I’m happy to announce that after a long time in the works, the new book on Vedic cosmology, Making Sense of the Vedic Universe, a Higher-Dimensional Reality is officially available!

The book deals with one of the most fascinating, and often most challenging, subjects in the Vedic literature: the structure of the universe as described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and related texts. Many readers deeply appreciate the spiritual teachings of the Vedas, but when they encounter descriptions of Bhū-maṇḍala, Mount Sumeru, the planetary systems, the movements of the sun and moon, the lower realms, the higher worlds, and the immense scales of Vedic cosmology, they may feel uncertain about how to understand them.

This book was written to help with that.

Its purpose is not to dismiss these descriptions, nor to force them artificially into modern astronomy, but to approach them seriously, on their own terms. The Vedic universe is not merely a physical diagram of outer space. It is a multidimensional vision of reality, describing the gross, subtle, and spiritual levels of existence, the hierarchy of life within the cosmos, and ultimately the path by which the soul can go beyond the material world, back home, back to Godhead.

The book explores these subjects step by step, beginning with the basic principles needed to understand Vedic cosmology and then gradually entering into the deeper descriptions of the Bhāgavatam. It discusses how the visible universe relates to Bhū-maṇḍala, how the planetary systems may be understood, why the Purāṇic descriptions differ from ordinary modern models, and what spiritual purpose these descriptions serve.

It is available for free, so all interested devotees can have easy access to it.

There are several options available there:

a) You can download the PDF. There is both a version suitable for printing and a version to be read on the screen.

b) You can get the ebook on Google Books and read it on your phone or any other device.

c) You can read on the web. New chapters are being posted daily on the website. This is a good way to follow the topics daily, one section at a time, as each new part is released.

d) You can buy a printed copy on Amazon.

You can help by spreading the news.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

You can receive new articles directly in your inbox. Subscription is free; donations are welcome.

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Once, Śāntanu met Gaṅgādevī, the personification of the river Ganges, while walking on the banks of the river. Without knowing who she was, Śāntanu immediately courted the beautiful maiden, who agreed to marry him under the condition that he would never question anything she did, whether good or bad. If he ever questioned her, she would leave immediately.

Some question how Śāntanu could have married a river, but in this case it’s not about the river but the demigoddess that presides over it. It is just like the sun and Vivasvān, the solar deity. Both can be called “sun,” but there is a great difference between the solar globe and the demigod that presides over it, just as there is between a king and his kingdom.

Śāntanu accepted, and soon they conceived a son. However, as soon as the child was born, she took him to the river and drowned him. Bound by his promise, however, Śāntanu couldn’t do anything. The same scene repeated for each of their next children, and each time Śāntanu was terrified but did not say anything. When she took their eighth child, he was unable to contain himself and finally questioned her on who she was and how she could kill their children so mercilessly.

At that moment, Gangā finally revealed her true identity and explained the reason for her actions. The eight children were the eight Vasus, who had been cursed to take birth on earth after stealing the cow of the great sage Vasiṣṭha, a kāmadhenu who could satisfy all desires. Gangā had agreed to come to earth to become their mother and thus liberate them quickly from the curse.

She had chosen Śāntanu to become their father, knowing that he would break the condition for their marriage after they were born, allowing her to return to her celestial position. Seven of the vasus could return immediately to their celestial positions, but the chief among them, the one who had taken the cow, had to live a human life. This eighth vasu, known as Devavrata, was taken by her for education and later delivered to Śāntanu as his son.

Later, Śāntanu met Satyavatī, the daughter of a local fisherman, who had been blessed by the great sage Parāśara Muni to have a divine bodily fragrance. Śāntanu immediately wanted to marry her, but when he approached her father, he demanded that her sons would inherit the throne instead of Devavrata, the eldest son. Śāntanu couldn’t agree with this proposal, but when his son heard of it, he made a vow of lifelong celibacy. With this, he removed himself from the royal succession and opened the path for his father’s second marriage. For this vow, he became known as Bhīṣma, “One who has taken a terrible vow”, and received the blessing that he would die only at the time of his choosing.

During the battle of Kurukṣetra, Bhīṣma was pierced by numerous arrows shot by Arjuna, which formed a kind of bed, preventing his body from touching the ground when he fell. Still, because of the blessing, he didn’t die. He remained on his bed of arrows on the battlefield for several months, and left his body only months later at a particularly auspicious moment, in the presence of Kṛṣṇa. His glorious passing away is narrated in the first canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam.

Bhīṣma was so powerful that he once fought Paraśurāma to a standstill. Paraśurāma had previously exterminated the kṣatriyas of the world twenty-one times, but still, he couldn’t defeat Bhīṣma in battle. The story is that at a certain point, Bhīṣma kidnapped Amba to marry her to his half-brother, Vicitravīrya. However, because she was already in love with Śālva, Vicitravīrya refused to marry her. Śālva, in turn, also refused because she had been kidnapped by another man. Put in such a situation, she demanded Bhīṣma marry her since he was the one who created the situation by kidnapping her in the first place, but he refused because of his vow of brahmacārya. She then took shelter of Paraśurāma, who, being the martial guru of Bhīṣmadeva, promised to help her. When Bhīṣma refused to marry Amba, Paraśurāma fought with him, but after Bhīṣma held his own for twenty-three days, he had to admit that he would not be able to defeat him. Amba then practiced severe austerities with the goal of killing Bhīṣma and eventually was reborn as Śikhaṇḍī, who joined the Pāṇḍava army and was instrumental in defeating Bhīṣmadeva.

Even though he had two wives, Ambikā and Ambālikā, Vicitravīrya died without a son, creating a succession crisis that is central to the plot of the Mahābhārata. With the bloodline of Śāntanu broken, Satyavatī revealed to Bhīṣma that she had a child with Parāśara Muni before her marriage with King Śāntanu. It happened that when she was young, she was helping her father as a boatwoman, ferrying people across the river. Once, Parāśara needed to cross the river and asked for her help. During the trip, however, he became attracted to her and promised to bless her and keep her virginity intact if she would unite with him. That’s how she got the blessing of possessing a divine bodily fragrance. Being Parāśara a great sage, this union was not considered irreligious, and because of his blessing, it also didn’t prevent Satyavatī from marrying Śāntanu later, just in the case of Kuntī begetting a child with the sun-god. Their union produced a divine son, Vyāsadeva, who was born instantly and quickly grew into an adult, just like a demigod. Vyāsa left shortly after his birth, but he promised his mother to come whenever she needed him.

Remembering that, she invoked Vyāsa to perform niyoga, the ancient practice where a qualified sage would be invoked to beget a child on a widow to preserve a family line. Such unions would not be performed out of lust but as a sacred duty and would be in accordance with the path of dharma. Vyāsa accepted but warned her that he had been performing austerities for a long time, and for that reason, his appearance was frightening.

Satyavatī and the two queens accepted, but when Vyāsa approached Ambikā, she became afraid and closed her eyes. This led to the birth of Dhṛtarāṣṭra, who was blind from birth. Ambālikā became pale, and this led to the birth of Pāṇḍu, who was of weak health. Satyavatī pressed for one more son, but this time Ambikā hid and sent a maidservant in her place, leading to the birth of Vidura. With this, Pāṇḍu inherited the throne, but with his early demise, his five sons were left fatherless and had to survive all the intrigues of Dhṛtarāṣṭra and his sons, leading to the battle of Kurukṣetra.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

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“Recently a young man started visiting our center and chanting, and even coming to maṅgala-ārati. He keeps asking me about onions and garlic. I gave him the basic answers, but he is still not satisfied. What more can be mentioned?”

One point that we can consider is that in Vaiṣnava philosophy, we don’t take food simply as nutrition but as something that affects our consciousness. The highest principle is to always remember Kṛṣṇa and never forget Him. Practically everything we do, or don’t, is connected with that. The ultimate reason why we don’t eat meat or gamble, for example, is that these things make us more entangled in material existence and push us away from Him. If eating garlic and onions would give us love of godhead, all our ācāryas would be doing it. Unfortunately, it gets in the way, and that’s why it is avoided.

As long as our mind is influenced by passion and ignorance, it is very difficult to be fixed in spiritual practice. That’s a mistake many of us make. We think that spiritual practice is just a matter of determination, of trying harder, but it has a lot to do with changing our habits. We can see that in the Gītā, Kṛṣṇa spends several chapters explaining the three material modes, so we can recognize the symptoms, habits, actions, etc., connected with each. This is not just theoretical knowledge; it is possibly the most practical part of the book.

It is further explained in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam:

“When the mode of goodness, which is luminous, pure and auspicious, predominates over passion and ignorance, a man becomes endowed with happiness, virtue, knowledge and other good qualities. When the mode of passion, which causes attachment, separatism and activity, conquers ignorance and goodness, a man begins to work hard to acquire prestige and fortune. Thus in the mode of passion he experiences anxiety and struggle. When the mode of ignorance conquers passion and goodness, it covers one’s consciousness and makes one foolish and dull. Falling into lamentation and illusion, a person in the mode of ignorance sleeps excessively, indulges in false hopes, and displays violence toward others.

When consciousness becomes clear and the senses are detached from matter, one experiences fearlessness within the material body and detachment from the material mind. You should understand this situation to be the predominance of the mode of goodness, in which one has the opportunity to realize Me.

You should discern the mode of passion by its symptoms — the distortion of the intelligence because of too much activity, the inability of the perceiving senses to disentangle themselves from mundane objects, an unhealthy condition of the working physical organs, and the unsteady perplexity of the mind. When one’s higher awareness fails and finally disappears and one is thus unable to concentrate his attention, his mind is ruined and manifests ignorance and depression. You should understand this situation to be the predominance of the mode of ignorance.” (SB 11.25.13-18)

To become fixed on the spiritual platform, we first need to situate ourselves in the mode of goodness. That’s the platform where the mind becomes peaceful, and we can fix our thoughts on Kṛṣṇa. The problem with garlic and onions is that they send us back, influencing us in the opposite direction. This is something recognized not just by Vaiṣnavas, but by other groups of spiritualists; it is not a matter of dogma, but of the study of practical effects. They push us towards passion and ignorance, making us more restless and prone to material activities, more impulsive, more prone to lust and anger, and less thoughtful in our actions. It makes us more dull or gross, less sensitive to subtle devotional feelings. It pushes our consciousness more in the direction of doing and achieving in the material platform and less in the direction of internal peace and clarity.

They are, of course, not in the same category of meat, which comes from violence or alcohol that directly affects our consciousness, but they also affect us in a noticeable way. This is one point that can make them more dangerous instead of less, because it tends to make us less careful. It is easy to understand that meat is something that has to be avoided, but garlic may seem innocent. It is indeed much less serious, but the problem is that by consuming it regularly, our consciousness becomes lower, and we tend to go to more negative things later. If one wants to just chant Hare Kṛṣṇa for now and continue in the next life, it may be ok, but if one wants to be serious in the spiritual process, that’s something to avoid.

There is also another important point that is often overlooked: foods with garlic and onions can’t be offered to Kṛṣṇa, just as industrialized foods and other impure items. In the Gītā (3.13), Kṛṣṇa mentions, “The devotees of the Lord are released from all kinds of sins because they eat food which is offered first for sacrifice. Others, who prepare food for personal sense enjoyment, verily eat only sin.”

We can chant the mantras, of course, but Kṛṣṇa will not really accept them, because they are fundamentally impure. This will deprive us of eating prasāda, which is another important factor in spiritual practice.

One could question this point of Kṛṣṇa not accepting food that contains garlic and onions, arguing that in another passage, He mentions that He eats what is offered with devotion. The point is, however, that devotion means offering things that are pleasant. If he mentions he doesn’t like something, and we deliberately put it in His food, is that really devotion?

If we want to invite a guest to our house, we need to feed him. Feeding a guest means offering what he likes to eat. If we know about his preferences, but we keep offering something he doesn’t like, that’s not good hospitality. Maybe he will not want to stay. Kṛṣṇa is the most exalted guest, and he explains His preferences in the Gītā and other books. He doesn’t demand much: even a leaf or flower will do. He can eat the same things we eat, but they have to be pure; that’s the point. As soon as we make our eating pure, we can offer everything to Kṛṣṇa, and everything works perfectly.

One could argue that garlic and onions are not directly mentioned in the Gītā, but the same applies to many other items. Nowhere in the Gītā does Kṛṣṇa say we should not smoke or drink beer, but we learn that these things are negative through paramparā. Kṛṣṇa gives the guidelines, and our ācāryas help us to apply these guidelines in practice.

The guideline for foods is given in Bg 17.8-10. The direct word is not there, but the description is clear enough:

“Foods dear to those in the mode of goodness increase the duration of life, purify one’s existence and give strength, health, happiness and satisfaction. Such foods are juicy, fatty, wholesome, and pleasing to the heart. Foods that are too bitter, too sour, salty, hot, pungent, dry and burning are dear to those in the mode of passion. Such foods cause distress, misery and disease. Food prepared more than three hours before being eaten, food that is tasteless, decomposed and putrid, and food consisting of remnants and untouchable things is dear to those in the mode of darkness.”

Once, in the very early days of our movement, Śyāmasundara Prabhu was appointed to carve the first deities of Jagannātha, Baladeva, and Subhadrā for ISKCON San Francisco. Once, when Śrīla Prabhupāda visited his workshop, he saw a pack of cigarettes on the floor. He knocked it out with his cane and told him, “Don’t let a small thing like cigarettes stand between you and Kṛṣṇa.” This summarizes the point. If something gets in the way, why continue doing it? It’s not about condemnation but about making our lives easier.

One could also bring up the point of using it as medicine. This is accepted. Practically anything can be used medicinally when needed, because in this case, we work from the principle of the greater good. Prabhupāda himself once prescribed garlic tea as a medicine for a lady disciple who was constantly sick. The point is about using it when there is no necessity.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

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“In the Bhāgavatam and related texts, Gaṅgā is described as descending from the spiritual realm, touching the Lord’s lotus feet, flowing downward, being carried by Lord Śiva, and then coming to the earthly plane. At the same time, in our ordinary geographical observation, the Gaṅgā appears to originate from Gaumukh in the Himalayas, like other rivers fed by glaciers. How to reconcile these two descriptions, the scriptural and the observable, especially when speaking to students coming from a pious background but also well familiar with scientific knowledge?”

Yes, the description of the descent of the river Ganges from the coverings of the universe all the way to the Himalayas can be challenging to say the least, since we do not see a river flowing through space, coming to the moon, and from there coming to our planet. It starts, however, to make more sense when we keep in mind that the universe described in the Vedas is multidimensional.

Often, we tend to think that we live in a Euclidean universe where the dimensions are the same everywhere, matter is the same everywhere, and so on. This is also the general scientific interpretation. However, the universe described in the Vedas goes beyond this view, describing different levels of reality. This understanding is essential to reconciling descriptions of the universe found in the Purāṇas with the modern understanding of cosmology and physical reality.

