Podcast transcription:
Against “ISKCON”
Interview with Kailäsa Candra däsa
Part 1
The following Monthly Audio presentation for July, with a transcript included, was conducted by seven directors, officers, and members in good standing of The Vaishnava Foundation. It is an interview with Kailäsa Candra dasa recorded on June 27th, 2026. Although twenty-one questions were edited for clarity and syntax, the contents and intention of each question was formed by those seven inquirers. They are: Bhakta Ernest Dras, Bhakta Çréhari Vijaya Räghavan, Gokulänanda, Hasya-rati, Ompürnam, Sanätana, and Bhakta Alexandar Peric.
1 SAN What was your life like before coming into contact with Kåñëa consciousness? Could you give us an overview of your early life from birth until leaving college? Were there any particular experiences, traits, or defining moments that set you apart from mainstream society or foreshadowed your later spiritual path?
HARIÙ OÀ NämaÙ
In responding to this question, a chronological analysis according to general factoids, one which creates a biographical sketch in the mundane sense, cannot be applicable here. Instead, hinting at some principles underlying them, I shall present personal events from my early life, emphasizing the through lines. From a metaphysical perspective, it may assist to connect this answer to what will follow.
I was born in the second week of January, 1951. Saturn had and has a massive influence in my janma-kuëòali. Four of the seven major planets are in Saturn’s signs, Saturn itself is the yoga-käraka in Mercury’s sign, and one of the upa-grahas is conjunct Saturn. Although some astrologers disagree, Saturn is the sidereal representative of the Supreme Personality of Servitor Godhead, His Lordship Çiva.
I was given the initiation name of Kailäsa Candra däsa, the Exalted Personality of Kailäsa, which is Çiva’s planet. Thus, it corresponds to the sidereal impression on my astral body at the time of my first breath.
I was adopted from an orphanage, which was only a transit point for the exchange after I was taken from the hospital. The adoption arrangement had been determined in advance according to the racial makeup of my birth mother and father. 1 That I was adopted could, at a subtle level, be a factor in my being detached from family affairs throughout life, and a bit of loner even when young.
Another through line was the juxtaposition of luck. It is not that these were balanced or from the same planetary yogas. I have been quite lucky in many important ways; yet in other ways, often bizarre, I have been very unlucky. 2 The unlucky events, one in particular, had a major effect on my life and were excruciating.
This juxtaposition of being both lucky and unlucky is caused by different planetary factors, which work differently as a result. However, from one perspective, some of them saved my life (one of those will be described, subsequently), 3 and they shaped who I became later.
Another through line is a combination of two factors. I was autistic, although that affliction was not recognized and hardly known by Western medicine in the Fifties in America. I did not begin to talk until well after (read, many months) most children are already talking profusely. I almost never cried, and I was considered retarded.
You may conclude that I developed an inferiority complex due to autism, but such was not the case. I was introspective, although this should not be overemphasized during the early part of my life. After all, I was raised in a relatively wealthy suburb of Chicago by parents who epitomized the middle class. I had it good in comparison to most children in the world. I was treated well, not punished much, fed, clothed, provided education and good shelter, along with other amenities. I have no complaints about any of it, but there was nothing transcendental in that environment.
My parents were not intellectual or even slightly philosophical, what to speak of spiritual. My mother only technically converted to Catholicism, because it was required for the marriage to have proceeded; she never believed in any of it nor did she follow its requirements or dogma. My father simply went to Church on Sundays and made some donations. These things were not important to them.
They were both into intoxication, although I see no need to be descriptive about that. My father was a plumber, worked hard and long hours, was active in civic affairs and was the assistant fire chief, which is a voluntary service in America. My mother was a kept housewife, the standard in the Fifties. They were divorced just before I turned ten.
I was very sickly as a child, and I know well the planetary factors which caused all of that. After attending only about half of the required days of first grade Catholic elementary school, I still (barely) was not kept back, probably because my grades were well above average. After that, a train trip to Florida, specifically to Fort Lauderdale and its ocean beachfront, caused my health improve tremendously.
Previous to that lucky break, I had rheumatic fever, asthma, allergies, and almost every common contagion, such as mumps and measles. Due to a severe asthma attack while still in the crib, I could not breathe nor cry out. My father had just come home from work. He came into my room, was shocked to see that my face had turned purple (as he later described it), took me in his powerful arms with my back to his chest, and violently pumped my chest with his forearms. The blockage was dislodged, and I was able to finally able to get oxygen in the nick of time.
