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In chapter sixteen of the Bhagavad-gītā, Kṛṣṇa describes the qualities of the demoniac person. In the Vedic conception, “demon” (asura) is not someone with horns and tail but an atheist who challenges the divine law and lives according to his lower instincts. Kṛṣṇa gives us a vivid description:

“Those who are demoniac do not know what is to be done and what is not to be done. Neither cleanliness nor proper behavior nor truth is found in them. They say that this world is unreal, with no foundation, no God in control. They say it is produced of sex desire and has no cause other than lust. Following such conclusions, the demoniac, who are lost to themselves and who have no intelligence, engage in unbeneficial, horrible works meant to destroy the world. Taking shelter of insatiable lust and absorbed in the conceit of pride and false prestige, the demoniac, thus illusioned, are always sworn to unclean work, attracted by the impermanent. They believe that to gratify the senses is the prime necessity of human civilization. Thus until the end of life their anxiety is immeasurable. Bound by a network of hundreds of thousands of desires and absorbed in lust and anger, they secure money by illegal means for sense gratification.” (Bg 16.7-12)

Their destination is described in texts 16.19-20: they continue to take progressively lower births, life after life. In the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, we learn that the universe is composed of fourteen levels of planetary systems. We are in bhū-loka, the seventh level from top to bottom. Below us are seven levels populated by the āsūras. Life there is not necessarily miserable in the material sense. On the contrary, these abodes are described as extraordinarily opulent. The problem is that, because of this association, a soul who falls there has little opportunity to rise again. One already has the tendency to envy Kṛṣṇa, and by associating with other atheists, the tendency is for that only to grow. Eventually one falls into the lower species of life, plants and animals, and from there has to go on the long evolutionary cycle throughout the 8,400,000 species of life until reaching the form of a human being again.

Looking around, we can observe that the vast majority of living entities on our planet are non-human, including plants, insects, bacteria, etc. As discussed in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam (SB 9.24.58), when a soul first enters the material universe, he starts from the very top. That being so, we may ask how so many souls have fallen into such lower forms. The answer is the accumulated misuse of independence over repeated births. That’s exactly the path Kṛṣṇa describes. No one is forced to go on this path; one goes there by his own choice.

What about the mahātmās? They are the precise opposite. They are described by Kṛṣṇa in text 9.13. After describing the dark path of the demoniac, He declares: mahātmānas tu. But for the great souls, the devotees, it’s different…

Different from the atheist, who takes shelter of the bewildering material nature, the devotee takes shelter of the spiritual potency, Kṛṣṇa’s divine nature. Every time we chant “Hare Kṛṣṇa!” we are invoking this divine potency (harā) to connect us with Kṛṣṇa. It is not even just about chanting; every devotional act has the same practical effect. A devotee who remains busy in different devotional activities during the day remains always connected. One doesn’t even have to be a pure devotee. This shelter begins from the first day one sincerely engages in devotional service. That’s the beauty of the process of devotional service: one does not have to first become pure and then come under the spiritual potency; by sincerely approaching Kṛṣṇa through the appropriate process, one comes under the spiritual potency, and by that association one becomes pure.

Prabhupāda makes this point in his purport:

“In this verse the description of the mahātmā is clearly given. The first sign of the mahātmā is that he is already situated in the divine nature. He is not under the control of material nature. And how is this effected? That is explained in the Seventh Chapter: one who surrenders unto the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Śrī Kṛṣṇa, at once becomes freed from the control of material nature. That is the qualification. One can become free from the control of material nature as soon as he surrenders his soul to the Supreme Personality of Godhead. That is the preliminary formula. Being marginal potency, as soon as the living entity is freed from the control of material nature, he is put under the guidance of the spiritual nature. The guidance of the spiritual nature is called daivī prakṛti, divine nature. So when one is promoted in that way – by surrendering to the Supreme Personality of Godhead – one attains to the stage of great soul, mahātmā.”

When it is described that the soul is the marginal potency of Kṛṣṇa, this does not imply that the soul is somehow made of a different type of substance. The soul is spiritual, just as Kṛṣṇa is spiritual. The point is that the soul is an eternally separated part, and therefore, just as Kṛṣṇa has independence, the soul has a minute independence. By misusing this free will, we go down the path Kṛṣṇa described. However, as soon as we take shelter of Him, we come again under the protection of the divine nature. This shelter is immediate. The only question is to remain under it, avoiding falling back under the influence of lust, greed, and anger that distance us from Kṛṣṇa. That’s what the process of sādhana-bhakti is about.

How can we maintain such a high state of consciousness? That’s where the second part of Prabhupāda’s purport lands:

“The mahātmā does not divert his attention to anything outside Kṛṣṇa, because he knows perfectly well that Kṛṣṇa is the original Supreme Person, the cause of all causes. There is no doubt about it. Such a mahātmā, or great soul, develops through association with other mahātmās, pure devotees.”

The pure devotee is firmly and exclusively fixed upon Kṛṣṇa. This is the symptom. But how can I get there? Such an elevated consciousness is developed through association with other pure devotees. Just as one becomes a drunkard by associating with other drunkards, one can become a pure devotee by properly and persistently associating with pure devotees, starting with the spiritual master. We come back thus to the importance of good association.

In text 9.13, Kṛṣṇa mentions the word bhajanty: they engage in bhajana (worship, devotional service). Arjuna could then ask what exactly this worship consists of. Anticipating this question, Kṛṣṇa summarizes the devotional process in text 9.14: “Always chanting My glories, endeavoring with great determination, bowing down before Me, these great souls perpetually worship Me with devotion.”

Such great devotees are described by Kṛṣṇa as yatantaḥ: they endeavor with steadfast vows. However, as he mentions immediately afterward, devotional service is easy and can be performed in a happy mood. There is no need to become a fakir. To endeavor with steadfast vows means to chant a prescribed number of rounds, offer obeisances, fast on Ekādaśis, and perform other standard practices. As he mentions, a devotee “can live this life in devotional service, guided by an expert spiritual master, and in any position, either as a householder or a sannyāsī or a brahmacārī; in any position and anywhere in the world, he can perform this devotional service to the Supreme Personality of Godhead and thus become actually mahātmā, a great soul.”

In short, Mahātmā is not a fabricated title. It’s not about rubber-stamping a man based on academic qualifications. It is not vox populi. The real qualification is that he has no other business apart from glorifying Kṛṣṇa.

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A recent study from MIT (Nataliya Kosmyna et al., “Your Brain on ChatGPT: Accumulation of Cognitive Debt when Using an AI Assistant for Essay Writing Task) supports with data something many of us may have already been noticing in practice: excessive use of AI can make us dumber.

The study found that participants who relied on ChatGPT while writing essays showed much lower neural connectivity during the activity than participants who used conventional web search or wrote from memory. The participants in the AI group also showed weaker recall of their own essays and reported less sense of ownership over them. The researchers then extrapolated these results to describe the possible accumulation of such effects as a “cognitive debt” that may increase with time, creating a form of permanent impairment.

This first image shows the engagement of different parts of the brain during the activity. The EEG of the brain in the participants writing from memory shows intense activity, while in the LLM group the brain remains passive:

This second image breaks it down by stage. In the LLM group, the brain remains passive during all the stages of the task and then becomes active when they are questioned about what they did. At this stage, they finally woke up and tried to remember, without success, the essay they produced using the AI. For the participants who wrote the essay from memory, the opposite happened. The brain was fully active during the task and, conversely, showed the lowest level of neural connectivity when they were describing what they just did. In other words, they had to work hard to write the essay and then had an easy time while describing what they wrote, remembering it easily. The group using search engines stayed in the middle in all these stages:

This study supports the idea that writing in the old style, using books and memory, is still the most intellectually engaging method of writing. The point of the study is not whether we write using a pen or a keyboard but what kind of assistance we rely on. If we work hard to write each word of an article, the mental activity will be huge. If we do a search and then half-copy it from the results, the effect will be moderate, and if we just write a prompt and copy the result, the effort will be minimal. If we do the same every day, the cumulative effect may be huge. With people starting to rely on the use of Gemini, ChatGPT, DeepSeek, Claude, etc. for the simplest tasks, we can see where we are going. If AI is constantly used to replace thinking, our capacity to think weakens.

The main problem is that many tend to use AI as an oracle. They write a prompt and accept whatever comes back. This is the pattern of usage that weakens thinking, because it allows the AI to think for us. This is an updated version of an old pattern: people receive information from search engines and social networks and repeat it without questioning. It is thus not exactly new, but LLMs certainly amplified it. The way things are going, it may be eventually possible for a person to just rely on AI for all actions and interactions, without ever having to think. At this point, we will have to discuss whether this will be human life at all.

How can we deal with this problem without reducing the discussion to a simple “Should we use AI or not?”

The point is that AI is, in essence, just another tool, just like Google or anything else. The point is not so much the tool but the use we give it. So, how to use AI in a way that doesn’t impair our cognitive ability?

The point is to not use it as an oracle, but as an assistant. There is a huge difference between the two.

When we ask an assistant to help us with a task, we keep the overall planning and offload to him or her parts of the task that we know how to do but can do faster with help. If the idea is to make a fruit salad, we can ask the assistant to go check the prices or help to peel them. The problem starts when we don’t know what a fruit salad is and ask the assistant to make one.

Similarly, when we are studying or writing, we can use the AI to help with the mechanical parts of the work, like research. This is probably the best use for it: to help find information and use this information to improve our thinking, instead of doing the thinking for us. We can also use it as a partner to test ideas and discuss different points, and so on.

As we all know, AI systems can invent facts, misattribute quotations, provide false references, or misunderstand a problem while expressing complete certainty. If we don’t check at each stage, we will end up passively accepting false answers just because they look polished. This will not only lead to mistakes but will also weaken our thinking.

Let’s presume I’m writing an article disagreeing with the Māyāvāda philosophy, for example. I can use the AI to help me find the references. I may remember a verse from the Gītā only vaguely, and the AI can help me find it instead of having to go through the mechanical process of looking for the verse page by page.

After the article has taken form, I can then use a prompt like this:

Now, I will have a lot of information and counterarguments that can help me to improve the original article. In this case, the output of the LLM doesn’t need to be accepted as truth; it just gives me something to work with. I will simply analyze the arguments one by one and be sure my article anticipates the ones I consider relevant.

This is very different from asking the AI to write the article for me. I studied, I came to understand what Māyāvāda is, and I have an idea of how to refute particular points, but I’m using the AI to strengthen my work, helping me to notice the dead spots in my thinking. I will probably not have an Advaitin at my side to discuss the points of the article, but I can use the AI to create a digital one to discuss with. It will not be perfect, but it can be good enough for what I need, or at least be better than not having it.

I can also make it more specific. Presume I’m writing an essay about the practical application of the Bhagavad-gītā as It Is in modern life, for example. If I have a digital copy, I can add the file and the draft of my article and prompt:

Again, it can give me a lot of contrary arguments that I can use to go deeper into the book and refine my conclusions. A lot of it will be bogus, but this can also help me to refine my thinking, anticipating misunderstandings readers may have.

When the article is more or less complete, I can use the AI as an editor to refine it:

This is a little more dangerous than the first, because it can invoke the oracle attitude. The point here is not to accept what the AI returns, but to check each point and decide case by case what we can use or not, separating what is factually a mistake and what is just hallucination or misunderstanding from the model. AI can do a relatively good job of pointing out basic inconsistencies, but it usually fails to understand most delicate philosophical points, so it’s up to us to judge what is relevant or not.

The main point is that in both cases we don’t accept what the model gives at face value. It is just like a friend giving opinions, or a post we read on a social network. We don’t accept it as authoritative; we accept it as an opinion that we will compare with authoritative knowledge we have.

We can also use AI to offload repetitive parts of the work, like formatting, sorting out references, making tables, etc. If I can do these in less time, it can actually improve my thinking instead of atrophying it, because I will spend more time thinking and improving the article instead of doing mechanical work.

There are also parts of the work where we understand the result we want, but we don’t have the direct skill to produce it. A good example is images. I may have an idea of an image for an article, but since I’m not a painter, I have no means to produce it. I could use AI to help with that, giving it clear parameters and adjusting the result until it fits what I have in mind. Maybe I need to produce an audio version of the article, but my pronunciation is not good. AI may make a passable audio narration. Perhaps I need to make it into a web page, but I know nothing about web design. AI can also help with that.

Normally, all of these stages would require me to hire different people to do it. One may argue against it from the point of generating jobs, which is a valid point, but from the point of view of thinking, the use of AI in these cases is not negative, because in any case I would not be the one doing the thinking.

In conclusion, AI acts more like an amplifier. It magnifies existing habits. If a person wants to avoid thinking, AI can surely help with that. If the idea is the opposite, to get the other side, get contrary arguments, challenge the way we see things, and force us to go back to the books and study harder to be able to answer different challenges, AI can also help to develop that. What puts us on one side or another is the use or absence of critical thinking.

When we speak about critical thinking, there are four skills that have become essential when dealing with AI tools:

1- Analysis: This one is important in dealing with all types of information, but specifically with AI. We should be able to identify what the AI is missing, detect gaps, assumptions, etc. If it’s something outside my area of expertise, a good way to do that is to always ask it to provide references and check them at every step.

2- Logical thinking: How does A lead to B? Again, that’s an essential skill since the beginning of time, but the importance has increased with the popularization of AI. I have a problem, and an LLM may suggest a solution, but I should be able to analyze the steps that this solution involves, detect mistakes, improve things, and so on. Maybe the solution is completely bogus, and I will decide to just do it myself, or start again. This all depends on personal judgment. Without it, the AI becomes just an oracle, and we go back to the initial problem.

3- Judgment: This brings back to the idea of AI as an assistant. The AI is not the authority in this case; you are. As human beings, we are supposed to learn from superior sources, and then apply this knowledge. AI can feed us with additional information and offer additional challenges, but AIs are not living beings; they have no rational thinking; they just regurgitate information based on patterns and algorithms. You are the one who has to judge the validity and usefulness of it based on knowledge and realization you have acquired.

4- Systematic questioning: That’s an important one. Presume I need to use AI to figure out something I don’t know. How to avoid using it as an oracle? I can treat it as an unreliable source. In this case, I will not accept the first answer. I will keep questioning, ask for references, check them, pose arguments, explore different sides, try to understand what assumptions it’s making, study the canonical texts, etc. By following this process, I can come to know the subject, and the AI again becomes the assistant and not the oracle.

All of this takes energy and time, but that’s precisely the point. Without it, I become just a passive spectator who learns nothing and questions nothing. That’s the mistake many are making.

Read more:

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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In the 9th chapter of the Gītā, Kṛṣṇa describes three classes of worshipers who worship Him only indirectly:

jñāna-yajñena cāpy anye, yajanto mām upāsate
ekatvena pṛthaktvena, bahudhā viśvato-mukham

“Others, who engage in sacrifice by the cultivation of knowledge, worship the Supreme Lord as the one without a second, as diverse in many, and in the universal form.”

The first worships Him as a manifestation of the Absolute Truth, the second worships a demigod, and the third worships the universe itself. These three are different from the Māyāvādī, the ordinary demigod worshiper, and the ordinary materialist. They are sincere in their worship, but their knowledge is still imperfect.

The universe is Kṛṣṇa’s energy, but it is not directly His transcendental body. Similarly, the demigods are His representatives, and the worshiper himself, as a soul, is part and parcel of Kṛṣṇa, but again, they are not exactly the same.

Then, Kṛṣṇa returns to the devotees, who worship Him directly. To them, He promises:

ananyāś cintayanto māṁ, ye janāḥ paryupāsate
teṣāṁ nityābhiyuktānāṁ, yoga-kṣemaṁ vahāmy aham

“But those who always worship Me with exclusive devotion, meditating on My transcendental form – to them I carry what they lack, and I preserve what they have.”

Kṛṣṇa uses the words “vahāmy aham.” Aham means “I,” personally, and vahāmi means to carry a load. Taken literally, vahāmy aham means that He, in His transcendental form, personally carries what a devotee needs.

Arjunācārya, a great devotee from South India, once came to these words while writing a commentary on the Bhagavad-gītā. Because he was so devoted, the idea of the Lord personally carrying the burden of what is needed by His devotees was painful to him. He thus concluded that the carrying must be indirect, through some agents. He thus scratched the word vahāmy (I carry) in the manuscript and replaced it with karomi (I have it done), giving instead the idea that the carrying is performed by Kṛṣṇa’s agents.

