Podcast transcription:
On Presumption and Defiance of the Order:
What Two Major Events (Five Millennia Apart) Have in Common
By Kailäsa Candra däsa
HARIÙ OÀ NAMAÙ
“Actually, the kingdom belonged to Bhéñma, but he remained a brahmacäré, he did not marry. There was no issue of Bhéñmadeva. Therefore his nephews, Dhåtaräñöra and Päëòu, they were inheritor. Now, after the death of Päëòu, there was conspiracy. Dhåtaräñöra wanted that, ‘Actually, this is my kingdom. Now, somehow or other, I could not get it. Now my brother is dead. So if I do not inherit, why not my sons?’
This was the politics. Politics are always there, and enviousness, jealousy. This is the nature of this material world. You cannot avoid it. Spiritual world means just the opposite. There is no politics. There is no jealousy. There is no enviousness. That is spiritual world. And material world means politics, jealousy, diplomacy, enviousness, so many things.” 1
What will this excerpt be compared to in this presentation? Of course, it is referring to what went down after His Divine Grace A. C. Bhaktivedänta Swämi Prabhupäda left the scene in November, 1977. None dare call it a conspiracy, but your host speaker calls it just that. Prabhupäda left physical manifestation in mid-November, 1977, and four months later the conspiracy of the eleven pretender zonal äcäryas came down the pike.
In essence, it is very similar to this excerpt from Prabhupäda that we have just read and heard. You may claim that there are vast differences, but not in essence. In essence, it was and remains the same thing. This will be explained in some detail for your edification and realization.
The essential issue is the continuation of two lines of succession. Just a little over five thousand years ago, the monarchical succession of who was to be the Emperor of the world was in dispute, and this point of contention, this essence, this marma, was at the fulcrum. It was the pivot point of the disastrous Battle of Kurukñetra.
Just over forty-seven years ago, there was a dispute about the spiritual succession of Prabhupäda’s branch of Lord Caitanya’s Hare Kåñëa movement of Kåñëa consciousness. There are surprising similarities in how both of these played out. Different successions, granted, but we are not talking about a mere king in the first instance. The succession in question centered around who would become the Emperor.
Would it be Duryodhana or would it be Yudhiñöhira? There could not be two emperors, not in Vedic times. Even in Roman times, after Julius Caesar was assassinated, three men briefly held the title of emperor, but that broke down very quickly . . . and Augustus became the sole ruler of everyone and everywhere in the expanse of the Roman empire.
How much more that principle applied during Vedic times! The empire was far vaster than that of the Romans. The kings—and there were many of them—were far more powerful than any Roman emperor ever became. There were eighteen such kings who decided to enter the Battle on behalf of either the Kauravas (which meant, de jure, Duryodhana, who led all of those battalions) or on behalf of Yudhiñöhira.
In the overall scheme of things, who or what group of devotees were going to lead ISKCON after Prabhupäda’s departure was a point of contention. It was supposed to be based upon who deserved to lead or what oligarchical arrangement was bona fide in order to legitimately represent him. In both cases, there was a side which appeared to be the right one, but was in fact the wrong one. This points to a linkage, and the details will not be spared, make no mistake about that.
A genealogical history (including other important factors) related to the Vedic confrontation) is required here. There were many kings in India throughout its later Vedic period. At the time of the Battle of Kurukñetra, there were eighteen kings, but there could only be one Emperor. Just prior to all the intrigue, treachery, and betrayal leading directly to the battle, it all begins with Emperor Çantanu.
He was from a long list of Emperors in monarchical succession tracing back to the great Bhärata, from which Bhäratavarña and the Mahäbhärata received their titles. Later in this line, there was another great Emperor named Kuru, and thus everyone connected to this monarchical line of succession were also called the Kauravas.
Çantanu became enamored by the goddess Ganga, and he proposed marriage to her for his own pleasure and in order to carry on the line of Emperors in male succession. She required a stipulation to be met, however, and he agreed to it: He could not question her actions. She had seven sons from Çantanu, and, with him as a witness, she drowned every one of them in the River Ganga when they were just babies. When she attempted to drown the eighth one, Çantanu protested.