My demeanor was different from other children. This continued, to some extent, during the teenage period after I accompanied my mother to Wisconsin after the divorce. It is a through line, although I tried, to a significant extent, to overcome it. I am misanthropic, by nature pessimistic, with plenty of experience to back that up.
It can foster psychopathy, obviously, but it can also produce detachment, which it did for me. It was not helpful materially or socially, but it did serve to set me apart. I detested cliques. I joined some clubs in high school, made the honor role, and wrote for the campus newspaper at both the high school level and later at university. 4
Although superficially I seemed to act in a way that was introverted, internally that was not my attitude. Some people picked up on this, and it did not help me to advance in mainstream society. I rejected Catholicism as a sophomore, worked after school hours, and developed a philosophy on my own which served my purpose until the eventual dark night of the soul that I was forced to undergo later.
These are the threads of experience and introspection that I underwent during the formative years previous to contacting Kåñëa consciousness; they are the ones I have chosen to describe. One fateful moment was intentionally avoided, and some others were either mentioned briefly or passed over. An all-inclusive answer to this question would be counter-productive to the goals of this presentation. You can access my Wikipedia page 5 for further information.
2 VIJAYA When did you explore occultism after leaving college? For the benefit of our readers and listeners, can you explain what occultism is?
It was during college that I first began to consider occultism, not after dropping out of college in November of 1971. However, after leaving the university scene, I understandably got heavier into the occult. Before that, my change in perspective was shaped via speculation. Over time, I began to notice coincidences that were hard for me to dismiss. This led me to know and eventually realize that none of us are ever alone. Many occult principalities are influencing our lives, both internally and externally, at every moment of our conditioned existence.
I did not read books about occultism. In the second year of high school, I rejected Catholicism and its version of organized theism, concluding that it was a religious arrangement for social facilitation and control. Over and above that, I got no tangible benefit from it. I did not replace it with occultism at that time, however. I was also not at all inclined towards gurus or Eastern teaching; on the contrary, I was averse to all of it.
I had rejected the concept of free will around the same time I left the Church, settling for predestination and determinism as basic atheistic explanations for whatever meaning life had . . . if it had any ultimate meaning at all. This decision did not require a search for the Absolute. I was leading a kind of preliminary self-satisfied life. I was aloof from my classmates. Yet, I was active in the limited work world that a teenager could get act in at that time, as well as in the educational environment that a small northern city in America provided.
My high school attitude continued when I entered college. However, my internal deliberations (if they could be called that) underwent a gradual transformation. Rock music, which I was deeply attracted to 6 due to its unique combination of message with music, was the medium that at first brought occult interest into my psyche.
As far as defining occultism, it means hidden knowledge and power to be gleaned from applying and utilizing its rituals and correlations. The word has become over-coated with dread in the West, but this is mostly because of witches, warlocks, sorcerers, Satanists, Luciferians and the like are considered the only occultists. Of course, all of them are occultists, but occultism is not limited to those practitioners. Occultism is all-pervading. Kåñëa consciousness is full of occultism for all of its devotees, although not all of them choose to take advantage of it.
A materialist or existentialist or Freudian is the exact opposite of an occultist. Most organized religions also avoid any and all connection to occultism . . . or so they think. All of these are subject to mistaken knowledge since they accept an illusion about reality and refuse to acknowledge the existence of hidden principalities. The universe works to solidify their ignorance. If you insist that there is no validity to it, those forces will work to harden that belief within you and facilitate you seeing evidence that your delusion remains factual.
However, misuse of a great science (or of real astral or causal knowledge) does not make any great science useless. I am a professional sidereal astrologer, and I utilize my knowledge and realization in occult science daily to advantage. It is a buddhi occult science, 7 one that is not at all connected to either passionate or psychopathic principles or principalities, all of which harass conditioned souls constantly.
Attempting to control and direct archetypes or elementals or the like via occult methods and rituals—and this will always include curses—is only a part of occultism. It is the dark part, and it is connected to the lower modes of material nature. Vaiñëavas do not engage in this division of occultism. Even before contacting Kåñëa consciousness, I did not want to explore ghosts or witchcraft or anything like that.
3 GOK When I first learned of The Vaishnava Foundation, I was in a difficult position. I needed guidance, but I was very skeptical of pretender gurus and cheaters. After reading a few of your articles and watching your videos, I was struck by your intelligence and sincerity.