Kṛṣṇa, however, to prove the point, came together with Balarama, the two carrying two heavy baskets of foodstuffs tied to the ends of a bamboo stick. Because Arjunācārya had so emphatically erased the words, Kṛṣṇa took the marks he made in the manuscript as a direct beating, and thus, when He came personally to His house, He acted as if afraid of Him, showing the wife cane marks on his back. Prabhupada tells this story personally in a lecture on Bg 9.20-22 given on December 7th, 1966, in New York:

“That’s a very nice story. When he was writing commentaries, oh, he thought, “How is that, the Lord will come Himself and deliver the goods? Oh, it is not possible. He might be sending through some agents.” So he wanted to cut vahāmy aham, “I bear the burden and deliver.” He wrote in a way that “I send some agent who delivers.” So that Arjunācārya went to take bath, and in the meantime two boys, very beautiful boys, They brought some very nice foodstuff, very large..., in large quantity. And in India there is a process to taking two sides burden on the bamboo. Just like a scale it is balanced.

So these two boys brought some very highly valuable foodstuff and grains and ghee and of the same, and his wife was there. And the boys said, “My dear mother, Arjunācārya has sent these goods to you. Please take delivery.” And “Oh, You are so nice boy, You are so beautiful boys, and he has given. And Ācārya is not so cruel. How is that? He has given so much burden to You, and he is not kind...?” “Oh, I was not taking; just see, he has beaten Me. Here is cane mark. Oh, see.” His wife became very much astonished, that “Ācārya is not so cruel. How he has become so cruel?”

So she was thinking in that way. Then “All right, my dear boys. You come on,” and gave Him shelter. And, “No. I shall go, because Arjunācārya again comes. He will chastise Us.” “No, no. You sit down, take foodstuff.” He [she] prepared foodstuff, and then They went away. And when Arjunācārya came back, then he saw that his wife is eating. Because it is the system of Indian family that after the husband has taken the food, the wife will take. So they don’t take together. After the family members—the boys and the husband—is sumptuously fed, then the housewife takes.”

“So the wife said, “Ācārya, you have become so much cruel nowadays?” “Oh, what is that?” “Now, two boys, very nice boys, They have brought so many foodstuff. You loaded on Their head, and They denied to take it, and you have beaten Them, chastised?” He said, “No. I have never done this. Why shall I do it?” Then she described, “Oh, such a nice, beautiful boy.” Then Arjunācārya understood that “Because I wanted that God does not deliver, so He has delivered these goods, and because I cut these alphabets that He does not give personally, so He has shown that beating mark.”

Śrīla Viśvanātha Cakravartī mentions that Kṛṣṇa accepts the work of maintaining his devotee as a burden of love, just as a householder maintains his own family. In other words, the maintenance of a devotee is not a fruit of his karma like in the case of others: a devotee who worships Kṛṣṇa with exclusive devotion is directly maintained by Kṛṣṇa. To sustain this point, he comments, explaining how Kṛṣṇa sees it:

“My pure ananya-bhaktas are niṣkāma (selfless), and because of this selfless nature, whatever bliss one sees in them is personally given by Me. Even though I am completely neutral, I give this bliss to My bhaktas because of My affection for them, and therefore I am called bhakta-vatsala, always affectionate to My devotees. It is incorrect to say that those devotees are lacking in love for Me because they give Me the responsibility of their maintenance and nourishment, for I willingly accept this responsibility even if they do not completely give it to Me. I am capable of creating all the universes merely by My will, so this is not a burden for Me. Furthermore, because I am attached to My devotees, it is a great pleasure to carry their burden, just as it is a pleasure for a man to carry the burden of maintaining a pleasing wife.”

There is, however, yet another meaning: “I carry what they lack, and I preserve what they have” is also applied in the spiritual sense. Kṛṣṇa preserves one’s spiritual advancement and helps the devotee to advance further, bringing what they still lack.

These two sides explain why devotees sometimes experience material difficulties. The Pāndavas, for example, were at some point extremely prosperous, having just subjugated opposing kings and constructed Indrapastha, their capital. They, however, lost everything, faced many difficulties living in exile, and in the end faced all the challenges of the battle of Kurukṣetra. Similarly, many other devotees face different types of difficulties. How to explain “I carry what they lack, and I preserve what they have” in this context?

The point is that Kṛṣṇa also considers the main priority of bringing His devotee back home, back to Godhead, and carries out what is lacking in this direction. Most of us still struggle with material desires, and thus we live in a situation where material facilities can pull us back into a materialistic life, hampering our progress. Everyone knows that an alcoholic who is trying to give up drinking has to stay away from alcohol, since even one sip can make him relapse. A good friend will thus refuse to supply him with drink, no matter how much he asks.

If a devotee cannot manage material facilities without relapsing into his old habits, Kṛṣṇa withdraws these facilities so he can come to Him and attain the supreme goal. Once one becomes fixed in devotion, then Kṛṣṇa can shower him with oppulences.

Once, Mahārāja Yudhiṣṭhira himself asked a similar question. Kṛṣṇa’s answer is described in the Kṛṣṇa Book, chapter 88:

“Lord Kṛṣṇa answered the question of Mahārāja Yudhiṣṭhira as follows: “If I especially favor a devotee and especially wish to care for him, the first thing I do is take away his riches. When the devotee becomes a penniless pauper or is put into a comparatively poverty-stricken position, his relatives and family members no longer take interest in him, and in most cases they give up their connection with him. The devotee then becomes doubly unhappy.” First of all the devotee becomes unhappy because his riches have been taken away by Kṛṣṇa, and he is made even more unhappy when his relatives desert him because of his poverty. We should note, however, that when a devotee falls into a miserable condition in this way, it is not due to past impious activities, known as karma-phala; the poverty of the devotee is a creation of the Personality of Godhead. Similarly, when a devotee becomes materially opulent, that is also not due to his pious activities. In either case, whether the devotee becomes poorer or richer, the arrangement is made by the Supreme Personality of Godhead. This arrangement is especially made by Kṛṣṇa for His devotee just to make him completely dependent upon Him and to free him from all material obligations. He can then concentrate his energies, mind and body – everything – for the service of the Lord, and that is pure devotional service.”

Later, in the same chapter, Prabhupāda concludes:

“It may be questioned why a devotee is put into such tribulation by the Personality of Godhead. The answer is that this kind of arrangement by the Lord is just like a father’s sometimes becoming unkind to his sons. Because the devotee is a surrendered soul and is taken charge of by the Supreme Lord, whatever condition of life the Lord puts him in – whether one of distress or of happiness – it is to be understood that behind this arrangement is a large plan designed by the Personality of Godhead.”

In this way, Kṛṣṇa personally preserves what a devotee has and carries what he lacks. Pure devotees have devotion in abundance, but they may sometimes lack material facilities. When that’s the case, Kṛṣṇa personally supplies that. Sincere devotees in the intermediate stage, conversely, may have material facilities due to past karma, but they may prevent them from advancing. In this case, Kṛṣṇa may take away these facilities so the devotee can develop the permanent asset of pure devotion to Him and live happily eternally, instead of continuing to struggle in the material world. A neophyte, on the other hand, may have some attraction to Kṛṣṇa, but this faith may be very unstable. In this case, Kṛṣṇa may shower him with material facilities when he comes to Him asking for material benefits, understanding that this will increase his faith. Sometimes, also, Kṛṣṇa uses pure devotees like the Pāṇḍavas or Prahlāda Maharaja to give us valuable examples of how a devotee should remain fixed, even in material difficulty, remaining focused on the final goal. As Prabhupāda mentions:

“When after the dense, dark night there is finally sunrise in the morning, it is very pleasant; when there is scorching heat, cold water is very pleasant; and when there is freezing winter, hot water is very pleasant. Similarly, when a devotee, after experiencing the distress of the material world, relishes the spiritual happiness awarded by the Lord, his position is still more pleasant and enjoyable.”

In this way, we can see Kṛṣṇa’s mercy appearing in different forms, according to what is necessary. This is the meaning of “I carry what they lack.”

Prabhupāda summarizes this conclusion of the protection of the Lord in his purport:

“One who is unable to live for a moment without Kṛṣṇa consciousness cannot but think of Kṛṣṇa twenty-four hours a day, being engaged in devotional service by hearing, chanting, remembering, offering prayers, worshiping, serving the lotus feet of the Lord, rendering other services, cultivating friendship and surrendering fully to the Lord. Such activities are all auspicious and full of spiritual potencies, which make the devotee perfect in self-realization, so that his only desire is to achieve the association of the Supreme Personality of Godhead. Such a devotee undoubtedly approaches the Lord without difficulty. This is called yoga. By the mercy of the Lord, such a devotee never comes back to this material condition of life. Kṣema refers to the merciful protection of the Lord. The Lord helps the devotee to achieve Kṛṣṇa consciousness by yoga, and when he becomes fully Kṛṣṇa conscious the Lord protects him from falling down to a miserable conditioned life.”

There is thus an intrinsic difference in taking shelter of Kṛṣṇa, even if imperfectly, and taking shelter of a demigod or any other material deity. Apart from Kṛṣṇa and His pure devotee, everyone else is under the onslaught of birth and death himself, and therefore cannot offer proper shelter to anyone, not materially, and much less spiritually.

One example in this direction is Hiraṇyakaśipu. After he performed his austerities, Brahmā himself appeared to him and offered blessings. Hiraṇyakaśipu asked for immortality, but Brahmā answered that he himself is not immortal, and therefore could not grant immortality. Hiraṇyakaśipu then asked for an elaborate set of boons, trying to close every different possibility of dying (not dying during the day or night, not inside or outside a house, not being killed by a man or animal, etc.), but in the end he was killed by Lord Nṛsiṁhadeva, who killed him in a situation that kept all the boons he received from Brahmā intact.

Therefore, all other classes of worshippers should come to Kṛṣṇa. As mentioned in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam (2.3.10):

akāmaḥ sarva-kāmo vā, mokṣa-kāma udāra-dhīḥ
tīvreṇa bhakti-yogena, yajeta puruṣaṁ param

“A person who has broader intelligence, whether he be full of all material desire, without any material desire, or desiring liberation, must by all means worship the supreme whole, the Personality of Godhead.”

Everyone, regardless of having material desires or not, desiring liberation or not, should come to the platform of devotional service to Kṛṣṇa. One may then become one of the four categories of devotees (the distressed, the desirer of wealth, the inquisitive, and he who is searching for knowledge of the Absolute) and from there advance further, gradually coming to the platform of pure devotional service, becoming one of the mahātmās Kṛṣṇa described in texts 9.13 and 9.14 of the Gītā.

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Originally, the divisions in the varṇāśrama system were based on qualifications rather than birth. Kṛṣṇa declares in the Bhagavad-gītā (4.13) that cātur-varṇyaṁ mayā sṛṣṭaṁ guṇa-karma-vibhāgaśaḥ: according to the three modes of material nature and the work associated with them, the four divisions of human society are created by Me.

However, with the advent of Kali-yuga, sectors of society started defending the division of classes based on hereditary rights, claiming that one can’t be a brāhmaṇa without being born of a brāhmaṇa father. This was one of the decisive factors in the destruction of Vedic culture, since the establishment of a hereditary system allows unqualified sons of brahmanas to assume the position of brahmanas and thus destroy the society from within.

According to them, if one is born in a degraded family, one has to take another birth in order to purify himself. Without changing one’s body, it’s not possible to become purified.

Vaiṣnava acaryas, however, energetically opposed this idea. Apart from the idea that a Vaiṣnava born into a sinful family can be initiated as a brāhmaṇa if he shows the proper qualifications, they argued that devotional service is transcendental and therefore not limited to any particular country, class, society, or circumstance. Any person can become a Vaiṣnava, whether he is born in a pious family in India or in a family of meat-eaters in the West. The point is not birth, but one’s commitment to the spiritual process of purification.

Supported by passages from the scriptures, they established the potency of the holy names and their capacity to elevate even the most sinful persons to the highest platform. Devotional service is thus open to all, being the constitutional occupation of the living entities, and once one becomes purified by the practice of devotional service, one becomes automatically qualified as a brāhmaṇa, since a Vaiṣnava is by definition superior to an ordinary brāhmaṇa. A brāhmaṇa is considered superior to the other classes for being established in the mode of goodness, a position that is superseded by a pure Vaiṣnava. As Prabhupada mentions:

“Anyone who is a pure Vaiṣnava is situated transcendentally, and therefore the highest qualification in the material world, namely, to be in the mode of goodness, has already been achieved by such a person.”

Apart from caste brāhmaṇas, another class that was vocal about hereditary privileges was the caste goswamis, who claimed to be the only ones qualified to act as spiritual masters and worship in the temples. On NoD 5, for example, Prabhupada mentions the Nityānanda-vaṁśa:

“In the Middle Ages, after the disappearance of Lord Caitanya’s great associate Lord Nityānanda, a class of priestly persons claimed to be the descendants of Nityānanda, calling themselves the gosvāmī caste. They further claimed that the practice and spreading of devotional service belonged only to their particular class, which was known as Nityānanda-vaṁśa. In this way, they exercised their artificial power for some time, until Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura, the powerful ācārya of the Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇava sampradāya, completely smashed their idea. There was a great hard struggle for some time, but it has turned out successfully, and it is now correctly and practically established that devotional service is not restricted to a particular class of men.”

These are not just empty words but authorized conclusions supported by a host of passages from the scriptures.

In the Padma Purāṇa, the sage Vasiṣṭha tells King Dilīpa:

“My dear King, everyone has the right to execute devotional service, just as he has the right to take early bath in the month of Māgha [December-January].”

In the Kāśī-khaṇḍa portion of the Skanda Purāṇa, it’s mentioned

“In the country known as Mayūradhvaja, the lower-caste people, who are considered less than śūdras, are also initiated in the Vaiṣnava cult of devotional service. And when they are properly dressed, with tilaka on their bodies and beads in their hands and on their necks, they appear to be coming from Vaikuṇṭha. In fact, they look so very beautiful that immediately they surpass the ordinary brāhmaṇas.”

In his Hari-bhakti-vilāsa, Sanātana Gosvāmī gives an analogy, stating that any person who is properly initiated as a Vaiṣnava certainly becomes a brāhmaṇa, just as bell metal is turned into gold by a mixture of mercury. Śrila Rupa Goswami, however, adds that initiation is just the beginning, since one who doesn’t follow the rules and regulations after initiation will become fallen again.

Unfortunately, caste privileges are something that is very profoundly and deeply rooted in Indian culture since they were practiced for many centuries. We can’t also forget that the soul is never destroyed, and therefore the same caste brāhmaṇas and caste Goswamis who were oppressing the other classes in previous centuries are still around in new bodies, and many may be found even inside our movement, finding other groups to oppress, like women. Therefore, we need to remain always vigilant to avoid letting our movement degenerate back into a system of classes and privileges.

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In the ninth chapter of the Gītā, Kṛṣṇa mentions that:

“Fools deride Me when I descend in the human form. They do not know My transcendental nature as the Supreme Lord of all that be.
Those who are thus bewildered are attracted by demonic and atheistic views. In that deluded condition, their hopes for liberation, their fruitive activities, and their culture of knowledge are all defeated.”

In his purport to the first verse, Prabhupāda bashes the Māyāvādīs, who conclude that Kṛṣṇa has a material body.

Māyāvādīs study the scriptures, especially the Vedānta-sūtra and Upaniṣads, and accept Brahman as the ultimate reality. However, they understand this Supreme Brahman as impersonal, formless, and without qualities. The problem with this conclusion is that many passages in the scriptures, starting from the Gītā itself, describe the Lord as having a form, qualities, desires, and activities. To counteract that, they create another misguided theory on top of the first, arguing that there are two manifestations of Brahman: nirguṇa Brahman and saguṇa Brahman.

