KCD’s Monthly Podcast – October 2024

Podcast transcription:

On and For the Record

(Ch. 5 Review of Eleven Naked Emperors)

Analysis of Chapter Five

by Kailäsa Candra däsa

HARIÙ OÀ NAMAÙ

“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]

“I am so sorry to learn that there is a sort of conspiracy by some of our God-brothers as not to give me a place at Mayapur.” [2]

“Now by the grace of Krishna we have got sufficient properties all over the world, so there cannot be any diplomacy or conspiracy by any sane man. All these properties and opulences, whatever we have got, this will not go with me when I go away from this world. It will remain here. I am training some of my experienced disciples how to manage after my departure. So if instead of taking the training, if in my lifetime you people say I am the Lord of all I survey, that is dangerous conspiracy.” [3]

These are obviously all excerpts from His Divine Grace Çréla Prabhupäda. Each of them has a disturbing element to it, particularly the last one. Conspiracy eventually became endemic to Prabhupäda’s branch of the Hare Kåñëa movement. In 1977, if you saw a picture of him, you would wonder how he was still maintaining life in that emaciated form. Of course, the overwhelming majority of devotees never saw such pictures, because the leaders knew that it was against their interest for the rank-and-file to see how debilitated Prabhupäda’s condition was.

Why? That is quite self-evident. Anyone viewing those pictures of him in the final year (and particularly, the final months and days) would conclude that he would be leaving the scene soon. Many would leave and go to India to be with him. Indeed, he did leave soon. The secrecy penchant of the vitiated G.B.C. was well-established since 1972:

“Sriman Atreya Rsi das may be very expert, but without my say he has been given so much power and this has upset my brain. I also understand that immediate actions are going to take place even prior to my permission, and that, also, ‘without divulging to the devotees(!)’

I do not follow exactly what is the motive of the so-called G.B.C. meeting, therefore I have sent the telegram which you will find attached herewith, and I have received the replies as well.

Under these circumstances, I AUTHORIZE YOU TO DISREGARD FOR THE TIME BEING ANY DECISION FROM THE G.B.C. MEN UNTIL MY FURTHER INSTRUCTION.”

This was from a letter sent to all temple presidents on April 8^th, 1972, suspending the authority of the G.B.C.

For those of you who are listening only, Prabhupäda had his personal secretary type out what he said into the dictaphone on to a hard copy letter. He distinctly ordered that there be an insert of that exclamation point after: “without divulging to the devotees.” In other words, it was not inserted by your host speaker, but was in the original text of the letter. Another way of saying the same thing is that the G.B.C. penchant for secrecy deeply disturbed Prabhupäda.

We see that there was a major conspiracy back in a millennium from deep antiquity after Päëòu (who was the rightful king) met his unexpected demise due to a curse from a man (in the form of a stag) that Päëòu had killed. Päëòu’s line of monarchical succession would be through his sons (his known sons, of course). The eldest was Yudhiñöhira, so he was supposed to be the rightful next king. But his nemesis, Duryodhana, in league with his father and some others, had other ideas.

Dhåtaräñöra was older than Päëòu, but Dhåtaräñöra was born blind. The stricture was, in Vedic days, that the king or emperor had to have all of his senses in full working order. He could not be deaf or dumb or crippled or blind. It was a good rule, and it was supposed to be honored and upheld. As such, the second son, Päëòu, who had all of his senses in powerful order, was eligible to become king. However, Dhåtaräñöra still considered himself the king, being the eldest. And if he was king (which he was not), then, when Dhåtaräñöra left the scene, the monarchical line of regal succession would have passed to his eldest son, Duryodhana.

The five Päëòavas stood in the way, however. Thus, there was a conspiracy as to how to eliminate them from the monarchical succession, despite the fact that Duryodhana was managing the whole kingdom very well as the de facto (but not de jure) king, since Dhåtaräñöra could not do so due to his major physical defect.

The issue here is conspiracy. The whole of the Mahäbhärata is based upon that very conspiracy. We could very easily fill this month’s podcast with an explanation of the tale of that conspiracy. However, it would not be in accord with our current focus on this multi-part series. Our focus is upon the various chapters of Henry Doktorski’s most important treatise to date, viz., Eleven Naked Emperors (ENE).

We have now reached Chapter Five of his work. It is a short chapter entitled: “A Takeover Conspiracy.” Let us dig into it. You should not at all be surprised that some kind of secret conspiracy developed a bit after Prabhupäda left physical manifestation. It is the way of the world, as was pointed out in that excerpt, above-quoted.