Now, after almost fifteen years of being a member of The Vaishnava Foundation, my opinion of you has only grown. You have given ample clarification and provided essential knowledge that, in my opinion, no one else gives. Thus, I consider you an expert spiritual guide and mentor. I’m curious: Have you ever had a mentor?
A spiritual guide could be considered a mentor, although an uttama-adhikäré spiritual master is not to be considered a mere mentor. It is my view that, for those that hold it, such a belief is misplaced sentiment. Because I was a loner and a misanthrope (at least, to some extent), I never really sought out a mentor in anything. If I was interested in something, I developed it in my own way on my own.
This should not be interpreted to mean that I was a natural at anything. Just the opposite: I had to work hard at anything I wanted to become good at. I went through trial and error in all endeavors, probably more than most. Accepting some kind of mentor would have minimized all of that, but the trade off was not worth it to me.
When you accept a spiritual master, you follow in his footsteps and obey his orders. In the Kåñëa consciousness movement, its leaders went out of their way to make sure you had no or minimal direct contact with Prabhupäda. I had some, but not much.
I never tried to imitate him, and it would be belittling him for any disciple to consider him to be a mere mentor. He set an extremely high standard. You followed in his footsteps, you accepted his discipline, and you made advancement as a result: You advanced in knowledge, realization, detachment, spiritual power, and protection.
Following a mentor is a different thing. For a brief period in 1971 and very early 1972, I had a quasi-mentor. You could say he was a hippie mentor, and he was the via medium for my engagement in hallucinogens during this difficult time in my life. However, internally, I still considered myself to be superior to him. If I actually had accepted him as a mentor, I would not have had that attitude towards him.
4 VIJAYA In Sixties and Seventies during the hippie era, many gurus from India had arrived in America and established their presence. Aside from ?r?la Prabhupäda, did you study any of the others? What attracted you to ?r?la Prabhupäda in comparison to any of the others?
As mentioned previously, in my teenage and early twenty years, I had no proclivity toward anything Eastern. Although I was very attracted to rock message music, except for somewhat long hair, I was not a hippie during my collegiate freshman year nor was I studying books on philosophy or Eastern sacred texts. The hippie religion was in full swing during my college days, but I was aware of it to some extent only.
However, I was not aware of any gurus coming from India or the Far East. The mainstream media, although communicating Western message rock– and the occult concepts which were blended into it—did not advertise the East. AM and FM radio did not play any Eastern ragas nor did the standard TV broadcasts televise gurus or their cults.
These factors, plus my own aversion to anything of that bent, did not promote exploring spiritual teachings from afar nor Eastern gurus that had reached the American shore. Just after I dropped out of college in November, 1971, I was given the first edition of Be Here Now. Psychotropic experiences on LSD, mescaline, marijuana, and hash had made me more amenable to a different reality, although I was gradually moving in that direction anyway, previous to engaging drugs.
I was attracted to the message that Leary and Richard Alpert were advocating in that book; it had a different flavor and design. Many months previously, in early 1971, I had purchased and immediately read a thin book by Theodore Roczak, an avant-garde author, which was favorable to the use of hallucinogens for higher realization. It had a Renaissance flavor rather than an Eastern one, however. That night, I got into the heavier psychotropics, having been softened up by THC.
When Be Here Now reached me, I was ready for its message. Ram Dass would later be considered a guru by the followers he soon attracted, but at the time of the first edition, he was a Harvard professor, along with Leary, exploring metaphysical realities through the use of psychedelics. In the appendix of his first work, there were pictures of a number of gurus, including Neemcaroli Baba, his impersonalist guru from the Våndävan area. Prabhupäda was included in this pantheon.
That was my first contact with him. It included a basic description, his history, and what he preached, which was Kåñëa consciousness. He was the only guru in that appendix who I was attracted to or remembered the next day, when to my delight, I found that I had, somehow or other, memorized his difficult Sanskrit name.
You could say that I contacted the bare essentials of Eastern mysticism through that book, and I acted on most of them. It would not be accurate to say that I deeply studied Eastern teachings, however, either at this point or immediately thereafter. I applied its detached and self-satisfied mental and emotional attitude, which I had already developed to some degree previous to reading the book. By that time, I was already detached about anything to be achieved by Western culture via materialistic ambitions, and this book embellished that attitude.
Since I had virtually no contact with other gurus from India previous to that contact with Prabhupäda, the premise of my being more attracted to him than any of the others is inaccurate. I did not search out Prabhupäda’s movement; in point of fact, I did not know whether or not he even was leading one. I was on a subjective path of reaching determined occult milestones that only I could recognize as such by myself, and then pass the tests that each of them demanded. There was no hankering to join any group in my mental or emotional quantum.
