I spent two days in Vrindavan recuperating from the close call I'd had at
the hands of a bogus taxi driver in Delhi, and then traveled to Durban,
South Africa. North India had been experiencing its coldest winter in 50
years. By contrast, South Africa was seasonably hot, and as I descended from the plane I welcomed the warm summer air.

I use my annual, one-month visit to Durban to improve my health in
preparation for the intensity of our Festival of India tour in Poland, now
only months away. I began this year's routine by rising early each morning
to chant and do puja to my govardhan-sila and nrsimha-sila, and praying to
Giriraja that I may always remember the sweet mood of devotional service in Vrindavan and to my nrsimha-sila to purify me for the Polish mission.

Later in the morning I would go to an Olympic-size public pool near the
Durban temple and swim 40 laps - exactly 2km - in just under an hour.
Sometimes I felt uncomfortable expending so much energy for my material
body, but when I reflected how many devotees my age are becoming ill with the onslaught of old age, constant travel and stress of management, I
persevered. Good health calculates in the life of a traveling preacher. It
is said that if you lose your money you've lost nothing, if you lose your
health you've lost something, but if you lose your spiritual life you've
lost everything.

I would often venture out in the afternoon to raise funds for the festival
in Poland.  Stopping into shops, offices and homes, or just meeting people
on the streets, I would humbly request donations. Often people would
question giving money to help those on the other side of the world when
South Africa has problems of its own. I would reply that as a sannyasi I
don't discriminate between country, race or religion, for everyone in the
world is suffering for lack of Krsna consciousness. Sometimes my arguments
worked and sometimes they didn't. Begging is not an easy affair.

Nevertheless, I was happy to be preaching on the streets. Having done book distribution from 1971-1982, I attribute much of what I use now in my
devotional service to those formative years. A sankirtan devotee is
constantly reminded of the temporary and miserable nature of the material
world, and often bears witness to amazing transformations in people's lives
as a result of their coming in contact with Krsna consciousness. One day in
Pietermaritzburg, 70km from Durban, I had the good fortune to meet one such recipient of Lord Caitanya's mercy.

Fatigued by the late afternoon sun, I decided to finish the day's collecting
and began walking back to my car. Stopping to rest in the shade, I looked up and saw a sign above the door where I stood. It read, "City Funeral Home." Thinking it might be a suitable place to invoke sympathy for my cause, I opened the door. I cringed a little as I walked into the somber atmosphere of the funeral parlor, wherein were displayed all sorts of coffins,
tombstones and plastic floral arrangements. Not finding anyone at the
reception, I peered through an office window and saw a man sitting at a desk reading a book. He was so absorbed in reading that at first he didn't hear me knock, and upon seeing me in my saffron robes and shaved head was a little startled, but he then invited me to enter.

As I made my way in, his attention went back to his book. Sitting patiently
for a few moments in front of his desk, I finally said, "It must be an
important book you're reading."

"Oh, yes," he replied, "it's the most important book I've ever read."

Squinting in the dim lights, I tried to see what he was reading. Noticing my
curiosity, he said with affection, "This is Bhagavad-gita, As It Is."

Leaning closer, I saw the familiar picture of Lord Krsna driving Arjuna's
chariot on the cover.

"I started reading this book one year ago - after my son died in a traffic
accident," he said.

"I'm sorry to hear you lost your son," I said.

He closed the book and looked wistfully at a framed picture of the young man on the wall. "He was only 22 years old, in the prime of his life. He was a good boy."

Looking at me again, he then said, "A year before his death he came in
contact with your movement. He became a vegetarian, started chanting and visiting your temple. He tried his best to get me involved, but I had no
interest. I was concerned only with making money and enjoying life. As a
result, sometimes we would quarrel about his new-found faith. I was hoping
it was just a temporary phase.

"One day he came home and said that I should put my shoe shop on the market, because selling leather shoes was bad karma. Can you believe it? For 20 years I had that shop, and one day he tells me I should sell it! And you know what? I sold it. Not because of the leather shoes, but because I loved my son. I decided to retire and use the money from the sale to start him in a business of his own. This funeral home was a bargain. He managed it for only a week, then one day on his way to work he was killed. A friend who survived told me he called out Hare Krsna at the last moment.

"I was devastated. My only son had perished, vanished from the face of the
earth, ceased to exist. It was too much for me. One morning I got the
strength to come down here to collect his things and close the business.
When I walked in here, to my son's office, I saw this book open. There were
none of the usual things on the desk - no papers, files, or pens - just this
Bhagavad-gita open at this very page. I was irresistibly drawn to read it,
and as I did the words acted as a soothing balm to my distraught soul. I
discovered that my son had not actually perished - only his body had died. I learned that he was an eternal soul, and having chanted the name of God at the moment of his death may well have gone back to the spiritual world.

"I no longer lament the tragedy that took him, I'm only sorry I didn't take
up his entreaties to practice spiritual life with him, while he was alive.
I've kept this business going in his memory. Being an undertaker is an
unusual occupation. I don't have to advertise, there's always work in this
profession. But many of my customers are in the same position I was,
distraught and suffering. So I share with them the knowledge in this book.
My real business, therefore, is reading Bhagavad-gita - and chanting Hare
Krsna, like my son."

With that, he opened the Bhagavad-gita and began reading again. I took it as my cue and stood up to leave. Grateful for the experience, I didn't seek a donation. I felt I had received the most valuable thing - deeper faith in
the Bhagavad-gita and the chanting of Krsna's holy name. However, as I
walked to the door the gentleman looked up and extended his hand. "Here,
take this," he said. "You can use it to get this knowledge to others who are
suffering."

I turned and accepted his offering, and as I did my eyes fell on the open
page of the Bhagavad-gita. It was the last verse his son had read, and a
source of great solace to his father. Although I had read it hundreds of
times, by the grace of the Lord it now meant much more to me.

janma karma ca me divyam
evam yo vetti tattvatah
tyaktva deham punar janma
naiti mam eti so 'rjuna

"One who knows the transcendental nature of My appearance and activities
does not, upon leaving his body, take birth again in this material world,
but attains My eternal abode, O Arjuna."
[Bhagavad-gita 4.9]

www.traveling-preacher.com
Official website for Diary of a Traveling Preacher

back to top | back to Volume 4 contents