This becomes easier to understand when we consider the topic of the existence of the soul. We accept that the soul exists and that the soul travels from one body to another. Most pious people will agree with that principle. However, what leaves the body is not just the soul, but the subtle body, composed of vital airs, mind, intelligence, ego, etc. In this way, the self that leaves the body and goes to another body is not purely spiritual. There is a soul there, surrounded by all of these material coverings that form the subtle body. That’s also a body composed of material elements. Why then can’t we see it? Why can’t we see the subtle body going out of the body and entering a new body? Why can’t we develop instruments that can register this movement?

The point is that although material, the subtle body is, by definition, subtle. It is matter, but matter of a refined type we can’t perceive with our senses or measure with our instruments. We have a similar situation when we speak about demigods, different planetary systems, hell, asuras, and so on. It’s there, but we cannot see them.

The Polestar is described as the planet of Dhruva and the abode of Kṣīrodakaśāyī Viṣnu. However, even though it is a very bright star, we can’t expect to point a telescope and see Lord Viṣnu lying down there, just as we don’t see apasaras when we go to the moon.

In this way, we have the spiritual platform, the subtle platform, and the gross platform of reality where we live. In the gross platform, the universe appears to be a vast cosmic desert, without many signs of life outside our planet. On the subtle level, we have the demigods and most of the other populations described in the Vedas, Bhū-mandala, and so on, while on the spiritual platform, we have the spiritual planets.

The river Ganges starts from the Causal Ocean as a spiritual river. As it enters the universe, it manifests as a flow in the subtle platform, subtle water that the demigods can see, and transport in their vimānas all the way to the celestial moon. From there, this subtle river flows to the intermediate planetary system of Bhū-mandala, falling on the head of Lord Śiva, and eventually reaching our planet. This spiritual river is not only composed of spiritual water but also has a predominating deity, Gaṅgā. Just as there is a demigod who controls the rain, Indra, and another who controls the sun, Surya, the river Ganges also has a personification. Gaṅgā is thus simultaneously a river and a goddess who married Śāntanu and became the mother of Bhīṣma.

All of this, however, happens in the subtle platform of the demigods. It’s not something we can see with our senses. This spiritual river then combines with the gross water that comes from the glacier, producing the Ganges that is visible to us, which is a combination of both. There is gross water, which we can bathe in, and that quenches our thirst, but at the same time, there is a spiritual quality that purifies us. When we study it with our instruments, however, we can detect and measure only the gross water. The spiritual quality can only be felt by those who are spiritually advanced.

The same is valid for most other aspects of the Vedic universe. There is a spiritual dimension that includes the soul, God, the incarnations of Viṣnu, the spiritually nourishing aspect of prasāda, and so on. There is a subtle dimension that includes the demigods, the different planetary systems described in the Puranas, the celestial moon, and so on, and there is the gross physical aspect, the atoms we can touch and measure. When these three levels are understood, it all makes sense.

When we speak with pious people, it is generally not difficult to agree on this point because they generally already accept the existence of a spiritual plane we can’t directly see by believing in the soul, reincarnation, and so on. We just have to connect this with the subtle plane, and from there with the explanations from the Puranas, which describe reality as being composed of 14 levels, represented by 14 different planetary systems.

When we speak with skeptics in general, it becomes much more difficult because they are usually limited only to the gross aspects of the cosmos. The path in this case would be to first come to the point about ghosts and other evidence of a subtle plane around us, and if this can be established, expand it to a description of levels of reality that we can’t detect with our senses, culminating with the spiritual level. Only when this is agreed upon does it become possible to enter into other descriptions, like the descent of Gaṅgā.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

You can receive new articles directly in your inbox. Subscription is free; donations are welcome.

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Many passages recommend that a devotee should regularly visit, and if possible, even live in a holy place, such as Vṛndāvana or Mayapur. In SB 4.8.42, for example, Prabhupāda mentions:

“Places of pilgrimage yield a special advantage for a devotee in quickly advancing his spiritual life. Lord Kṛṣṇa lives everywhere, but still it is very easy to approach Him in holy places of pilgrimage because these places are inhabited by great sages. Lord Śrī Kṛṣṇa says that He lives wherever His devotees are chanting the glories of His transcendental activities. There are many places of pilgrimage in India, and especially prominent are Badarī-nārāyaṇa, Dvārakā, Rāmeśvara and Jagannātha Purī. These sacred places are called the four dhāmas. Dhāma refers to a place where one can immediately contact the Supreme Lord. To go to Badarī-nārāyaṇa one has to pass through Hardwar on the path to the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Similarly, there are other holy places of pilgrimage, such as Prayāga (Allahabad) and Mathurā, and the topmost of them all is Vṛndāvana. Unless one is very advanced in spiritual life, it is recommended that he live in such holy places and execute devotional service there.”

We can practically see that many devotees visit holy places and, in fact, become more inspired and more fixed in their spiritual practice. In many cases, the difference can be radical.

On the other hand, we can also observe that many devotees visit holy places but get the opposite result: instead of being helped by them, they end up facing many challenges in their spiritual practice afterward. If the holy places are so pure and offer so many opportunities for spiritual upliftment, why is the result not always positive?

The point is that although the holy dhāmas are very powerful, they can be a double-edged sword. In the same way the results of devotional service executed there are amplified, allowing one to quickly advance, the results of offenses and sinful activities are also amplified, creating the possibility of a sharp fall down.

We can see that in his purports, Prabhupāda always emphasizes the point of visiting holy places to associate with the saintly persons who live there, often mentioning that one who visits holy places just to bathe in the rivers is no more intelligent than an ass or a cow. Asses are the epitome of ignorance, and cows are certainly very pious and sāttvic, but not particularly intelligent. This comparison thus illustrates two types of people who can’t see beyond mere rituals.

One who goes to holy places to just bathe or perform rituals is surely missing out, but this is not inherently bad, it is just we are not getting the most out of it. There is, however, something that is seriously dangerous: holy places are the home not only of saints but also of sahajiyās, ordinary materialists, and even common criminals. As the holy places amplify both the good and the bad, such persons when living in the dharma can be quite a dangerous association, much more than in other places.

That’s why it’s generally recommended that one visit the holy places as part of a group, and stay there just a few weeks at a time. We should take a visit to the holy places as something serious, not just an ordinary tourist vacation.

If we just accept whatever conditions we have got and spend our time attending programs, hearing, and doing service (instead of just trying to satisfy our material needs), we have the chance of making a lot of progress even in just a few days. However, the longer we stay, the higher the possibility of developing a proud attitude, taking things for granted, finding the wrong type of association, and starting to offend others. If we fall into this path, the results can become quite bad, quite fast.

It’s especially important to strictly follow the four principles and avoid any type of sinful activities. Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thākura explains that sins can usually be easily washed away by the chanting of the holy names, but sins executed in a holy place become a very hard knot in the heart of the conditioned soul that is very difficult to destroy. Śrila Prabhupāda, for example, was showing concern about single Western women living in Vṛndāvana due to the possibility of them finding boyfriends and having illicit relationships in the holy dharma.

The longer we plan to stay, the more we should be careful. We will always see people doing all kinds of things around us, but what is important is what we do, and not what others do. They will get the results for their activities, and we will get the results for our own activities.

Holy places are thus places that exacerbate the free will of each soul. If we want to advance spiritually, they give us that, but if we desire to become degraded, they also make it possible in real time.

Although both possibilities are there, we should not be scared. The opportunity of advancement by visiting holy places is too big to miss. The point is just that we should be careful. The best is to visit the holy places as part of a group, led by an advanced devotee. Usually, these groups stay for a short while in each place, with a routine of solid spiritual practice. One can also go with a friend who already knows the place; the main point is to surround ourselves with good association and spend our time there engaged in spiritual activities. We can just ask ourselves, honestly, how long can we maintain a standard of solid spiritual practice, waking up early, going to the morning program, eating only prasādam, chanting a lot of rounds, etc. For some it may be one day, for others, one week, or maybe even a month or a year. Whatever the number is, that’s a good general plan for our visit.

Many of us may have a desire to live permanently in a holy place the first time we go there. That’s surely a good sentiment, but in practice it’s not so easy. One may rent or buy a flat there and keep some money in the bank for living, but this is just the beginning. To live in a holy place, we need to radically adjust our consciousness, being able to tune in with the spiritual atmosphere. Every holy place is like a portal where the material and spiritual worlds meet. According to our consciousness, we may tune up one or another frequency. Some go to Vṛndāvana and see the kalpa-vṛkṣa trees, while others see the hogs and monkeys. One who is in material consciousness may have a really hard time living in a holy place, develop a long list of complaints, and eventually decide to leave.

Usually, it takes a long time for us to properly adjust our consciousness to be able to really access the spiritual frequency of the holy place. The safest way to do that is to have short and regular visits for a few years and gradually try to reinforce our spiritual practice over time.

Śrīla Prabhupāda was quite insistent on temples making arrangements for all resident devotees to visit Mayapur and Vṛndāvana once per year. When a temple president argued that it was too expensive, Prabhupāda argued back that they could fast during the year, and thus save money for visiting India, making the point that to visit the holy places is more important than eating opulently.

One may not be able to visit every year due to different circumstances, but we should not miss the chance when it appears. We need to be careful, however, to get the most benefit while at the same time avoiding the dangers.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

You can receive new articles directly in your inbox. Subscription is free; donations are welcome.

Subscribe now

Nowadays, much is discussed about climate change. The planet is becoming hotter, and this is causing a series of climate anomalies that are making the lives of millions of people around the world more difficult. Researchers conclude that the planet is becoming hotter due to the emission of CO₂ and other greenhouse gases, but this is actually just the apparent cause. The real cause is greediness, which leads to the overexploitation of natural resources, and such greediness comes from a lack of spiritual values.

Greed leads to industrial extraction and industrial production, creating a host of unnecessary goods that can be sold for profit. Overproduction combined with marketing leads to overconsumption, which leads to an artificial lifestyle, where people have to work almost like slaves to buy things they don’t really need. All of this leads to an erosion of spiritual values, and as people become more materialistic, the cycle is reinforced.

As Śrila Prabhupāda points out on SB 1.14.3: “A man becomes too greedy for wealth and power when he has no higher objective in life and when he thinks that this earthly life of a few years is all in all.”

Climate change is thus just one symptom inside a bigger pattern: pollution, soil depletion, destruction of forests and animal life, depletion of natural resources, mental illness, moral and spiritual degradation, etc. Forgetfulness of God leads to sense gratification, since that’s the path every conditioned soul tries to use to fill the emptiness of a materialistic lifestyle, and a path of unrestricted sense gratification leads to individual and collective karmic reactions that bring only future misery.

The Vedas offer us a concept of sustainable living based on living in connection with nature and with Kṛṣṇa. This system is called Varnāśrama. We often think of Varnāśrama as a caste system, but this is just another misconception. The core of the Varnāśrama system is actually not the division of society into classes but a simple, progressive lifestyle based on cow protection and agriculture. The social divisions are simply a natural division that facilitates that.

Nowadays, we use an industrial approach to the production of food, using machines, chemical fertilizers, and GMO seeds to achieve the best possible yields. The problem with this approach is threefold. The first issue is that it is highly destructive to the environment, destroying the ecosystems and exhausting the very arable lands we depend on for our survival. The second problem is that food produced in this way is low in nutrients and highly contaminated by the chemicals used to control pests. People can’t be healthy or happy eating this type of food, as we can practically see all around. Artificial food leads to health problems that push us in the direction of an artificial health system that is often more effective in bankrupting families than in saving lives.

The third problem is that it causes unemployment. A tractor can do the work of thousands of people, who don’t have any other option than to go to the cities. The abundance of cheap labor in the cities is exploited by the capitalists to create all kinds of products and services, which leads to an increasingly artificial and unhealthy lifestyle.

In a varnāśrama society, more people live in the land, producing organic food that nourishes not only the body but also the spiritual intellect of the people, helping society to progress in the right direction. Organic agriculture, with the use of bulls for labor and cows for the production of milk, is the only system that is sustainable in the long run. In fact, it was a system that allowed humanity to prosper for millions of years, while modern civilization is already showing signs of collapse after just two centuries.

The industrial model of food production has several problems. The first problem is that it requires constant external inputs (fertilizer, pesticides, fuel). When the flow of these supplies is disturbed by wars and other causes, cultivation is interrupted or production drops, causing famines.

In the Gītā (3.14-15), Kṛṣṇa mentions that “All living bodies subsist on food grains, which are produced from rains. Rains are produced by performance of yajña [sacrifice], and yajña is born of prescribed duties. Regulated activities are prescribed in the Vedas, and the Vedas are directly manifested from the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Consequently the all-pervading Transcendence is eternally situated in acts of sacrifice.”

Modern people often reject this process, preferring to depend on a modern economy, but this is making our lives riskier instead of more stable. This is without even entering into the question of farmer dependency, debt, monocultures, and so on, which simply add to the human cost.

The Vedic village model, on the other hand, builds resilience: local seed saving, mixed crops, local dairy production, local labor, and so on. Cities are there, serving as commercial and administrative centers, but they are smaller, inside what is practically viable, and not giant megalopolises sustained by artificial supply chains.

One could argue that with more people involved in food production, the economy would become smaller, but that’s exactly the point. The whole economic model is built on a hoax, on replacing essential needs, such as nutritious food, human relations, spiritual values, and security, with artificial products we can put a price tag on. The point is exactly to reduce these artificial, negative aspects of human society and make the essential needs available to all. That’s an increase in living standards, not a reduction.

To properly work, however, the varnāśrama system must be, in turn, based on spiritual values. As long as people don’t have spiritual goals in their lives, they will continue being greedy and uncontrollably exploiting the resources of nature, creating pollution and environmental degradation.

This process happened in the past, when the greedy Hiranyākṣa exploited the natural resources of the planet to the extent that it was moved out of its orbit, leading to the pastime of Varāhadeva killing him and putting the planet back in its orbit.

People can discuss different solutions for reducing the emissions that are driving climate change. Transitioning to renewable energy, reducing waste, etc., are fine, but without attacking the core of the problem, materialism, the problem will never be solved. Even if an electric car is two times more energy intensive, if we just double the number of cars, we go nowhere.

In one sense, we are the true culprits of climate change, since we have the only knowledge that can reverse it, but we are not doing enough to spread it. Instead, we are often distracted by the idea of using fewer plastic bags or using natural gas instead of coal. While these things may help, they do nothing to attack the core of the problem. Even if everyone stops using plastic bags and all industries switch to natural gas, still, the dominant materialism will keep moving things in the wrong direction.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

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In the Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa explains that the soul is present everywhere. Prabhupāda explains that this means that there are souls living everywhere in the universe, even in seemingly improbable places, like the sun. The soul is not sterilized by fire or any other material condition; therefore, wherever it goes, the soul just creates a body for itself using the available material elements. In the sun, the soul will just create a body made out of plasma or other subtle elements, fit to live there.