According to them, nirguṇa Brahman is the original formless and qualityless Brahman, while saguṇa Brahman is a lower manifestation associated with māyā. From this idea, they conclude that when Kṛṣṇa appears in this world, He not only accepts a material form and qualities, but performs material activities under the influence of the material modes. When we consider this conclusion, however, the logical problem becomes evident: if Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Brahman, becomes covered by māyā when He appears, this means that māyā can overpower Kṛṣṇa. In other words, their conclusion is that the subordinate energy becomes greater than its controller. Māyāvādīs also study the Bhagavad-gītā, but we can see that their philosophy directly contradicts what Kṛṣṇa just explained in text 9.10.

Kṛṣṇa explains that the material nature works under His direction, but the Māyāvādī concludes that the same subordinate energy becomes the cause of Kṛṣṇa’s body and places Him under its laws. That’s why we call them Māyāvādīs: their philosophy concludes that māyā is greater than God.

In his purport to 9.12, however, Prabhupāda mentions something else:

“There are many devotees who assume themselves to be in Kṛṣṇa consciousness and devotional service but at heart do not accept the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Kṛṣṇa, as the Absolute Truth. For them, the fruit of devotional service – going back to Godhead – will never be tasted. Similarly, those who are engaged in fruitive pious activities and who are ultimately hoping to be liberated from this material entanglement will never be successful either, because they deride the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Kṛṣṇa.”

Who are these devotees who do not accept Kṛṣṇa as the Absolute Truth? One particularly dangerous example is a certain class of sahajiyās. While worshipping Kṛṣṇa, they adhere to the Māyāvādī conclusion that behind Kṛṣṇa there is the impersonal Brahman. This may sound surprising, but it appears as a natural consequence.

The Māyāvāda philosophy offers some semblance of transcendence by speaking of the Absolute Truth, emphasizing detachment and austerity and so on. The problem is that all of this is very dry. How much pleasure can a person obtain by endlessly speculating on the meaning of the words of the Vedānta-sūtra while fasting and sleeping on the ground? Some may remain satisfied with this, but others start hankering for some taste. They then face a problem: the pastimes of Kṛṣṇa (whom they call the “saguṇa Brahman”) are extraordinarily attractive. What happens then when we combine attraction to Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes with the idea of being ultimately one with Him? This combination produces the essential sahajiyā mentality: instead of serving Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes, one tries to imitate them.

When a devotee who understands the purity of Kṛṣṇa and accepts His supremacy hears about His pastimes, the consequence is spiritual attraction. One does not envy Kṛṣṇa, but comes to love Him. One then develops the desire to perform some form of service to facilitate these pastimes. That’s how a devotee eventually comes to the position of joining Kṛṣṇa in His eternal pastimes to serve Him eternally.

A Māyāvādi, however, does nothing to treat the root of the problem, which is his envy of Kṛṣṇa. On the contrary, he fuels it by considering Him an ordinary man, while simultaneously believing himself to be one with Him. The consequence then is:

Putting oneself in the position of an enjoyer, one gradually becomes some form of bogus guru, who pretends to be transcendental while at the same time taking advantage of women who accept him as spiritually advanced, performing so-called pastimes with them.

A pure devotee does not desire to enjoy materially, because he is absorbed in the understanding of Kṛṣṇa as the supreme enjoyer. Such a devotee simply wants to bring everything enjoyable to Him. When he cooks, he cooks for Kṛṣṇa. When he chants, he chants to give Kṛṣṇa pleasure. If he accepts disciples, it is with the goal of bringing these souls to Kṛṣṇa. In this way, his existence is based on genuinely giving, not taking.

A sahajiyā, on the contrary, sees himself as the enjoyer. Externally, he may imitate devotional practices, but internally he sees himself as the center, the enjoyer, which leads to the development of an exploitative mentality, that culminates in unscrupulous or even predatory relationships with followers. This also explains why such imitators often appear more saintly to the uneducated than genuine pure devotees: they deliberately try to fit into the stereotype of a sādhu to attract followers, while a genuine pure devotee has no such concern.

Prabhupāda mentions this point in chapter 33 of the Kṛṣṇa Book:

“There is a distinction between Lord Kṛṣṇa’s dancing with the gopīs and the ordinary dancing of living entities within the material world. In order to clear up further misconceptions about the rāsa dance and the affairs of Kṛṣṇa and the gopīs, Mahārāja Parīkṣit, the hearer of Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, told Śukadeva Gosvāmī, “Kṛṣṇa appeared on the earth to establish the regulative principles of religion and to curb the predominance of irreligion. But the behavior of Kṛṣṇa and the gopīs might encourage irreligious principles in the material world. I am simply surprised that He would act in such a way, enjoying the company of others’ wives in the dead of night.” This statement of Mahārāja Parīkṣit’s was very much appreciated by Śukadeva Gosvāmī. The answer anticipates the abominable acts of the Māyāvādī impersonalists who place themselves in the position of Kṛṣṇa and enjoy the company of young girls and women.”

The word “sahajiyā” is used in different senses, starting with more or less innocent people who just take the devotional process cheaply, but here we are speaking about this particularly dangerous type.

This brings us again to the point of sambandha. When the philosophical foundation is incorrect, the practice is misguided, and the supreme goal is not attained. A devotee understands that he is the eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa, who is completely pure and transcendental. Based on this foundation, one hears Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes and understands His supreme position. Gradually, one becomes disinterested in material enjoyment and becomes fixed on the spiritual platform. The Māyāvādī, on the other hand, believes that he is one with Kṛṣṇa. Thus, as long as he hears Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes through this Māyāvādī conception, his envy of Kṛṣṇa is reinforced rather than cured, and he desires to become Him. His practice then becomes some form of sensual imitation of Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes. The goal is then never reached.

As Prabhupāda warns in his purport to text 3.24:

“Lord Śiva drank poison to the extent of swallowing an ocean, but if any common man tries to drink even a fragment of such poison, he will be killed. There are many pseudo devotees of Lord Śiva who want to indulge in smoking gañjā (marijuana) and similar intoxicating drugs, forgetting that by so imitating the acts of Lord Śiva they are calling death very near. Similarly, there are some pseudo devotees of Lord Kṛṣṇa who prefer to imitate the Lord in His rāsa-līlā, or dance of love, forgetting their inability to lift Govardhana Hill.”

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In his Jaiva Dharma, Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thakura mentions that a Vaiṣnava who is a brahmana should preferentially accept a spiritual master who is also a brahmana by varna. He also recommends that Vaiṣnavas should marry within their own varna. A brahmana boy should thus preferentially marry a brahmana girl and so on. Some consider these passages a concession to the caste brahmanas which were common at the time, but it is not the case.

The Jaiva Dharma is not a book of fiction penned by Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thakura but a real history that happened a few decades after the disappearance of Sri Caitanya Mahaprabhu, much like the Brhad Bhagavatamrta, which also narrates a true history, although it describes events that happened a very long time ago. The events of the Jaiva Dharma may have happened on this planet or in some other universe, but it doesn’t make much of a difference. Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thakura was thus narrating events from the past and not penning a fiction story written according to the fashion in vogue.

Such passages that appear to suggest the observation of a resemblance of the caste system among Vaiṣnavas are actually a set of common-sense recommendations for Vaiṣnavas that are still operating under the three modes of nature.

It happens that human relationships are strongly dependent on a common culture. It’s very difficult to maintain an intimate relationship with a person who has cultural values too different from ours. A girl growing up in a traditional braḥmana family, trained in all the scriptures and standards, would have difficulty being the wife of an unrefined factory worker, even if both are devotees. For a marriage to work out, the bride and groom must share similar values and a similar culture; therefore, the recommendation of marrying within the same varna. In the book, we can see that, although already very advanced in bhakti by that stage, Vrajanatha marries a girl of a similar social position through a brahmana matchmaker who took into consideration astrology and other factors.

The exception, of course, is if both are pure Vaiṣṇavas; in this case, other factors become irrelevant. This is a point emphasized by Śrila Prabhupada. In SB 2.6.26, for example, he mentions:

“The custom in Vedic society is to examine the horoscopes of a girl and boy being considered for marriage to see whether their combination is suitable. Vedic astrology reveals whether one has been born in the vipra-varṇa, kṣatriya-varṇa, vaiśya-varṇa or śūdra-varṇa, according to the three qualities of material nature. This must be examined because a marriage between a boy of the vipra-varṇa and a girl of the śūdra-varṇa is incompatible; married life would be miserable for both husband and wife. Consequently a boy should marry a girl of the same category. Of course, this is trai-guṇya, a material calculation according to the Vedas, but if the boy and girl are devotees there need be no such considerations. A devotee is transcendental, and therefore in a marriage between devotees, the boy and girl form a very happy combination.”

Similarly, to follow a spiritual master, one must have great faith and respect for him. If one considers himself superior to the spiritual master in any way, this is going to put a significant strain on the relationship. Someone who comes from a braḥmana family and rigidly follows braḥminical standards will almost inevitably have a certain pride. Such a person is thus advised to accept a spiritual master from a similar background, whom he can easily surrender to. It doesn’t thus have to do with the qualification of the spiritual master but with the material conditioning of the disciple.

An example of this found in the book itself is Lahiri Mahasaya accepting Vaiṣnava dāsa as his guru because he was also a braḥmana by caste. At that point, there were other more senior Vaiṣnavas in the meeting, but Lahiri became attracted to the sadhu who had a similar material background. He himself made the choice based on his material conditioning, but it was blessed by Paramahansa Babaji, who saw it as a good combination according to Lahiri Mahasaya’s material conceptions at the time.

Another point is about the reaction of other people in society (customary behavior). In general, Vaiṣnavas avoid breaking with social etiquette unless necessary, thus avoiding unnecessary disturbances. In some cases, we may have to go against flawed social norms, but we don’t do this indiscriminately. Therefore, we may follow social customs in traditional societies if such customs don’t directly go against Vaiṣnava values. This is explained in the book itself:

“Vaiṣṇava dāsa said, “Humans have two types of activity: material and spiritual. Even attaining qualification, one cannot perform material activities. A person born as a yavana may develop the nature of a pure brāhmaṇa and is thus a brāhmaṇa from the spiritual perspective. However, he has no qualification for material activities such as marrying a brāhmaṇa girl.”

Cūḍāmaṇi said, “Why not? What is the fault if he does marry a brāhmaṇa girl?”

Vaiṣṇava dāsa said, “If a person performs acts contrary to custom, there is a fault in customary behavior. Persons who respect customary behavior in society and are proud of that will not accept such contrary acts. Though one may have a spiritual qualification, one’s acts may not agree with customary behavior.”

A similar point made in the book is that when we compare two Vaiṣnavas of similar status, one following varnasrama and the other not, the one who follows varnasrama is considered better. The point here is that one following varnasrama is living a pious life, following the principles of dharma, which is favorable for his devotional service, while another who is not following the principles of varnasrama is probably still living a sinful life, which is detrimental to his spiritual development. A devotee living in a spiritual community who wakes up early to go to mangala-artik and chant his rounds, who is following all the principles, and so on, is on a much more solid path than a devotee who is working in a factory and living an unregulated life. Even if both have been following for a similar time and appear to be similar in other aspects, the one who is rigidly following the rules and regulations has a better foundation in his practice and can thus be considered superior. This is also common sense.

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In the Bhagavad-gītā 11.32, we find a passage that can sound bewildering. After showing His powerful universal form to Arjuna, Kṛṣṇa says:

kālo ’smi loka-kṣaya-kṛt pravṛddho

Time I am, the great destroyer of the worlds.

Similarly, in 10.34, He mentions:

mṛtyuḥ sarva-haraś cāham

I am all-devouring death.

We normally see Kṛṣṇa as the most beautiful person, the unlimitedly merciful well-wisher of His devotees, and the supreme object of love for all pure souls. We may then have difficulty in relating this beautiful personal form of God with such destructive aspects of nature.

This, however, is the product of a misunderstanding. When a child discovers that his father is an MMA champion, this doesn’t make him fearful. On the contrary, it makes the boy more confident in the protection of his father. However, when a street thug who is picking on the boy discovers the same truth the hard way, that’s terrifying.

In the same way, Kṛṣṇa appearing as Nṛsiṁhadeva to save Prahlāda was terrifying for Hiraṇyakaśipu, who was threatening Him, but supremely merciful to the devoted Prahlāda. Ultimately, however, Hiraṇyakaśipu was also benefited, attaining liberation after two more lives. Nṛsiṁhadeva was thus merciful to both; His mercy was simply interpreted differently due to the difference in their consciousness.

Kṛṣṇa, as the Supreme Lord, is the possessor of all potencies, and this includes both the beautiful and terrifying aspects. Kṛṣṇa’s potency is one, but it is experienced differently according to our relationship with Him. The same Supreme Lord who is the beloved protector of His devotee appears as all-devouring death to one who rejects His authority to create the possibility of change in one’s next lives.

A good example is Robert G. Ingersoll (1833–1899), an American agnostic, lawyer, and public lecturer. He became famous for giving public speeches attacking Christianity and people’s belief in God.

In one of these lectures, he challenged, “I’ll give God a chance to prove that He exists and is almighty. I challenge Him to strike me dead within 5 minutes!”

As expected, nothing happened. Kṛṣṇa tolerated the 100 offenses of Śiśupāla. Five minutes are not enough to exhaust His patience. Ingersoll, however, misunderstood the situation. Instead of realizing his impotency in manipulating God’s will, he took it as a sign of victory and declared, “See! There is no God. I am still very much alive.”

Ingersoll could keep his audience entertained for five minutes, but he could not dictate a meeting time to God. Eventually, however, his appointed time came, and the Lord appeared in the form no atheist can deny: death.

Time is a manifestation of Kṛṣṇa because it is extremely powerful and inescapable. Everything that is material decays due to the passage of time. People become old, objects become worn-out and rusty. Time forces us to confront the temporality of this world and eventually compels us to move on.

Similarly, death is the force no one can escape. Even though most people prefer to forget about it and imagine death will never come, at least intellectually we understand that everyone must die one day. This even enters our language in the form of expressions such as “as sure as death.”

There is, however, a difference between the way a materialist relates to these two powerful forces and the way a devotee relates to them.

For a materialist, death is terrifying because it comes to take everything he is attached to: his riches, his real estate, relatives, and friends, and even his own body. Everything he worked so hard to build and maintain is taken away at death. Time is no less terrifying. Death may be taken as something abstract that will only come in a distant future, but the effects of time are constant with us, taking away our youth, our vitality, our beauty, our health, and so on.

For a devotee, things are very different. A devotee understands the temporality of this world and its shortcomings. He or she does not hate it. He can appreciate its beauty and accept his role in it. A devotee can thus dutifully maintain a family, be a responsible employer or employee, and so on. There are three essential differences, however.

The first is that a devotee understands the relationship of this world with Kṛṣṇa. He or she does not try, thus, to exploit it. He sees the world as Kṛṣṇa’s energy, which should be used for Him. A devotee plays thus his role in it, while trying to connect the energy and the energetic, offering everything to Kṛṣṇa.

The second point is that a devotee understands that this world is temporary and thus does not become excessively attached to it. We may speak with people on a train, perhaps even make friends, but when our station comes, we do not lament. The fact that the trip will last just a few minutes or hours does not make us insensitive to people around us. It does not prevent us from forming relationships and trying to positively influence them. It just puts everything into perspective.

The third point is that a devotee understands that this is not our original home and thus does not lament when the time to depart comes. On the contrary, a devotee welcomes it, understanding that death is the time for moving to the real home, the start of an eternal existence of spiritual bliss with Kṛṣṇa in the spiritual world.

Prabhupāda gives us an instructive example. A cat carries both mice and her kittens in her mouth, but the situation is vastly different. A mouse sees itself in the jaws of death and becomes terrified, while the kitten feels perfectly safe and comfortable, understanding that mother is just moving it to another place.

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If you are not following, it’s not too late. You can start from the first lesson and try to catch up. If you keep following the lessons, in a few months you will have studied the entire Gītā in detail and gained a clear understanding of its conclusions. The Bhagavad-gītā is one of the most important books we can study, and properly understanding it can have a profound transformative effect on our spiritual lives. The course is open to everyone.

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Another piece of news: I just uploaded the current manuscript of the second volume, including the completed chapters seven and eight. Subscribers can also check the current manuscript and see how the second volume is progressing.

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If you prefer, you can also get the printed book. Same material, but in a convenient format. The first part of the trilogy is already available on Amazon:
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Here is everything we have in the course up to now:

+ Why would one want to study the Bhagavad-gītā?