That child spared was the incomparable Bhéñma.
Thus, Bhéñma was allowed to live, but Ganga left Çantanu for good due to his breaking his vow. Çantanu later became enamored by a fisherman’s daughter named Satyavaté. He was allowed to marry her under one strict condition: Her father forced Çantanu to vow that only a son begot by Çantanu and Queen Satyavaté could become the next Emperor. That eliminated the aforementioned eighth child begotten of Ganga, who was, of course, Bhéñma, the greatest warrior on the battlefield.
Satyavaté had two sons with Çantanu: Vicitravérya, the eldest, and Citraganda. Both died prematurely under different circumstances and were without issue. Bhéñma had made a vow not to marry, but, on behalf of Vicitravérya, he had kidnapped three daughters of the King of Käçi. He brought them into the Kaurava fold as queens for Vicitravérya, who copulated with two of them for seven years. They were despondent that he could not impregnate either of them in that time.
This brings us back to Satyavaté. Previous to marrying Çantanu, Satyavaté had sexual intercourse with the great sage Paräçara, and they begot the bhagavatäveça, the famous and powerful sage, Vyäsadeva. Thus, he was connected to the Kauravas by being the half brother of Vicitravérya. The situation for continuing the monarchical line was in peril, and the çästras allowed that, in this kind of situation, a brother can beget children on behalf of his deceased brother. Vyäsadeva agreed to this, although he did so only to keep the monarchical line of succession intact. Any son he begot would be the next Emperor . . . if.
Two of the aforementioned queens of the King of Käçi (who had been abducted by Bhéñma for Vicitravérya) were still available for issue. Now his half brother, who was not at all materially attractive but was, on the contrary, scary in appearance, would make the attempt to continue the line. The first queen to see him as he approached her for copulation—her name was Ambikä–was so frightened of him that she closed her eyes. The great sage considered this offensive to him, so he pronounced a curse that her child would be born blind.
Another queen had to be brought forward. Her name was Ambälikä. She also was so horrified of Vyäsadeva’s appearance and facial features that she turned white with fright. He was also offended by this, so he cursed her child to be born completely of white complexion.
The first child from Ambikä was named Dhåtaräñöra, and the second child was named Päëòu. Päëòu should have been the rightful heir to the Imperial throne, but he died young before he had any children with either of his two wives. He died from a curse while in the forest hunting, because he unintentionally killed a great sage in the act of sexual pleasure via a deer body, which he had the mystic power to assume. However, Pändu died as a result of his forgetting that curse long after the incident.
As such, the monarchical line was in jeopardy again. Päëòu’s senior wife, Queen Kunté, had pleased a very great and powerful sage previously, before she had married Päëòu. He gave her the unprecedented benediction that she could call any demigod of her choice to enjoy with her and impregnate her via a special mantra. She tested it once before she married Päëòu, and it proved effective.
As such, in the face of another dire situation, she revealed this power to the Court of the Kauravas, and it was decided by the self-realized brähmins, as well as those involved in seeing to it that the monarchical line was continued, that she could employ this benediction in order to carry out the line of monarchical succession. It is very likely that this decision was contentious–anything but unanimous.
She thus employed the mantra five times, and five great warriors were born from different predominant demigods in the universe. The first-born was Yudhiñöhira, who was sired by the Lord of Judgment at Death, Yamaräj. Yudhiñöhira was not only a great warrior—and thus fit to be Emperor once trained—but also the most ethical human being on Earth.
He never told a lie during his lifetime except once, and although even then he technically did not lie. Yet, he actually was nevertheless deceptive. This was a key event during the Battle of Kurukñetra.