Perhaps, a conspiracy was developing before he departed. Perhaps one really heated up just a day or two before he departed, when it appeared certain that he would do so. However, there is no question that one developed after he departed physical manifestation. ENE gets into some examples of the scuttlebutt connected to all three of these possibilities, with the last one being the only certainty.

First, however, ENE begins this chapter with a quote from Aristotle:

“The least deviation from the truth is multiplied later a thousand fold.” [4]

How super-excellent this aphorism is! That is one of the ways that Mäyä works. Some small deviation to begin with, getting its foot in the door. Then some adjunct related to it, usually a bit tangentially, in order to expand it. Then it grows and grows. Then it becomes accepted as the standard. Excellent aphorism to introduce the chapter.

In the beginning of this chapter, ENE goes through any number of rumors about the conspiracy that we all know had to have gone down. Obviously, there will be all kinds of opinions about it. We shall never get any verification of substance from the conspirators themselves for a number of reasons. Some of them are dead, and the rest are now old. They are dying off, and the Old Guard protects its own.

Also, aside from this, the conspirators who manipulated everything in the first place know that, if they come clean, that will not be appreciated. It would only be appreciated by a minority of devotees, such as your host speaker. The vast majority of the current many thousands of improperly initiated bhaktas and bhaktins will not only not appreciate anyone from the Old Guard revealing anything about the conspiracy to replace Prabhupäda as imitation Successors—they will want to tear anyone who does so limb from limb.

As such, although little here from the rumors (being quoted from ENE) can be considered definitive, let us analyze some examples of what is remembered (either rightly or wrongly) about how the whole debacle was formulated, how went down, when, who was involved, etc. There’s one example presented in ENE from a personal servant of Sudäma. It appears that Sudäma was approached in advance about how the conspiracy to replace Prabhupäda should best play out. This fellow’s name is Rämacandra däs, almost certainly an initiate of Prabhupäda:

“Sudäma Prabhu revealed to me that, the day before Prabhupäda departed from us, all of the ISKCON leaders—including Satsvarupa Maharaja, the other original ISKCON gurus and other leaders—met together to discuss how to divide up the world. Sudäma Prabhu told me that Tamal Krishna Maharaja and another sannyäsé . . . approached him and said, ‘There is going to be a meeting in which we are going to divide up the world. Don’t go anywhere, you should be there.’” [5]

Yaçodananda däs and Bhakta däs validated Rämacandra’s remembrance on the meeting just before and after Prabhupäda left the scene. Perhaps they do not agree on the timing, but they agree on the conspiracy itself. Yet, it was all based upon the false pre-supposition that, when Prabhupäda named (appointed) the rittviks, he simultaneously appointed them as initiating spiritual masters for the future.

The other leaders were led by T.K.G. to believe this, Swämi B. R. Çridhar buttressed the pre-supposition, and it was passed down-line to the rank-and-file, accepted as an unquestionable and undeniable fact. Here is a sentence in this chapter of ENE which summarizes it:

“As far as I know, we still have the tape of Prabhupäda naming gurus to initiate on his behalf while he was with us, and then to be ‘regular gurus’ afterwards.” [6]

When it came to breaking down this conspiracy in terms of taking over the movement (as dékñä-gurus, which none of them were), the cutting edge or raw nerve of this loose plot would be the “who.” The beginning of Chapter Five centers upon Sudäma das, how he was approached to take part in the plan and how he wanted no part of it. Obviously, the record of how it went down, including the timing, of Sudäma’s rejection is subject to controversy. ENE discusses it in the following way on page 108:

“Sudäma’s story of the alleged take-over plot is inconsistent in at least three regards: (1) Puranjana, Ramachandra and Yasodanandan offer three different dates for this alleged conversation between Sudäma and Tamal and Bhavananda. Puranjana claims it was May 1977, Yasodanandan claims it was August 1977, and Ramachandra claims it was November 13, 1977. According to some sources, at least two other senior godbrothers besides Sudäma Maharaja (and a fourth godbrother a couple years later) were also offered the position of dékñä-guru by some of the ISKCON gurus, but refused: Achyutananda Swämi and Guru Kripa Maharaja.”

Although not specifically mentioned, Akçayänanda was the temple president of the Krishna Balaram mandir. He was part of the contingent that opposed the eleven great pretenders in that first rebellion of the winter of 1979, the debate face-off between Hådayänanda and Pradyumna. It was abruptly brought to an end by the bellicosity of Hådayänanda. It was held at Raman Reti, but the whole thing degenerated quickly.