+ How to use this book

+ Introduction: The conclusions of the Bhagavad-gītā

• The essential qualification to understand the Gītā

• Understanding the Absolute Truth

• The 21 essential conclusions of the Bhagavad-gītā

• The Gītā-māhātmya

• The disciplic succession: the key to understanding the scriptures

+ CHAPTER ONE: Observing the armies on the battlefield of Kurukṣetra (Arjuna-viṣāda yoga)

• Setting the scene of the Gītā (Bg 1.1)

• Duryodhana speaks to Droṇācārya (Bg 1.2 to 1.9)

• The political game before the battle (Bg 1.10 and 1.11)

• Signs of victory: the sounding of the conchshells (Bg 1.12 to 1.19)

• Arjuna orders Kṛṣṇa (Bg 1.20 to 1.23)

• Arjuna sees the armies, and his heart shatters (Bg 1.24 to 1.27)

• Arjuna feels compassion and fear (Bg 1.28 to 1.29)

• The result of material attachment (Bg 1.30)

• Arjuna’s reasons for not fighting (Bg 1.31 to 1.39)

• How unwanted progeny destroys society (Bg 1.40 to 1.43)

• Arjuna decides not to fight (Bg 1.44 and 1.45)

• The perfect opportunity (Bg 1.46)

• Summary of the first chapter of the Gītā

+ CHAPTER TWO: Contents of the Gītā Summarized (Sānkhya-yoga)

• Kṛṣṇa speaks to Arjuna as a friend (Bg 2.1 to 2.3)

• Arjuna’s doubts persist (Bg 2.4 to 2.6)

• The moment of surrender (Bg 2.7 to 2.9)

• Descendant of Bharata (Bg 2.10)

• Kṛṣṇa assumes a new role and chastises Arjuna (Bg 2.11)

• Knowledge about the soul (Bg 2.12 and 2.13)

• Beyond temporary happiness and distress (Bg 2.14 and 2.15)

• The eternal and the temporary (Bg 2.16)

• The true nature of the soul (Bg 2.17 to 2.21)

• More about the qualities of the soul (Bg 2.22 to 2.25)

• Kṛṣṇa argues from the atheistic perspective (Bg 2.26 to 2.28)

• The amazing people who can see the amazing soul (Bg 2.29 and 2.30)

• Do thou fight for the sake of fighting (Bg 2.31 to 2.38)

• Kṛṣṇa explains the path of buddhi-yoga (Bg 2.39 to 2.41)

• Rejecting aparā-vidyā (Bg 2.42 to 2.46)

• You have a right to perform your duty, but not to enjoy the fruits (Bg 2.47 to 2.53)

• Four questions: The characteristics of a pure devotee (Bg 2.54)

• Q1: What are his symptoms? (Bg 2.55)

• Q2: How does he speak? (Bg 2.56 and 2.57)

• Q3: How does he sit? (Bg 2.58 to 2.63)

• Q4: How does he walk? (Bg 2.64 to 2.72)

• Wrapping it all up

• Summary of the second chapter of the Gītā

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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Here is a very interesting question raised by Mahmoud Etemadi about the relationship with the Deity we discussed in yesterday’s article:

“I was struck by your sentence, “There is thus a moment when we make this switch in our minds. Now it’s not a statue anymore; now it’s the Lord.”

Suppose I have a photograph of my father who has passed away. I may place it somewhere special, speak to him through it, remember him intensely, and feel his presence very deeply. The photograph may become sacred to me because of the relationship and meaning invested in it.

But it would be a very different claim to say that at some particular moment my father actually entered the photograph, so that it was no longer merely a photograph but had objectively become my father.

If Kṛṣṇa is already present everywhere, even within every atom, what exactly changes when a murti becomes a Deity? Is the change primarily in the consciousness, intention, and relationship of the worshiper, or does something objectively change in the form itself? If the latter, what is the basis for knowing that this ontological change has actually taken place?”

This question touches an important point I should clarify in yesterday’s article. When I spoke about a “switch in our minds,” I did not mean that our consciousness transforms a statue into Kṛṣṇa. The change in our consciousness is our recognition that Kṛṣṇa has manifested in that particular form and is personally receiving our service.

There is a difference between Kṛṣṇa present everywhere and Kṛṣṇa present as the Deity, a form that He has specifically agreed to accept. My father never becomes a photograph; the photo is something that reminds me of my father, but it will never become my father as a person. They always remain different. More importantly, my father has no power to make himself personally present through the photograph. Kṛṣṇa does. That’s the main difference.

In the case of Kṛṣṇa, everything is Kṛṣṇa in a sense, because everything is made of His energy. In this sense, a pure devotee sees Kṛṣṇa everywhere. However, this doesn’t mean a stone is the same as Kṛṣṇa in His personal form, as He explains in the Gītā (9.4-5):

“By Me, in My unmanifested form, this entire universe is pervaded. All beings are in Me, but I am not in them. And yet everything that is created does not rest in Me. Behold My mystic opulence! Although I am the maintainer of all living entities and although I am everywhere, I am not a part of this cosmic manifestation, for My Self is the very source of creation.”

At first, this sentence may appear contradictory, but it just reveals a delicate concept. Everything comes from the energy of Kṛṣṇa, and therefore everything is Kṛṣṇa in a sense, but at the same time, Kṛṣṇa is not reducible to any individual manifestation of His energy. The energy and the energetic are simultaneously one and different. Therefore, although Kṛṣṇa is present everywhere and everything rests on Him, we can’t worship a regular stone or log of wood as Kṛṣṇa; this would be idolatry, or pantheism.

Kṛṣṇa, however, has a very special characteristic that no ordinary person has: He can be present in many different places simultaneously, and accept many different forms. He appears millions of times during the history of the universe in the form of many different incarnations, like puruṣa avatāras, guna avatāras, manvantara avatāras, śaktyāveśa avatāras and so on, and He is simultaneously present in innumerable forms in every other universe, apart from all spiritual planets. Similarly, when He so desires, He can manifest Himself in the form of a particular Deity to accept the service of His devotees.

The example given in this case is that this form becomes like a red-hot bar of metal.

An iron bar placed in fire acquires the qualities of fire and can burn anything it touches. Similarly, although the form of the Deity may originally be made from stone, wood, metal, paint, or other material elements, when Kṛṣṇa manifests Himself in that form, it is no longer ordinary matter. Śrīla Prabhupāda explicitly explains that when the Lord manifests, “it is no longer a physical form.” When a devotee worships the Deity, he or she associates with Kṛṣṇa, and thus becomes infused with Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

How does a stone become the Deity? What is exactly the process? When exactly does the change happen?

A stone is not Kṛṣṇa. A sculptor can shape this stone in the form of Kṛṣṇa, but just shaping it in His image still does not make it Kṛṣṇa. It becomes the arcā-vigraha when Kṛṣṇa accepts that form as His own manifestation in response to the prayers and desire of His devotees. That’s the moment Kṛṣṇa reveals Himself.

This distinction is important. No one can force Kṛṣṇa to appear in a statue, and no one can manufacture Kṛṣṇa by performing a ritual. A devotee simply invites Him to mercifully accept a form through which the devotee can serve Him. Because Kṛṣṇa is omnipotent, He can agree to do so.

In an installation ceremony, the tradition is that the forms remain blindfolded as they are bathed with yogurt and other auspicious substances and other rites are performed.

The forms are ceremonially bathed with auspicious substances, mantras are chanted, a fire yajña may be performed, and the devotees formally invite the Lord to accept the form and their service. When the process is concluded, the eyes of the Deity are opened, and the blindfolds are removed. That’s the moment when Kṛṣṇa is accepted as personally being present there. From this moment, the Deity is worshiped, dressed, offered nice preparations, devotees sing for Him, offer prayers, and so on. Now Kṛṣṇa is there, and He is listening.

However, saying that Kṛṣṇa “enters the statue” can be misleading if taken too literally. Kṛṣṇa was never absent. As Paramātmā, He is already present within every atom. What changes is not His geographical presence, but the way He chooses to manifest Himself there. Before installation, He is present in the same general sense in which He is present everywhere. As the arcā-vigraha, He makes Himself specifically available as the object of personal worship and service: devotees can bathe Him, dress Him, offer Him food, decorate Him, speak to Him, and serve Him personally.

Therefore, the change is objective; it is real, it is not just something in the devotee’s mind, but it is not a material transformation that can be detected by analyzing the stone in a laboratory. It is not about atoms changing into something else. What changes is the personal presence of Kṛṣṇa there, accepting our offerings. Our consciousness does not create this spiritual reality; what happens during the installation ceremony is that our consciousness learns to recognize it.

That’s why a Deity can be installed even without an elaborate ceremony. Śrīla Prabhupāda sometimes installed Deities through very simple ceremonies centered on kīrtana and worship. The power is not in the ritual, but in the sincerity of the devotees involved. That’s what makes Kṛṣṇa inclined to accept a form.

One can press further, questioning what the test is to make sure Kṛṣṇa is present in a Deity. Here we come to the limitations of empiricism in studying what is spiritual. A laboratory can analyze the material composition of the Deity, but it cannot measure Kṛṣṇa manifested there in His spiritual form, much less His spiritual reciprocation with His devotees.

A devotee can see Kṛṣṇa in the Deity, because Kṛṣṇa reveals Himself to the devotee because of his devotion. A devotee will thus develop a personal relationship with the Deity. He will talk with the Deity, offer prayers, and so on, and at each step receive reciprocation. An atheist, however, will see just a statue, because Kṛṣṇa will remain covered to him.

This does not mean that the Deity becomes Kṛṣṇa for the devotee and turns back into stone when an atheist enters the temple. The identity of the Deity does not depend on the consciousness of the observer. What depends on our consciousness is how much of His presence Kṛṣṇa allows us to perceive. As He mentions in the Gītā:

“I am never manifest to the foolish and unintelligent. For them I am covered by My internal potency, and therefore they do not know that I am unborn and infallible.”

This brings us back to the example of the photograph. A photograph becomes special to me because I invest it with meaning. However, it remains only a representation of the person. If my father passed away, a photograph will not bring him back. With the Deity, the direction is reversed. My consciousness does not make Kṛṣṇa present. Kṛṣṇa first agrees to manifest Himself through the arcā-vigraha, and I then gradually learn to recognize and relate to the Person who is present there.

That is the real meaning of the “switch in our minds”: not transforming a statue into God, but ceasing to see the form through which God has chosen to reveal Himself as ordinary matter.

Replacing the Deity

Another interesting question, from Shamdai Sivnanden:

“I was asked if a broken Deity can still be worshiped. I did not believe so, and replied no; it should be replaced. Then I was bombarded with questions: why, if it has been imbued with life, couldn’t it still be worshiped? Why not, as we don’t discard a family member with a broken arm? How to answer these questions, and was I correct in saying no?”

This is another point that may seem confusing and contradictory. If something happens and the form of the Deity is somehow seriously damaged, like an arm being broken, the form is usually replaced. This may sound very contradictory, because it seems that now the Deity is again seen as a statue instead of a person. It, however, again shows the difference between Kṛṣṇa and an ordinary person.

If my brother loses an arm, I can’t give Him a new body. He will continue living in the armless body until the end of his life, and I will continue associating with him in this form. Kṛṣṇa, however, has no such limitation. He can assume a new form. The devotees have thus the responsibility of properly maintaining the form of the Deity, and, if necessary, ask Kṛṣṇa to accept a new form, since it is not proper to ask Kṛṣṇa to stand on the altar without an arm. Properly maintaining the form through which Kṛṣṇa accepts our service is itself part of Deity worship.

One example is the worship of Lord Jagannātha in Puri. Once per year, the Deities are restored during the Anavasara, and every 8 to 19 years, when the lunar calendar contains two months of Āṣāḍha, the complete forms are replaced in the Nabakalebara. Lord Jagannātha, Baladeva and Subadrā receive new bodies, and the old forms are buried in another elaborate ceremony.

This ceremony illustrates an essential point: the physical form does not constitute the identity of the Deity. The Deity is Kṛṣṇa Himself, and His form is fully spiritual. Kṛṣṇa can accept a new form, and it is still the same Deity. It is thus not a “new Kṛṣṇa” or a “new Jagannatha.” Rather, it is the same Kṛṣṇa accepting the service of His devotees through a new form.

It is, however, not a hard and fast rule that the form must be completely replaced. Often it can be simply repaired. One example is the Deities of Śrī Śrī Rādhā-London-Īśvara. Rādhārāṇī had a small chip in Her finger, and Śrīla Prabhupāda specifically arranged to have it repaired before the Deities were installed. You can read the story here.

Read more:

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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Deity worship is one of the pillars of Kṛṣṇa consciousness. The whole spiritual process we follow is based on cultivating a personal relationship with God, breaking with the widespread mentality of seeing God as an order supplier. Instead of simply asking Kṛṣṇa to fulfill our ambitions, we try to offer some service to Him. Any real relationship is a two-way street; if we never do anything for our friend, the relationship will never be true friendship. With God it is not different. A devotee tries to realize that.

However, how can we serve God? There are certainly many indirect ways to do that, but what about personally serving God, just as we may serve a friend? Is this even possible? This is where we come to the beauty of deity worship. We can’t see Kṛṣṇa in His spiritual form with our current eyes, much less touch Him with our current hands, but because we have some sincerity in serving Him, He appears in a form we can see and touch, as a deity composed of wood, metal, or stone. His form is still fully spiritual but manifested in a way we can see.

Here, however, we come to an essential distinction. There is an essential difference between worshipping a statue as Kṛṣṇa and worshipping Kṛṣṇa when He personally appears in the form of a statue. The first is idol worship, clearly condemned in the scriptures. The other is deity process, the authorized process that can bring us to Him. To understand the difference is one very essential part of our spiritual path.

Devotees tend to call deities that are not installed as “murtis”. So, what is the difference between a “deity” and a “murti”? This question is actually more difficult than it may seem.

Christians and Muslims are, in general, very opposed to idol worship. It is very clearly condemned in their scriptures. What we may not realize is that the same is found in our teachings. Caitanya Mahaprabhu was also very strongly opposed to it, just as our previous acaryas. Idol worship is as condemned in our culture as it is in Christianity and Islam.

Vaiṣnavism, however, offers a higher understanding. The deity is not an idol, but the personal form of God. Not only are Kṛṣṇa and His form not different (just as Kṛṣṇa and His name, His pastimes, and so on), but Kṛṣṇa is present in His energy, up to the smallest atom. If Kṛṣṇa is non-different from His form and He is already present in material elements anyway, it’s not difficult for Him to manifest in the form of the deity.

In many of His purports, Śrila Prabhupada explains how deity worship is essential to break with impersonalism. We can practically see that followers of cultures that don’t practice deity worship tend to think that God doesn’t have a form.

It’s easy thus to understand what a deity is. A deity is Kṛṣṇa Himself, manifested in a form that we can see. However, what is a “murti”?

Well, that’s a little more complicated. The word “murti” means “statue” in Sanskrit, nothing more, nothing less. Sometimes “murti” can be used in the sense of “deity” or “form,” but often, in the modern context, we use the word differently, to describe a “non-installed deity”.

Once, visiting a small community of devotees, someone asked if it was more important to worship the “murtis” at the temple or the “deities” he had at home. I was puzzled by the question and asked what he meant.

He explained that the deities in the temple were not installed; they were just “murtis”, while his deities at home were “installed”. This devotee was engaged in both worshiping in the temple and at home, but somehow in his mind he was making such a distinction. He believed that he was worshiping statues at the temple and deities at home. I found this quite inappropriate. If one believes the deities are just “murtis”, or statues, then why is he worshiping them? We are not idol worshipers. If one believes it is simply a statue, he should not worship it. If they are simply statues, then put them in a box, or maybe in the corridor. If, however, one understands that they should be worshiped, then he should understand it is not a statue, but the Lord Himself.

One can make a form of the Lord from stone or metal and put it in the window of his shop with the purpose of selling it. At this point it’s not a deity. We offer a certain respect, but we don’t worship it. However, after bringing it home, cleansing it and painting it, we do some sort of ceremony to ask the Lord to come to this form. This may be a formal “installation” ceremony or just a small kirtana, but once it’s done, it’s not a statue anymore; now it’s the Lord. There is thus a moment when we make this switch in our minds. Now it’s not a statue anymore; now it’s the Lord. It’s from this moment that we start worshiping.