Unfortunately, he became addicted to gambling, and that played out before in the prelude to the Battle in a way that his nemesis, Duryodhana, could argue made Yudhiñöhira ineligible to be the next Emperor. However, this is little more than a tangent to what is being comparatively communicated in this month’s presentation. 2
We began it with that quote about conspiracy, primarily on account of Dhåtaräñöra’s desire for his eldest son, Duryodhana, to be the next Emperor instead of Yudhiñöhira. Dhåtaräñöra did not meet the requirements in order to be Emperor, because he did not have all of his senses in full working order. There was an injunction in çästra that the King of any realm, what to speak of the Emperor, must have all of his senses in full power, but Dhåtaräñöra was born blind.
As such, he acted as the regent, along with Bhéñma, for Yudhiñöhira and his younger brothers. His real motive, however, was to have Duryodhana declared Emperor, since Dhåtaräñöra was born before Päëòu and believed himself to be able to pass the imperial power to his son. He was believing that due to his desire and bad logic presented to him by his advisors, thinking that Duryodhana could still be proclaimed Emperor.
By the time that the sons of Päëòu were reaching maturity, it became common knowledge that there was a major schism developing in Bhäratavarsa in connection to who would be crowned the next Emperor after Çantanu. The post was vacant, but Duryodhana and his many brothers and close friends were managing the kingdom quite well. Most of the kings of Bhäratavarsa were satisfied with Duryodhana.
As such, those who were either part of the scheme to have him take the ultimate throne–or those like Bhéñma and Dronäcärya who were materially dependent upon the current arrangement—were called the Kauravas. The sons of Päëòu, along with everyone connected to them and backing Yudhiñöhira to be the next Emperor—and this did include some important kings, such as Viräta—were considered to be on the side of the Päëòavas. The schism was between the Kauravas and the Päëòavas. That was a new title to distinguish the five Päëòavas and their intimate associates to be a separate from the Kauravas. All the intrigue, treachery, and betrayal—along with attempted murders by Duryodhana against the sons of Päëòu—was grist for the mill in the greatest battle of history.
Please note, despite many arguments—most of them apparently with some teeth to them—the whole debacle of the massive destruction hinged upon the fact of Dhåtaräñöra being blind. Superficially, this could be considered—and was considered by almost all of the Kauravas—to be an incidental and minor point. However, the minority did not consider this point of contention to be unimportant, and that included the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Lord Çré Kåñëa. The line of monarchical succession could not pass through Dhåtaräñöra to his eldest son, because Dhåtaräñöra was never Emperor. He could not be so, because he was blind.
Päëòu had a defect, but it was not connected to his sensual power. He had full and powerful senses in complete working order. He was already an accomplished warrior even while still being under the care of his regents and teacher before he was supposed to be crowned Emperor.
But he never was crowned. He died young, without issue. Demigods were called to step in on his behalf. Did this constitute a justifiable way to continue the line? Why not select Duryodhana instead? He was already managing everything on behalf of Dhåtaräñöra, who certainly advised him how to do so, along with Bhéñma and Dronäcärya.
Also, in a gambling match, Yudhiñöhira bet himself and lost to Duryodhana’s champion, Çakuni. Acting on Duryodhana’s behalf, at that point, Yudhiñöhira no longer was a free man. A claim could be made that he was ineligible to become king of anything. And besides this, none of the Päëòavas were managing any kingdoms, because they owned not even a parcel of land to manage. How could Yudhiñöhira thus be qualified to be even considered to became the Emperor of Bhäratavarsa with these arguments and factors working against him?
And just as importantly, Dhåtaräñöra, as has been mentioned, was born previous to Päëòu. Why could not that be the card that trumped all of the other considerations? The Kauravas were not without many potent arguments, and the Päëòavas really only had one argument. After the premature death of Päëòu, who was supposed to be the Emperor in waiting, his consort, Queen Kunté, presumed power of attorney to act on his behalf. Her co-wife joined their lord, Päëòu, on the funeral pyre. It was up to Kunté to decide if there was some way to continue the line of monarchical succession in this emergency, which had similarities to what had been the situation after Satyavaté’s two sons had died.