It would be tangential to get into any specifics about it here, but it bears mentioning that Akçayänanda was against the “new gurus,” and was part of the last-men-standing group there in India which opposed how they took over. He soon thereafter joined the Mahä-maëòala and left “ISKCON” entirely as an incorrigible enemy.

Acyutänanda was the first devotee (at Tompkins Square Park) to dance to Prabhupäda’s drum beat. He was and remains a very special and devoted transcendentalist. He is a man of knowledge and occult experience. He is renounced and was anything but a favorite of the powerful mis-leaders absorbed in profit, adoration, distinction, and power over godbrothers and godsisters. That he is reported in ENE to have refused some kind of initial overture makes complete sense and tallies well with all of his divine proclivities and influence.

As far as Guru-Kåpa is concerned, he was the biggest of the black sheep. Without question, he was one of Prabhupäda’s pet disciples. He was a very rough guy capable of tapasya, but also capable of physical enjoyment with the opposite sex. Some thought that his face resembled Steve McQueen, although I personally couldn’t see it.

He was a great kértan men. In the opinion of your host speaker, the greatest kértan men were Madhudviña, Guru-Kåpa, and Hansadutta, the latter also being a great bhajan singer. Guru-Kåpa personally told me (at that time when the zonal imposition was going down) that he was approached by T.K.G. on the subject of his (Guru-Kåpa) becoming guru.

Although I do not remember all of the specifics of my exchange with him and his anecdote, it centered around a proposal (from T.K.G.) that Guru-Kåpa was too controversial and too disliked by too many leaders in order to be named to the original contingent of the so-called initiating spiritual masters. He was despised by Satsvarüpa and Rüpänuga.

When T.K.G. explained to Guru-Kåpa how the rest of the “new gurus” thought he should act in relation to their guru takeover, I do remember Guru-Kåpa saying to me the following: “Tamal is telling me that, if I just wait a year and keep my nose clean, that I will then be named guru. Yet, although T.K.G. was supposed to be a perfect guru like Prabhupäda, he could not even see that I wasn’t even following the regulative principles when he was talking to me.”

Svarüpa Dämodar is mentioned in Chapter Five. He was against the guru appointment scam (what we also accurately peg as the appointment conspiracy) during the 1978 G.B.C. asat sabhä in Mayapur at the Annual Meeting. He proposed a five-year waiting period before anyone initiated. His proposed resolution was voted down 22-1.

Svarüpa Dämodar, however–and in contradiction to his brave stand in 1978–accepted an appointment to guru by vote in the very early Eighties. I have personal experience of this man in Atlanta when I was Balavanta’s personal secretary there in 1978 until May of that year.

Svarüpa Dämodar Swämi had a profile as a gentle sadhu, but he was quite the politician. I had direct personal experience of this. Once his five-year proposal got voted down, he went on a kind of rampage via international phone calls to others who were left out of the guru club. This included Gopal Krishna, a fellow G.B.C. of Southeast Indian birth.

I was privy to this, because Svarüpa Dämodar’s room was katty-corner to mine on the second floor of the building at the top of the hill there on Ponce de Leon in Atlanta. I was also privy to it because Svarüpa Dämodar left his door open. Maybe he was a friendly guy—I don’t know—but I do know that he was not at all friendly to me, and he was politicking for guru like anything at that time.

It paid off for him a few years later. He died young. It is virtually certain that he accepted uttama-adhikäré worship from his disciples once he was part of the first wave (after the eleven great pretenders) to be voted in as guru, along with Gopal Krishna and another man. That five-year waiting proposal that he submitted to his comrades at the asat sabhä may have been a disguised objection to the first wave of eleven gurus not including any Southeast Asian sannyäsés.

ENE then goes on to briefly, and correctly, describe that the first actual schism in the movement was the Siddha-svarüpa breakaway. Although he did not have that much influence, he was also a black sheep like Guru-Kåpa. The difference was that Guru-Kåpa was a member of the G.B.C. and, to some limited extent, cooperated with it. He received his commissioner zone from the governing body. Siddha-svarüpa, a.k.a., Siddha-svarüpänanda, proffered no such cooperation.

He despised the G.B.C.. He was a charismatic guru even before he became initiated by Prabhupäda in the early Seventies. For all practical purposes, he was doing his own thing both before and after his initiation. His stomping grounds was Hawaii and the Philippines. He had no institutional charisma, but he was loaded with personal charisma.