Souls are also found in all forms of life. This means souls are present even in the bodies of plants, microbes, and so on. Matter by itself can’t show symptoms of life or consciousness. Whenever there is life, it means there is a soul there, suffering and enjoying the conditions of that particular body.

Considering that the soul is spiritual and is originally part of Kṛṣṇa’s spiritual energy, it may be difficult to believe a soul can fall so low as to the point of becoming a plant of microbe, but this shows how serious the choices we make in human life are. The material creation exists not just as a playground for the illusioned souls but also as a place where we can have a chance to recover our original spiritual consciousness and return to our original spiritual nature. The difficulty is that the more we become sinful and materialistic, the farther we become from it. The material world is just like a pool of quicksand, and once we fall into it, the tendency is that we just become more and more degraded following insatiable material desires.

That’s not Kṛṣṇa’s fault. He creates the material world as a place where everyone can live happily and gradually progress in spiritual realization. See, for example, what he mentions in the third chapter of the Gītā:

“In the beginning of creation, the Lord of all creatures sent forth generations of men and demigods, along with sacrifices for Viṣṇu, and blessed them by saying, “Be thou happy by this yajña [sacrifice] because its performance will bestow upon you everything desirable for living happily and achieving liberation.” The demigods, being pleased by sacrifices, will also please you, and thus, by cooperation between men and demigods, prosperity will reign for all.”

The problem is that we may refuse to follow this divine order and instead create pain and misery for other living entities in our pursuit of personal gratification. History is full of tyrants and dictators who created great suffering for others. The more one goes on this path, the harder it is to go back. At a certain point, such a soul becomes incorrigible. There are then only three possible paths for redemption:

a) One can become such a great demon that he may be liberated by being killed by Kṛṣṇa.

b) One can become a great Māyāvādi or impersonalist and achieve impersonal liberation

c) One can become so sinful that he goes to hell.

Kṛṣṇa killing demons is His ultimate mercy upon them, freeing the soul from the sinful coverings and absorbing it in His personal effulgence, where they can live in peace for some time. Because the impersonal brahmajyoti is not the original position of the soul, one may eventually come back, but when these souls fall back into the material world, they start again as demigods or pious people, from where they have the opportunity to become devotees and develop their devotional service.

Māyāvādis and other types of impersonalists go on a similar path. Just like the demons, they envy Kṛṣṇa and thus can’t accept the path of devotional service to Him. They can’t even accept Him as a person, trying instead to reduce Him to an impersonal mass. Still, if one can follow some kind of spiritual sādhana, he may eventually attain impersonal liberation, where he becomes purified and can eventually fall back to the material world as a demigod or pious person and find his path.

What about the third path? What happens when a very sinful soul goes to hell? Basically, this material identity is destroyed. The Yamadūtas impose such harsh punishments upon such a person that the consciousness is practically destroyed. The soul is, of course, never destroyed, but the material identity with which the soul identifies is. The consciousness thus degrades to the level of a microbe or plant and from there is put low in the evolutionary process, starting from such a low body and from there gradually progressing, migrating through the 8,400,000 forms of life and thus gradually evolving back to the human form, in a process that can take trillions of years. In this way, a new consciousness is gradually formed, and when the soul has again the chance to take a new human form, one has the opportunity to make the right choices, becoming a devotee, or at least a pious person.

It’s important to understand this path so we don’t fall into it. Every time we see a plant or lower animal, we can understand that this is a soul who once made this mistake, went down the sinful path, and is now gradually progressing back on the long path back to the human form of life.

What about killing plants? We can understand that we should not kill animals, even for eating, since animals are souls and experience great suffering when killed. What about plants, since they are also souls?

Because they have less developed bodies, they don’t suffer as much as evolved animals and human beings, but it is also not right to kill them.

In the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, one of the factors recommended by Lord Kapila for spiritual practice is “nātihiṁsreṇa”, without excessive violence. Some violence may be necessary in the course of our ordinary duties, since a kshatriya may have to fight, a vaiśya has to kill many plants to produce food, and so on, but one should be attentive to minimize such unavoidable violence to a minimum, maintaining the general principle of non-violence. No one can live without killing, since the material world works under the principle that one living entity is the food for another. To continue living, we always have to eat someone; therefore, Kṛṣṇa recommends in the Bhagavad-gītā:

“The devotees of the Lord are released from all kinds of sins because they eat food which is offered first for sacrifice. Others, who prepare food for personal sense enjoyment, verily eat only sin.”

The principle of offering our food to Kṛṣṇa, eating only His prasāda, food offered in sacrifice, is essential. Eating anything that is not offered to Kṛṣṇa implicates us in the reactions of killing and prolongs our stay in the material world. Although much less severe than killing animals, killing vegetables is also sinful. The only solution for eating without getting involved in the reactions of such killing is eating only food offered to Kṛṣṇa.

Offering our food to Kṛṣṇa demands a whole paradigm change. Instead of just seeing things and buying, we are forced to make our eating premeditated, buying ingredients, cooking, and offering to Kṛṣṇa. It automatically teaches us to avoid restaurants and industrialized food, and so on. That’s a very important step in spiritual life. That’s the way Prabhupāda was teaching, and that’s the way it was still in practice when I joined. Later, this appears to have been somehow lost, as devotees started becoming more like ordinary vegetarians, eating anything they see.

Apart from performing one’s occupation as an offering to the Lord, temple worship is also essential. Temple worship is recommended to both the neophyte and the advanced. The main difference is not the activity, but the mentality and the quality of worship. A neophyte worships as a matter of duty or routine, and he sees the deity in the temple as a representation of the Lord. An advanced devotee, however, sees the deity as the Lord Himself, and this opens the doors to establishing a real relationship with Him on a platform of love. Again, what changes as we advance is our mentality and not so much the external activity.

It’s possible to become Kṛṣṇa-conscious in one second, but for most of us, that’s a process that takes some time. We should thus practice our devotional service with great patience. Even if we can’t obtain the desired result as fast as we would desire, and even if there are impediments that may appear insurmountable, we should continue. As Prabhupāda mentions, we should have the confidence that Kṛṣṇa will accept us because we are engaged in devotional service. As long as we continue executing devotional service according to the rules and regulations, our success is assured.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
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Just like the other Puranas, the Śrīmad Bhagavatam is composed of dialogues of great personalities. The original dialogue is the conversation between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit, which is repeated with a few additions by Suta Goswami to the sages in Naimisharanya. This dialogue is, in turn, repeated to us by Śrila Vyasadeva, who compiled the book.

Suta Goswami starts his discourse to the sages by speaking directly, describing the different incarnations of Kṛṣṇa, the story of Vyasadeva being inspired by Narada Muni to write the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, and so on, up to the decision of Maharaja Pariksit to fast until death after being cursed by Srngi and his meeting with Sukadeva Goswami. From the start of the second canto, Suta Goswami starts repeating the conversation between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit. This adds another level to the dialogue, since now we have Suta Goswami repeating verses spoken by Sukadeva Goswami to Maharaja Pariksit. In the third canto, another layer is introduced: Sukadeva Goswami starts to narrate the conversation between Vidhura and Maytreya, and therefore, we have Sukadeva Goswami repeating verses spoken by Maytreya, and Suta Goswami repeating everything to the sages in Naimisharanya. This goes on up to the end of the fourth canto. Maitreya, in his turn, also quotes from other conversations, and thus we have at some points five or six levels of dialogue one on top of the other. Keeping track of all these different dialogues can be quite a challenge.

Let’s try to better understand the different dialogues presented in the Śrīmad Bhagavatam:

Vyasadeva speaks

Although the whole Śrīmad Bhagavatam was compiled by Śrila Vyasadeva, he speaks only the book’s first five verses.

The first three verses declare the purpose and the conclusions of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, and the next two verses introduce the narration, describing the scene of the conversation between Suta Goswami and the sages in the forest of Namisharanya:

“Once, in a holy place in the forest of Naimiṣāraṇya, great sages headed by the sage Śaunaka assembled to perform a great thousand-year sacrifice for the satisfaction of the Lord and His devotees. One day, after finishing their morning duties by burning a sacrificial fire and offering a seat of esteem to Śrīla Sūta Gosvāmī, the great sages made inquiries, with great respect, about the following matters.” (SB 1.1.4-5)

After these five verses, he starts narrating the recitation of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam by Suta Goswami.

Before compiling the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, Vyasadeva had compiled all the other books that comprise the Vedas, including the four Vedas, the 18 Puranas, the Mahabharata, and so on (as described in SB 1.4.17-25). However, even after concluding such an arduous task, he was still dissatisfied.

The problem was that although these works arduously explained different philosophical truths, in none of his works did Vyasadeva directly discuss pure devotional service to Krsna. This deficiency was identified by his spiritual master, Śrila Narada Muni, who instructed him to compile the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, making clear the ultimate conclusion of the Vedas, which is pure devotional service to the Lord.

Before compiling the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, Vyasadeva had compiled two books that are related to it. The first is the original Bhagavata Purana, one of the 18 Puranas. This book was an embryonic form of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, which was spoken to Sukadeva Goswami. This narration was expanded by the great sage, resulting in the main portion of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, narrated to Maharaja Pariksit. The word “suka” means parrot. It’s said that when a parrot bites a ripe fruit with its beak, it becomes even sweeter. Similarly, Sukadeva Goswami made the Bhagavata Purana, originally composed by Śrila Vyasadeva, even sweeter by adding his own spiritual realization.

Suta Goswami was present in the assembly, and he later repeated the narration to the sages of Naimisharanya, including his own contributions. This second narration of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam that happened in the forest of Naimisharanya became the final version of the book, eternalized by Śrila Vyasadeva.

One could ask when exactly Vyasadeva wrote the Śrīmad Bhagavatam. Did he wait until it was narrated to the sages in Naimisharanya? Apparently not. Vyasadeva had a perfect vision of the past, present, and future. It appears that after being instructed by Śrila Narada Muni, he sat in meditation and was able to directly see these events and write the Śrīmad Bhagavatam in the same way it was later spoken by Suta Goswami.

At first, this idea may sound strange, but that’s how many other books with transcendental literature were written. Sukadeva Goswami also described events that will happen in the future in the 12th canto of Śrīmad Bhagavatam. Another example is that when Sanatana Goswami wrote the Brhad Bhagavatamrta, he was able to see in his meditation a narration that happened 4500 years before, when Maharaja Pariksit narrated the conclusions of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam to his mother, Uttara. Similarly, Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thakura wrote in his Jaiva Dharma about events that happened hundreds of years before his time.

While regular mortals can only write about things they have directly experienced or heard from others, perfect souls can speak without barriers about events that happened in the past, as well as events that will happen in the future, according to what is relevant to the audience.

Suta Goswami speaks the Śrīmad Bhagavatam to the sages in Namiśaranya

The dialogue between Suta Goswami and the sages led by Śauna Ṛṣi starts on SB 1.1.6 and goes all the way to SB 12.13.23, the last verse of Śrīmad Bhagavatam.

It is concluded with:

“I offer my humble obeisances to Śrī Śukadeva Gosvāmī, the best of mystic sages and a personal manifestation of the Absolute Truth. He saved Mahārāja Parīkṣit, who was bitten by the snake of material existence. O Lord of lords, O master, please grant us pure devotional service at Your lotus feet, life after life. I offer my respectful obeisances unto the Supreme Lord, Hari, the congregational chanting of whose holy names destroys all sinful reactions, and the offering of obeisances unto whom relieves all material suffering.” (SB 12.13.21.23)

All the other dialogues, including the conversation between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit, are included in this long conversation. In different parts of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, we have Suta Goswami speaking directly with the sages, and in others narrating different conversations that were included in the dialogue between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit.

Apart from a few questions between these different conversations, the parts directly spoken by Suta Goswami and the sages include the first canto and the second half of the 12th canto, going from 12.6.8 to the end of the book.

Sukadeva Goswami speaks to Maharaja Pariksit

The main portion of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam is composed of the dialogue between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit. In the first canto, Suta Goswami answers questions from the sages and narrates the different events that led to this epic discussion, including how Pariksit Maharaja was saved in the womb, how Narada Muni instructed Śrila Vyasadeva to compile the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, Vidura instructing Drtarastra, Pariksit Maharaja being cursed by Srngi, etc.

The dialogue between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit starts on SB 1.19.32 with Parīkṣit starting his inquiries to Śukadeva Gosvāmī:

“The fortunate King Parīkṣit said: O brāhmaṇa, by your mercy only, you have sanctified us, making us like unto places of pilgrimage, all by your presence here as my guest. By your mercy, we, who are but unworthy royalty, become eligible to serve the devotee.”

It goes all the way to SB 12.6.7, with the self-realized Maharaja Pariksit expressing his gratitude to Sukadeva Goswami and preparing to give up his life:

“I have heard from you this Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, which is the perfect summary of all the Purāṇas and which perfectly describes the Supreme Lord, Uttamaḥśloka. My lord, I now have no fear of Takṣaka or any other living being, or even of repeated deaths, because I have absorbed myself in that purely spiritual Absolute Truth, which you have revealed and which destroys all fear. O brāhmaṇa, please give me permission to resign my speech and the functions of all my senses unto Lord Adhokṣaja. Allow me to absorb my mind, purified of lusty desires, within Him and to thus give up my life. You have revealed to me that which is most auspicious, the supreme personal feature of the Lord. I am now fixed in knowledge and self-realization, and my ignorance has been eradicated.” (SB 12.6.4-7)

During his explanations, however, Sukadeva Goswami includes other dialogues between great personalities, which add other layers to the conversation. Here is a short list of the most prominent, which may help to better understand the flow of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam:

Vidura speaks to Maitreya Muni

During most of the second canto, Sukadeva Goswami describes rather technical topics about the creation and structure of the universe. These topics are important since they help us to understand the greatness of Kṛṣṇa and see Him everywhere, including inside the material creation. The first and second cantos of Śrīmad Bhagavatam are considered to represent the lotus feet of the Lord since they give us preliminary knowledge that puts us in the right state of understanding to be able to appreciate the topics described in the later cantos.

However, this description of the universe didn’t completely satisfy the sages in Naimisharanya, who were anxious to hear about other transcendental subjects. In the last verses of the second canto, we go back to the conversation between Suta Goswami and the sages, with Saunaka Rsi inquiring about the topic of Vidura leaving home (which was already partially described in the first canto), as well as his enlightening conversation with Maitreya Muni.

Coincidentally, Pariksit Maharaja made a similar inquiry to Sukadeva Goswami, and thus Suta Goswami could just continue transmitting the narration of Sukadeva Goswami without having to move to a separate topic. In his purport to SB 3.1.3, Śrila Prabhupada mentions, “Exactly as Śaunaka Ṛṣi inquired of Sūta Gosvāmī and Sūta Gosvāmī replied, so Śrīla Śukadeva Gosvāmī replied to King Parīkṣit’s inquiries. The King was very anxious to understand the meaningful discussion that took place between the two great souls.”