The Kauravas presumed that they already had the answer: Dhritarastra’s eldest son, already trained and acting as de factor Emperor, should be the next one. Dhritarastra was the eldest of the sons born of Vyäsadeva, and now that his younger brother was no longer in the picture, then he should be able to pass the crown to Duryodhana. This was based upon the presumption that it was viable according to scripture.
However, this presumption was in defiance of the order in scripture that a King must have full control of his senses, which Dhåtaräñöra did not. As such, he was not qualified to be a vessel to pass the position of Emperor to and through to his son. Thus, Duryodhana was similarly ineligible to receive the power of the post. The actual center is çästra. 3
An emergent contingency had been reached to allow Vyäsadeva, who, although human, was like a demigod (particularly since he was bhagavad-äveça) to continue the line of monarchical succession. Now Kunté, not without guidance from higher authorities, applied the special benediction she had received for demigods to copulate with her in order to produce an heir to the Emperor’s throne.
It was unprecedented, granted, but so was Vyäsadeva’s intervention previously (and not all that long before) for continuing the line of monarchy via special dispensation. Everyone had accepted that, but would they now accept this new arrangement? The Päëòavas and their allies (which happened to include Lord Kåñëa) did accept it. The Kauravas did not. The Kaurava claim was based upon the presumption, since Duryodhana was managing the whole of Bhäratavarsa quite well, that the line of monarchical succession had de facto passed to him.
They argued that it had not passed to the Päëòavas, who did not even possess one kingdom that they could call their own. The order that the King could not be blind did not apply, because Duryodhana had full possession of all of his senses. He was a great diplomat, great with the mace, and a most powerful influence in Bhäratavarsa.
As such, the Vedic injunction allegedly did not apply to him. That it technically passed through his father, who never actually acted as Emperor, was little more than an ultimately irrelevant factor in the eyes of the Kauravas, along with the loyal kings who backed them.
Let us now segue to the comparison of our presentation, which is the applicability of that situation from 3,102 B.C. to what went down in the two years of 1977 and 1978. Although this comparison is anything but identical in most ways, it is very applicable in two distinct ways. Those two ways have already been mentioned: Presumption and defiance of the order, even in our presentation’s headline.
The order back in the day of the confrontation (between the Kauravas and the Päëòavas) was that of scripture, i.e., that the Emperor must have complete possession of his sensual faculties. The order in the late Seventies is that no one in Prabhupäda’s line could become guru without him specifically ordering his disciple to be a spiritual master. This order was conjoined with Prabhupäda ordering: “Regular guru, that’s all.” And he did not officially appoint or recognize any of his disciples, while he was still with us, to even have attained that status of regular guru.
TATTVAMASI
The presumption back in the Vedic era was everyone should presume that, upon the death of Päëòu, the gadi should go to Duryodhana, since his father was the elder brother of Päëòu, who had no issue. It meant that the death was leaving the line of monarchical succession vacant.
In the case of Prabhupäda’s branch of the Hare Kåñëa movement, the presumption was that the eleven rittviks (appointed by him in July of 1977 to conduct initiation ceremonies on his behalf) were presumed to be only part of a somewhat covert appointment, one which ultimately recognized those rittviks as gurus. They would then act as spiritual masters once Prabhupäda left the scene. It was a presumption that they were spiritual masters already but, due to an etiquette consideration, they were not to act as dékñä-gurus until after he departed physical manifestation.
As such, let us now segue into what the headline of this month’s presentation has already indicated. What led to the Battle of Kurukñetra over five millennia ago? What led to the zonal debacle of The First Transformation of Prabhupäda’s branch of the sampradäya? They appear to have nothing in common–at first glance. On the whole, that is certainly so. However, it is not completely so, and the why of that will now be described in this second half of our presentation.
After the untimely demise of the heir apparent, Päëòu, the Kauravas presumed that Dhåtaräñöra, Päëòu’s older brother, should then have been able to act as the via media for his eldest son to become Emperor. The reasons for this presumption were many, and we have described most of those already. The injunction of the çästras governing continuance of the monarchical line of disciplic succession was thought to be both anomalous and a bit archaic to all those who backed the Kaurava line.