I liked Prabhupäda more than the other gurus, but at that stage in late 1971, it was nothing more than that. I did not consider that I had reached a goal of determining the Absolute Truth by my positive reaction to Alpert’s work. I simply considered that, in receiving it gratuitously from my roommate, that it was a kind of encouragement on my already assigned path, but I did not consider anything in it to be a test.
As a side note, there were eventually eleven editions of Be Here Now. Prabhupäda was removed from the appendix in the final ten.
5 HASYA
Prabhu, before I ask my question, I want to take a moment to express my deepest personal gratitude. Over the years, your guidance has completely transformed both my devotional and my material life. I’ve found myself in incredibly difficult, complex situations, and you were always there as a steady guide. You didn’t just give me abstract philosophy; you gave me the practical intelligence and encouragement to stand firmly on my own two feet. Your support helped me overcome my material problems, so I could focus on my spiritual path. For that, I am eternally grateful.
Prior to stepping into the Sunday Love Feast at the Madison center, did you have any encounters with Kåñëa consciousness on the street or through the media. What was your raw, initial impression of the movement before you decided to dedicate your life to it?
I went to my first Sunday Love Feast in mid-February, 1972. As far as previous encounters were concerned, I had a very indirect one and two direct ones. I did not get much from the first indirect one. I did get something from the third one, although I misinterpreted it, which will be explained presently. The second one has already been described, and it was via reading Be Here Now.
While I was on LSD one night, I was walking in the area of my sophomore dorm. Someone then said to me: “God is in your heart.” Likely, this came from somebody who had contacted the teachings of Paramätmä via the Kåñëa movement, which I knew nothing about. Since I always remembered it, you could say that it had some kind of value, but not much.
During the period of the dark night of the soul, I went down to State Street, the main drag in Madison which links the capitol to the campus. The weather was nasty, so it was probably early December, 1971. I saw four devotees chanting together on the other side of the street. Two of them were in robes. There was one drum and the others played cymbals. I thought that they were Buddhists.
In retrospect, after I had moved into their center at Livingston Ave., I then realized that it was the temple president, one newly-initiated disciple, and two soon to be initiated followers. That late afternoon, on a cold day just above freezing in light drizzle, I leaned atop a parking meter on my side of the street. What I liked most about these apparent Buddhists was the air of defiance that was in their chanting.
They were defying the Western lifestyle, and I appreciated that, although I did not approach them. Those were my initial encounters. To say that they could be labeled initial impressions is a bridge too far, because I did not know that any of it was linked to the Vaiñëava movement, including the picture of Prabhupäda in the appendix.
6 GOK Could you please describe that first night when you came into contact with the ISKCON Kåñëa consciousness center at Livingston Avenue in Madison?
My initial impression of the first night I attended the Sunday Love Feast in mid-February, 1972 was highly favorable. I was transcendentally lucky. It was a perfect center for me to make initial contact. A large congregation—which it certainly was not—would not have been attractive to me. Simple altar. Simple lecture. Basic kértan. Great food.
I had five dollars in my pocket. I wanted that hard copy of the Kåñëa Book, Volume One, but the cost was eight dollars. I thought it would not be made available to me that night, but I negotiated giving the temple president, Rudra däs, the five dollars and told him that, the next day, I would bring him the remaining three dollars.
Little did I know that any devotee seeing my obvious interest and enthusiasm, would have given me the book for a dollar. Any devotee would have immediately realized that I was a probable recruit, which turned out to the case exactly one Sunday later.
I took the Kåñëa Book to my flat, read the first six chapters, and then fell asleep. I was quite wiped out for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that I was not properly dressed for that cold night in a blistering wind as I walked to and from the Kåñëa center. It is probable that I decided to dedicate my life to this movement and its spiritual founder that first night, but I cannot conclude that with certainty. When I moved into the center one week later, I had made that decision.
TATTVAMASI
7 SAN I heard that, in ISKCON, in order to get initiated, you first needed the recommendation of your temple president. To me, that sounds like something that would inevitably lead to heavy internal politics. What was your experience in that regard? Was it different from what most of the other devotees may have experienced?
Certainly that was the case. I had read in the Hare Kåñëa Handbook, while still in Madison, that you could be initiated at the end of six months, if recommended. I was determined to achieve that. I served strongly at all of the centers I was in previous to receiving that first initiation, which is known as the Harer Näma initiation.