Back to the conversation between Sukadeva Goswami and Maharaja Pariksit, we start the third canto with Sukadeva describing the travels of Vidura after leaving home and his meeting with Uddhava, who gives him a condensed account of the pastimes of Krsna and instructs him to inquire further from Maitreya, who is nearby.

Thus, starting from SB 3.4.2, Sukadeva Goswami narrates the great dialogue between Vidura and Maitreya Muni. This dialogue goes all the way up to the end of the 4th canto, ending on SB 4.31.29.

In this portion of Śrīmad Bhagavatam, Maitreya Muni starts by describing the process of creation (further clarifying some of the topics discussed in the 2nd canto) and soon turns to describing the pregnancy of Diti in the evening, the fight between Lord Varaha and Hiranyaksa, the marriage of Kardama Muni and the teachings of Lord Kapila, the pastime of Daksa offending Lord Shiva, the pastime of Dhruva Maharaja, the history of King Vena and the advent of Prthu Maharaja, as well as the history of King Prachinabarhi, the allegory of Puranjana, and the history of the Pracetas. Except for the killing of Hiranyaksa, these are events that happened earlier in the history of the universe, mainly during the reign of Svayambhuva Manu (the 1st Manu).

During this large portion of the Śrīmad Bhagavatam, we have 4 layers of dialogues, with Vyasadeva narrating the conversation of Suta Goswami with the sages, who narrates Sukadeva Goswami speaking to Maharaja Pariksit, who in turn narrates the conversation between Vidura and Maitreya. At some points, Maitreya quotes from other conversations, adding more layers, but these are relatively short conversations that are easy to follow if we don’t lose track of the main flow.

Narada Muni speaks to Maharaja Yudhiṣṭhira

At the end of the 4th canto, the focus of the conversation returns to Sukadeva Goswami and Pariksit Maharaja. During the 5th canto, they discuss the activities of Priyavrata and Agnidra, the teachings of Lord Rsabhadeva, the history of the three births of Bharata Maharaja, and his teachings to King Rahūgaṇa, culminating with the description of the structure of the universe.

After hearing the description of the hellish planets, Maharaja Pariksit becomes compassionate with the suffering conditioned souls and inquires about how they can be saved from such hellish torments. This leads to the description of the pastime of Ajamila at the beginning of the 6th canto. This is followed by the description of the activities of Daksa in his second birth during the reign of the 6th Manu (Cākṣuṣa), his begetting of numerous children, his cursing of Narada Muni, and so on. The remaining verses in the 6th canto are dedicated to describing the history of Indra offending his spiritual master and fighting with Vrtrasura, the history of King Citraketu, and the vow of Diti for avenging the death of her sons.

In the 7th canto, Pariksit Maharaja inquires about the apparent partiality of the Lord in siding with the demigods. This led Sukadeva Goswami to narrate another great conversation, this time between Narada Muni and Maharaja Yudhiṣṭhira. The conversation starts on SB 7.1.16 and goes up to 7.15.86, at the end of the canto.

This conversation narrates in detail the history of Hiranyakashipu, including his austerities and the blessings he gained from Lord Brahma, his persecution of Prahlada Maharaja, and the pastime of his being killed by Lord Nrshinhadeva. After the description of the pastime, Maharaja Yudhisthira inquires about the special characteristics of the Varnaśrama system, and Narada Muni gives a detailed answer, according to the knowledge he received from Lord Narayana.

Narada instructs Vasudeva

After the discussion between Narada Muni and Maharaja Yudhisthira, the focus goes back to Sukadeva Goswami, who continues to directly answer the questions of Maharaja Pariksit during the 8th, 9th, and 10th cantos. The 8th canto is centered around the pastime of the elephant Gajendra and the churning of the milk ocean by the demons and demigods, as well as a description of the Manus, the advent of Vamanadeva, and the second appearance of Matsya avatara. The 9th canto narrates many different stories, including the pastime of Ambarisha Maharaja being offended by Dhruvasa Muni, Lord Rama, Parasurama, and Yayati. The 10th canto is, of course, the culmination of the discussion, when the personal pastimes of the Lord are directly discussed.

The 11th canto explains the mystery of the disappearance of Krsna and the Yadhu dynasty. During this important canto, the focus changes again to two other great discussions narrated by Sukadeva Goswami. The first is the meeting of Vasudeva, the father of Krsna, and Narada Muni when Narada visited his home in Dwaraka. Vasudeva inquires from Narada Muni about liberation, which prompts Narada to describe to him the conversation between Maharaja Nimi and the Nine Yogendras. This is a very significant conversation that discusses the nature of devotional service. It starts on 11.2.4, after the description of the curse of the Yadhu dynasty, and goes up to 11.5.50.

Krsna instructs Uddhava and Maitreya

Most of the 11th canto is centered around the conversation between Krsna, Uddhava, and Maitreya, where He directly instructs them about devotional service. This part of the 11th canto is called the Uddhava-Gita. Just like we should study the instructions Krsna gave to Arjuna in the Bhagavad-Gita, we should also study the instructions he gave to Uddhava in the Uddhava-Gita to better understand the science of devotional service.

This discussion happened before the events of the 3rd canto. After instructing Uddhava and Maitreya, Krsna played the pastime of His disappearance. Uddhava then departed for Badrarikasrama and met Vidura on the way. After hearing from him and Maitreya, Vidura went back to the palace in Hastinapura to help his brother Dhritaraṣtra achieve liberation, which is in turn narrated in the 1st canto.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

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It’s well known that the Vedas mention cases of polygamy. Many kings in ancient times are described as having hundreds of wives. Successful vaiśyas would also often have several wives, and sometimes even brāhmanas and sages would have more than one wife, like in the case of Kaśyapa Muni.

Polygamy was abandoned in most modern cultures, and in our modern context, it appears to be very outdated. It also brings to mind an image of exploitation. How then to explain that it was practiced in Vedic societies, which are supposed to have higher moral standards?

The first point is that even in Vedic culture, polygamy was not considered ideal, but it was accepted because these societies operated under different principles.

One of the main reasons is that in these cultures, many men would remain as lifelong celibates, as brahmacārīs and later sannyāsīs, and thus not enter into family life. This was exacerbated by many kṣatriyas dying in battle, often before marriage. In this way, the female population in Vedic societies would be almost always considerably greater than the male population available for marriage. Since there was no divorce in these times, the problem would be solved by allowing some men (especially rich kṣatriyas and vaiśyas) to marry more than one wife, provided they had the resources to properly maintain all of them. Kṛṣṇa showed this to the maximum extent by marrying 16,108 princesses, and not only providing each one with a great palace, servants, golden ornaments, etc., but expanding himself to be personally present with all of them. This sets the standard. A man would be allowed to marry more than one woman if he were able to provide each with a separate house and keep all of them satisfied in all respects.

Another practice that is also described, although less common, is polyandry, one woman marrying more than one husband. Two examples are Draupadī marrying the five Pandavas and Marisa (the daughter of Kandu and Pramloca), who married the ten Pracetas. In this case, the standard is that a woman should be able to treat all of her husbands equally, so there is no disagreement between them.

According to Śrīla Prabhupāda in his purport to ŚB 4.30.16, in previous ages, sometimes a woman would marry a man together with his brothers, as in the case of both Draupadī and Marisa. This practice is still practiced in villages of Tibet (usually with the purpose of avoiding dividing the land possessed by the family).

Since polygamy and polyandry are mentioned in the Vedas, should we also start practicing them? Not so fast…

Actually, both polygamy and polyandry are largely practiced in modern societies, including inside our spiritual society, in the form of divorces and remarriages, which are nothing more than forms of serial polygamy and polyandry. A man has thus several wives, and a woman several husbands, although not at the same time. This is, however, not sanctioned in the scriptures and creates many practical problems, especially connected with the education of the children.

In Vedic societies, the family nucleus would always be preserved. Even if a man had many wives, each of the families would be preserved, and the children would grow up with both mother and father. In the cases of polyandry, the husbands would be brothers and would live in the same house. The family dynamic would thus also be preserved, with each child growing under the protection of father and uncles. In the modern system, families are broken due to divorce, which is much more problematic from the perspective of the children.

Another point is that although practiced in previous ages, polyandry is forbidden in Kali-yuga. The injunction from the scriptures is kalau pañca vivarjayet: In this age, a woman is forbidden to marry her husband’s brother. Even in previous ages, cases like Draupadī and Marisa were exceptions and not the rule. Such marriages would be allowed only in special circumstances, in the case of extraordinarily qualified ladies who would be able to treat all their husbands equally.

What about polygamy? Although allowed in the scriptures, polygamy is not considered the best standard. Vedic culture values spiritual progression and detachment, and polygamy is not an efficient way to achieve either. For a man to accept more than one wife, he has to be able to acquire a lot of material facilities to provide separate houses, servants, and ornaments for each wife, as well as to provide for all of their children. Ancient kṣatriyas and successful vaiśyas could do that, but modern men would be seriously pressed to fulfill all these obligations. Nowadays, most men can’t properly maintain even one wife, let alone several of them simultaneously.

We can also see that polygamy was the source of many problems even in previous ages. The whole pastime of Dhruva Maharaja started with a king who had two wives. One wife was envious of the other and wanted to make her son the next king instead of the older son of the first wife. The king fell under the control of his second wife and thus neglected his older son, creating the whole intrigue. Another example is the story of Yayāti, who ended up being cursed when Devayāni became angry at him for becoming more attracted to Śarmiṣṭhā. People in previous ages were much more qualified and self-controlled than now. We could just imagine what kind of issues we would have if these practices were to become widespread in our current society.

Although Prabhupāda mentions the practice of polygamy in his books as a system that could be implemented in general society to prevent men from leaving their families when they desire other women, his final decision was that it should not be practiced in our spiritual society, since our purpose is to become detached from this world, and not to increase our attachment. Śrīla Prabhupāda also acknowledged the potential problems associated with it.

We can see that although polygamy is mentioned in the sastras, the highest example is given by Lord Rama, who had only one wife. Polygamy was offered as a concession for men who were too lusty, as well as a way to solve the problem of a lack of marriageable men in previous ages. Nowadays, it is rare to find men who can take proper care of even one wife, and men who can adequately maintain more than one family are practically nonexistent. Another point is that in many societies (like in China and India), the male population is now larger, which makes polygamy unnecessary.

Polygamy worked in previous ages because people were much more controlled. We, however, live in Kali-yuga, the age of quarrel. In the age we live in, it is very difficult for families to live peacefully, and multiple women sharing the same husband increases the difficulties exponentially. This is problematic, especially in the case of spiritual societies. Some Christian and Muslim communities practice polygamy, but we can observe that they are often plagued by abuse, with leading men taking advantage of their positions to accumulate more wives, and the women frequently having no choice. We can only imagine the problems we would have faced in ISKCON in the 1980s and 1990s if, on top of all the scandals and problems we faced, we had also added polygamy. I don’t think our society would have survived.

Another side, however, is that we should also avoid serial polygamy and polyandry. Nowadays, divorces have become very common, but this doesn’t make them any less serious. Stable couples and children growing up under the care of both parents are essential for the health of any civilized society. Of course, frequently we don’t have a choice. A lady whose husband left has to continue to live and provide for her children, making the best of whatever choices are available, and similarly, a man whose wife divorced him often has to make hard choices to continue supporting his children. Desperate situations demand desperate measures. It is, however, much better when these situations can be somehow avoided. Children have a need for both parents.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
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In a previous article, we discussed how Mahāprabhu refused to meet Pratāparudra, although he was a very pious king and was very eager to see him. At first, the question appears to be simple: Mahāprabhu did not want to meet a mundane ruler, upholding the principles of the renounced order of life. However, this pastime shows us a much deeper principle: the Lord is not approached through status, power, learning, wealth, or any other material qualification. He is approached only through pure love and an attitude of service.

This is indicated by Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya in his instructions to the king:

“As soon as the Bhaṭṭācārya saw the King’s firm determination, he declared, “The Supreme Lord is approached only by pure love. Your love for Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu is very, very deep; therefore without a doubt He will be merciful upon you.” Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya then suggested, “There is one means by which you can directly see Him. “On the day of the car festival, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu will dance before the Deity in great ecstatic love. “On that Ratha-yātrā festival day, after dancing before the Lord, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu will enter the Guṇḍicā garden. At that time you should go there alone, without your royal dress.” (CC Madhya 11.52-55)

This highlights the central point: to meet the Lord, we need to give up our royal dress. We may think that this is not relevant for us, since we are not kings, but this is just another misconception. As described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam in the allegory of Purañjana, each conditioned soul is a king inside the body. It does not matter whether one is a man or a woman. Regardless of gender, a person sees themself as an enjoyer of this world.

In conditioned life, everyone tries to be a “boss.” Each person seeks some sphere of influence, some domain where he or she can feel like a controller. If someone has the means, one may aspire to dominate a nation or become the emperor of the world. If he achieves that, one may seek even more. Hiraṇyakaśipu was the ruler of Sutala-loka, an entire planetary system, but still, he wanted more. He wanted to control the whole universe. In conditioned life, there is no natural limit to this ambition. The only limitation is one’s available power and resources.

Most people, of course, do not have the means to become emperors of the world or even leaders of a nation. So the same tendency manifests on smaller scales. One may try to become a high executive, the CEO of a large company, or at least a smaller one. If that is not possible, one may try to become the controller at home, the supreme controller of a small apartment and one or two children. If even that is not possible, one may get a cat or a dog, a bird, or a hamster and become the king of a small zoo. The scale changes, but the mentality remains the same.

If a materialist is not able to feel like a controller anywhere, to get even a small sphere of influence, one may go crazy or lose the will to live altogether. This is a common pattern in the material world.

A devotee, however, can live differently. A devotee can live with the conviction that, “I am a servant of Kṛṣṇa. I do not need to be a king here.” This is real freedom. And this passage teaches precisely that lesson: as long as we hold on to the idea that “I am the king of something,” we cannot fully approach the Lord. Eventually, we must give up this mentality and accept our genuine position as servants of Kṛṣṇa. Then we can truly come close.

Therefore, the example of Mahārāja Pratāparudra is not merely a historical anecdote but an example for all of us. The pastimes described in Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta are not told simply as stories about other people; they are meant to be applied to our own lives. Just as the story of Purañjana (in the Fourth Canto) represents the history of each conditioned soul, similarly, Pratāparudra’s situation also reflects our own struggle. To approach the Lord, we must stop trying to be kings and learn to come as servants.

We can see this at play even in the highest spheres. Seeing the pastimes of the Lord in Vṛndāvana, Lakṣmī Devi desired to also participate. She is already the eternal wife of Lord Viṣnu, but seeing the pastimes of the Lord and the gopīs, she learned of another dimension of the glories of her husband that she was not aware of previously. For this, she performed great austerities and performed vows. Still, however, she was unable to join: she couldn’t leave her royal dress. She couldn’t give up the idea of being Lakṣmī, the bestower of opulence, of having a certain position and worshiping the Lord in a particular way. Even though the position of Lakṣmī Devi is already spiritual, still, because she was not prepared to renounce it, she couldn’t become a gopī. The gopīs gave up everything for Kṛṣṇa. Just like them, we need to give up our royal dress to be able to approach the Lord. Royal dress, in our case, means the false ego. Any kind of false ego will hold us back. As long as we are king of something, we will not be able to wholeheartedly approach the Lord.