He was anti-Sanskrit, and he surfed regularly. He had a sweet bhajan with his own catchy tune, which no one else sung or emulated. Sometimes, he used his Western name, such as on cassettes labeled: “Chris Butler Speaks.” Guru-Kåpa and Madhudviña loathed him.

TATTVAMASI

Just as the eleven gurus were tying up their plan, word circulated as to how it would go down. Siddha heard about it, like some of the rest of us. He wrote, had printed and had distributed the first issue of his “Haribol News” (there was no INTERNET back in the day, of course). The six-page pamphlet boldly declared that all of those new gurus would spend ten thousand years as worms in stool for what they were doing.

ENE discusses how, previous to that, Siddha attended the burial ceremony of Prabhupäda at the Krishna-Balaram mandir. He was an outcaste, but none of the major players—what to speak of the rank-and-file—was going to try to prevent him from attending. He did not want to speak, but, according to ENE, Hådayänanda persuaded him to do so to the assembly for the 1977 salt burial, conducted by Swämi Näräyan.

We shall simply point out that Siddha stated, in his brief lecture, that guru is never appointed. Guru is only by qualification, not appointment. He stated that, correctly and succinctly, that Prabhupäda didn’t appoint gurus. This was against what became the institutional propaganda.

He also made the bold statement—certainly rejected by all of the upper echelon of “ISKCON” leaders—that all of Prabhupäda’s initiated disciples were automatically, if qualified, duty-bound to be gurus in their own rite after Prabhupäda departed. This radical assertion was not made available on any basis whatsoever for obvious reasons; it was cent-per-cent against the monopoly, based on a loose conspiracy, that the vitiated G.B.C., led by T.K.G., was in the process of formulating and forming. As such, Siddha was never a part of the ISKCON scene after that.

Siddha took the title of Prabhupäda as of early 1978. This means that he declared himself the Successor in the line, although Prabhupäda never declared him as such. He was the first breakaway, unless you include and consider your host speaker, of course.

Previous to the asat sabhä of the vitiated G.B.C. in the Spring of 1978, only Kértanänanda acted upon what was (wrongly) considered to be the appointment of future dékñä-gurus in July of 1977. Everyone else had different opinions of how things should play out, so the conspiracy was anything but tight. It was in a kind of formulation stage that was basically more dormant than it was not. Satsvarüpa, for example, was opining that the new gurus should not be worshiped inside the ISKCON temples, and ENE points out that opinion, as well as some from others. Everything was in flux for awhile, but not for long.

We find the following quote from Chapter Five:

“The double issue of BTG announces eleven gurus, but . . . curiously, in the same issue, Back to Godhead published an excerpt from a conversation with Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda recorded twelve days before his passing in which he emphatically declared that he did not appoint any specific persons as successor acharyas, ‘It’s not that I’ll give an order: ‘Here is the next leader,’ Prabhupäda insisted. ‘Anyone who follows the previous leadership is a leader.’ Unfortunately, no one at the time, it seems, noted this paradox. How could Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda allegedly have appointed eleven successors and also claimed that he did not appoint any successors? In retrospect, it appears that the eleven had pulled the wool over nearly everyone’s eyes in ISKCON.” 7

It seems? Of course not! The statement by Prabhupäda (quoted in the excerpt) that he only appointed rittviks was entirely ignored and merged into oblivion. It would only have been a paradox if it had been well known and had been made well known, which it was not.

In the final days, Prabhupäda also corrected one of his younger godbrothers—when that godbrother (Puri Mahäräj) said that Prabhupäda had appointed eleven gurus but should have instead simply appointed one Successor. Prabhupäda corrected him, saying that he did not appoint gurus but only rittviks. This was also not made known.

Undeniably, the eleven great pretenders had pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, and it was quite effective. We all believed that Prabhupäda had appointed eleven spiritual masters, although he had not done so. We argued against how they set up their outrageous worship of themselves, but we did not dispute that Prabhupäda had appointed them. That was because we did not have information, and that was intentional on the part of all of the “ISKCON” leaders who benefited from the scam.

Instead, what was quibbled about was how the “non-guru godbrothers” were to relate to and view the “guru godbrothers” in terms of perspective: A completely irrelevant tangent! This side trip centered around their own disciples viewing them as absolute, while the godbrothers viewed them from a relative perspective. Or, as Swämi B. R. Çrédhar, with another of his poisonous tropes, put it: “It is to deceive the disciple.”