Another way of saying the same thing was that the Kauravas, led by Dhåtaräñöra, decided to defy the injunction of the çästra concerning the King or Emperor requiring to be in full possession of all of his sensual faculties. According to that party, the dire situation mitigated against the stricture being applied, especially considering all of the circumstances surrounding Kunté’s unprecedented calling upon a demigod, and not Päëòu (who she could not call) to sire the next monarch.
After all, Dhåtaräñöra was not taking over as Emperor; it was his son, who had all of the sense faculties required, who was doing so. The Kauravas and their allies were prepared to fight to keep Duryodhana in the line of succession, and they had all rationalized their presumption and defiance of the injunction (read, order).
And let us now apply this to Prabhupäda’s branch–just before and just after he departed physical manifestation. As most of you know, he only appointed rittviks in July of 1977. There is no official record of him stating that those rittviks would then become dékñä-gurus after he departed. The devotees who believed that to be the case presumed that it was so. However, a line of spiritual disciplic succession cannot legitimately be carried out by something as shaky as apresumption, no matter how many held that view. Ultimately, numbers meant nothing.
On May 28, 1977, Prabhupäda clearly stated that a guru in his line (coming from his initiated disciples) must receive his direct and personal order before he could become a spiritual master. This was an injunction concerning how the line was to be continued after he was no longer with us. That is as clear as the reflection of the Sun at noon on a cloudless day upon a placid pond: “Become guru, but on my order.”
None of his disciples ever officially received that order. Where is the record of it? Could any of his disciples receive that order after he left the scene? Certainly. Only a non-devotee would protest that possibility, but it was not officially given to any of his leading secretaries before or after he appointed rittviks to initiate new disciples on his behalf.
It was made clear in the Rittvik document (letter) that T.K.G. drew up, upon which Prabhupäda verified by signature, that all such newly-initiated devotees in 1977 were initiated by Prabhupäda. They were his disciples. They were not the initiated disciples of any of the eleven rittviks.
Previous to that rejuvenated rittvik arrangement, when the rittvik system of initiation was active (in the early Seventies through mid-Seventies), the rittvik priests were never considered by any devotees to be the dékñä-gurus for those engaged in receiving Harer Näma initiation at any of those ceremonies held anywhere in the world.
Such would continue to be the case in 1977, and the above-mentioned document substantiated that beyond doubt. It did not contain even the slightest hint that those rittviks were to be presumed to automatically become spiritual masters after Prabhupäda departed.
However, as time wore on in late 1977 and early 1978, that bogus presumption morphed into a pre-supposition. Then from there into an established fact. It was all a lie. It was a BIG LIE. Indeed, the liars who benefited from it went so far as to call the recording of that aforementioned meeting in Prabhupäda’s quarters at Raman Reti as “The Appointment Tape.” There was no nuance as to what was being communicated in such a mega-mislabeling of it. It was supposed to have been the appointment of dékñä-gurus by Prabhupäda, although nobody was appointed on it. No one was named as guru, although Prabhupäda could have done so . . . if that was his intention. 4
It was never his intention.
Those who conveniently presumed that the appointment of rittviks (a mere six weeks after the May meeting) was the appointment of dékñä-gurus (allegedly verified in the so-called appointment tape) were engaged in deception. They were cheating everyone in the movement by jumping to this conclusion and falsely presuming that it was right. It was not at all right. It was cent-per-cent wrong!
Remember: None of the “new gurus” ever individually claimed that he was directly ordered, personally ordered, by Prabhupäda to be guru. Instead, the eleven great pretenders said that Prabhupäda covertly recognized them as gurus when he appointed them as rittviks in July of 1977. However, that’s not what went down, because those eleven rascals merged their appointment as rittviks into them being appointed as gurus . . . and devotees did not recognize that slight of hand.