Ego brings pride, and pride brings up the need for control. Love is the opposite; true love brings us to a platform of dependence. Pride demands possession; love brings surrender. To love someone means to become dependent on that person. To love Kṛṣṇa means to become dependent on Him.

This contrast is also evident in the description of the devotees from Bengal who came to Pūri to see the Lord, also described in the Caitanya Caritamrta. Seeing them from the top of the palace, Pratāparudra was astonished:

“The King said, “Upon seeing all these devotees, I am very much astonished, for I have never seen such an effulgence. Indeed, their effulgence is like the brilliance of a million suns. Nor have I ever heard the Lord’s names chanted so melodiously. I have never before seen such ecstatic love, nor heard the vibration of the holy name of the Lord chanted in such a way, nor seen such dancing during saṅkīrtana.” (CC Madhya 94-96)

Mahārāja Pratāparudra was astonished by their brilliance, their beauty, their melodious chanting, and their ecstatic dancing. He had seen many chanters before, many pilgrims, and many types of religious performers. But this was different. Their kīrtana carried real spiritual force. Their bodily effulgence reflected purity. Why? Because they were not performers displaying themselves, they were surrendered servants absorbed in glorifying the Lord. This is the difference between external imitation and genuine devotion. A person may sing nicely, speak impressively, or conduct worship expertly, but if the royal dress of ego remains, the spiritual quality is lacking. Pure devotion has another taste, another potency, and another beauty.

In this way, the entire passage teaches that the spiritual reality opens not to one who promotes himself or herself, but to the devotee who can fully surrender to the Lord. One may chant, worship, preach, study, or serve, but ultimately, advancement depends on whether we are actually relinquishing the royal dress. This covering of false ego may remain even in spiritual life, disguised in subtle forms. One may think, “I am a senior devotee,” “I am learned,” “I am a preacher,” “I am advanced,” or “I am essential.” These are only more refined versions of the same old kingly mentality. Mahārāja Pratāparudra’s example warns us that as long as we cling to these coverings, Kṛṣṇa will remain at a distance.

The same example, however, also gives hope. The Lord did not reject him permanently. Rather, through humility, determination, and service to the devotees, he came close. This is the mercy of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu. However covered one may be, the path remains open. If one is willing to let go of false prestige and come in the dress of a servant, then the Lord becomes accessible. Not by force, not by entitlement, but by love.

Thus, the instruction is there for all of us. If we want to meet the Lord, we need to give up our royal dress. We need to abandon the mentality of being king, controller, enjoyer, and master. We have to approach Him without the ornaments of ego. When we become genuinely humble, the path opens. Then the Lord, who cannot be reached by pride, becomes conquered by devotion. Then what was impossible becomes possible. Then the soul can finally come near, not as ruler of anything, but as the eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

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The age of Kali is a very difficult time. We don’t need to go very far to see how many terrible things are happening around us. However, the age of Kali also has positive sides. This is summarized in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam (1.18.7):

“Mahārāja Parīkṣit was a realist, like the bees who only accept the essence [of a flower]. He knew perfectly well that in this Age of Kali, auspicious things produce good effects immediately, whereas inauspicious acts must be actually performed [to render effects]. So he was never envious of the personality of Kali.”

We may brag about how Vedic society in previous eras was wonderful, but the fact is that if such societies still existed, we would not be accepted by them, since we lack the proper qualifications. We would be considered outcasts and forced to live in the hills and forests among other uncivilized people. It’s fun to brag about how brāhmanas and kṣatriyas were elevated and how people from this age are fallen, forgetting that we are part of the problem.

The reason the age of Kali exists is exactly to give us a chance to progress spiritually despite our shortcomings. For this, we receive a lot of opportunities. Not only does Lord Caitanya come to bring us the chanting of the holy names, but we are also not punished for our mental sins.

Our minds are very disturbed; we lack the mental equilibrium people had in other eras. We frequently desire to do sinful things, we think badly about other people, and we may even mentally offend exalted persons, things that would be severely punished in other ages. However, in Kali-yuga, we are not punished for any of it, as long as our mental agitation is not converted into concrete actions.

On the other hand, even when we can’t perform pious activities due to the lack of material resources, lack of energy, or just plain inertia, if we can have at least a sincere desire to do so, we already get the benefits. One may not be able to construct great temples, give millions of dollars in charity, protect thousands of cows, or distribute millions of books. One may not even be able to properly follow the principles of spiritual life, but if he has at least the desire to do so, this is sufficient to award him benefit and bring him to a better situation in his next life.

The age of Kali is thus a great opportunity for us. It’s an age especially tailored for our deficiencies. This shows the mercy of the Lord in creating viable paths for spiritual advancement in many different circumstances. We always have free will, and things are never automatic, but the door is always open; we just need to decide to go through.

The positive sides of Kali-yuga are, in fact, glorified. In many passages, it is described as a glorious age. See, for example, what is spoken in the Eleventh Canto of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam (11.5.36-40):

“Those who are actually advanced in knowledge are able to appreciate the essential value of this Age of Kali. Such enlightened persons worship Kali-yuga because in this fallen age all perfection of life can easily be achieved by the performance of saṅkīrtana. Indeed, there is no higher possible gain for embodied souls forced to wander throughout the material world than the Supreme Lord’s saṅkīrtana movement, by which one can attain the supreme peace and free oneself from the cycle of repeated birth and death.

My dear King, the inhabitants of Satya-yuga and other ages eagerly desire to take birth in this Age of Kali, since in this age there will be many devotees of the Supreme Lord, Nārāyaṇa. These devotees will appear in various places but will be especially numerous in South India. O master of men, in the Age of Kali those persons who drink the waters of the holy rivers of Draviḍa-deśa, such as the Tāmraparṇī, Krtamālā, Payasvinī, the extremely pious Kāverī and the Pratīcī Mahānadī, will almost all be purehearted devotees of the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Vāsudeva.”

These are verses spoken by Nārada Muni, who is considered a trikāla-jña, a knower of past, present, and future. He, therefore, speaks from direct realization. To balance all the problems and deficiencies we have in Kali-yuga, we also have great facilities. So great, in fact, that inhabitants of other ages, as well as demigods who come to understand the opportunities of our age, desire to take birth among us.

Different types of pious activities award different results, but they all keep us in this material world. Even great sages who practice devotional service mixed with jñana and are eventually promoted to Janaloka, Tapoloka, or Satyaloka still remain in this material world. Only love of Godhead can take us out for good, bringing us to a position of direct association with the Lord. This is extremely difficult to achieve in other ages, but can be easily achieved in Kali-yuga just by following the path inaugurated by Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu, chanting the holy names in ecstasy.

As concluded by Śukadeva Gosvāmī on SB 12.3.51:

“My dear King, although Kali-yuga is an ocean of faults, there is still one good quality about this age: Simply by chanting the Hare Kṛṣṇa mahā-mantra, one can become free from material bondage and be promoted to the transcendental kingdom.”

Even though we lack the discipline and other virtues of the people from other eras, we have a better chance than they of achieving spiritual perfection due to this extraordinary mercy. We just have to take it seriously.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

You can receive new articles directly in your inbox. Subscription is free; donations are welcome.

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Mahārāja Pratāparudra was a very powerful king who ruled over the region of Orissa from 1497 to 1540 CE, which included the whole period Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu performed His pastimes. He was the Gajapati (first servant) of Lord Jagannātha at Puri, acting not only as a king but as the chief patron for Jagannātha’s temple. During his entire reign, he checked the expansion of the Mughals in Orissa, preventing them from disturbing the pastimes of the Lord. On top of all that, he was a pure devotee of the Lord, who was eager to serve Him. In SB 2.3.21, Śrīla Prabhupāda mentions:

“Mahārāja Pratāparudra, the greatly powerful king of Orissa, was always very busy with heavy state responsibilities, yet he made it a point to sweep the temple of Lord Jagannātha at Purī once a year during the festival of the Lord. The idea is that however important a man one may be he must accept the supremacy of the Supreme Lord. This God consciousness will help a man even in his material prosperity. Mahārāja Pratāparudra’s subordination before Lord Jagannātha made him a powerful king, so much so that even the great Pathan in his time could not enter into Orissa on account of the powerful Mahārāja Pratāparudra. And at last Mahārāja Pratāparudra was graced by Lord Śrī Caitanya on the very grounds of his acceptance of subordination to the Lord of the universe. So even though a rich man’s wife has glittering bangles made of gold on her hands, she must engage herself in rendering service to the Lord.”

However, despite all these qualifications, when Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya pleaded with Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu to meet him, the Lord flatly rejected it, arguing that meeting with a king who is engaged in material activities would be just like drinking poison. He warned that if such requests continued, He would leave Jagannātha Purī altogether. In this way, the matter was completely closed. No one dared to mention it again.

The turning point came from a different direction. Later, Rāmānanda Rāya returned to Jagannātha Purī after being released from the government service. He came directly to meet Mahāprabhu before even seeing Jagannātha. In the course of their exchange, he explained what had happened when he informed Mahārāja Pratāparudra that he wished to retire from political life and dedicate himself to the service of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu. Instead of resisting, the king became deeply pleased upon hearing Mahāprabhu’s name. He rose from his throne, embraced Rāmānanda Rāya, showed symptoms of devotion, granted him a full pension without reduction, and requested him to serve Mahāprabhu without anxiety. In this way, the king revealed that he was not an ordinary ruler interested in prestige but a sincere admirer of the Lord and a genuine well-wisher of His devotees. This deeply impressed Mahāprabhu.

Rāmānanda Rāya then went further, describing how Mahārāja Pratāparudra considered himself fallen and unfit to receive the Lord’s audience. The king was not demanding a royal privilege; he was lamenting in humility. He said that Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu is Kṛṣṇa Himself, the son of Mahārāja Nanda, and that if in this life he could not receive the Lord’s audience, perhaps in some future birth he might be allowed to do so. Rāmānanda Rāya even declared that he did not think he possessed even a fraction of the loving ecstasy found in Mahārāja Pratāparudra. Previously, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu had discussed with Rāmānanda Rāya the devotional sentiment of the Gōpis. Mahāprabhu accepted Rāmānanda Rāya as the most trusted and loved associate. Therefore, this was a powerful testimony.

Here, the mood of the pastime changes. Before, Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya had advocated for the king, but Mahāprabhu did not accept the request from that angle. Being a king or demigod is not a qualification to meet the Lord. If anything, it is a disqualification, because the higher the position, the more one will be prone to being proud.

However, when Rāmānanda Rāya spoke, the situation became different. This was no longer a mere attempt to arrange a meeting. Now, Mahāprabhu was hearing from a highly exalted devotee that the king was sincere, humble, devoted, and dear to him. The king had become dear to Rāmānanda Rāya through his conduct, and therefore, his case acquired a different spiritual weight.

Mahāprabhu’s reply reveals exactly what convinced Him. He told Rāmānanda Rāya, “You are the foremost of all the devotees of Kṛṣṇa; therefore whoever loves you is certainly a very fortunate person.” He then added, “Because the King has shown so much love for you, Lord Kṛṣṇa will certainly accept him.”

Of course, Mahāprabhu is Kṛṣṇa Himself; therefore, “Lord Kṛṣṇa will certainly accept him” effectively means that He Himself had internally agreed. The external meeting had not yet happened, but the decision had been made. The pastime was now in motion.

He quoted the Ādi Purāṇa: “[Lord Kṛṣṇa told Arjuna:] ‘Those who are My direct devotees are actually not My devotees, but those who are the devotees of My servant are factually My devotees.’”

One cannot properly approach the Supreme Lord independently of His pure devotees. A person may cultivate spirituality on his own and progress to some extent, but entrance into a personal relationship with the Lord comes through the mercy of devotees. Therefore, Mahārāja Pratāparudra’s direct desire to meet Mahāprabhu did not, by itself, bring success. What brought success was that he became dear to Rāmānanda Rāya. Once that happened, access to Mahāprabhu opened.

The king’s humility and determination also played an essential role. When Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya later informed him that the Lord had refused to see a king, Mahārāja Pratāparudra did not become offended. He did not react with royal pride. Instead, he lamented that Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu had descended to deliver all kinds of fallen souls and lamented that he alone would remain excluded. He considered his kingdom, body, and worldly position useless without the Lord’s mercy. He even declared that if he could not obtain Mahāprabhu’s mercy, he no longer wished to continue living. This determination astonished Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya, because such intensity is not expected from a worldly monarch surrounded by wealth and power.

A king usually has many opportunities for material enjoyment, and therefore, one would not expect such deep renunciation or humility, much less ecstatic sentiments. Still, Pratāparudra regarded all material facilities as worthless if they did not culminate in Mahāprabhu’s mercy. Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya recognized from this that the king’s devotion was genuine. He then assured him that because of his firm determination, Mahāprabhu’s mercy would certainly come. He understood that the Lord is conquered not by position, but by pure love.

The mercy of the spiritual master and Kṛṣṇa work together. Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya, acting as the king’s spiritual guide, blessed him and affirmed that Mahāprabhu would be merciful. Because Mahārāja Pratāparudra had faith in the Bhaṭṭācārya and accepted Mahāprabhu as the Supreme Lord, he began worshiping Him internally. Thus, his approach was no longer political, external, or self-seeking. It became the approach of a devotee, grounded in humility, dependence, and the mediation of advanced Vaiṣṇavas.

So, how did Mahāprabhu get convinced to meet Mahārāja Pratāparudra? Not by diplomacy, and not by insistence. He was convinced by the king’s love for His devotee, Rāmānanda Rāya, by the king’s genuine humility, and by his intense desire for mercy. At first, the king wanted to meet Mahāprabhu and was rejected, because being a king is no qualification to meet the Lord. Later, however, through service to Rāmānanda Rāya and deepening humility, he became the kind of person whom Mahāprabhu was willing to meet. That was the real transformation. The Lord did not simply change His mind arbitrarily. The king approached Him in the proper way: through the devotees, with surrender, and without pride. That’s how the impossible became possible.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

Many may not know, but I also have a YouTube channel where I was publishing some videos on Vedic science and other topics. The problem with making videos is that they tend to take a lot of time. As I started investing more time in writing articles and books, it became difficult to justify the time investment, and I gradually stopped it.

Now I’m testing a style of content that can allow to reconcile both. It’s basically an audio version of the post about dinosaurs, Neanderthals, etc., according to the Vedas, with a slideshow. This is a format that allows me to spread the ideas without taking much time. Even if you read the article, it can still be interesting, because in the video, I add more details and develop the ideas of the article further.