ENE mentions this tangent as follows:

“Yet, each guru also had godbrothers who related to them not on the absolute platform but on the relative platform. How could this paradox be reconciled?” 8

ENE then adds:

“In addition, the eleven knew that they would not be able to see or relate to each other as absolute authorities. What would happen if they disagreed and fought with each other? How could conflicts between gurus be resolved if they were all supposed to be perfect and infallible beings? What would be the relationship between the gurus and the G.B.C., and between the gurus themselves? Each guru considered himself an autocrat and his geographic zone of influence as his personal autocracy. Yet they were also supposed to cooperate together for the propagation of the worldwide ISKCON preaching mission.” 9

“ISKCON” devised an anti-Vaiñëava system of roping off sectors of the world into zones run exclusively enjoyed by princes in their own principalities known, according to Swämi B. R. Çrédhar (who gave this bad advice in the first place) as “äcäryas of the zone.” This was the alleged solution to all of the potential problems that would ensue. Some of those problems were just mentioned here from Chapter Five, and I have provided that excerpt. To say that it is comprehensive is a bridge too far, but it certainly brings up many salient points of cult contention.

Each and every one of them surfaced (as did any number of others), but all were supposed to be resolved by each äcärya in his zone . . . as long as he was cooperating with the others. The issue of cooperation was made paramount, and for a brief time, it was quite effective. Everyone should cooperate with the new gurus. Everyone should cooperate with what the vitiated G.B.C. had devised as Prabhupäda’s plan for his movement: Cooperation, cooperation, cooperation!

It was bandied about constantly in the late Seventies as the be-all and end-all for everybody and everything. But was it cooperation that the zonals and their henchmen were really after? Certainly not. Instead, cooperation was the buzz word disguising the real mandate: Simply accept!

I heard it through the grapevine that, when the eleven gurus got together—and it may not have been just them but many of the governing commissioners—they discussed how the new arrangement of the zonal äcärya imposition was to be explained. Apparently, one of the new gurus asked: “How should we explain all of this?” To which Bhävänanda is said to have replied: “Don’t explain anything: Simply tell them!”

Chapter Five goes on to discuss—in advance of when they actually went down—what the potential problems could be if the G.B.C. proceeded and divided the world into eleven fiefdoms. Obviously, this was being talked about as a possibility before was voted into kinetic existence.

ENE brought one possible chief contention:

“An autocracy cannot succeed if there is more than one autocrat. Two or more will inevitably issue conflicting orders and cause chaos. Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda knew that better than anyone. If he had intended to choose a new acharya to rule ISKCON, he might have chosen only one, not eleven.” 10

This is an important point. The Machiavellian Manipulator, with effective help from B. R. Çrédhar, bamboozled everyone into believing as fact (although it was nothing more than a pre-supposition . . . and a false one, at that) that the rittviks automatically were parlayed into full blown dékñä-gurus after Prabhupäda left. This got converted into the alleged fact (based upon another related and just as false pre-supposition) that Prabhupäda appointed eleven men as gurus.

Then, that got converted into those eleven men being worshiped by everyone, including their godbrothers and godsisters, as mahä-bhägavats. And that got converted into eleven Successors. Then, because all of these mega-autocrats absorbed in self-apotheosis could not possibly get along (and not be immediately at each others’ throats), the Successor scam required each of the princes possessing their own principalities, in which they came to be known as zonal äcäryas.

Get the picture? The not-very-significant rejuvenation of the rittvik process of initiation in July of 1977 got blown up into this! Why? Well, the guru must be seen by his disciples as absolute! The guru must be seen as good as God! Or, as the Navadvipa mahant put it: “It is to deceive the disciple.” And not just improperly initiated disciples: It was to deceive everybody in or connected to their then deviated movement.

It was all a big lie. Most of this is now known. However, try to get some perspective of how outrageous the whole scam was at that time and how in the dark virtually everyone of us was . . . and not by choice!

What set all of this outrage into motion? It was primarily the dark duo of the worst men: Kértanänanda and T.K.G.. Do not forget that T.K.G., as the so-called caretaker to Prabhupäda, decided who could see and talk to him in the last months he was with us. Do not forget that he disallowed any sannyäsés to seek clarification of just how the movement was to be carried on after that botched interview of late May, 1977.