When Śrila Prabhupada established the deities of Krsna Balarama in Vṛndāvana, he hired local caste brahmanas to perform an elaborate installation ceremony, but shortly afterward, he mentioned that it was just a show to convince the local population that the temple was genuine. In reality, he said, the installation was done by the kirtana of the devotees. As soon as a devotee chants the holy names and asks Kṛṣṇa to come to this form, Kṛṣṇa becomes present there; it is not a matter of bathing the form with yogurt or not.

In short, the concept of “murti” in the sense we often use it is thus fundamentally incorrect. There may be deities with higher standards of worship or lower standards of worship, according to the worshiper and the facilities available, but there is no such thing as a “murti” on the altar.

Read more:

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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Several passages in the Bible appear to mention meat eating. In Luke 8:55, referring to a woman Christ raised from the dead, it’s said: “And her spirit returned, and she got up at once. And he directed to give her meat.” In John 4:8, it’s mentioned: “For his disciples were gone away unto the city to buy meat.” Acts 9:19 says, “And when he had received meat, he was strengthened.”

There are other passages like that, and naturally many Christians use them to sustain the idea that meat eating is supported in the Bible. Some go as far as maintaining that Christ was himself eating meat. How can we understand that?

Satyaraja Prabhu did a good deal of research on this topic and wrote a small booklet called ‘You mean that’s in the Bible?’ He went to the oldest versions of the Bible available, in Greek, and did research on the words that were originally used. He found the words broma (food), bosis (eating food), phago (to eat), brosimos (that which may be eaten), trophe (nourishment), and phosphafon (anything to eat). It appears that none of the passages where the Saint Jones Bible mentions “meat” actually refer to flesh. These different passages simply speak about eatables or the act of eating or being nourished.

In this way, in Luke 8:55, Christ is simply ordering that the woman be given something to eat. In John 4:8, the disciples simply went to the city to buy some eatables, and in Acts 9:19, it’s simply said that after eating he became stronger.

In reality, the English word “meat” itself had a different meaning in the past. Nowadays we use meat exclusively for flesh, but in the past “meat” was more generally used to mean food in general. In India, because of the influences of old English, it’s common for people to call sweets “sweetmeats”, although there is no flesh involved.

In passages of the Bible that directly speak about meat in the sense of parts of the bodies of animals, the word “flesh” is used. In Genesis 9:4-5, “But you shall not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood. Surely for your lifeblood I will demand a reckoning; from the hand of every beast I will require it, and from the hand of man. From the hand of every man’s brother I will require the life of man.” (In other words, one who eats flesh will have to pay for it with his own life)

Several other passages in the Old Testament directly condemn meat eating, like in Isaiah 66:3, where it’s said, “He who slaughters an ox is like one who kills a man; he who sacrifices a lamb, like one who breaks a dog’s neck”.

In this way, the reality is that several passages in the Old Testament condemn meat-eating, and the few passages in the New Testament that appear to support eating are just the fruit of mistranslations of general words for eating. Therefore, the Bible (even in the current edition, after centuries of editions) does not support meat-eating at all.

How come almost all Christians now eat meat regularly? Apparently, it all started with Paul. Although considered one of the apostles, Paul never met Christ. He was converted four to seven years after Christ was crucified, supposedly after seeing Christ in a vision. However, this did not prevent him from becoming a very influential personality in the history of Christianity. He created a new interpretation of the words of Christ based on the idea that faith alone is required to achieve salvation. Before him, the consensus among the apostles was that faith needs to be sustained by good works, according to the laws of the Old Testament. Quickly, the interpretation of Paul became the dominant strain of Christianity, and this led to a great change in beliefs and practices. It’s quite easy to understand how it could be so, since if one believes he or she will be saved by just believing in Christ (instead of being judged by his or her acts), one will be less prone to follow all the rules.

There is a lot of evidence that early Christians were vegetarian, believed in reincarnation, and valued celibacy and renunciation, much like devotees in the early days of our movement, but soon such values went out of fashion, and people started interpreting the words of Christ differently. The number of members grew quickly, but the followers became much less strict. If you see the similarities here, you are not alone.

Three centuries later, when it came time for formalizing the Christian faith in the Council of Nicaea, most Christians already believed in a philosophy that was substantially different from the one taught by Christ. As a result, the Bible was heavily edited, and passages that did not conform to the dominant beliefs at the time were taken out of the text. Passages speaking about reincarnation went out, together with celibacy, vegetarianism, and so on. The fact that a few passages suggesting these things remain in the Bible up to this day, despite all these editions, just shows that there should have been much more originally.

This is also a great warning for us. There is a lot of pressure today to edit the works of Śrila Prabhupada to make them more attractive to the public. The problem is that Śrila Prabhupada is not there to say what should be changed or not. Any changes are done based on values, ideas, and meanings that are current in our spiritual society, as well as in secular society. This means adjusting the philosophy to what people think currently, which may be different from what was originally intended. Once the precedent is created, people will continue editing the books to suit their beliefs, in a process that may completely deface them in time, just like in the case of the Bible.

There are two ways a spiritual movement can change after the disappearance of the founder. The first one is positive and happens as people start to better understand and practice the teachings. For example, schools in the early days of our movement were plagued by issues (to put it extremely mildly), and there was a very high rate of divorces, two problems that are still current. If at a certain point better schools appear and couples stop divorcing, this would be a positive change based on a deeper understanding and application of the philosophy.

The second way a movement can change, however, is quite negative and is based on misinterpreting and misusing the teachings of the founder-acarya. The first type of change is based on a deeper understanding of the original teachings, which of course can only happen when the original teachings are preserved. The second type of change, however, is facilitated by changes and adulterations in the scriptures.

The history of how Christians evolved from being a group of pure people who were vegetarian, celibate, and renounced, to meat eaters who believe that money is a sign of God’s grace is a great warning against doing so. Even if followers of a certain faith change or relax their practices over time, there is always the chance that people in the future will at a certain point go back to the original texts and correct things. However, if the texts themselves are compromised, the confusion tends to just increase over time. If we are not careful, two thousand years from now someone may be writing a similar article on the history of our movement.

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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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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This is a continuation of the article How can we be eternal servants of Kṛṣṇa if we are eternally conditioned?

The Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta describes the adventure of Gopa Kumāra in searching for Kṛṣṇa. He starts as a cowherd boy on this planet, born in Vṛndāvana. Receiving the Gopāla Mantra from his Guru, his love for Kṛṣṇa awakens, and by the potency of the same mantra, he meets Kṛṣṇa in many different forms and positions, culminating with Kṛṣṇa in His original form in Goloka Vṛndāvana.

He first becomes the king of Jagannātha Puri, where he serves Lord Jagannātha. Becoming somehow dissatisfied with this position, he ascends to the celestial planets, where he becomes Indra and gains the personal association of the Lord as Upendra. Later he becomes a resident of Maharloka, meeting the Lord as Yajñeśvara, and eventually meets the four Kumāras in Tapoloka, who show him the Lord’s form as Paramātmā. Eventually, he becomes Brahmā and serves the Lord personally as Mahā-Puruṣa.

Becoming dissatisfied even with this position, he goes out of the material universe, meeting Lord Śiva in his eternal form as Sadā-śiva. Ascending further, he finally reaches Vaikuṇṭha, where he becomes an associate of Lord Narāyana. However, because the mantra received from his guru had fully awakened Gopa Kumāra’s love for Kṛṣṇa, he was not satisfied even with this position, for he hankered for associating with Kṛṣṇa in His original form as Gopāla, in friendship. He was thus not satisfied in relating to Lord Narāyana with all the reverence and etiquette of Vaikuṇṭha.

This extraordinary situation was picked up by Nārada Muni. He observed the impossible: Gopa Kumāra was feeling despondent even in Vaikuṇṭha. Normally, when one reaches Vaikuṇṭha, one becomes fully satisfied and never wants to leave. Gopa Kumāra, however, was, unprecedentedly, feeling despondent there. Nārada Muni also identified the reason: Gopa Kumāra’s love for Kṛṣṇa was awakened to such an extent that he hankered for a closer relationship with Kṛṣṇa, which was not possible in Vaikuṇṭha.

Nārada then instructed him in how to go further. Gopa Kumāra then proceeded from Vaikuṇṭha to Ayodhyā, where he met Lord Rāma, and then to Dvārakā, where he finally met Kṛṣṇa Himself and lived in the company of the Yadus. Again, however, he was not fully satisfied. Nārada approached him again, together with Uddhava, and both identified that Gopa Kumāra was fit to attain a perfection that even they could not attain: to become one of Kṛṣṇa’s eternal associates in Vṛndāvana. To reach there, they instruct Gopa Kumāra to return to the material universe and serve Kṛṣṇa in the earthly Vṛndāvana. Gopa-kumāra closes his eyes in Dvārakā and opens them in a grove in earthly Vraja; Sanātana Gosvāmī explains that Kṛṣṇa secretly carried him there.

Following Nārada’s instructions, Gopa Kumāra practices sādhana, chanting incessantly and going to visit the places of Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes and remembering them. In an increasingly state of bhāva, he spends his days and nights crying in separation. After practicing like this for a long time, Kṛṣṇa personally appears before him in earthly Vṛndāvana. When Kṛṣṇa again disappears, Gopa-kumāra becomes overwhelmed in separation and falls unconscious into the Yamunā. From there he is mysteriously transported through the spiritual realms until he reaches Goloka Vṛndāvana, joining Kṛṣṇa’s eternal pastimes.

Then, we come to the most surprising passage. He doesn’t simply become some unnamed cowherd boy among millions, as we could imagine. No, Kṛṣṇa personally recognizes him and runs to embrace him as His dear friend. This is narrated in the Bṛhad-bhāgavatāmṛta, starting from text 2.6.55.

Śrīla Sanātana Gosvāmī gives the context in his commentary:

“In texts 55 through 59, Gopa-kumāra describes his first impression upon seeing Kṛṣṇa in Goloka. Because Kṛṣṇa recognized Gopa-kumāra as His friend Sarūpa, Kṛṣṇa left behind the cowherd boys and the cows and ran forward to greet him.”

So, what are the verses that describe their meeting?

“Then from a distance I saw Him, His charming flute in hand. Running quickly, He emerged from among His friends and animals and approached me, saying in a sweet voice, “Look, Śrīdāmā! Here is My dear friend Sarūpa, the sun who shines on the lotus of your family!”

Kṛṣṇa was dressed for the forest. His garments, earrings, and peacock-feather crown all swayed to and fro, and so did His garland of kadamba flowers. His fragrance perfumed all directions, and His beautiful lotus face blossomed with a playful smile.

His lotus eyes beamed with a merciful glance, and the varied assets of beauty decorated Him in a singular way. The fingers of His lotus hand busily pushed back the locks of His hair, which flew about, adorned with the dust raised by the cows.

His tender, divine lotus feet touched the surface of the earth just to grant her the gift of supreme splendor. Playfully dancing as they moved, they attracted everyone’s heart with their great eagerness to walk quickly with large steps.

The effulgence of His cloud-colored body, shining with the full sweetness of youth, lit up all corners of the sky. His beauty, which captured the hearts of the ever-dear devotees of Vraja, was an ocean abounding with countless excellences.

He leaped forward and came close to me, compelled by the affection of His helpless devotee. I fainted in love at seeing Him. He caught hold of me by the neck. And suddenly He too fell to the ground.

A moment later I reawoke and carefully freed my neck from His grasp. I stood up and saw Him on the ground, in a faint, moistening the dust-covered path with His tears. Some gopīs came and said, “Look! Who has come here? What has he done? He has put our life and soul into such a state! Alas! Alas! Just see, people of Vraja — now we are all dead!”

There are a few more details in the commentary:

“Gopa-kumāra was already aware, at least theoretically, that Kṛṣṇa is very affectionate to His helpless devotees, but now he learned that Kṛṣṇa had affection specifically for him. Merely seeing Kṛṣṇa was enough to utterly enchant Gopa-kumāra, but this new discovery pushed him toward the limit of ecstasy.
Even though Kṛṣṇa was unconscious, He was crying so profusely that His tears were turning the dust on the road into mud.
The gopīs didn’t know who Gopa-kumāra was, other than some stranger dressed as a cowherd boy.”

Here we have a paradoxical situation. Gopa Kumāra is the eternal friend of Kṛṣṇa, who recognizes him. At the same time, he is a newcomer who meets Kṛṣṇa for the first time. That’s where we need to leave our material logic behind and get immersed in the spiritual atmosphere to be able to understand.

In his commentary on the Gītā, Śrīla Viśvanātha Cakravartī Thākura mentions that when devotees attain perfection in their devotional service, they happily take birth when Kṛṣṇa appears as Vasudeva’s son and become associates in His pastimes. Prabhupāda explains this in more detail in the Kṛṣṇa Book, chapter 28:

“The fact is that those who are always engaged in Kṛṣṇa consciousness and mature, pure devotional service are given the chance, after death, to gain Kṛṣṇa’s association in one of the universes within the material world. Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes are continuously going on, either in this universe or in another universe. Just as the sun globe is passing over many places across this earthly planet, so kṛṣṇa-līlā, or the transcendental advent and pastimes of Kṛṣṇa, are also going on continuously, either in this or another universe. The mature devotees, who have completely executed Kṛṣṇa consciousness, are immediately transferred to the universe where Kṛṣṇa is appearing. In that universe the devotees get their first opportunity to associate with Kṛṣṇa personally and directly. The training goes on, as we see in the Vṛndāvana-līlā of Kṛṣṇa within this planet.”

As Prabhupāda explains in other passages, there are no changes in the spiritual platform. There, nothing is created or ceases to exist. However, as he explains, spiritual things increase. There are thus no limits for spiritual bliss, spiritual love, spiritual affection, etc. Therefore, our natural affection for Kṛṣṇa, which is the very nature of the soul and eternally existent, attains perfection when we come to join Kṛṣṇa in His eternal pastimes in Vṛndāvana. The soul is eternally connected with Kṛṣṇa and, in fact, is always with Kṛṣṇa, even while living as a conditioned soul here. The point is not the presence of Kṛṣṇa, but our awareness of Him, and our desire to be with Him.

Prabhupāda explains these points in many other passages; you can check our book on the “Fall” of the Jīva for more details.

In a class on Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 1.15.28, he makes the central point:

“So we have got intimate relationship with Kṛṣṇa. That is eternally fact. Simply we have to revive. Śravaṇādi-śuddha-citte karaye udaya [Cc Madhya 22.107]. We have to create. Just like the young man likes to love a young woman and the young woman likes to love a young man. That is natural. That is natural. But when they meet together, it is revived. It is not that something new imposition. It is there. But by chance or anyway, when they are in contact, the loving propensity increases. The love increases. So our relationship with Kṛṣṇa, that is natural. That is not unnatural. Nitya-siddha. Nitya-siddha means it is eternally fact. Simply it is covered. It is covered. That covering has to be taken away. Then we are immediately in relationship with Kṛṣṇa, in natural way. That is perfection of Kṛṣṇa consciousness.”

There is, however, an apparent contradiction that may be raised.

In texts 8.15 and 8.16 of the Gītā, Kṛṣṇa emphasizes that one who attains Him never returns to material existence. Similarly, the last aphorism of the Vedānta-sūtra confirms:

anāvṛttiḥ śabdāt anāvṛttiḥ śabdāt

“There is no return from the abode of the Lord. This is confirmed in all scriptures.”

The Vedānta-sūtra offers many instructions that bring us to the conclusion that pure devotional service is the ultimate goal of the scriptures, and the last sūtra confirms that when we attain the abode of the Lord, there is no need to take birth again in this material world. Similarly, the emphasis in text 8.15 is “mām upetya” (attaining Me). Kṛṣṇa makes clear to us that His planet is the supreme abode and is different in essence from the temporary abodes of the demigods.

Understood in this context, both passages sound natural. They emphasize prayojana, the ultimate destination. That’s what the story of Gopa Kumāra also teaches us about. After reaching Kṛṣṇa’s pastimes in Goloka Vṛndāvana, there is nothing else to attain; that’s the ultimate perfection.