You can take a look and let me know what you think in the comments:

If you would like to see more videos like this, I also need your help. This channel on YouTube has 17,000 followers, but because for a long time I was just posting classes there, YouTube stopped promoting the videos, and this creates the chicken and egg problem of not publishing videos because nobody sees the videos I publish.

If you would like to help, what I need is for you to access the video directly on YouTube, like, subscribe, and watch the video. Anything beyond one minute will help, but if you can play the whole video, it will be great.

If I can get 200 or 300 people to do this for this and the following videos on YouTube, this will probably make YouTube start promoting the videos again, making them accessible for more people and making this work viable.

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Building on the previous article, another question is the existence of human beings in past Kali-yugas. Were they like us? Can we find evidence of their civilization?

According to the chronology given in the Vedas, the last Kali-yuga started about 4.32 million years ago. In his book The Big Bang and the Sages, Siddhartha Prabhu makes the point that time on our planet goes at a rate of two per one compared to the time in Bhū-Mandala; therefore, the 4.32 million years should be multiplied by two to get the geological dates on our planet. Therefore, taking this factor of two into account, we can calculate that the last Kali-yuga started about 8.64 million years ago, according to our local time.

This implies that there should be no artifacts from advanced human civilizations before this period, since the advanced human beings from Satya-yuga up to Dvāpara-yuga were living in more refined dimensions and would probably not leave any artifacts that could be found in our reality. Human beings who would be living in the same dimension as us during this period would be aborigines or other less evolved humans. This is consistent with the simple stone and metal artifacts modern archaeologists find.

However, what about the previous Kali-yuga? Our premise is that human beings of previous ages had bodies composed of subtle forms of matter and were thus living in a higher dimension. They would thus not leave artifacts that would be discoverable by us. Human beings from the past Kali-yuga, however, are a different story.

Post-industrial civilizations from this period would be living in the same dimension as us, and they should have left plenty of artifacts we could recognize, such as plastics, concrete, advanced metal alloys, and so on. If their civilization were similar to ours, there would be a whole archaeological layer around most of the globe.

Why don’t archaeologists find artifacts from technologically advanced civilizations dated from 8.64 million years ago, as well as artifacts from other past Kali-yugas, which started 17.29 million years ago, 25.93 million years ago, and so on? We are currently in the 28th Kali-yuga of the 7th manvantara, of the first day of the 51st year of the life of Brahma. This means there were 453 Kali-yugas before our age in the current cycle of creation.

First of all, there is no indication that things go the same way in all Kali-yugas. The main factor, the moral degradation and the spread of sinful activities, falsity, atheism, and so on, always go on, but there is no indication that human beings always develop their civilization in the same way we did.

In SB 2.7.37, for example, it’s described that in some past Kali-yuga, human beings were able to travel in space and attack other planets until the advent of an incarnation of Lord Buddha (different from the Buddha from our time), who taught the principles of ahiṁsā (non-violence), convincing them to stop harming others.

The verse reads, “When the atheists, after being well versed in the Vedic scientific knowledge, annihilate inhabitants of different planets, flying unseen in the sky on well-built rockets prepared by the great scientist Maya, the Lord will bewilder their minds by dressing Himself attractively as Buddha and will preach on subreligious principles.”

This verse was spoken by Brahmā at the beginning of his current day. He speaks in the future because it is the future from his perspective, but these are events that have already happened. Śrila Jīva Goswami confirms that this event happened in some past Kali-yuga on our planet. We can see that at this time, human beings were able to establish contact with the asuras in the lower planetary systems and somehow got advanced Vedic technologies that allowed them to build spaceships and mystic weapons that they used to attack other planets around the universe. These weapons were powered by mantra rather than by some mechanical or electronic arrangement, and thus they would probably not be recognized as advanced technology if found underground. Since these human beings were able to interact with the asuras and other inhabitants of Bhū-Mandala, it is also questionable if they were living in the same gross dimension as we are. It’s more plausible that they could somehow still be living in a more subtle dimension, just as the inhabitants of Dvāpara-yuga. We could presume that, although atheists, they were still following Vedic culture and were able to use subtle mantras, just as inhabitants of past ages did.

We can see, however, that this was an isolated incident. It is described exactly because it was something uncommon. There are no descriptions of human beings mastering such Vedic technologies in other Kali-yugas.

What about technological civilizations as we have now? There is no evidence of it either, since technological civilizations, as we have now, would imply the massive use of fossil fuels and nuclear energy. It’s not possible to create an industrial revolution without the large use of coal and oil, and as it advanced, nuclear power would eventually be discovered. However, there is nothing to suggest that this was the case because the reserves of oil, coal, and uranium on our planet appear to have been intact at the time of the beginning of our industrial revolution. This suggests that human beings in other Kali-yugas probably never passed the medieval stage. We can see that, in his work, Michael Cremo mentions some metal and stone artifacts from periods that coincide with past Kali-yugas, but nothing that could be described as technologically advanced. This supports this theory.

What about the appearance of human beings in past Kali-yugas? There is no evidence to support that they always look the same, either. Even nowadays, there is a great variation in the appearance of human beings from different areas (just compare the appearance of someone from West Africa and someone from Denmark, for example). The human lineage is restarted at the beginning of every Satya-yuga when advanced beings repopulate our planet after the devastation caused by Kalki. Human beings are created in a very elevated stage, and humanity goes through a long process of devolution during the course of the yugas. This is a long process that takes millions of years and creates many different possibilities. In this way, human beings in different Kali-yugas may look quite different, as well as have different languages and different cultures. Bones from humans from past Kali-yugas, if found, could thus look different from bones from contemporaneous human beings and thus end up being classified as different species of hominids.

Again, we can see that artifacts found by modern archaeology and paleontology actually support the historical accounts given in the Vedas, instead of the opposite.

Why is it that the development of advanced technology appears to have happened only in the Kali-yuga we are living in? What would be the logical explanation for it?

It may have something to do with the Saṅkīrtana movement of Mahāprabhu. In every Kali-yuga, an incarnation of Viṣnu comes as the Golden avatāra to bring the dharma for the age: the chanting of the holy names. In these other Kali-yugas, the degradation happens more slowly, and remnants from the Vedic civilization from Dvāpara-yuga continue for more time. Everything happens more slowly and predictably.

Once in a day of Brahma, however, Kṛṣṇa appears in His original form and later comes again as Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu to reveal the maximum extent of love of Godhead, something that is only partially manifested in the other Kali-yugas. When this happens, the events are much more dramatic. All the powerful demons of the universe take birth in Dvāpara-yuga and are killed by the Lord, and the demons who are not fortunate enough to be killed by Him take birth in brāhmana families at the beginning of Kali-yuga and accelerate the degradation, destroying Vedic culture from the inside. We can observe that during the Middle Ages, humanity degraded to a level close to what is described for the end of Kali-yuga, with starving people working for a piece of bread (like slaves and serfs in many parts of the world), and life expectancy at birth often falling as low as thirty years. After the advent of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu and the start of His saṅkīrtana movement, technical advancements created the conditions for it to spread over the world, including fast means of transportation and communication, such as planes and the Internet. It seems the appearance of such tools in just this particular Kali-yuga is not accidental but part of a higher plan.

Hindu scholars from the past centuries frequently had the idea that the Puranas are not historical accounts, transmitting stories that have spiritual significance but little practical meaning. Śrīla Prabhupāda, however, insisted that the descriptions from the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam as well as other Puranas should be accepted literally, as concrete historical facts. Interestingly enough, modern branches of science, like astronomy and even paleontology and archaeology, are producing data that allow us to verify and support some of the historical claims made in the Puranas, making the point that although very difficult to understand, the descriptions given in the Puranas are actually the key to better understanding the history of our planet and the universe at large.

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Taking into consideration the historical view of the world that we receive from the Vedas, and more specifically from the Puranas, how could we explain the existence of dinosaurs, as well as Neanderthals and other less-evolved species of human beings that are studied based on paleontological evidence?

Often, we may think that the universe was created the exact way it is now and that it hasn’t changed since, that the way things are now is the way they were since the beginning, with all animals looking the same, and so on. This idea, however, is incorrect and is not at all supported in the Vedic scriptures. This misunderstanding can make it quite hard for us to understand the world around us. The scriptures themselves speak about sequences of ages, cycles of creation and destruction, mass extinctions, and so on. This shows how the history of our planet and of our universe at large is much more complex and turbulent than we can imagine. There is Daksa leaving his body prematurely after offending Lord Śiva, disturbing the whole process of populating the universe; there is Brahmā falling asleep during his day and triggering a process of partial annihilation; there is Hiranyākṣa extensively mining gold from earth and making the whole thing fall out of its orbit; and so on.

So, what do the Vedas say?

The Vedas explain that the universe is populated from the most advanced to the least advanced. Life is not created by chance. There is no evolution in the sense proposed by Darwin:

a) Garbhodakaśāyī Vishnu creates Brahma.

b) Brahma, in turn, creates his mental sons, including Daksa and Svāyambhuva Manu, who populate the universe with different species.

c) Once created, each species continues to reproduce by sexual union, and the population grows over time.

d) Instead of evolving, the species tend to devolve over time, gradually changing and becoming degraded. Nothing better is ever produced. A demigod can produce a man or an ant, but an ant never produces a demigod.

e) Eventually, there is a cycle of destruction, and they are repopulated starting from higher beings. Great sages living in the higher planetary systems of Janaloka, Tapoloka, and Satyaloka are essentially deathless, surviving until the end of the universe. They thus don’t change and are capable of assuming the position of Prajāpatis to repopulate the different species as needed, based on their original forms.

In this way, creation starts with the Lord Himself, the most advanced being, passing through the creation of Brahma and then the Prajāpatis, who are lesser than Him, and culminates with the creation of the other species, down to plants and beasts.

The Vedas describe a total of 8,400,000 species of life in this universe, including 400,000 species of intelligent life. That’s a lot. The way species are counted in the Vedas is also different from the way they are counted in modern biology. In modern taxonomy, species are counted according to their capacity to generate viable descendants. According to this definition, there are about 14,580 species of ants, for example. The Vedic definition, however, is based on levels of consciousness and includes species all over the universe. What the Vedas call “dog,” for example, is a certain state of consciousness that may apply to animals with different forms of bodies and even from different planets. Dogs may also change their forms over time in response to changes in the environment, but they are still classified as the same species.

The Vedas also explain that the maintenance of the universe is far from being automatic. Different types of cycles of destruction happen successively, and the universe has to be constantly repopulated. The physical forms of different species change over time; human beings and other animals degrade, becoming smaller and lower in consciousness as the cycles of four ages (Satya, Treta, Dvāpara, Kali) progress, and so on. Eventually, however, everything is recreated as it was originally.

When we speak about human beings, the Vedas explain that the earth has been populated with human beings since the reign of Svāyambhuva Manu, billions of years ago. How can we reconcile these ideas with modern studies that conclude that evolved human beings appeared about 360,000 years ago or so? And what about dinosaurs, the different geological ages our planet went through, the theory of the snowball earth, and so on?

The first point is that when we hear the description of creation in the Puranas, we must avoid the conclusion that everything exists in the same way it has now since the beginning. This is an idea that can be easily disproved since it is very easy to observe that different species of plants and animals change their forms over time according to different changes in the environment. One of the easiest examples to grasp is dogs: all modern dogs came from a single species that was domesticated a few thousand years ago. However, due to breeding and selection, this single species was subdivided into the thousands of different races of dogs we have nowadays. Darwin noticed this phenomenon and composed his theory of evolution, concluding that life came from matter. His conclusion is incorrect, but the basis of his theory is just the observation of this natural phenomenon.

It is not difficult to understand how, during the billion years of the existence of our planet, the environment changed many times, and the forms of different species changed accordingly. Dinosaurs are nothing more than birds and reptiles adapted to live in the environment that existed at the time, with higher temperatures, higher oxygen content in the atmosphere, and so on.

The Vedas explain that life in the universe is not something easy to maintain. There are frequent cycles of destruction (at the end of each Kali-yuga, at the end of each Manvantara, etc.), as well as other cosmic cataclysms. Different planets need to be constantly repopulated by the different Manus and their descendants. Whole species are frequently wiped out and later reestablished in ways we don’t fully understand. In this way, it is not only in modern science that it is believed that our planet has a convoluted history; the Vedas give a similar view.

Another point is that the universe described in the Vedas is multidimensional, and events described in the Puranas, such as the devastation that happens at the end of the reigns of the Manu, may thus affect different dimensions and species in different ways. In certain dimensions, the devastation may be more complete than in others. There is no indication that life ever stopped completely on our planet, for example. When we check the dates, we can see that there is a strong correlation between cycles of extinction detected by modern studies and the dates given in the Vedas, but it appears that these cycles of extinction impact different dimensions to different degrees.

What about human beings? Why is there no evidence of evolved human beings living on our planet in the past? Actually, this is a myth. Drutakarma Prabhu (Michael Cremo) wrote several books calling our attention to the fact that there are many artifacts that suggest that human beings were living on our planet much earlier than believed in modern paleontology (up to two billion years ago!). The problem is that artifacts that don’t fit in the dominating theory tend to be forgotten or labeled as fraud.

Another point is that Vedic societies that existed in the past would not leave much behind to begin with, even if we consider inhabitants of previous Kali-yugas, who lived in the same gross dimension as us. By descriptions from the scriptures, we understand that all bodies were cremated (leaving only bone fragments that would decompose), practically all tools were made from valuable metals like gold, silver, and copper, and would thus be recycled indefinitely. Most houses and other constructions would be made from wood and stone, and most of the material would also be reutilized in new constructions over time. In this way, conditions necessary for the preservation of bodies and tools (like burial grounds) would not be available. Conversely, aboriginal tribes that used stone tools and would not treat the dead with such care would leave more behind, and that’s what modern paleontologists find.

It is not difficult to imagine that highly evolved human beings could live simultaneously with Neanderthals and cavemen, just like we have modern cities and aboriginal tribes existing simultaneously today. The Vedas offer evidence of this in the race of monkeys described as helping Lord Rama millions of years ago, as well as other stories.

Another point is that there are strong indications that our planet exists simultaneously in several dimensions at once, and thus human beings from different eras live in different levels of reality. Do you really think that people in Satya-yuga could live for 100,000 years and beget children with demigods with bodies like the ones we have now? Quite improbable. It makes much more sense if we acknowledge that they should have more refined (subtle) bodies that matched their level of consciousness. Such refined bodies would also allow them to live in a more refined level of reality, or, in other words, in a different dimension.

In this way, people from Treta-yuga had less refined bodies and thus lived on a lower level. People in Dvāpara-yuga had still less refined bodies and thus lived on a progressively lower level, and we, inhabitants of Kali-yuga, having the lowest level of consciousness of all, live in the grossest dimension and have the grossest type of body. Because we don’t have access to higher dimensions, everything we find when we dig in the ground is bones and stone artifacts left by other similarly lower human beings.