The line between rittvik and guru was blurred, and not long after that, it disappeared in terms of ISKCON procedural dogma. You had to accept that Prabhupäda appointed eleven of his leading secretaries to be gurus in the summer of 1977, and this presumption, in the Spring of 1978, constituted a radical takeover of Prabhupäda’s Hare Kåñëa movement.
The appointment of rittviks—an appointment which lost all validity on November 15, 1977, the day after Prabhupäda left the scene—was converting rittvik into a guru appointment. Then, they converted guru into mahä-bhägavat. Then, they all claimed that they were Successors to Prabhupäda in the devotional line of guru-paramparä!
However, Prabhupäda never recognized a Successor. He never recognized any of his disciples to be the next Äcärya, the next mahä-bhägavat. Instead, in that all-important room conversation in May, 1977, he said: “Regular guru, that’s all.” Regular means under regulation.
Being under regulation in the bhakti-yoga process means to be engaged in vidhi-sädhana bhakti. A devotee so engaged is never a mahä-bhägavat. He is far, far below that status. And, even as Prabhupäda limited what his disciples could be if they were gurus, he did not name any of them. He could have, but he didn’t. What does this mean?
It means that none of his disciples had even attained the status of regular guru. If any of them had attained it, then Prabhupäda would not have appointed rittviks. There would have been no need for anyone to be appointed as rittviks. Prabhupäda would have delegated the power of guru to his qualified disciples, and he would not have had to have taken all of that massive saïchita-karma from the newcomers.
His leading secretaries were only qualified to once again be rittviks, which is not at all to the level of a genuine çikñä-guru or dékñä-guru. Out of his causeless mercy, Prabhupäda decided to initiate the newcomers who had been waiting for months to receive initiation after the process had been curtailed due to his emaciated physical condition.
Do you now see something in common between the debacle in 3,102 B.C. and what went down in 1977-78? We have already discussed in some detail what the Kauravas wrongly presumed. We have discussed the Vedic injunction that the Kauravas defied. The father of Duryodhana was blind, and thus he could not hold the power of Emperor. In order to pass this title and power down to his eldest son, even to have it work through him, he could not be blind. He was disqualified.
As far as “ISKCON” was concerned, its leaders—eleven of whom had an obvious vested interest—presumed that the appointment of those eleven leading secretaries as rittviks also constituted their appointment as gurus. The governing body backed this presumption. The institution represented this presumption, so much so that, in its propaganda, it did not differentiate the post of rittvik and the post of guru.
Everyone in the movement was told that Prabhupäda appointed gurus during the May 28th room conversation at Raman Reti. This presumption was false, but almost no one knew that. The Governing Body Commission gave its imprimatur to this lie. As such, none of the rank-and-file questioned it. They had been told that those gurus appointed the previous May, allegedly, were named in July, 1977.
Actually, most of the propaganda during the latter half of 1977 into 1978 was not even that specific. Prabhupäda had appointed gurus, and allegedly, those gurus, out of deference and etiquette, served as rittviks until he left the scene in mid-November of the same year.
It was all based upon a combination of presumption and deception, keeping everything muddled on purpose in order to serve the most powerful men on the governing body. It was based on DEFIANCE. These are the factors that were eerily similar to what went down in the court of Kauravas, which precipitated the massive war.
As far as disobedience and defiance to the order or injunction was concerned, “ISKCON” directly defied one order and, in a roundabout way, disobeyed another one. There is some nuance connected to that second defiance. Prabhupäda said that his disciple could become guru upon his specific order to him to become guru.
Those eleven great pretenders jumped the gun to become wild-card gurus. They could not cite where Prabhupäda recognized them as such, but they diabolically realized that they did not have to do so. Everyone would buy it. Which, of course, they did. In essence, the propaganda—all of which was a BIG LIE—was promoted effectively.
Also, no one had a transcript of that May, 1977 meeting at Raman Reti. The vast number of rank-and-file devotees, the real workers, were not even aware that it took place. It was vaguely alluded to—its recording, that is—as “The Appointment Tape,” although no one was appointed to any post of guru anywhere on it. This was again the essence of the presumption, which was entirely against what actually had been approved. What was approved was: “Regular guru, that’s all.”