If, however, one tries to reconstruct the beginning of material conditioning from this statement of “no return,” one comes to an apparent contradiction: “How can we have an eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa if no one comes down from the spiritual abode?”

This is not a contradiction in the verses per se, but it appears when we take them out of context and try to make them answer a different question. We already discussed how Prabhupāda deals with this question of the conditioning of the soul in previous articles. Here we come to another point in his teachings: he warns us against dwelling too much on this question and especially against speculating on it.

Prabhupāda emphasizes that the intelligent question is not how we came here, but how we can go back. Why? Because trying to reconstruct how we came here means using our material intelligence to understand something inconceivable, or to put a date on something whose beginning cannot be traced in material time. This is a topic that can be fully understood only with spiritual realization.

Each soul is an eternal lover of Kṛṣṇa. At the same time, this love eternally increases. Spiritual reality does not have to fit within the categories of our material experience.

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In the Bhagavad-gītā (8.1-2), Arjuna asks Kṛṣṇa about Brahman, adhyātma, karma, adhibhūta, adhidaiva, and adhiyajña. This appears to be just a technical question, but it is deeper than it may appear at first. Understanding these six, we can understand our position in this temporary world, our constitutional position as souls, and how to go back there.

Let’s go through these questions and their answers.

Arjuna asked: kiṁ tad brahma—What is Brahman?

Kṛṣṇa answers: akṣaraṁ brahma paramam—The indestructible, transcendental living entity is called Brahman.

This immediately defines our real identity as the soul and not the body. Self-realization starts when we understand this point.

Prabhupāda explains:

“Brahman is indestructible and eternally existing, and its constitution is not changed at any time. But beyond Brahman there is Para-brahman. Brahman refers to the living entity, and Para-brahman refers to the Supreme Personality of Godhead.”

If everyone is Brahman, why then does Prabhupāda specifically say that devotees endeavoring for liberation are actually Brahman? The point is that while everyone is a transcendental soul, not everyone is aware of that. Such devotees are called Brahman because they have realized their transcendental nature and are acting on that platform. Others are also Brahman constitutionally, but for the time being they are conditioned and identify themselves with matter. Everyone is an eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa constitutionally, but not everyone is acting on this platform.

One example can be given. Imagine that a person is legally a citizen of a country, being born there. This person may be unaware of his citizenship for most of his life and then suddenly discover it. This discovery does not make him a citizen; he was already one since birth, but it brings his consciousness and actions into conformity with that intrinsic position. Similarly, self-realization does not transform one into Brahman. One is always Brahman, but under illusion he identifies himself with matter and acts contrary to his actual nature. This covering has to be removed.

Another point is that being Brahman does not mean being one with God or equal to Him. Kṛṣṇa is Para-brahman, the Supreme Brahman. There is thus the Para-brahman, the Supreme Brahman, Kṛṣṇa, and the subordinate Brahman, the living entity. Even though everyone is a soul, and one in quality with Kṛṣṇa, we are different individuals, and there is a great difference in terms of power. Kṛṣṇa is like the ocean, and the individual soul is like the drop. One in quality, but different in quantity.

Next, Arjuna asked, kim adhyātmam—What is adhyātma?

Kṛṣṇa answers: svabhāvo ’dhyātmam ucyate—The eternal nature of the living entity is called adhyātma, the self.

What is the self? Is it the gross body or the subtle body? Neither of them. Svabhāvaḥ means eternal nature, and ātma means the individual self, the fragmental soul. This individual self not only is Brahman, spirit, but it has an eternal nature, activities, qualities, and so on. There is a great difference between the eternal nature and the conditioned nature.

As Prabhupāda explains:

“The constitutional position of the living entity is different from the position he takes in the material world. In material consciousness his nature is to try to be the lord of matter, but in spiritual consciousness, Kṛṣṇa consciousness, his position is to serve the Supreme.”

In this way, the living entity is not the body, but the soul. The soul is transcendental, eternal, always the same, and simultaneously one and different from Kṛṣṇa. Currently, this eternal soul may be identified with matter, but one’s eternal, constitutional nature is to be a servant of Kṛṣṇa.

Even linguistically, there is a difference between “I am an eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa” and “I’m hungry.” “I am an eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa” refers to a permanent identity, while “I’m hungry” refers to a transient state. There is thus no contradiction between saying that “the soul is an eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa” and that “the soul is conditioned.” Then, if the discussion comes to since when the soul is conditioned, one can answer that “the soul is eternally conditioned” (since his conditioning has no traceable beginning within material history), and still there will be no contradiction.

What about karma? Arjuna asked, kiṁ karma—What is karma?

Kṛṣṇa answers: bhūta-bhāvodbhava-karo visargaḥ karma-saṁjñitaḥ—Action pertaining to the development of the material bodies of the living entities is called karma, or fruitive activities.

Kṛṣṇa thus contrasts the soul’s eternal spiritual identity and nature with the process by which that same jīva becomes implicated in successive material bodies.

Prabhupāda explains:

“When the living entity is in material consciousness, he has to take on various bodies in the material world. That is called karma, or varied creation by the force of material consciousness.”

Here, karma is used not in the sense of work or activity in general, but in the sense of activity that produces material reactions and leads to further material embodiment. Previously, Kṛṣṇa explained the concepts of karma, akarma, and vikarma. Vikarma is sinful action, which leads one to hell and the lower species, while akarma is devotional action, which frees us from all material reactions.

The soul is eternally active, and his constitutional nature is service to Kṛṣṇa. However, when we somehow come in contact with matter, our natural propensity for activity becomes perverted into material activity that keeps us bound to this material world life after life, be it through pious fruitive action, or through sinful action. Since the soul is active by nature, activity cannot be stopped. The path of the Bhagavad-gītā is to simply convert back this impulse to activity into service to Kṛṣṇa, by following the paths of karma-yoga, buddhi-yoga, and so on, all the way into pure bhakti-yoga.

Next, Arjuna asked, adhibhūtaṁ ca kiṁ proktam—What is this material manifestation?

Kṛṣṇa answered: adhibhūtaṁ kṣaro bhāvaḥ—the physical nature, which is constantly changing, is called adhibhūta.

Prabhupāda explains:

“The physical nature is constantly changing. Material bodies generally pass through six stages: they are born, they grow, they remain for some duration, they produce some by-products, they dwindle, and then they vanish. This physical nature is called adhibhūta. It is created at a certain point and will be annihilated at a certain point.”

The living entity is described in text three as akṣara, indestructible, and now the cosmic manifestation is described as kṣara: perishable and constantly changing. Adhibhūta means the whole cosmic manifestation, including the material body we identify with.

This helps us to understand the relationship between the terms Kṛṣṇa has just defined. The living entity is eternally Brahman, and his constitutional spiritual nature is adhyātma, eternally connected with Kṛṣṇa. Through material activities (karma), however, the soul becomes associated with different temporary bodies, and these bodies belong to adhibhūta, the perishable material manifestation. The soul is eternal, but passes from one body to another, going up and down in the transient material manifestation.

Because we identify with adhibhūta, we become absorbed in trying to preserve and improve temporary things that cannot be preserved, such as the body, family, possessions, etc., and then we suffer when we are separated from them. Spiritual knowledge begins by understanding this distinction of kṣara and akṣara and thus using the temporary material manifestation without mistaking it for our eternal identity.

What about the other two, adhidaiva and adhiyajña?

Arjuna asked, adhidaivaṁ kim ucyate—What is adhidaiva?

Kṛṣṇa answered: puruṣaś cādhidaivatam—The universal form of the Lord, which includes all the demigods, like those of the sun and moon, is called adhidaiva.

The universe is nothing but a manifestation of Kṛṣṇa’s energies, and therefore the demigods are parts of His universal form, the adhidaiva. Perfect understanding of the demigods means understanding their positions in relation to the Supreme Lord.

Finally, Arjuna asked, adhiyajñaḥ kathaṁ ko ’tra dehe ’smin—Who is the Lord of sacrifice, and how does He live in the body?

Kṛṣṇa answered: adhiyajño ’ham evātra dehe—I, the Supreme Lord, represented as the Supersoul in the heart of every embodied being, am called adhiyajña [the Lord of sacrifice].

Prabhupāda explains:

“Present in the body along with the individual soul is the Supersoul, a plenary representation of Lord Kṛṣṇa. The Supersoul is called the Paramātmā or adhiyajña and is situated in the heart. The word eva is particularly important in the context of this verse because by this word the Lord stresses that the Paramātmā is not different from Him. The Supersoul, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, seated beside the individual soul, is the witness of the individual soul’s activities and is the source of the soul’s various types of consciousness”

Why is Paramātmā called adhiyajña, the Lord of sacrifice? Sacrifice ultimately exists for the satisfaction of the Supreme Lord. Different sacrifices may involve different demigods and offerings and award different results, but Kṛṣṇa is behind the whole system. As He previously explained, He is the ultimate enjoyer of all sacrifices and austerities. Therefore, just as the different demigods operate under His authority in the cosmic manifestation, all processes of sacrifice are not only ultimately meant for His satisfaction, but are also dependent upon Him.

We thus have three progressively deeper aspects of the material situation. Adhibhūta is the perishable physical manifestation; adhidaiva is the cosmic governing arrangement represented by the universal form and the demigods, and adhiyajña is Kṛṣṇa Himself as Paramātmā, standing behind all sacrifice. In this way, even while the soul is in the conditioned state, living in the material world, Kṛṣṇa is never far away. He accompanies the soul as Paramātmā throughout one’s entire conditioned existence. When we finally turn to Him and become purified in Kṛṣṇa consciousness, our conditioning finally ends.

Read more:

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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Constitutionally, the soul is not meant to exist alone. Each soul has an eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa, and in the spiritual world there are also many other relationships with other souls centered around this relationship with the Supreme Person.

This explains why human beings are social by nature. People have friends and families, and if everything else fails, people get a dog or a cat to get company. Apart from self-realized souls, it is extremely rare to find someone who, voluntarily, would choose to remain completely alone. This usually comes after other possibilities are frustrated. Somehow, that’s precisely the point where many are nowadays.

Here, however, we have a paradox. Never before in recent history have people been able to communicate so easily. Nowadays we can follow the lives of thousands of people, communicate with people on the other side of the globe, participate in groups, attend courses, etc. Still, people feel more lonely than ever. A person can have thousands upon thousands of contacts and still feel that no one truly knows or understands him or her.

Here, we have a two-layered problem. The first layer is that online communication tends to be very superficial. We may follow or be followed by thousands of people and still have no relationship with them. This brings us to digital impersonalism.

What is it? It starts when we start seeing other people as merely a category: a customer, a follower, a boss, or an employee, a supporter, etc. This makes us interact impersonally with them, treating them as commodities instead of people. People become then an asset, or a currency, reduced to merely a function instead of an individual. When one sees the other like this, we bring the old feeling of being treated like an object to a new level.

This is not exactly a new phenomenon. People have been doing it for millennia. Politicians see people as votes, businessmen see them as walking wallets, and so on. However, digital life makes it especially easy. A person is reduced to a profile, or a number. We can follow, unfollow, block, mute, etc. with just a click. We are exposed to people, but there is no real relationship; it’s just about immediate gratification.

In direct relationships, our actions have consequences. If we treat someone harshly, we see their expression, we notice the change in behavior, etc. We cannot make people just disappear. We live with them, and interactions have long-term consequences. We can’t block our boss or mute our children. Social media replaces these for superficial, disposable relationships that have very little value.

There is a second layer, however. Just as we are not sites or profiles, we are also not the body or even the ego. We are souls behind these layers, and as souls, we have needs that are very different from the body or ego. What makes the body satisfied? Food, shelter, and other basic necessities. What makes the ego satisfied? Praise, recognition, etc. There is also the mind, which hankers for affection, intimacy, etc., and the intelligence, which hankers for intellectual stimulation. All of these are considered human necessities, and a person can be considered materially happy to the extent these are satisfied.

However, what are our necessities as a soul? That’s the point many will hesitate to answer. We often don’t know.

That’s the center of the issue. Prabhupāda gave a simple example: what happens if a man starts to identify with the car, keeping it fueled, clean, changing the oil frequently, etc? He may feel a certain satisfaction in seeing his car shining, but forgetting to eat and sleep, he will never be happy. This brings us to the second problem.

Finding proper, nourishing material relationships improves our position, but it doesn’t solve the problem. A lonely person who suddenly finds an affectionate spouse or partner will feel happy for a time, but eventually the feeling of dissatisfaction or incompleteness will return.

This point has been observed in a number of studies. A classic study (Lucas, Clark, Georgellis & Diener, 2003) followed more than 24,000 people for 15 years. Their central finding is that people would feel happier after finding a partner but return close to their baseline level of happiness after some time. Another study (Zimmermann & Easterlin, 2006) found that happiness increased substantially when people started living together as couples, and this rise continued for about a year but then declined closer to the original baseline. If there was divorce later, then happiness would decline from this level. These studies indicate that material relationships and marriages are not worthless; they bring an increase in subjective happiness, but they don’t eliminate this deeper sense of incompleteness. When one gets married or finds new friends, the initial feeling of completeness fades, but eventually we discover that something is still missing.

Ultimately, we feel lonely because our intrinsic needs as a soul are not being fulfilled. We are taking care of the car, so to say, but forgetting about ourselves.

When we become conscious of this point, we start the philosophical path of finding what these needs are. This path eventually brings us to this eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa we somehow forget. Material relationships can help by giving us a foundation in which to stand on, to keep our mind in order in order to pursue higher goals instead of hankering for basic necessities, but it is the development of these original relationships that brings us to happiness.

Kṛṣṇa already knows us fully. We don’t need to create a new identity to come to Him, He already knows our true self that lies beneath the body, mind and ego. It is thus not about becoming something else, but about finding the real “me”.

He has been following us since time immemorial, always present inside our hearts as Paramātmā as we transmigrate through different bodies, life after life. He knows us, because He is always with us and sees all our actions and thoughts. Not only that, but He is eternally responsible for us. Every life He organizes for us to receive parents, find shelter and food, etc. He witnesses our struggles, mistakes, etc., but He rarely interferes, because we rarely ask Him to do so. People forget that He is there or openly say that there is no God, and thus He becomes absent from their lives. He is like a friend who follows us from a distance because we have become hostile to him.

However, when we desire to know Him and come back to Him, He deeply appreciates it and gives us all facilities for doing so, putting us in contact with devotees who can teach us about Him and give us the knowledge for doing so.

Some try to reconnect with themselves through meditation or philosophical speculations. These are valid paths, but they are very difficult, especially in the age we live in. Kṛṣṇa consciousness is a much more natural process because it is based on reinforcing the spiritual identity, instead of negating the material identity. In fact, in the Gītā, Kṛṣṇa encourages us to continue to fulfill our material duties towards family, etc., while at the same time coming to know Him. By coming closer to Kṛṣṇa, we gradually become purified, and this purification makes us progressively less attracted to the material and more attracted to Him. This also brings us to the point about service.

Loneliness is often described as the absence of someone who cares for us, but there is also another side: loneliness is also the absence of someone we care for.

In material life, we think that happiness comes from being served, followed, admired, etc. When we focus too much on this part, we miss the main point: as souls, we are active by nature and meant to serve. This service is the basis of real relationships, both with others and with Kṛṣṇa.

This attitude of service is the very foundation of Vaiṣnava philosophy and the real center of our happiness. The spiritual process is based on hearing, chanting, serving, cooking, distributing prasādam, worshiping, traveling, cooperating, etc. All of this, however, is not simply done for others, like in ordinary philanthropy, but done for others in relationship with Kṛṣṇa. This is essential, because without Kṛṣṇa we cultivate relationships with the material identity and not the soul. If I feed the poor, I see only their bodies and their identities as poor people, but when I distribute prasādam, I see and interact with their real identity as souls, eternally connected with Kṛṣṇa. This makes the interaction not only uplifting for us but also for them.

Simply being surrounded by devotees, however, does not automatically eliminate loneliness. There is also another level; we need to develop relationships with them. Rūpa Gosvāmī describes loving exchanges among devotees: giving and receiving gifts, revealing one’s mind confidentially, inquiring confidentially, and giving and accepting prasādam. By following these steps and keeping Kṛṣṇa at the center, we can finally come to true spiritual relationships we hanker for.

