SpiritualThe Kṛṣṇa consciousness movement had experienced strong growth in France, and the ever-expanding community of devotees needed more space. Consequently, the temple had moved from the Parisian suburb of Fontenay-aux-Roses to the city center, to a prestigious location not far from the Arc de Triomphe and the Champs-Élysées, into a large, threestory corner building on Rue le Sueur.
Prabhupāda visited the new temple for one week in August 1973 and, at Bhagavān’s request, installed marble Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa Deities, whom he named Rādhā-Parisīśvara.
MṚDĀṆĪ DĀSĪ: I was standing not far from Prabhupāda’s vyāsāsana, where he was sitting, when the Deities were brought into the temple room. The devotees put Their Lordships just in front of him, so that Śrīmatī Rādhārāṇī and Prabhupāda were vis-ª-vis, looking at each other. Then suddenly Prabhupāda got down from the vyāsāsana and began to rub Rādhārāṇī’s face to remove a stain.
AŚOKA-KUMĀRA DĀSA: I was fortunate enough to be right up front while Prabhupāda was offering the first ārati. When he was about to light the camphor lamp, he stopped and called the pūjārī over. What had happened was that a devotee had worked the camphor into the ghee wick instead of sprinkling it on top. Prabhupāda waited until someone brought camphor and put some crystals on the wick. Then he continued the ceremony. KṚṢṆA-KṢETRA SWAMI: While offering the ārati Śrīla Prabhupāda was intent on offering each item with care and devotion, not to make a show, but to please Their Lordships with his humble offering. His method of offering the cloth struck me. He made several slow small circles with his wrist as he moved the cloth in a large clockwise circle around the form of the Lord.
NIKHILĀNANDA DĀSA: I was interested in photography, and Harernāmānanda kindly loaned me two cameras and let me accompany him into Prabhupāda’s room to take pictures. While Prabhupāda preached to guests I had plenty of opportunities to take pictures from different angles. Sometimes when I was just about to push the button, Śrīla Prabhupāda would stop talking for a moment and look at me with penetration. I instantly froze and wasn’t able to move my finger to take a shot. The devotees laughed at my shyness.
One evening it had become very late, and Prabhupāda’s servant, Śrutakīrti, suggested that we leave and let Prabhupāda rest. But Prabhupāda smiled and asked, “Does anybody want to leave?” We all laughed; it was obvious how much we enjoyed the company of our spiritual master in such an intimate, relaxed atmosphere.
On another occasion, we were sitting in his room while a kīrtana in the temple, on the ground floor, was picking up in both speed and volume. The whole building seemed to reverberate. One devotee asked whether he should go down and stop it, but Prabhupāda remarked, “Kīrtana is always pleasing.”
KṚṢṆA-KṢETRA SWAMI: During one of the darśanas in Prabhupāda’s room, several devotees were present, and perhaps some guests, but the room was not crowded. It was in the afternoon. Suddenly a devotee walked in with a large plate of fruit, apparently from the four o’clock offering. Śrīla Prabhupāda at first appeared slightly annoyed at the interruption. That expression of slight annoyance struck me. It showed how absorbed Prabhupāda was in preaching and how detached he was from eating. He took a piece or two of fruit, then gestured for it to be distributed, and continued preaching.
PṚTHU DĀSA: Arrangements were made for Śrīla Prabhupāda to speak from the balcony of the temple and address the devotees and neighbors. The municipality gave permission on the condition that we didn’t use a sound system. When Śrīla Prabhupāda heard this he told the story of Gopal Ban, who had just gotten a new toilet, which he didn’t want to have soiled by anybody. When a friend came by and asked him if he could pass stool, Gopal Ban said, “Yes, but on the condition that you don’t pass urine at the same time. I’ll stand next to you with a stick. If you dare to pass urine while passing stool, I’ll hit you over the head.”
MṚDĀṆĪ DĀSĪ: In those days the relationships between men and women on our saṅkīrtana party were quite relaxed and kind of intimate, and we used to get together and talk, mainly about saṅkīrtana. During Prabhupāda’s visit, we happened to do this out on the street, on the corner, right under his balcony. When he noticed us he sent somebody down to tell us to stop it immediately—that it was māyā—men and women sitting together and chatting.
NIKHILĀNANDA DĀSA: Harernāmānanda asked Prabhupāda’s secretary whether Prabhupāda would grant us twenty minutes in private to take pictures, and to our surprise and delight Śrīla Prabhupāda agreed. When we entered his room, he was sitting behind his desk and softly chanting japa. Then he stopped and took tilaka from a small silver box and renewed the vaiṣṇava mark on his forehead. While we were taking photographs, Prabhupāda turned to me and asked why I had two cameras. I was so surprised that I simply looked at him helplessly, but Harernāmānanda quickly explained that one camera was for color photos and the other contained black-and-white film. Prabhupāda nodded and continued chanting.