These different dimensions exist simultaneously, but due to our state of consciousness, we can’t access levels of reality higher than our own. There are descriptions that Vyāsadeva, as well as Nara-Narāyana Ṛṣi and other great sages, are still living in Badarīkāśrama, but only certain elevated people can contact them, like in the case of Madhvācārya. They live in a higher reality that is inaccessible to regular people. As expected, it appears that people from higher levels have access to all lower levels, but people from the lower levels can’t access what is higher, just like we can understand ants, but ants can’t understand us.

Another important point to understand is that different animals and plants are constantly fighting for survival, adapting their behavior and the forms of their bodies according to the environment. As the environment changes, following the different periods our planet goes through, so do the forms of different animals and human beings who live in it.

When the Puranas explain that human beings have been living on our planet practically since the beginning, this doesn’t mean they had the same forms or that they were living in the same dimension we live in. It appears that during the course of the ages, most of humanity shifts between dimensions, going progressively down in the grossest levels and later being elevated back when the planet is repopulated by higher beings at the start of the next Satya-yuga.

In this way, the human beings in each Satya-yuga always have a very high level of consciousness (and thus live in a refined dimension), and gradually humanity collectively degrades down to the lower dimensions. There is also the possibility that aboriginal human beings may constantly live in the gross dimension we live in, while advanced humans live in higher dimensions.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

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In the introduction of the Bhagavad-gītā, Prabhupāda mentions:

“Therefore Bhagavad-gītā should be taken up in a spirit of devotion. One should not think that he is equal to Kṛṣṇa, nor should he think that Kṛṣṇa is an ordinary personality or even a very great personality. Lord Śrī Kṛṣṇa is the Supreme Personality of Godhead. So according to the statements of Bhagavad-gītā or the statements of Arjuna, the person who is trying to understand the Bhagavad-gītā, we should at least theoretically accept Śrī Kṛṣṇa as the Supreme Personality of Godhead, and with that submissive spirit we can understand the Bhagavad-gītā. Unless one reads the Bhagavad-gītā in a submissive spirit, it is very difficult to understand Bhagavad-gītā, because it is a great mystery.”

One could argue that at this stage of the book, there is no formal proof given that Kṛṣṇa is indeed the Supreme Personality of Godhead, or even that a Supreme Personality of Godhead really exists. Even if one agrees that there should be a God, how can one know that God is a person and that Kṛṣṇa is that person? To an ordinary person, Kṛṣṇa at this stage may appear like an ordinary man. He is depicted on the cover itself with two hands, driving a chariot. Prabhupāda then tells the reader that Kṛṣṇa should be accepted as God, supporting it only by a verse spoken by Arjuna, where he accepted Him as such. Is Prabhupāda asking the reader to accept it blindly?

The point is that in practically any body of knowledge, the proof comes only after we master the subject. For example, a scientist may prove through an experiment that an atom is not a solid ball of matter but is instead composed of smaller particles, protons, neutrons, etc. His research is then accepted as proof. However, no ordinary person can replicate the experiment to confirm it. Indeed, an ordinary person will probably not even comprehend it. The conclusion is accepted based on trust. The scientist is accepted as a respected person; his conclusion is accepted by other respected people; therefore, it must be correct. Even if one desires to become a scientist to confirm the findings, he or she will have to accept these conclusions as part of their study, and only many years later may be able to see the proof by repeating the experiment. Without following this process, one can’t see proof of anything.

We can also see that this process is often abused. Sometimes experiments are forged, papers are written based on incorrect assumptions, and the whole scientific community may be convinced of things that are not factual at all, and the truth may emerge only years later. Still, for a common person, there is no other way to obtain scientific knowledge. One has to accept the process and study under them.

When it comes to spiritual knowledge, it works similarly. The only way to have “proof” that Kṛṣṇa is indeed the Supreme Personality of Godhead is to directly see or perceive Him. However, this can happen only in a relatively advanced stage of practice. God can be seen, but that’s not easy. Even to see an ordinary man elected as president, we have to follow a long protocol. What to say about seeing the creator and maintainer of all presidents? We have to follow someone who we believe is connected to Him, learn the process from him, and then apply it to our lives.

The process is usually that we receive some small proof by observing the saintliness, knowledge, or some other quality of a devotee and start believing in him or her, at least enough to continue hearing or to continue observing. By staying close, we may receive more small proofs, which may gradually convince us enough to start practicing, and from this practice, we may get progressively more proof. As they say, the proof of the pudding is in eating it. We can’t have definitive proof of anything without first accepting it to a degree and from there experiencing it.

When it comes to the Bhagavad-gītā specifically, the question is that it is not possible to enter into the mysteries of the book without first accepting Kṛṣṇa as God, because without at least some preliminary faith, we will not take what He speaks seriously, and this knowledge will not enter our hearts. Therefore, Prabhupāda urges the reader right at the beginning to accept this point, that at least theoretically Kṛṣṇa should be accepted as God if one wants to benefit from the reading. As initial proof, he offers that Arjuna accepted it, other great Vedic sages accepted it, and he himself accepted it, and then proceeds to elaborate on it in the rest of the introduction. This is not a capricious or unreasonable demand; it is just as the Gītā works. Prabhupāda is just being honest and declaring from the beginning what the process to understand the book is.

Later in the Gītā (4.3), Kṛṣṇa confirms this point by declaring that the qualification of Arjuna to receive this knowledge is that he is His devotee and His friend. Then, on 9.1, He adds that He is speaking to Arjuna because he is never envious of Him. These are thus defined as basic preliminary qualifications.

This faith, however, should not be blind but connected with faith in the current link, in the devotee who is explaining the knowledge, or, in other words, us.

That’s the mistake we usually make. We expect Prabhupāda to do the heavy lifting and forget about the importance of our contribution. If we ourselves are not exemplary and show the practical qualities that are supposed to be developed through the practice of Kṛṣṇa Consciousness, we can’t expect people to accept. Spiritual knowledge is always accepted based on faith; the proof can come only later, when one practices and sees for himself. This preliminary faith is based on seeing someone who is ahead on the path and observing his or her qualities.

Often, we ourselves have not eaten the pudding yet. Frequently, we have accepted Kṛṣṇa Consciousness only on a superficial level, adopting the culture but not the internal practice. When this happens, we may externally accept Kṛṣṇa as part of the identity we accepted as a devotee, as part of the group, without, however, having any real confirmation of it. In this case, we ourselves will not fully believe it and will become disturbed when we meet other people who question.

What is the solution? It is two-fold. One side is that we should go deep into our practice. When we go deep, we get proof, and when proof is received, no one can convince us of the opposite. Once, when I was distributing books, a Christian man came to debate, as sometimes happens. I was not very inclined to waste time, so I went directly to the center of the question. I said to him, “I’m distributing this knowledge because I have seen proof of it. What about you? Have you seen proof of what you are telling me? Have you seen Christ?” That was the end of it. He didn’t want to take a book, but he lost the will to debate.

The second point is indicated by Kṛṣṇa Himself on 18.67, where he mentions that this confidential knowledge should not be explained to one who is envious of Him. That’s another point we often overlook. There are many sincere people around who are searching for something higher. They may question things, but they are not envious. These are the real candidates to receive this knowledge. Openly atheistic people, who resent or envy God, are in a different evolutionary stage. We may approach them indirectly by engaging them in welfare activities or giving them some preliminary or superficial practice, which may help them to gradually become purified, but not direct transcendental knowledge. Without this preliminary purification, the change of heart will never come, and they will never give it a chance.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

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One problem we have in our movement (and in modern society in general) is that it is difficult for women to find a proper husband and become settled in family life. There are, of course, many men interested in associating with ladies, but when it comes the time to accept responsibilities, most of them shy away. We see that even qualified women frequently find it difficult to get married. Another issue is that getting married is also not a guarantee of anything, since divorces are also very common. Even if a lady does find a husband, there is no guarantee that this man will stay her whole life with her.

In traditional societies, association with ladies is conditioned to marriage. If a man wants a woman, he has to get a wife and accept responsibility for maintaining a family. In modern societies, however, men and women associate freely, and this reduces the number of people interested in entering into a stable relationship. As Prabhupāda concedes, one will not want to maintain a cow if he can just get milk from the market. This is just how human psychology works.

We come, then, to how things work within our spiritual movement. Theoretically, we are supposed to be traditional in our movement, with marriage being the only acceptable way of having a loving relationship, but we can see that in practice we more or less follow the general culture, with people dating and entering into relationships without necessarily having the intention of getting married. In this way, the problem ends up affecting us more or less in the same way it affects the general society.

Another problem is that nowadays we have more women than men coming to our movement. In some countries, the proportion may still be more or less the same, but when we take it globally, especially in countries like China and Russia, there are definitely more women than men. Ideally, devotees should marry devotees, and a lady should try to marry a man who is more mature and more spiritually advanced than herself, who can support her on the path back to Godhead. However, we can see that nowadays this is quite rare. Many ladies in our movement have to choose between marrying whatever devotee man is available, marrying someone from the outside, or risking remaining single for life.

In such a situation, many end up marrying men who are not devotees. I used to think of this as a terrible thing, but over the years, I saw a few cases that changed my opinion to a certain extent.

We frequently think of the division between “devotees” and “non-devotees” as a black-and-white distinction, but in reality, it is more like a multitude of gradations of gray. Not all “devotees” are very pious or devotional, and not all “non-devotees” are completely atheistic. We can frequently see that devotees often show quite negative qualities, while many “non-devotees” are actually quite pious and good-natured. Usually, these are people who are not atheists, but “spiritual but not religious” people who have some faith in God, but don’t identify with any particular religious process, or who are non-practicing Christians or Muslims. Such men often value having a wife who is serious about practicing a spiritual process, even if they themselves are not practicing. This can often lead to workable marriages, where the husband supports the lady in her practice and is favorable to the children receiving spiritual education, even while he is not directly practicing. The tendency in such families, however, is that gradually the husband also becomes a devotee over time, due to association.

The secret here is maturity. A woman who is fanatic and attached to externals will not work in this situation, but someone who is more mature in her spiritual practice and can understand the difference between primary and secondary principles may find ways to adjust. Many are nowadays vegetarian, and many will also not be against avoiding alcohol and drugs, as well as gambling, but of course, the fourth principle may be a problem in such cases. One will have to be flexible in this regard and try to find some compromise, operating under the principle of being attentive to the partner’s needs instead of strictly following a fixed set of rules.

Some argue that polygamy could be a solution to this problem of having more ladies than men in our movement, but as we discussed in a previous article, I believe this can cause more problems than it can solve. We can see that the final decision of Prabhupāda was against it, and by studying the pros and cons we can easily understand why he decided so. I don’t believe that we would still have an organized movement nowadays, in any shape or form, if polygamy were allowed. We can imagine all the scandals from the 1980s and 1990s with polygamy on top. It would have been madness.

More ladies than men in our movement also leads to serial polygamy (men abandoning their families and then remarrying), which is, in many senses, even worse than regular polygamy, because it leads to abandoned women and neglected children. Devotee ladies marrying pious men from the outside and gradually making them devotees sounds like a better idea to me. Even if there is a shortage of men in our movement, there are about 4 billion men outside, and some of them are pious. I believe this is a possibility that could be better discussed.

Married life is always a compromise anyway, with even the most serious devotees having difficulties following a path of complete, pure devotion in family life. In many cases, it may be easier to practice spiritual life with a partner who is supportive, although not practicing very seriously, than with a judgmental or abusive “devotee” husband.

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One aspect of the teachings of Śrīla Prabhupāda that often raises objections among modern audiences is the idea that women should not have independence at any stage of their lives, remaining under the protection of their fathers when young, under their husbands in adulthood, and under the protection of their grown-up sons in old age. This is at odds with what many believe nowadays, to put it mildly.

Imagine, for example, that you are speaking in a room full of university students, scholars, feminists, etc., speaking about the practical application of Vaiṣṇavism in modern times, and this passage comes up in the discussion. Let’s put it on a slide on the screen:

“According to Vedic civilization, a woman is never independent. She has three stages of life: in childhood a woman should live under the protection of her father, a youthful woman should live under the protection of her young husband, and in the event of the death of her husband she should live under the protection of her grown-up sons, or if she has no grown-up sons she must go back to her father and live as a widow under his protection.” (Kṛṣṇa Book, Chapter 50)

How to explain it without being apologetic?

Of course, there are many ways to do that, and different devotees could take different approaches. Here is one:

The first point is the idea of protection. At first, this passage may suggest forced submission, but this is an incorrect reading.

The central point here is care. No one will protest the idea that a woman should be cared for. No one will argue that a young girl should grow up without a father. No adult woman will choose to be alone if she has the opportunity of living with an affectionate husband. No old lady should be abandoned by her children. The passage put these three together.

When we say “protection,” we don’t mean infantilizing women or denying their intelligence or spiritual agency. Some may go in this direction, but that’s their interpretation, not what Prabhupada was teaching.

Protection means safety, emotional care, and material stability, not a cover for exploitation. Often, neglect and abuse come precisely from men who call themselves protectors. That’s not what we are speaking about here.

We then have the concept of rights. A young girl should have the care of an affectionate father, an adult woman should be cared for by a husband, and an old woman should be able to count on the care and support of her adult children. Care is not a forced imposition; it is a privilege, or a right. Not many ladies have this nowadays. Prabhupāda argues that every woman should have this right. Even critics would agree with the ideal of reliable care and responsibility.

A second point is independence. Independence conflicts with the idea of care. To be cared for by a wife, a husband has to renounce part of his independence. Now he has to stay at home with her, eat what she cooks, put things in the right places, etc. The same applies to a wife. If we want to be completely free, then we need to be on our own. Practically speaking, no one can be independent in any organized society. We always need to live under rules and restrictions. Complete freedom is possible only in the jungle. Vedic societies understood this point and offered different role models based on duties and rights. To have our rights, we always depend on others performing their duties, and vice versa.

There is also another point, which is the concept of Vedic civilization. Different cultures should be respected. The idea of a civilization that flourished for thousands of years should, by itself, inspire respect, different as its social and moral aspects may be. Nowadays, we speak about sustainability and fear that pollution, social tensions, and other problems may undermine our civilization. Here we hear about a civilization that existed for thousands of years; this shows they were doing some things right. Certainly, we can learn something from them.

We then have the question of families. Nowadays, we are seeing the social and economic implications of weakening families by a combination of economic pressures, delayed marriage, and weakening family structures arising from the expectations that both parents must work full-time.

Countries like South Korea and China have now birth rates of less than one child per woman, and most developed countries are not much better. Such birth rates mean that, if nothing is done to counterbalance them, the population would halve with each generation. This is certainly not a sustainable path. Many countries try to offset this with immigration, but this works only because they can attract population from poorer countries where the birth rates are still higher. Mass immigration, however, causes other problems and is also not a sustainable option long-term. No country can absorb so many migrants without causing massive social issues in the process.

How to bring back the birth rate to replacement levels? How to educate all these children? The answer is as old as humanity itself: families. This is something that is very much part of Vedic culture. That’s something people knew how to do in a sustainable way in such ancient societies, and that’s a technology we desperately need, especially in developed countries. Framed in this way, we can see that the points made by Prabhupāda are not only coherent but also relevant, necessary, and even urgent.