I served first in Madison, but that center was wrapped up due to a centralization scheme, which Prabhupäda condemned but was able to reverse. The Chicago temple was to be re-opened, but the decision was made by the G.B.C. man for the Central U.S. zone, Bhagavän, that Madison would not be re-opened. He had implemented the centralization scheme, and every center was wrapped up in his zone except for Detroit, which was his headquarters in a rundown waterfront mansion.
It became much larger when everyone went there for Lord Caitanya’s Appearance Day in March of 1972. As such, I served in it for awhile. Then, two brähmins were selected to re-open Chicago, and five brahmacärés, three of them uninitiated, were picked to accompany them.
I was favored by one of those leaders and not favored by the other one. A new center that had never been attempted before was also designated to be opened in St. Louis. That gåhastha brähmin and his wife asked some of the other centers, including Chicago, for a brahmacäré contribution in order to make their go of it. It needed collectors, obviously.
The co-leader for Chicago, who was favorable to me (technically, we were on the northern edge of Chicago in Evanston), asked me to fulfill the St. Louis request, and I readily accepted. The day that I departed, he praised me in a morning lecture for showing no resistance to the request, but it never crossed my mind to question orders.
In dhoti robes, kürta, tiläka, shaved head, and neck beads, I got on the turnpike leading to St. Louis and hitch-hiked there. You could do that in those days, if you were confident enough–and bold enough–to attempt such a thing. It saved the Chicago center money for what otherwise would have been mere bus fare.
At St. Louis, I was just as active and determined as I had been at the other places where I had served. Because I was living a pure lifestyle, always chanting my daily rounds, very active in the street in kértan and collection, and engaged in genuine devotional service, I was making quick advancement. The temple president at St. Louis did not like me, and I had already experienced that in Chicago.
He considered me to be a mental speculator, because I was constantly trying to understand the science and put all of its pieces together. He still needed his new people to be initiated in order to prove that, at his center, he was engaging members and the system being implemented was working. Against his feelings, his higher intelligence more or less pushed him to decide to recommend me for first initiation.
I became initiated as Kailäsa Candra däsa six months and one week after first moving into the Madison center. In terms of a long delay between first initiation and second initiation, my brähminical initiation, however, things were very different. This is a long story, but I shall try to make it concise in order to answer the question.
Once again, the Hare Kåñëa Handbook stated that brähminical initiation should take place for a devotee six months after his Harer Näma initiation. That is not, however, how it played out for me. After my initiation at the Moundsville compound in the first week of September, 1972, the St. Louis president was asked by the new Chicago president (there was no longer a co-presidency active there) for a man. They were going to expand to a former YMCA in Evanston. They needed many men in order to make it successful, and this large place was to form a functioning mahä-temple, which meant big in size and opulent Deity arrangements.
Although the St. Louis president did not want to lose my tangible daily collection results, he chose me to send to Chicago. As it turned out, this was a disadvantage for me, although I made no effort whatsoever to reverse it. I always followed orders, as if in military discipline. Of the two former leaders, the one who was unfavorable to me had prevailed. The other one departed for the West Coast, having fallen down in an illicit sexual affair in Madison.
Although I was just as dedicated to following the orders of the new hierarchy as I had ever been—and even more productive, as could only presumed would be the case (because I followed strictly and engaged in all of the austerities of temple life rigorously)—I was not considered for second initiation anywhere near that second six month increment. If I explained, or even touched upon, all of the political details involved in this, it would double the size of this presentation.
As such, I shall simply proceed to its final chapter. Please note that I did not stay in Chicago the whole time. I was sent to Bloomington, Indiana by the Chicago temple president for a new center that was attempted to be opened there. The attempt was sincerely made, but it did not turn the corner. It lasted about two months or so, if memory serves.
Then, after returning to Chicago, I was dealt with so badly that I could not tolerate it anymore. I eventually wound up at the Los Angeles mahä-temple, and served there for a couple of months. On my own accord, I hitch-hiked back to Chicago to give it another try with the same president, who liked my results but did not like me.
He briefly traded me to Boston for someone who had accompanied a traveling party to Chicago. However, in three days, he realized that he had made a big mistake. As such, since he was one of the powerful temple presidents in America, he arranged for the temple president of Boston to reverse the trade, although that leader liked me and I liked being him and wanted to be part of his operation.
Prabhupäda was coming to Chicago in mid-summer, 1974. It was in the interest of its temple president to have as many new initiates to recommend to him as possible. I should have been the first to be considered, but it turns out that, not only was I the last to be considered, but the temple president convened a board of brähmins to discuss whether or not I should be recommended. They held a vote. I was never informed of how the vote turned out, but I was recommended.