After a few minutes, I summoned up my courage and said, “Prabhupāda, may I ask you a question?” When he indicated that I should go ahead, I asked him, “It is said that one becomes blissful in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, but my experience is that I always commit so many mistakes and that I suffer when I have made a mistake. How is this?” After a short silence, he said softly, “If one repents, that is very good.” It sounded meaningful, though I wasn’t sure whether this answered my question. But I decided to leave it at that and think about it in the future. A few years later, I came across a verse in the Fifth Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam that says, in connection to the story of Jaḍa Bharata, “Although Bharata Mahārāja received the body of a deer, by constant repentance he became completely detached from all material things”.
*** Before coming to France Śrīla Prabhupāda had stayed for over a month in England. He had attended a successful Ratha-yātrā and met several important men, including a famous sculptor and George Harrison, the former Beatle, who had donated an estate near London, now renamed Bhaktivedanta Manor. Hansadutta had asked Harernāmānanda to follow Śrīla Prabhupāda on his European tour and take photographs.
HARERNĀMĀNANDA DĀSA: While I accompanied Prabhupāda in London, Paris, and Stockholm, I had opportunities to be with him in many circumstances: morning walks, lectures, room conversations, and public engagements. One thing that made a strong impression on me was Prabhupāda’s ability to adapt himself quickly and perfectly to a particular kind of person or audience. To me, it seemed mystical how he knew almost immediately where a person was at. On several occasions, he sensed right from the beginning where a conversation was leading and would answer questions even before they had been asked. Thus it happened that some of his guests would naturally stop questioning after a while and just listen, because they could see that Prabhupāda was on their wavelength, addressing exactly the problems on their minds.
Another thing that impressed me was that Prabhupāda sometimes gave such simple answers that they left you completely dumbfounded. You would ask yourself, “Why didn’t I think of that? It’s so clear!” I actually burst into laughter once, because Prabhupāda’s answer was so self-evident. One afternoon, Donovan, his girlfriend, and some of their friends came to see Prabhupāda. Donovan, another famous musician and good friend of George Harrison, knew a bit about Kṛṣṇa consciousness, but those he was with had no idea at all. As Prabhupāda answered their questions and explained basic concepts, Donovan’s girlfriend became uneasy. She seemed afraid of Prabhupāda’s influence. Probably she sensed the danger of losing her man because Donovan was actually humble. He listened submissively and showed his willingness to accept what Prabhupāda said. So his girlfriend became increasingly nervous and repeatedly tried to bring the conversation to an end. Finally, she succeeded. Although Donovan was genuinely interested, he had to comply with her desire, and he excused himself for not being able to stay longer.
At Ratha-yātrā festivals Śrīla Prabhupāda usually sat on a vyāsāsana on Subadhrā’s cart, but this time he surprised everyone by walking the whole way from Marble Arch to Trafalgar Square. Of course, for me as a photographer, this was a unique opportunity to take shots of him as he danced in front of Their Lordships.
As the procession moved, devotees formed a protective circle around Śrīla Prabhupāda. I was constantly running ahead of them and then quickly turning around to get some good angles. Prabhupāda played karatālas and chanted, and whenever he began to dance, the devotees went wild. At intervals, he would stop, raise his arms, and turn around to see Lord Jagannātha. His face didn’t express what we would normally describe as ecstasy. His eyes were watery, and he looked deeply moved, almost sad as if feeling intense separation from Kṛṣṇa. He seemed oblivious to his surroundings: the roaring kīrtana, the jumping devotees, the shouting policemen, and the gaping onlookers. Prabhupāda was detached from it all, serene, fully absorbed in Lord Jagannātha. But simultaneously he was feeling compassion for all the people present.
At Bhaktivedanta Manor, I made it a goal to make a photographic study of Prabhupāda’s face. He would give morning class in what is now the theater room. This part of the building faces north, and the tiny light bulb high on the ceiling provided inadequate lighting. There was no question of using a flash, because earlier Prabhupāda had chastised Bhārgava with strong words for tiptoeing in front of him with a camera, clicking and flashing, and disturbing his lecture. So I took a different approach. I put up a tripod at the rear of the room, changed from a normal lens to zoom, put in a supersensitive film, and attached a remote control for long exposures. In this way, I tried for the next two or three days to capture Śrīla Prabhupāda’s face in its multifarious expressions.
One morning I was again looking through the viewfinder, and to my great surprise, I noticed that everything was brighter than usual. A quick glance at the ceiling confirmed that the lighting was the same; no additional light bulbs had been put in. So I wondered, “What’s the matter? Same film, same lights …” I looked at Prabhupāda and saw that he was radiant as if a golden effulgence were emanating from him. I remembered a similar incident some New York devotees had reported. Two policemen came toward Prabhupāda and his disciples on a morning walk. When they passed the group, one of them turned to the other and said, “Look! That man is glowing.”
Now at Bhaktivedanta Manor, I was having a similar experience. I think this effulgence, which is sometimes depicted as a halo on old religious paintings, is a phenomenon of saintly persons, great souls, who are like transparent mediums that may at times manifest in this way their spark of the spiritual energy and their divine love».