When we speak about families, however, we come to a problem: when it comes to growing children, women are the weak side, because a man can walk away and leave the woman alone caring for the children. There must be some social system that force men to not only stay in the family but also properly perform their duties of protecting and maintaining.

One can try to do that by passing laws, but they will be only partially effective. A law may force a man to give money monthly, but it will never be able to force him to be affectionate. It will solve only part of the problem.

Vedic societies found another solution: create a system where men are happy performing their duties, even without police supervision. What kind of advanced technology is that? It is called love. See it described on ŚB 6.18.27-28, for example:

“Thinking in this way [with a desire for a son to kill Indra], Diti began constantly acting to satisfy Kaśyapa by her pleasing behavior. O King, Diti always carried out Kaśyapa’s orders very faithfully, as he desired. With service, love, humility, and control, with words spoken very sweetly to satisfy her husband, and with smiles and glances at him, Diti attracted his mind and brought it under her control.

Purport: When a woman wants to endear herself to her husband and make him very faithful, she must try to please him in all respects. When the husband is pleased with his wife, the wife can receive all necessities, ornaments and full satisfaction for her senses. Herein, this is indicated by the behavior of Diti.”

Women from these societies would know how to keep their husbands under control, not through threats and legal battles, but by their love and intentional submission. When we are attentive to the desires of the partner, and we agree to submit ourselves to them, this makes the relationship deeper. We may choose to ignore it and just do what we want, but this will create tension in other areas. This shows how these women had something we often lack today: emotional control. They knew how to control themselves and do what would bring them long-term success instead of just shouting and demanding. By acting in such ways, with a combination of affection, humility, and service, they would keep their husbands devoted to them and obtain everything they needed.

The most interesting part is that it would not come from cold, calculated strategic thinking, but from the culture itself. Love fosters love. A girl who grew up in a loving environment would also be prone to love her husband and children, passing the culture forward. Such a level of dedication may appear impossible nowadays, but in this environment, it would become natural, benefiting everyone. Again, that’s certainly something we can learn from.

Nowadays, we lack this restraint and emotional control. We want to receive everything without giving anything away, and as a result, we end up with nothing.

There is a point, however: women were not supposed to blindly follow the men. This balances the point of potential abuse. The men would have to deserve such devotion. They would need to show the proper qualifications.

The point is thus that men must be trained to be worthy protectors: self-controlled, faithful, stable, and spiritually responsible. Without that, the whole system becomes hypocritical. A woman is not supposed to follow an unqualified husband blindly. This is something Prabhupāda also emphasizes in his teachings:

“If a person is not in Kṛṣṇa consciousness and is bereft of spiritual power, he cannot protect his wife from the path of repeated birth and death. Consequently, such a person cannot be accepted as a husband. A wife should dedicate her life and everything to Kṛṣṇa for further advancement in Kṛṣṇa consciousness. If her husband abandons Kṛṣṇa consciousness and she gives up her connection with him, she follows in the footsteps of the dvija-patnīs, the wives of the brāhmaṇas who were engaged in performing sacrifices.” (Caitanya-caritāmṛta, Madhya-līlā 15.264)

Qualified men are nowadays rare, and this is part of the problem. However, it becomes clear when we examine where qualified men come from. Professional skills can be taught at school, but the main qualifications of a man as husband and father are connected with something else, which can’t be learned in school: emotional stability, maturity, kindness, and balance. These are things learned at home, from properly grounded parents. A stable household produces stable children, who in turn become qualified men who, in combination with qualified women, will produce stable households, which will in turn produce more qualified children.

In other words, Vedic societies identified the necessity of stable families, identified the challenges of the problem, and came up with their solutions for a problem we now struggle with. We may disagree, but the fact is that these solutions have worked for thousands of years. Perhaps we could learn something.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

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Often, people question how, being a pure devotee, Śrila Prabhupāda could give high positions to people who would later create great harm to devotees who were under them.

This could be explained in the following way:

There are different material designations, like being tall or short, black or white, man or woman, as well as different material skills, like being able to chant well, speak in an articulate way, collect and compile great volumes of information, and so on. In the Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa teaches that as long as one is not completely transcendental, the best way to advance in the spiritual process is to engage these different material characteristics in His service, following the process of karma-yoga.

There are two levels of karma-yoga, called sakāma-karma-yoga (when one is still attached to the results of his work) and niṣkāma-karma-yoga (when he is not attached to the results but is still attached to acting in certain ways), and above both, there is pure devotional service (when one doesn’t care for anything apart from serving Kṛṣṇa). An ācārya will be able to engage people according to their material qualifications in a way that they can be more useful to the mission. Sometimes, a neophyte devotee who has high material qualifications may be engaged as a manager, while a pure devotee without such material skills may be engaged in doing some humbler service, just like one may be engaged as an engineer or as a dentist according to his skills.

The mistake is when we start to classify the level of advancement of devotees according to their material positions or material qualifications. This is, in reality, not a more reliable classification than if we tried to classify devotees according to the color of their skin or the size of their feet. Someone under this māyā could very well think that being illiterate, Śrīla Gaura Kiśora Dāsa Bābājī was a novice devotee, while a materially educated caste brāhmana was advanced. It would not be possible to be more wrong.

Similarly, we may sometimes see devotees who are actually very advanced engaged in humble positions and devotees who are not so advanced acting as big managers. The fault is not in them being engaged in such ways, according to their material skills, but in our defective understanding of equating the level of spiritual advancement with such material skills. This is the mistake that opens the door to all kinds of mistakes and abuse.

Abuse doesn’t come from just a neophyte being engaged as a manager. It comes from others accepting to follow him without questioning. This blind following is what creates the possibility of an abusive leader. Without it, a bad leader is forced to follow in line or be replaced.

In this connection, there is an interesting passage from Śrila Bhakti Thirta Swami, in his book “Reflections on Sacred Teachings”:

“We have a tendency to think that the greatest devotees are those who are always in the limelight or those who can manipulate many material things. Not necessarily. In some cases, Krsna gives a person a big position because, without that position, they wouldn’t even remain in the devotional process. For such devotees, unless they can manipulate many material things, they would leave the devotional process. Their minds and senses would get distracted by other arenas. Furthermore, a person with a big position is not always the most spiritual person. It might be the case, but maybe not. Śrila Prabhupāda was a powerful, spiritual utilitarian and put people in different types of positions for different reasons. A manager also makes such arrangements. A person might not always receive a service because he or she is the most spiritual. A devotee might work well with the material energy; therefore, he can be encouraged to work on that level with the hopes that he will gradually become more purified.”

The fact that different leaders abused their authority over time does not imply a defect in Prabhupāda’s work. He was just selecting the people who had the necessary skills among the possible choices. If there were perfect men available, he would certainly choose them instead.

What it reveals, however, is a defect in our tendency to confuse external position with spiritual realization. An ācārya may engage a talented person by material standards in a way that one may be useful for the mission; the danger starts when we mythologize the post, create a hero out of a thief, and stop using our intelligence.

Just as in material institutions, blind following creates blind leadership. When a conditioned soul is accepted as the ultimate shelter, the power easily rises to the head. We can study the story of Pauṇḍraka, the false Vāsudeva, in chapter sixty-six of the Tenth Canto. Glorified by fools surrounding him, Pauṇḍraka really thought he was Vāsudeva Himself. Similarly, any imperfect soul may start thinking himself a pure devotee, an ācārya, or an empowered incarnation if he is surrounded by a large enough group of yes-men. Absolute power corrupts absolutely, and that’s how we ended up with all the scandals that plagued our movement in the past. If we repeat the same mistakes, the same may again repeat in the future.

Appointing better people is always an improvement, but it doesn’t solve the core of the problem, which is the lack of a proper culture, one that distinguishes service from status, welcomes respectful questions, puts in place a proper system of checks and balances, and measures success by genuine spiritual qualities and fidelity to the conclusions of Śrīla Prabhupāda, and not by charisma, managerial positions, or popularity.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.

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When we study Vedic cosmology, we learn that we live in Bhārata-varṣa, which in turn is part of Bhū-mandala, the intermediate planetary system. We may not understand very precisely what Bhū-mandala is, or how exactly the model work, but at least we can sleep peacefully understanding that we have our place in the cosmos, which is inhabited by human beings.

This division is explained by Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura in his Siddhānta-śiromaṇi. That’s a verse we already know from previous articles:

bhūmer ardhaṁ kṣāra-sindhor udak-sthaṁ
 jambu-dvīpaṁ prāhur ācārya-varyāḥ
ardhe ’nyasmin dvīpa-ṣaṭkasya yāmye
 kṣāra-kṣīrādy-ambudhīnāṁ niveśaḥ
śākaṁ tataḥ śālmalam atra kauśaṁ
 krauñcaṁ ca gomedaka-puṣkare ca
dvayor dvayor antaram ekam ekaṁ
 samudrayor dvīpam udāharanti

“The seven islands (dvīpas) are known as (1) Jambu, (2) Śāka, (3) Śālmalī, (4) Kuśa, (5) Krauñca, (6) Gomeda, or Plakṣa, and (7) Puṣkara. The planets are called dvīpas. Outer space is like an ocean of air. Just as there are islands in the watery ocean, these planets in the ocean of space are called dvīpas, or islands in outer space. There are nine khaṇḍas, known as (1) Bhārata, (2) Kinnara, (3) Hari, (4) Kuru, (5) Hiraṇmaya, (6) Ramyaka, (7) Ilāvṛta, (8) Bhadrāśva and (9) Ketumāla. These are different parts of Jambūdvīpa. A valley between two mountains is called a khaṇḍa or varṣa.”

From this, we could deduce that in the model of Bhū-mandala, each varṣa correspond to one planet, and that earth is Bhārata-varṣa. Simple enough.

The problem is that the description continues, and that’s the confusing part:

aindraṁ kaśeru sakalaṁ kila tāmraparṇam
 anyad gabhastimad ataś ca kumārikākhyam
nāgaṁ ca saumyam iha vāruṇam antya-khaṇḍaṁ
 gāndharva-saṁjñam iti bhārata-varṣa-madhye

“Within Bhārata-varṣa, there are nine khaṇḍas. They are known as (1) Aindra, (2) Kaśeru, (3) Tāmraparṇa, (4) Gabhastimat, (5) Kumārikā, (6) Nāga, (7) Saumya, (8) Vāruṇa and (9) Gāndharva.”

Some conclude that these nine khaṇḍas of Bhārata-varṣa are simple different places and continents of the earth, which allows us to maintain our comfortable conclusion of Bhārata-varṣa meaning the earth.

However, when we examine it more carefully, we find that this thesis has inconsistencies.

The Viṣnu Purāṇa (2.2), for example, describes these nine khaṇḍas, and then gives a separate description of the countries that compose our planet, suggesting these are two separate categories.

Another piece of evidence is found in the Taittirīya Upaniṣad. The Gandharvas we normally hear about are the Deva-gandharvas, the celestial musicians who have their planet between the plane of Bhū-mandala and Svargaloka. They are part of the upa-devas, or lower demigods. In the Mahābhārata, Vana-parva, for example, it is described that once the Kauravas were defeated by an army of Deva-gandharvas led by Citrasena. Their army was routed, Karṇa fled, and Duryodhana was captured, being later saved by the five Pāṇḍavas.

There is, however, another species of Gandharvas called Manuṣya-gandharvas. Their standard of living is higher than that of human beings, but much lower than that of the Deva-gandharvas. This hierarchy is explained in the Taittirīya Upaniṣad 2.8.2:

“If we multiply this limit of human bliss a hundred times, it equals the bliss of a Manuṣya-gandharva. If we multiply the bliss of a Manuṣya-gandharva one hundred times, it equals the pleasure of a Deva-gandharva, and if we multiply that one hundred times, it equals the bliss of the ancestors living in Pitṛloka. If we go further and multiply this standard of bliss of the Pitṛs one hundred times, we come to the standard of bliss of a lower demigod born in Svargaloka. Each one of these different standards of bliss is matched by a self-realized soul who has no material desires.”

Where do these Manuṣya-gandharvas live? Such a difference in their standard of living makes it difficult to consider that they live in the same planetary system as the Deva-gandharvas. It makes more sense to map their abode to the Gāndharva division of Bhārata-varṣa.

Similarly, the Nāga division of Bhārata-varṣa appears to be inhabited by a race of human-like Nāgas, while another division is inhabited by human-like Rākṣasas, and so on.

This understanding allows us to reconcile narrations of the Mahābharata that appear to describe Nāgas, Rākṣasas, and others as celestial inhabitants, coming to earth from space or subterranean realms, and other passages that describe them as part of earthly kingdoms.

Ghaṭotkaca, the son of Bhīma, for example, becomes the chief of a race of Rākṣasas, described as kṣatriyas ruling cities and organizing themselves in akṣauhiṇī formations, similar to their human counterparts, despite also possessing supernatural powers. This description makes them substantially different from the Rākṣasas that inhabit the abode of Kuvera in Bhuvarloka. Similarly, there are descriptions of an earthly Nāga kingdom around the forest of Khaṇḍava (close to Hastinapura), and a fight of the Pāṇḍavas against them during the episode of the burning of the forest.

In Vedic cosmology, Nāgas are inhabitants of the lower planetary systems, while the Rakṣasas live in Bhuvarloka. They can visit earth, but have no fixed kingdoms here. When we start from this idea, these descriptions of the Mahābhārata appear contradictory, and the whole text starts sounding mythological. In fact, some conclude that the Mahābhārata simply offers exaggerated descriptions of different tribes from antiquity.

If, however, we accept the idea of races of earthly Nāgas, Gandharvas, Rākṣasas, etc. that are different from their celestial counterparts (closer to human beings), and have their territories in the higher-dimensional Bharata-varṣa inhabited by the Pāṇḍavas, then the whole description makes sense. Some of the passages of the Mahābhārata thus describe interactions with celestial beings, like the fight against the Deva-gandharvas led by Citrasena, while others describe interactions with their counterparts that live in the different khaṇḍas of Bharata-varṣa.

In our case, however, in our current gross reality, we don’t have access to any of these realms, nor do we meet any of these other species. Just as in the case of the other divisions of Bhū-mandala, we don’t have access to their abodes, which appear to be part of a higher-dimensional reality.

It is, therefore, not entirely unreasonable to conclude that these nine divisions of Bhārata-varṣa also constitute different planets, or some form of higher-dimensional space. In this case, the conclusion would be that our planet is just one of the nine divisions of Bhārata-varṣa.

This is a publication for thoughtful readers who want to go deeper into Kṛṣṇa consciousness. I publish daily, trying to offer high-quality spiritual content, and all posts are available to free subscribers. If you wish, you can also choose a paid subscription to support this work.

You can also receive the updates on WhatsApp or Telegram.
If you would like to contribute further, you can find the donation links here.