Probably, it was a very tight vote.
I received brähminical initiation personally from Prabhupäda, alone in his room, when he draped the brähminical thread over my shoulder and showed me how to count mantras on the fingers of my right hand. As you can see, there was heavy politics involved in the recommendation. My initiation would not have transpired if it were not for Prabhupäda’s visit to that center for its Jagannätha parade festival through downtown Chicago, which went off quite successfully.
I arranged for a professor from the University of Illinois to meet with Prabhupäda in his quarters at that time. I was, along with many other devotees, present for the meeting.
Was my experiences in both initiations different from the other devotees in America or the world? Almost certainly. As “ISKCON” was degrading for various reasons (including the plainclothes pick), if you were not part of that new vibe, if you were not glorifying whoever you served under (which I was not), and, most importantly, if you were not an ISKCON man, your spiritual life was negatively impacted. This is a thumbnail sketch, but it should give you a taste of what the politics were like . . . and, be assured, they were going to get much worse!
8 OM Would you consider yourself more conservative or liberal? If it is both, can you kindly provide some practical examples of why that is so?
I am ultra-conservative in most situations, as well as internally. When you are loaded with Saturn, such is be the case. All genuine transcendentalists have that attitude, because they realize the evil of this place. That evil extends to deviated yogic groups also, although it remains hidden . . . until it isn’t. You then pay the price for being optimistic about it. Pessimistic about anything material; optimistic about everything spiritual.
While leading a college preaching program, I had a major negative experience after finishing a radio interview at UW Madison. Intending to put up a poster advertising that night’s bhakti-yoga love feast, I proceeded to the Rathskellar on campus. I entered it feeling optimistic. This set me up for what went down when I ran into a former classmate.
He made a disparaging remark about Prabhupäda. I approached him with a favorable, open attitude, but I should not have done this. That turned what should have been a great day in all ways into a very depressing and somewhat horrible one. You can be liberal with devotees who are not deviated; yet, even then, only to some extent. Otherwise, whatever mask you choose to wear for your own purposes, it must be underpinned by a conservative attitude at all times.
9 HASYA You were actively involved in distributing ?r?la Prabhupäda’s books during the time when the movement implemented a massive, highly competitive plainclothes distribution routine, including the change-up. From your perspective, did this strategic shift strengthen the Puréty of the mission? Or, on the contrary, did it inject a corporate, number-driven mentality that compromised the movement’s spiritual integrity?
Prabhupäda was against the plainclothes pick. He specifically wrote that it could only be done under special circumstances, 8 and even then, the devotee must be wearing tiläka with a shaved heads and tulsi beads on this neck. That stricture was defied. Once introduced, the men wore wigs and showed no signs of being a Vaiñëava while out on the pick.
Pick the bone and bring it on home. The whole thing was loaded with deception, which is a quality that a brähmin and guru must not have. The women dressed up in ways to attract the men sexually in order to secure better financial results. They were all gold-plated grifters.
Prabhupäda affirmed to one of his leading secretaries that these deceptive methods were not what he wanted. 9 He said that his devotees must be adored as honest. However, as the plainclothes pick kept degenerating, the constant deception employed insinuated itself into temple dealings. This further degenerated into heavy-duty politics based upon cutthroat recognition for bringing in the most money.
Something called the “Sankértan Newsletter” then emerged as a weekly post on all temple bulletin boards. Results were measured in what were called “laxmi points.” Each temple was compared in terms of three divisions of size in correlation with the laxmi points it had generated for that week. The biggest collectors were listed by name.
A technique called “the change up” was introduced. There was a film made and shown at various centers of how to successfully conduct the change-up. The collector, after having hit up the target, would then bring out all kinds of one-dollar bills from his or her book bag. He or she would then ask the target, who had already donated and taken a book, whether or not the collector could trade these for one twenty dollar bill.
The key thing was to get that twenty first.
Then the collector would start counting out one dollar bills, but at the ten dollar count would ask the target whether he would be alright if the transaction was considered complete. More times than not, it was an easy extra ten crackers made through this technique.
The movement’s integrity was based upon honesty in its philosophical presentation and its dealings. Its members were supposed to represent The Truth, which is All Good Absolute and suffused with honesty of presentation, preaching, and interaction. The plainclothes pick degraded that integrity to a very great extent, perhaps completely.