Ultimately, loneliness is not solved by having millions of followers. The real point is becoming situated in our eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa and forming genuine relationships with those connected to Him.

Meaningful association requires time. It also requires constancy. We cannot know someone deeply just by seeing their occasional posts. We need to find our sanga, our group of like-minded persons, and stay close long enough to develop meaningful relationships with them. This association will not always be pleasant. Real people interrupt us, misunderstand us, and sometimes disappoint us. But these are precisely the difficulties that make relationships real. These relationships become valuable exactly because we don’t give them up at the first inconvenience. In this context, digital communication can become useful, helping us to maintain these ties, even when we become physically distant. The solution, thus, is not simply more connection, but the right relationships, cultivated with the right mentality and centered on our eternal relationship with the Supreme Person.

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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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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What is the view of the scriptures on terminating one’s life in cases of terminal diseases? Can a doctor abbreviate a patient's suffering, so to speak, or assist him or her in doing so? What do the Vedas say about this?

Surprisingly, not much. It appears that this was not a common idea in old times. The natural instinct for all living beings, including human beings, is to continue living, not to end one’s life prematurely. The scriptures suggest that in a healthy state of consciousness, a person will try to extend his life and not shorten it. They thus focus on helping us accept the idea of death and prepare for it by severing one’s attachments and fixing one’s consciousness on God and not on discussing unnatural ways to prematurely go.

Dying before one’s time, and especially killing one’s own body, is not considered a good idea. We are all allocated a certain amount of time in this world, and our experience here is tailored by our previous karma, which offers us a set of challenges that can help us gradually improve our consciousness. Material nature can be very hard, and we often face tough challenges, but ultimately, these experiences teach us different lessons and gradually change our consciousness. If everything were always perfect, there would not be any impetus for change. Just like we accept happy experiences when they come, we must also accept pain and suffering when they come, as part of the package. When suffering comes, we should try to see it as an opportunity to remember Kṛṣṇa and focus on our spiritual practice, and this is especially true at the time of death. We may get distracted by so many material things during our lives, but at the time of death, no matter how difficult it may be, it is the time to get serious and focus on our spiritual practice, embracing the opportunity to change our consciousness and reach a higher destination after our passage. It can be an extremely hard experience, but we all have to go through it.

The idea that one can just die peacefully without any pain or discomfort is a myth. There is no painless death. Death always involves suffering. It’s not possible to leave one’s body without pain. It’s always a traumatic experience. A doctor may give some drugs to make a patient unconscious, but this just numbs the external senses and makes people around think that one is at peace; internally, the individual is still suffering. The center of pain and pleasure is not the external body, but the mind, and no drug can stop the work of the mind. Everything it does is to put one in a comatose state, where one can’t properly concentrate on the task of properly leaving one's body. Instead of being conscious of the whole experience and having a certain degree of control over it, one just dies like an animal, without any higher consciousness and without any control over where one is going next.

All suffering is due to karma, and therefore, the only way to reduce or eliminate suffering is to attack the root of the problem by destroying karma. In the scriptures, we learn that karma can’t be destroyed by mechanical means, or even by pious material activities. Karma can be destroyed only through the process of devotional service, and especially by chanting the holy names, and thus the only process that can save us from a painful death is to practice devotional service while we are in sound health. Even if one is already on his deathbed, just the chanting or remembrance of the Lord will bring him to a better destination, or even to the spiritual world, where there is no suffering.

Conversely, any attempt to artificially shorten one’s life will just bring more karma, and thus more suffering. That’s why the different forms of euthanasia, or assisted suicide, are very dangerous. They do nothing to solve the real problem, and instead just create more suffering for the soul.

So, there is no other way out, apart from agonizing until our last breath? Actually, there is, but it’s a lot different from what most people do.

We frequently hear stories of Vaiṣnava devotees who, attacked by terminal diseases, decide to fast until death. I had the opportunity of staying close to a devotee in this situation, and I was amazed by her serenity when she was leaving, in contrast to the misery that death usually entails. I heard other similar accounts from devotees who witnessed similar cases.

What exactly is this process of fasting until death? Is it genuine? What makes it different from just dying in the hospital? How does it feel?

The process of leaving one’s body by fasting until the end is called prāyopaveśa. It’s actually considered a pious act. In the Vishnu Purana, it’s mentioned that one who leaves the body in this way does not take another birth. In other words, he or she attains liberation.

The scriptures, however, alert that it should be attempted only by a person who has no desire or ambition left. It’s normally done when death becomes imminent, due to a terminal illness or other factors. The main point about prāyopaveśa is not to shorten one’s life, but to change one’s attitude towards death, accepting and preparing for it. An ordinary materialistic person is attached and thus tries to delay death by all means. A devotee performing prayopavesa accepts that death is inevitable and instead focuses on his or her next destination.

The most famous example is, of course, the story of King Parīkṣit, who decided to perform prāyopaveśa after getting notice that he would die in seven days, bitten by a snake. His death was already a consummated case. Instead of trying to avoid it, he spent his last days hearing the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam from Śukadeva Gosvāmī. In this way, he attained freedom from birth and death, and their conversation led to the appearance of the greatest scripture, from which we all derive benefit.

One may consider prāyopaveśa when all hopes of recovery are exhausted. In such cases, fasting until the end is a dignified way to leave on one’s terms, in auspicious circumstances, in a holy place, surrounded by devotees, instead of fighting a painful and hopeless fight in a hospital bed.

To leave one’s body voluntarily by fasting is thus very different from assisted suicide, which is still just a glorified word for suicide. In any type of suicide, there is always an unnatural, abrupt end to one’s life, caused by feelings of frustration, fear, anger, and so on, which usually leads one to become a ghost. Prāyopaveśa, on the other hand, is a non-violent process that is offered in the scriptures, giving one the opportunity and time to prepare himself and others around him for his demise.

Prāyopaveśa is not a private affair. One should announce publicly one’s intention of leaving one’s body, giving opportunity for family members and others to also prepare for his or her demise. Usually, sadhus came to visit and give him instructions and blessings, which is, of course, extremely auspicious. We can see that in the case of Maharaja Parīkṣit, the greatest sages of his time went to the banks of the Ganges to support him in his intent.

One point to consider, however, is that many countries have laws that prevent one from leaving in this way, equating it with suicide. This can cause problems for friends and relatives who knew about it. One may also have problems with “well-wishers” trying to move him to the hospital. These are all obstacles that should be considered. In India, at least, this is still respected, even by ordinary persons.

Prayopavesa is also a long process that demands very strong will. It takes a long time, and of course one may at any moment change one’s mind and stop the fasting. That’s the great advantage of this process: if there is any regret, one can stop it at any moment. Practically speaking, only truly prepared people will go to the end.

The physical experience of dying can vary greatly according to one’s disease, age, bodily condition, and other factors, but, in general, one who completely stops eating or both eating and drinking water will not die of starvation, but rather due to the lack of electrolytes or other essential nutrients. Electrolytes are minerals like sodium, potassium, and magnesium that regulate bodily functions and are necessary for the transmission of the electrical signals that activate muscles, including the heart. Lack of these electrolytes leads to dehydration (the body can’t hold the liquid, even if one is drinking a lot of water) and eventually to organ failure. In most cases, one will die of a heart attack when the low levels of electrolytes compromise the normal working of the heart muscles. Someone who completely stops drinking water, as well as food, will usually leave in about two weeks. One who decides to continue drinking water will typically live much longer, up to 40 days, or a little more. During this time, one would prepare his consciousness to leave, chanting, hearing about Kṛṣṇa, asking forgiveness for whomever he may have offended in his life, getting blessings from saintly persons, and so on. This concentration can allow one to tolerate the hunger and thirst of the final days, as well as other bodily discomforts. Let’s have no illusions: death is always a difficult process, regardless of the situation, and it is thus essential that one gets all the help one can.

Extended fasting, if performed in the right mindset, has the power to dramatically increase one’s focus and elevate one’s consciousness, awakening a feeling of detachment and indifference to the material body and everything connected to it. By carefully maintaining the body, we develop attachment to it, and conversely, by neglecting the most basic need of the body, eating, this attachment is gradually broken. This is surely desirable for one who is facing the ultimate test.

We can also notice that the scriptures prescribe a great number of fastings, including extended fastings during the Bhisma Panchaka and other dates. This can be taken as an opportunity to start on this process of becoming detached from the body, gradually preparing ourselves to accept death as a natural process, without excessive attachment.

From the spiritual perspective, the essential question is not how the body dies, but where our consciousness is fixed when death comes. This is the main point about Mahārāja Parīkṣit’s final days. The important point in his example was not the physical process of fasting itself but the complete absorption of his consciousness in the Lord. Prayopavesa can help to create an auspicious situation for one’s leaving, but the main point is still our personal effort in remembering Kṛṣṇa at the time of death.

Read more:

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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Nowadays we have the paradox of being more connected than ever but, at the same time, more distant than ever. We already have this website as a place of learning; now we are trying something else: creating a community where we can come closer together and talk about Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

You can join and post a brief introduction, and we can see where to go from there.

In the long run, the idea is to make this website more than just a website with articles but a community for learning and advanced study. This forum is one small step in that direction.

For now, we are testing the idea. The forum will run for 30 days, and then we’ll see how much interest and participation there is and decide where to go from there.

So if you like the idea, join in, introduce yourself, and open a new discussion:

https://ccdas.discourse.group/

This forum uses Discourse, a platform for online discussions. It has good features: conversations can be separated into topics and categories; there is support for attachments, private messages, notifications, etc. There is also a search function, protection against spam, and a trust system that gradually gives more privileges to established members. The basics are there; now we just need to see how we can use them for Kṛṣṇa.

You can use the forum directly through the link, or receive updates by email and, in many cases, reply to discussions directly from your email.

Give it a try; let’s see where we go from here. :-)

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 detail that puzzled me the first time I read the Prabhupada Lilamrta was the description of the family of Śrila Prabhupada, more specifically his wife and children.

According to the description in the Lilamrta, they didn’t appear to be very interested in spiritual life. It describes, for example, how the wife of Śrila Prabhupada would go upstairs and drink tea while Prabhupada was discoursing on Śrīmad Bhagavatam to visitors in the main room. Somehow, she adopted the habit of drinking black tea, like the British, despite the protests of her husband, and would use it to voice her displeasure at his preaching activities.

This is described in the Lalamrta:

“Śrīla Prabhupāda: I wanted as much as possible to get her to work with me in spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness, to get her help. But she was very determined. She wouldn’t help me in spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness. So finally, after many years, I could understand – she would not be any assistance to me.

She was very attached to drinking tea. I was always telling her not to drink tea, because I wanted to have a nice Vaiṣṇava family. So although I was repeatedly telling her, this time I finally said, “You have to choose between me or tea. Either the tea goes or I go.” In this way, I was even criticizing my own family. But because they were thinking I was the husband or father, they couldn’t take my instruction seriously. So she replied, “Give up tea-drinking or give up my husband? Well, I will have to give up my husband, then.” Of course, she thought I was joking.

One day, Radharani made a great mistake. There was a system of barter in which a customer would place on a scale an object a shopkeeper considered valuable and the shopkeeper would then balance it with an equal weight of merchandise. So while Abhay was out, his wife took his worshipable Bhāgavatam to the market and traded it for tea biscuits. When Abhay came home and looked for the book, she told him what had happened. She hadn’t taken the matter as a very serious thing – she was out of tea biscuits – but Abhay was shocked. At first he felt depressed, but then a wave of absolute resolution passed over him: his family life was finished.

When he told them he was leaving, they didn’t understand what he meant. He had been leaving for thirty years. He was always coming and going. When he walked out the door, they thought, “There he goes again. He’s leaving.” It was the usual routine. Everyone could see, even the neighbors – Mr. De was going again. He had been at home; now he was going. He would be back again. But Abhay knew he would never come back.”

From the same Prabhupada Lilamrta, we hear how even many of the most exalted disciples of Śrila Prabhupada had the opportunity to associate with him for only brief periods directly. Most of their association would be through his books and through a few letters they exchanged with him. If just such brief moments of association were sufficient to make devotees of the stature of Jayapataka Swami, Bhakti Tirtha Swami, and Gopal Kṛṣṇa Goswami, one could imagine how purifying it would be to have the opportunity of associating with Śrila Prabhupada for a few decades non-stop.

I would ask myself how it could be that the wife and children of Śrila Prabhupada, who had more opportunity of associating with him than any of his initiated disciples, could be so callous to Kṛṣṇa consciousness.

Later, I learned that the wife of Śrila Prabhupada was actually practicing Kṛṣṇa consciousness. Although she refused to be initiated by Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati because of her reluctance to make the vows at the time, she later took initiation from one of his disciples, a godbrother of Śrila Prabhupada. Although maybe not so strictly, she was following in her way, just like most of us nowadays. Similarly, the children of Śrila Prabhupada were vegetarians; they would not drink or smoke, and they would regularly go to the temple and follow basic spiritual practices. They were doing better than most of our children nowadays.

The Prabhupada Lilamrta, however, makes clear the difference between their understanding of Kṛṣṇa consciousness and that of Śrila Prabhupada, who was a pure devotee from birth and wanted to take upon himself the responsibility of fulfilling his spiritual master's mission. This shows the gulf of difference between the understanding of a neophyte devotee, who sees Kṛṣṇa only as the deity in the temple and is not very interested in sharing Kṛṣṇa consciousness with others, and a pure devotee, who is prepared to sacrifice everything for the sake of the Lord. For a neophyte, Kṛṣṇa consciousness is just a part-time religion that they practice in the temple but don’t want to mix with their personal life, while for a pure devotee, Kṛṣṇa consciousness is life itself.

There are a few lessons I learned from this. The first lesson is that even for a pure devotee, things rarely go without difficulties. Śrila Prabhupada had to face and surpass an outrageous volume of challenges until he could even start fulfilling his mission of spreading Kṛṣṇa consciousness in the West. The reason Kṛṣṇa sends such difficulties to his pure devotees is, in my understanding, twofold.

The first reason is to glorify his pure devotees, making clear for future generations how exalted they are, and to make them a living example of how we should behave when facing our own difficulties. We read about how the Pandavas went through so many difficulties without ever deviating from their devotion to Kṛṣṇa. Similarly, we can see how the difficulties Śrila Prabhupada went through never curbed his determination. We would not be able to surpass the same difficulties the Pandavas or Śrila Prabhupada faced, but according to our situation, we face our small set of challenges that we should also surpass by following their example.

The second reason is that Kṛṣṇa gives His pure devotees the necessary skills and experiences they would later need to fulfill their missions. As Śrila Prabhupada explains, pure devotees are not omniscient. They know things to the extent Kṛṣṇa wants them to know. Sometimes Kṛṣṇa may give them knowledge directly from the heart, but other times he may use different ways. We can understand thus that the challenges Śrila Prabhupada faced in his family life were also part of the plan to give him the tools and experience he would later use to create our movement.

Another point that is clear to me is about the free will of the soul. One may have the opportunity of associating with a pure devotee for just a moment and use it to the fullest extent, while others may have the opportunity of much longer association, but use it frivolously and thus don’t derive so much benefit out of it. The wife of Śrila Prabhupada had the opportunity of associating with him much longer than any of his disciples, but she did not see him with the same reverence, nor did she hear from him with the same interest. Certainly, she was also not serving him with the same fervor. As a consequence, the benefit of the association was also different.

Reflecting on my own life, I see how this is a mistake I myself committed on so many occasions, taking the association of pure devotees casually, and thus missing the opportunity. It is said that familiarity breeds contempt. We should be careful to use any opportunity to associate with pure devotees to the fullest extent, and not just miss it frivolously, or, worse, by neglecting, envying, or offending them in different ways.

Another point I learned is that the process of Krsna consciousness is not automatic. One has to make a conscious effort to practice, serve, learn, and thus advance. If one is apathetic in his or her spiritual practice, even the association of a pure devotee may not help much. The soul has his free will and can, at any moment, use this free will to come closer to Kṛṣṇa or closer to the material energy. The example of the wife of Śrila Prabhupada drinking tea while he was discoursing on Śrīmad Bhagavatam is thus emblematic of our own apathy in spiritual life.