However, someone had to make the first move on the chessboard in order to force the issue. That someone was, as could be expected, Kértanänanda. After all, T.K.G. was the epitome of a Party Man. He did not rely upon personal charisma, because he didn’t have much. He had the personal charisma of black salt. However, he had plenty of institutional charisma, and he claimed that he knew what Prabhupäda wanted.

Kértanänanda, like Hansadutta, had a lot of personal charisma, although quite a bit of it was, let us say, a bit on the dreadful side. In one sense, the die was cast before that fateful meeting of the asat sabhä in Mayapur at the G.B.C. Annual Conclave, because Kértanänanda jumped the gun and, by doing so, set a high bar. As ENE put it:

“Kértanänanda saw no need to hesitate, and boldly initiated his first disciples at a 1977 Christmas Day fire sacrifice at New Vrindaban, less than six weeks after Bhaktivedanta Swämi Prabhupäda’s passing. (His) act was in defiance of his godbrothers. Whether he would be disciplined—or at least chastised—by his godbrothers three months later during the annual G.B.C. meetings of March 1978 remained to be seen.” 11

He wasn’t, and he was the eldest of the eleven. He had only inmates at his Moundsville compound. He loathed his godbrothers and held them in utter disregard. He never applied any of their decisions to his personal playground. He was the supreme there. Had anyone ever seen Kértanänanda pay an obeisance to any other sannyäsé?

He immediately began to take uttama-adhikäré worship, because he knew he could do it. He immediately, without consultation with any godbrothers or with the G.B.C. body, began initiating new disciples less than two months after Prabhupäda departed physical manifestion. Why? Because he knew he could do it, and he knew it well that nobody could stop him . . . or even attempt to do so.

And anyway, what did he care? He did not care if the G.B.C. decided to formally chastise him at Mayapur. By that time, his well-populated community would be functioning exactly according to plan. He would then declare himself no longer part of the “ISKCON” movement or its governing body. He would go rogue, since he already was.

And, there was at least a 50-50 chance they would follow his lead, and that’s exactly how it played out. He gambled, threw the dice, and it came up eleven. He was the leading edge, he was the man, and the others were, as he actually called them, his “ten little Indian boys.”

Chapter Five of ENE is not an essential chapter in the book. Some of the information in it could have been included in the chapters preceding and following it. Much of it discussed rumors of the conspiracy, and there were contradictions in such anecdotal evidence. There was a loose conspiracy, but exactly how it went down has merged into the annals of oblivion. It is now basically in the category of rumors only.

There is a saying in the NFL: You can only win against whatever is put in front of you. Sometimes, a team’s upcoming schedule will include three weak teams in a row as opponents. As such, the superior team racks up three wins. What could have been done about it? Those were the teams they had on the docket by the NFL schedule maker, those were the inferior teams they had to beat, and those were the teams they did beat.

What is the point of this analogy? It is this: The segue of what Chapter Five includes had to find a place in the book. Doktorski realized this, and he included, as a chapter, the research he made on all of these factors, labeling the whole thing a conspiracy. It was a loose conspiracy in the making, one which got modified significantly in the Spring of 1978.

As such, I do not grade him on the subject matter. He researched and wrote it up quite well. I shall only grade the chapter in terms of its cogency and accuracy. It meets the standard, and I give it a straight-A.

The colossal hoax known as the fabricated, so-called “ISKCON” confederation is a pseudo-spiritual scam. Carnival dogs have consumed the line. The whole tragedy is a result of dishonesty combined with secrecy. Its record is quite hellish. It is also the result of blowing way, way out of proportion something (the rittvik appointments) into something that they never wereand never weremeant to be. It is the result of a loose conspiracy that took shape and then devastated everything.

Eleven seeds of personal ambition—the seeds of “ISKCON”– required fertile soil in which to sprout. They got that nutrient-rich mix in the immediate aftermath of Prabhupäda’s disappearance. This created the “ISKCON” movement. It is what its record says it is.

SAD EVA SAUMYA

ENDNOTES

1. Excerpt from a platform lecture on July 7, 1973 in London;

2. Excerpt from a letter to a godbrother, 5-13-70;

3. Excerpt from a letter to a leading secretary, 10-8-73;

4. Doktorski, Henry. Eleven Naked Emperors: The Crisis of Charismatic

Succession in the Hare Krishna Movement, p. 105. Kindle Edition;

5. Ibid, pp. 106-107. Kindle Edition;

6. Ibid, pp. 108-109;

7. Ibid, p. 109;

8. Ibid, p. 116;

9. Ibid, p. 117;

10. Ibid;

11. Ibid, 118.