And here is where we find nuance. None of those eleven men were recognized or appointed as dékñä-gurus by Prabhupäda. They were only to be–once he named them (which would be in July)–officiating acaryas in May at Raman Reti. Officiating äcärya means a rittvik, and Prabhupäda verified this in that May room conversation.
During it, he also said, “Regular guru, that’s all.” However, here is the nub of the nuance: If Prabhupäda had recognized them as gurus in the late Spring and early Summer of 1977, they were enjoined not to imitate uttama-adhikäré. The mahä-bhägavat is always beyond any rules and regulations. In point of fact, he mandated that any spiritual masters following him at that time (the late Seventies) could only act in the post of guru as madhyam-adhikärés, under vidhi-sädhana bhakti, which means under regulation . . . and he did not name anybody.
Once those eleven men—facilitated by the governing body–became gurus, they were bogus gurus. They had lied that Prabhupäda had appointed them, and that BIG LIE alone disqualified them as pure devotees on any level, including madhyam. The spiritual master must be a very perfect man, 5 and perfect men do not lie.
This is the nuance, because the second defiance was based upon the misconception that they were spiritual masters. They weren’t. Yet, even if they had been, they were supposed to be regular gurus, that’s all. They egregiously deviated from that injunction placed upon all of his disciples by His Divine Grace Prabhupäda.
Did they act as regular gurus? Of course, they didn’t! They falsely claimed that guru must only be uttama, and they all pretended to be mahä-bhägavats. They took worship as uttama-adhikärés. They did whatever they pleased, as they pleased. They went even further. They claimed that they were the Successors to Prabhupäda in the unbroken line of disciplic succession, which only includes Äcäryas in the true sense of the term. An Äcärya in the true sense of the term is a mahä-bhägavat.
The point here is that, for those who believed (wrongly) that they were appointed as dékñä-gurus by Prabhupäda—and that was the majority of the ISKCON movement (your host speaker NOT included)–then those eleven men immediately disqualified themselves by acting far, far beyond their alleged statuses as madhyams or regular gurus.
They were never madhyams. One they took uttama worship, they were all sahajiyäs of the worst variety. However, since thousands of their godbrothers and godsisters believed them to be gurus, their imitation of uttama-adhikäré was the second defiance of Prabhupäda’s order.
However, actually, it wasn’t. Hopefully, all the listeners and readers can assimilate the nuance here, which is only a theoretical proposition, because those men were neither madhyams or even neophytes when they implemented the zonal imposition in the Spring of 1978.
For those of you who cannot understand this nuance, you do not need to do so. You can simply know and realize—and it is not at all difficult to do so—that all eleven of those men defied Prabhupäda’s order to be regular gurus, that’s all. That defiance itself suffices. If you want to add the nuanced second deviation to it, you have my full encouragement.
Either way, in back in 3,102 B.C. and in the late Seventies of our current generation, the spiritually lethal combination of presumption and disobedience started the great war of Kurukñetra and the internecine war of (former?) devotees of Prabhupäda, which is still raging. It has spawned about one hundred bogus gurus and thousands of improperly initiated disciples who they then created.
The colossal hoax, known as the fabricated, so-called “ISKCON” confederation, is a pseudo-spiritual scam. Realize that the battle between it and those exposing it is ultimately a zero sum game.
SAD EVA SAUMYA
ENDNOTES
1. Platform lecture, 7-7-73;
2. It should be apparent to all listeners and readers of the text wall that it is a concise description of the situation preceding the Battle of Kuruksetra. It would only be fault-finding on the part of the hearers and readers if this account was criticized for not being more granular as to all the details of that prelude. If your host speaker made it so, the presentation would go over two hours, but we always try to keep it around fifty minutes or a bit more. The most essential details are presented here and nothing more. The story is rich with many more details regarding this run-up to the Battle, and, if you are so interested in knowing them, procure an English version of the Mahäbhärata and dive right in. However, you cannot reasonably expect all such details to be presented in this account for obvious reasons;
3. “One should accept a thing as genuine by studying the words of saintly people, the spiritual master and the çästra. The actual center is the çästra, the revealed scripture.” Caitanya-caritämåta, Madhya 20.352, purport;
4. “Maybe by 1975, all of my disciples will be allowed to initiate and increase the numbers of the generations. That is my program.”