10 SAN You were among the first to oppose the zonal äcärya system. What distinguished you from those who chose not to oppose it or speak out against it?
What distinguished me primarily was the fact that I was different from the overwhelming majority of both my godbrothers and godsisters, perhaps the totality of them. I never related to ISKCON. I was never an ISKCON Party Man. I was not enamored by any of the ISKCON big guns nor did I consider any of them to be very advanced.
Everything that came down from Mayapur in the Spring of 1978 had a hollow ring to it. That was validated as the years wore on. Most of the others—quite possibly almost all of them—thought it was great in the late Seventies, but I did not. I sensed that it was probably horrible.
What also distinguished me from the others—or the vast majority of my so-called godbrothers and godsisters—is that I was not connected to the movement for superficial reasons. I liked the food, granted, but I was not after society, friendship, and love connections. I did not want to become famous as a big collector, either.
I was never a brown-noser in order to leverage power in the movement as an intimate of one of its leaders. I was not climbing the latticework of the bureaucracy in order to work my way up the turtle tank in the ISKCON hierarchy. I was engaged in the tapasya that it offered in order to develop knowledge, realization, detachment, spiritual protection and spiritual power. Other things were of little or no value to me.
I was thus, in those final years leading up to The First Transformation in the Spring of 1978, realizing directly that the connection to the guru-paramparä, by serving any of those eleven men (or other sannyäsés loyal to them or other G.B.C. compromised by them), did not produce any positive, transcendental results.
Such so-called service did not make it back to the spiritual world. The last sannyäsé I served under described its dark underbelly, particularly in relation to one of those eleven great pretenders. I would never have accepted him as guru. They were master manipulators of the chelas dedicated to them, but they were not spiritual masters.
In 1977 and 1978, I served under a G.B.C. who also revealed some confidential information to me. Indeed, on my birthday in 1978, he said to me: “This movement is run Machiavellian. Tamäl introduced it, and Prabhupäda approved it.” That is verbatim. As such, I was ready to oppose what went down that Spring. I was willing to pay the price for opposing it, which also made me different from the rest.
11 ERNESTWhat was your role in the notorious 1979 confrontation in Vrindavan?Later in 1979, the G.B.C. issued the following resolution: “Resolved: That the yearly G.B.C. secretary will write a letter to all ISKCON centers warning about the poisonous activities of Kailäsa Candra däs.” What prompted the G.B.C. to take this drastic step?
While in Varanasi, via a younger godbrother who was friendly to both of us and traveled constantly throughout India, I was summoned by Yaçodänandan Swämi (Y.N.S., hereinafter) of the Krishna-Balaram complex at Raman Reti. He knew that I was against the flawed guru system and its excessive worship that the zonal acaryas had implemented in every center of the world except at his place.
He wanted to collaborate with me and, if possible, produce a position paper. He knew I was a writer and could help him quite a bit in that and perhaps in other ways. I accepted his request and traveled there. He put me up in one of the guest rooms, and, in collaboration with him, I knocked out the position paper, accommodating the few changes that he suggested. It was completed in four days. We would meet every night to discuss what I had written and fine tune it to our mutual satisfaction.
He approached all of the male members of that center for their approval and signatures. Only Rüpa-viläsa refused to sign it. Pradyumna read it. He told me personally that, although he fully agreed with it, he considered it best to not sign the position paper. He told Y.N.S. and myself that, if he signed it and the zonals found a flaw in it, they could use that to take away his assigned service from Prabhupäda, which was to finish translations and purports to the Tenth, Eleventh, and Twelfth Cantos of the Bhägavat Puräëa. We accepted his reasoning.
As it turned out, the eleven pretenders, with the rest of G.B.C. concurring, took away his service anyway. They knew that he did not believe in them and the system they had imposed on the movement. They wanted him out, and they gave that service, contravening Prabhupäda’s wishes in this connection, to one of the eleven pretender mahä-bhägavats.
Y.N.S. challenged the zonals to a debate on the basis of the aforementioned position paper. Rüpa-viläsa was in close and favorable contact with one of the eleven new gurus, who arrived before the other ten. Rüpa-viläsa canvassed most of the signatories on the document, and all but five of them removed their signatures from it.
There was very heavy politics involved. I was going to be made the scapegoat. However, Y.N.S., at my urging, feigned a major illness, brought each of those vacillating men to his quarters, and managed to get every one of them to re-sign the paper, which then had over thirty signatures. I was one of those signatories, obviously, as was Y.N.S..
