeking my advice about her first trip to India, decided not to heed my admonitions about inexperienced women traveling alone there. Rather than going straight to her destination, she took a side trip to Vrindavan--her girlfriends had exhorted her, "You have to go there, to get the mercy."

Blissfully she floated into Vrindavan, where immediately she received the mercy: a marriage proposal--just what her heart had been aching for. Seeing her for the first time, the local wooer sought to wrap the deal up straightaway. He escorted her to Radha Kund, to the house of an astrologer, "mentioned in a tour-guide book of the holy places," she explained. He was a very serious sadhu, the young lady adjudged. "Oh how compatible! Your planets all complement his, and by your union all material and spiritual success will flow," the astrologer exclaimed. Her lonely heart soared to the heavens. He then described to her how the most auspicious time for this perfect match to be consummated was coming in just . . . two months. Her intelligence taken aback, but her heart chakra open, she replied that Devamrita Swami instructs devotees to gradually approach marriage, in a structured and explorative way. "Don't worry about that--I'll write to him and explain everything," the astrologer assured. She then emailed me: "I think your recommended approach to marriage is totally correct, but for some reason, I believe this astrologer. After all, he looked to me very knowledgeable--in fact, when we arrived, he was reading a Prabhupada book." Her verdict: "Astrology is part of the Vedas, and a bona fide science; I could arrange a letter from the astrologer, attesting to his qualifications."

My initial travel advice unheeded, I had scant desire to be the party spoiler--you know, the mean swami who pulls the brake on the Amorous Express, speeding on a one-way track to the guaranteed gingerbread house in the magical forest. I felt I had done my best, disseminating though the mentor system the axiom: "Marry in haste, repent at leisure." Nevertheless, with the understanding and sympathy that comes with age and experience, after some time I briefly wrote, : "I have been hesitating to reply, because the situation is not one I would like to enter into, and you are quite naive about India, astrologers, and astrology. So you have to proceed at your own risk. I know you are eager for a husband--that is natural for a lady your age, so I hope your plans work for you. Always remain in Krishna consciousness, whatever you do. That is the best that I can say." Fortunately, the cloudburst of romance had faded, even before my email arrived, and the sun of better discretion was higher in the sky--to her credit. She thanked me for my caring.

Hearing the story, Kesava Bharati Maharaja, an old India hand, living at Govardhan for fifteen years, chuckled, "For a few hundred rupees, anyone around here can keep an astrologer on retainer, for saying whatever necessary, whenever needed. Every shop in Vrindavan displays a Prabhupada picture prominently, to flatter ISKCON devotees. Just walk in, and immediately the shop-owner will start doing puja to the picture."

Seeking to keep healthy circulation, I asked the devotees at the ashram if they could recommend any masseurs in the town. Laughingly, they told me the first and last time they tried that was with one of my Godbrothers, eight years ago. The hands of the hired masseur, however, kept gravitating toward the groin area, despite the client's loud protests. Abruptly the senior Vaishnava ended the session. Later the ashram devotees heard that some upright locals in the town had chastised the masseur for this incident with the foreign devotee. Defending his occupation, he had innocently replied: "But many swamis from our area like when I do that."

Perhaps we have forgotten too quickly Srila Prabhupada's revelations about the varying types of characters inhabiting the holy places in India. He was especially careful about his ISKCON devotees wandering freestyle around Vrindavan, knowing their naivete and spiritual susceptibility to anyone who looks like a sadhu and speaks krsna-lila. For my serious disciples, I always instruct that they go to India with an experienced guide; otherwise better not to go at all.