Letter to Hansadutta, 1-3-69
“By 1975, all of those who have passed all of the above examinations will be specifically empowered to initiate and increase the number of the Krishna Consciousness population.”
Letter to Kirtanananda, 1-12-69
These excerpts from two letters sent to leading secretaries only nine days apart in early 1969, prove clearly a number of essential points. First of all, the etiquette that all disciples cannot initiate new people while their guru is still physically manifest, that etiquette is transcended by Prabhupada. He did not observe it. He was still with us in 1975, and he wanted his disciples to be initiating newcomers as their own by that year.
Secondly, in the excerpt from the letter to Hansadutta, he states that he wanted ALL of his disciples to become qualified and initiate newcomers and thus connect them to the disciplic succession by such initiation by 1975. He did not want eleven pretenders to carve up the whole world into their own fiefdoms, imitate uttama (“regular guru, that’s all”) and everybody else be coerced into worshiping them.
Third and most importantly (in context to the appointment of mere rittviks in the summer of 1977), if anyone was qualified to be guru, Prabhupäda would have appointed and recognized him as a bona fide spiritual master. There would have been no need whatsoever of appointing rittviks. However, none of his leading secretaries had assimilated the training, none of them was qualified to be a spiritual master, so he appointed rittviks.
And consider this also in the context of that time frame:
Prabhupäda: What is the use of producing some rascal guru?
Leading Secretary: Well, I have studied myself and all of your disciples, and it’s clear fact that we are all conditioned souls, so we cannot be guru. Maybe one day it may be possible . . .
Prabhupäda: Hmmmmm.
Leading Secretary: . . . but not now.
Prabhupäda: Yes. I shall choose some guru. I shall say, ‘Now you become äcärya. You become authorized.” I am waiting for that. You become all äcärya. I retire completely. But the training must be complete.
Leading Secretary: The process of purification must be there.
Prabhupäda: Oh, yes, must be there. You become guru, but be qualified. Little thing, strictly follower.
Leading Secretary: Not rubber stamp.
Prabhupäda: Then you’ll not be effective. You can cheat, but it will not be effective.
This room conversation in Bombay (April 22, 1977) is LOADED! First, in the context of our presentation, it took place just a little over a month before the Raman Reti meeting. As such, it also took place less than three months before the appointment of the eleven rittviks. It is mind-boggling that anybody could be so deluded as to believe that, in this incredibly short span of time, when no one was qualified to be a guru (clearly verified in this Bombay room conversation by His Divine Grace) that eleven uttamas emerged by the second week of July of the same year!
Preposterous!
Secondly, he once again verifies that he wanted ALL of his disciples to become guru. Not some special clique. Not what went down in the Spring of 1978. “All of my disciples will take the legacy.”
Third, he says (clearly in the context of who can become guru in his line in terms of that immediate situation) “Little thing. Strictly following.” This can only refer to the madhyam, not the uttama. The maha-bhagavat attainment is A VERY BIG THING. He is The Äcärya in the true sense of the term, and he is far beyond the restrictions of rules and regulation. But he is not being referred to in the conversation.
Who is being referred to is “Regular guru, that’s all.” The madhyam. And logically, that means that none of those leading secretaries were even madhyams yet . . . either in April or May or July, 1977. There is nothing peculiar about such a fact. Why? Because the guru must be a very perfect man (March 2, 1966, verified). The madhyam is that. The neophyte is not that . . . WHAT TO SPEAK OF ELEVEN SAHAJIYAS!