The great pretenders selected Hådäyänanda as their representative, and we went with Pradyumna in the debate. Pradyumna was clearly winning for the first ten minutes, and the zonals were getting edgy. It was not looking good, as Pradyumna was the better scholar. His points had sharper teeth, especially backed by logic, çästra, and example.
However, Hådäyänanda found an opening when Pradyumna offered the legitimate point that the Rämänuja disciplic succession, since the time of that great Founder of that line, has been carried on by gurus who do not accept any opulent worship. Hådäyänanda emoted: “Who cares about the Rämänuja sampradaya?”
In a most vituperative way, he then engaged in a verbal beat down of Pradyumna, using emotional flares and illogical tactics that degraded the debate. Pradyumna refused to stoop to that level. He is entirely brähminical and was unwilling to engage in a shouting match that was descending into argumentum-ad-hominem.
Pradyumna left early after he was insulted by Hådäyänanda. The whole thing went into the crapper. I was accused by Jayatértha of being the poisonous influence behind everything. He waved some kind of confessional, hand-written document from some devotee I had earlier preached to in India before he returned to the London yatra.
A lunch break was taken. I, along with Y.N.S., went to Pradyumna’s bungalow in Loi Bazaar to discuss the debacle. Pradyumna refused to return, and I followed his lead. All but one of the signatories to the paper recanted and begged forgiveness.
Jayatértha had a grudge against me previous to all of this. That is a long story centered in London, where he was the G.B.C.. I was working under a sannyäsé, one who did not want me to work under Jayatértha or that temple president but instead to collect only for him.
As such, Jayatértha ran me through the grease at the end of the first session. He later in Mayapur continued attacking me by arranging a G.B.C. Resolution to read as it does.
End of Part 1
SAD EVA SAUMYA
ENDNOTES
1 At that time in America, adoption was made by matching the racial makeup of the parents. The predominant races involved in my case were Irish (father’s side for both) and South German (or possibly, Austrian) for both mothers. My birth mother’s name was Frauscher;
2 The sidereal explanation for my good luck—when that was the deciding factor—was from Mercury fully aspecting and strengthening the ninth, the house of luck (and other important portfolio, particularly for Vaiñëavas). The source of unluckiness, when that was the deciding factor—was from a terrible yoga involving the upa-grahas.
When there was transcendental interference involved as a factor—or even the only factor—for determining luck (or lack thereof)—then these sidereal factors either came into play in a subordinate way or not at all. The extreme unlucky events in my life were crossroads moments; one in particular, and that was before I came into contact with Kåñëa consciousness. However, Paramätmä may also have been involved in that just mentioned major setback, but that will be explicated in this presentation;
3 For the sake of being as precise as could be expected (and thus not described in the presentation itself), my uncle seemingly came out of nowhere to lift me out of the dirty branch of the Chicago River. It bordered the eastern edge of my home in Glenview, and he saved me from drowning during a family get-together.
Aside from that event in early life, I have survived two major automobile crashes, (in which I should have been killed, or severely or permanently injured, in both), a bus fire in Haryana, India, and a derailment during a train trip on parikramä in South India. There are more than these, but to list everything could incline the reader to conclude that I am a drama queen. In terms of lasting damage, all I have to show for these near death experiences is a one-inch practically invisible scar on my right knee, and that is called mitigation;
4 In the first semester of my Junior year of college (which I did not complete), I became the sports editor for this major campus newspaper, the Daily Cardinal, which was one of the best in the country;
5 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kailasa_Candra_Dasa
6 Despite being attached to rock message music, I was utterly averse to attending, what to speak of participating in, rock concerts. This coincided with my misanthropic trait and aversion to groups. I did not attend dances or the prom. I abhorred all such settings, and I was not, until much later, even slightly attracted to any rock personalities themselves;
7 Occultism based upon intelligence with intuition. It follows given sidereal principles and, by combining them in the right way, comes to solid conclusions in the specific astrological area of their application;
8 “. . . the devotees can dress up in respectable clothes like ladies and gentlemen in order to distribute my literatures under special circumstances, but even this program should not become widespread.”
Letter to a leading secretary, 2-14-73;
9 “Regarding the controversy about book distribution techniques, you are right. Our occupation must be honest. Everyone should adore our members as honest. If we do something which is deteriorating to the popular sentiments of the public in favor of our movement, that is not good. Somehow or other, we should not become unpopular in the public eye. These dishonest methods must be stopped. It is hampering our reputation all over the world.”
Letter to a leading secretary, 1-9-75.