Read more:

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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During the 1980s and 1990s, there was a sequence of scandals in our movement, with devotees in high positions falling down in troublesome circumstances. This was, of course, an eye-opener that made us understand that it is not so easy for someone to become a pure devotee with just a few years of practice, as well as a warning about the consequences of electing unqualified people for positions of leadership in spiritual organizations.

What many may not know is that half a century earlier devotees in the Gauḍīya Maṭha suffered from a similar event, whose repercussions were even more serious. This is an event that is not very well known, but it can help us not only to better understand the reasons for the split of the Gauḍīya Maṭha but also to better understand many dangers we faced in the past and that can appear again in the future.

There is another reason this history is important. Many philosophical positions and misunderstandings that circulate today among Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavas are connected, directly or indirectly, with controversies that appeared during this period. What many consider “siddhanta” is nothing more than misconceptions introduced starting with this troubled period. Understanding what happened helps us understand why different branches that today all identify themselves as Gauḍīya Vaiṣṇavas may have significant differences in philosophy and practice.

When the ācārya disappears

There is always a dangerous period after the disappearance of a powerful ācārya. While he is personally present, he can settle disputes, correct deviations, establish priorities, and keep different leaders cooperating under a common mission. After he leaves, all these responsibilities fall on his disciples.

In his purport to SB 4.28.48, for example, Prabhupāda mentions:

“The main business of human society is to think of the Supreme Personality of Godhead at all times, to become His devotees, to worship the Supreme Lord and to bow down before Him. The ācārya, the authorized representative of the Supreme Lord, establishes these principles, but when he disappears, things once again become disordered. The perfect disciples of the ācārya try to relieve the situation by sincerely following the instructions of the spiritual master.”

Who was Ananta Vāsudeva?

We then come to a figure central to the split of the Gauḍīya Maṭha after the disappearance of Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura. Many know details of the breakup of the Gauḍīya Maṭha, but this part is not so well known.

In a conversation from June 18, 1976, Śrila Prabhupada mentions:

“One of my Gauḍīya Maṭha Godbrothers, big, he became the head of this Bhag Bazaar Gauḍīya Maṭha. So his wife was debauched, and she was bringing new paramour, and the child protested. And the boy, he was ten years or twelve years old, he could understand: “Who is this man?” So he protested and said, “I shall tell all these things to my father.” And he was killed”... “His wife was a regular prostitute, and she killed her child, and on this shock, he took poison and died”... “He became shocked, that “This is my family life—the wife is prostitute and son is killed. What is the value of my life?” This was his spiritual realization. Just see. And he was made the chief.”

Here he is speaking about his godbrother Ananta Vasudeva, who was elected the acārya of the Gauḍīya Maṭha after the disappearance of Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura. Śrila Prabhupada apparently didn’t have a good opinion of him, since later in the same conversation he even accuses him of being “homosex and everything”.

In his poem entitled Viraha Astaka, composed in 1958, Śrila Prabhupada is even more direct when addressing his spiritual master:

“Your so-called disciple, the jackal named Ananta Vasudeva, disobeyed your final instructions to keep the mission united, and thereby created a scandalous fiasco. The result of this philosophical deviation is evident to this day as imitative sahajiyas are being worshiped as gurus in your temples.”

Śrila Prabhupada spoke some harsh words to some of his godbrothers in certain circumstances, reacting to some of their actions, but nowhere do we see him directing such direct personal attacks on any of them, especially on a deceased person. Who was Ananta Vasudeva, and what terrible thing did he do?

This story is described in a document entitled “The Sons of the Son: The Breakup of the Gaudiya Matha,” written by Jalakara Prabhu, a disciple of Śrila Prabhupada who collected a great volume of citations connected with these incidents. This is a document that can still be found online.

As described by him, Ananta Vasudeva was one of the most prominent disciples of Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura, who used to call him “My Ganesh” because he helped him so much in his writing and in other aspects of his preaching. He also had the opportunity of associating with Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thakura.

He had an extremely sharp intelligence and was described as being able to remember everything he heard. Often other disciples of Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura would ask him to explain lectures of their spiritual master that they could not understand, and Ananta Vasudeva could remember and properly explain them. Because of this gift, he became the chief editor for all the publications of the Gauḍīya Maṭha. From these descriptions, we can understand he was not an ordinary person. His downfall shows thus how even well-qualified devotees can fall later if they deviate from the path and start criticizing their spiritual master.

The Gauḍīya Maṭha started as a revolutionary movement, and the devotees were well respected for maintaining strong sadhana and living austere lives. However, as time passed, money and properties started to accumulate, and devotees started to fight over material facilities. At some point, there was a fight over which rooms each would use, something that Śrila Prabhupada also commented on occasion. In a famous lecture in Mayapur (October 6, 1974), he said:

“My Guru Mahārāja said. Personally he said that “When we were living in a rented house, if we could collect two hundred, three hundred rupees... We were living very nicely at Ultadanga. And since then—Jayavidatta has given us this marble palace, Gauḍīya-Maṭha—there is friction between our men. ‘Who will occupy this room? Who will occupy that room? Who will be proprietor of room?’ Everyone is planning in different way. So Guru Mahārāja said”... “He was personally instructing me that “If I could sell this marble of this temple, and secure some money, and if I could print some books, that would have been better. That would have been better.”

After Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura passed away in 1937, these conflicts came to the open. He had left instructions for the disciples to form a governing body to manage the mission (just like Śrila Prabhupada later implemented in our ISKCON society), but this proved difficult to implement, and as a result, most of the leaders in the Gauḍīya Maṭha went back to the idea of having a single acārya managing the mission. This resulted in devotees dividing into two factions, one smaller, supporting Kunjabihari Vidyabhusana Prabhu (who later became Tirtha Maharaja); and another larger, supporting Ananta Vasudeva (who later became Bhakti Prasad Puri Maharaja and eventually Puri Das).

There are plenty of different details connected to these disputes, but the result was that the Gauḍīya Maṭha split into two factions, centered around these two leaders. Eventually, Ananta Vasudeva was voted as the acārya of the Gauḍīya Maṭha by most of his godbrothers, leading to a decisive split between the two camps that started fighting over temples and other properties.

This led to the fratricidal legal disputes that drained the funds of the maṭhas and resulted in a serious volume of offenses being committed on both sides. This politicized environment also seriously affected the preaching and especially the publication of transcendental literature. At this point, even the press opened by Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura was sold to pay for legal expenses.

Śrila Prabhupada wrote his view on these events in his purport on CC Adi 12.8:

“In the beginning, during the presence of Oṁ Viṣṇupāda Paramahaṁsa Parivrājakācārya Aṣṭottara-śata Śrī Śrīmad Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura Prabhupāda, all the disciples worked in agreement; but just after his disappearance, they disagreed. One party strictly followed the instructions of Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura, but another group created their own concoction about executing his desires. Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura, at the time of his departure, requested all his disciples to form a governing body and conduct missionary activities cooperatively. He did not instruct a particular man to become the next ācārya. But just after his passing away, his leading secretaries made plans, without authority, to occupy the post of ācārya, and they split into two factions over who the next ācārya would be”... “Despite the spiritual master’s order to form a governing body and execute the missionary activities of the Gauḍīya Maṭha, the two unauthorized factions began litigation that is still going on after forty years with no decision.”

Apart from the legal disputes, there was another factor that caused a lot of confusion: the actions of Ananta Vasudeva, who gradually became critical towards Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura’s teachings and eventually left the sannyasa asrama, getting married to a society girl and becoming a babaji in Vrindavana. Jalakara Prabhu quotes the following:

“He insisted that all his disciples cease preaching activity and study the Bhakti Sandarbha. He especially criticized the use of texts like Gaudiya Kantha Hara, which give scriptural quotations for various philosophical positions, but which do not present the arguments. He and Sundarananda Vidyavinoda eventually came to the conclusion that Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati’s diksa was invalid, and he advised all his disciples to seek initiation elsewhere. Many of them did, and some became leading Vaisnavas in Vrindavan. Puri Maharaj [Ananta Vasudeva] sealed his infamy in Gauḍīya Maṭha circles by getting married and moving himself to Braja.”

The events connected with his marriage were also the source of a scandal. It is described in the document by Jalakara Prabhu that he had an affair with the sister-in-law of a rich devotee, who was later discovered because of the interception of a love letter. The scandal went on for several years, as Ananta Vasudeva (now as Bhakti Prasad Puri Maharaja) tried to maintain his post. This affair, which later led him to leave the sannyasa asrama and become a grihastha babaji (and later kill himself after discovering the betrayal of his wife), is confirmed by Śrila Prabhupada in the first quote.

The most serious problem, however, was not the sexual scandal but his rejection of Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura’s teachings. This is also quoted by Jalakara Prabhu:

“Now, every action has a gross cause and a subtle cause. One action is that he suffered a fall down from the brahmacari platform. The other is that he openly criticized and ultimately rejected his guru and rejected his initiation and line.”

“Ananta Vasudeva and his close friend Sundarananda Vidyavinoda began to formulate criticisms of their guru, Sri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati. The were unhappy about the lack of siddha-pranali at initiation and felt that neither they nor their guru were linked to that vaishnava line by initiation, that the initiation as practiced by Sri Saraswati Thakur, both diksha and sannyasa, were invalid, eventually coming to the conclusion that only those born in certain families can be initiated, and can initiate. They also considered the wearing of saffron and Brahmin threads incorrect for those in the vaishnava line.”

“In this way they began an active program of scholarly criticism of Srila Bhaktisiddhanta’s philosophy, abandoning the literature of their guru and concentrating on the original works of the Six Goswamis. Ananta Vasudeva therefore eventually rejected the initiation given by Sri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati, and urged his disciples to take diksha from what he called accredited acharyas, thereby rejecting his guru. This he justified on the basis of his understanding of the early writings of the followers of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Sundarananda Vidyavinode wrote an essay on the subject entitled “The Characteristics of the Guru According to Vaishnava Theology.”

“Ananta Vasudeva and Sundarananda Vidyavinoda defected from his lineage and wrote books criticizing a number of Sri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati’s policies several years after he left the world”… “all opposition to Bhaktisiddhanta also includes the fact that he did not receive siddha pranali from Bhaktivinoda or Gaura Kishora. Some critics go so far as to question whether he was initiated at all.”

“Ananta Vasudeva/Bhakti Prasad Puri Maharaja then went to Vrindavan, married one of his disciples - although it is not clear if that was to the sister-in-law of Sri Jagatbandhu dasa - and lived out his life in a reclusive manner, calling himself Puri dasa, writing a number of books. His criticism and rejection of Sri Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati has caused him to be viewed with repugnance by the Maths to this day. His supporters and defenders were left disillusioned.”

“Many of his former disciples became renounced residents of Radha Kund. Puri dasa (Ananta Vasudeva) had promulgated a style of kirtan known as ‘Sri Krishna Chaitanya Gaura Gunadhama’, and that kirtan can be heard there to this day, although it is interesting to note that Puri dasa eventually believed that congregational chanting of the Hare Krishna mahamantra was unauthorized.”

This succession of scandals led to the collapse of the camp led by him, although many of the sannyasis continued preaching by opening their own mathas. The smaller faction, left by Tirtha Maharaja (previously Kunjabihari Vidyabhusana Prabhu), was able to continue as a unified mission, although plagued by politics. When Śrila Prabhupada came to the United States, he wrote to Tirtha Maharaja offering to cooperate with him, but after receiving a discouraging letter, he proceeded to create his own organization in the form of our ISKCON society, counting exclusively on the help of his first disciples.

Ananta Vasudeva spent his remaining days living in Vrindavana, writing books with his interpretations of the writings of the Goswamis under the name “Puri Dasa.” These books were not accepted by most of his godbrothers, since they openly disagreed with the teachings of Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura. However, they became popular among other babajis and some scholars and devotees associated with them.

Nowadays these books are seeing a resurgence, as devotees from ISKCON and different Gauḍīya Maṭhas come to study them, assuming them to be authorized translations and commentaries of the works of the Goswamis, something they aren’t. One important point to keep in mind about translations is that translations, and especially commentaries of Sanskrit works, including works of our previous acāryas, are strongly susceptible to interpretation. No translation is free of interpretations, since it is practically impossible to keep the meaning of the text in a literal translation. When we read a “translation” of a Sanskrit work, we are thus actually reading an interpretation that conveys the beliefs of the author. A follower of Prabhupada will translate according to his conclusions; a Māyāvādī will translate according to his beliefs, while a babaji will translate according to his personal understanding. One should thus consider carefully not just the qualifications but the philosophical understanding of the author. In general, only Vaiṣnavas who have a very clear philosophical understanding can write bona fide translations and commentaries of anything. Members of different apasampradayas, as well as Māyāvādīs and ordinary scholars, will always distort the texts.

Once, a disciple of Śrila Prabhupada received an offer to exchange a collection of Śrila Prabhupada’s books for a set of the works of Ananta Vasudeva. Not knowing the whole story, he thought it was a good idea and accepted the exchange. When Śrila Prabhupada knew about it, he was very displeased and ordered him to immediately return the set books and get his books back. He didn’t want anything to do with them.

It’s also interesting to note that points raised by Ananta Vasudeva about siddha-pranali and other topics continue to echo today among devotees who go to Vrindavana and get in contact with this literature or who come in contact with it indirectly. As a result, a huge number of otherwise innocent ISKCON and Gauḍīya Maṭha devotees come in contact with these concepts and, due to an immature philosophical understanding, accept them without knowing they come from a line that is offensive to their own spiritual masters.

The fact is that there are lines in Vrindavana that are much older than the Gauḍīya Maṭha and have thus had time to establish their ideas through numerous books. Many of these books are well written from a scholarly viewpoint, but their conclusions are incorrect, as exposed by Śrila Bhaktivinoda Thakura, Śrila Bhaktisiddhanta Sarasvati Thakura, and Śrila Prabhupada. The reason these five acaryas had to come and do their preaching was precisely to put the sankirtana movement back on track after centuries of deviations introduced by caste goswamis and self-taught babajis.

Many contemporaneous Vaiṣnavas now get in contact with such books, but the demise of Ananta Vasudeva, who after all his actions ended up killing himself after discovering that his wife was not only betraying him but had also killed their child, serves as an important eye-opener in this connection.

Read more:

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This is an updated version of the article I published two weeks ago. The conclusions are the same, but I decided to revisit the original argument:

Kṛṣṇa is the essence of everything, the object of all attraction, and the natural recipient of love for the soul. Philosophically, we can understand that after studying the Bhagavad-gītā. However, when we look around, we don’t see many people deeply in love with Kṛṣṇa. Most are more interested in material things.

Why is that? That’s because of the influence of the three material modes. Kṛṣṇa is transcendental to the material modes, karma, etc. These are His energies and can’t ever cover Him. However, as individual souls, we are very small, and we can be overwhelmed by their influence.

Because of their influence, we become absorbed in matter, and as a consequence, we become attracted to the material objects of this world. That’s exactly the position of most people.

Both the Bhagavad-gītā and the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam guide us in the process of becoming free from this influence. In the Gītā, for example, Kṛṣṇa reveals:

daivī hy eṣā guṇa-mayī, mama māyā duratyayā
mām eva ye prapadyante, māyām etāṁ taranti te

“This divine energy of Mine, consisting of the three modes of material nature, is difficult to overcome. But those who have surrendered unto Me can easily cross beyond it.”

Material nature is like an ocean for us, which is very difficult to surpass. However, it is just a small fraction of Kṛṣṇa’s energies, and it is under His full control. He can easily take us out; we just need to ask. The soul is also part of Kṛṣṇa’s energy, and when we again connect with the source, we get out of the diseased condition of material attachment.

There is, however, a question that can easily distract us from this process. Instead of trying to get out, we can become absorbed in understanding how we ended up here in the first place. The difficulty is that this is a very difficult philosophical discussion that ultimately can be understood only when we become free from material influence. As long as we are here, the right answer always escapes us, because it is the exact thing that our material attachment makes us desperately reject.

Imagine that we visit a hospice, and one of the patients asks us, “How did I become Napoleon?”

What is your answer to that? There is no answer. He will not accept that he is not Napoleon, and any other answer will lead to a circular argument; and anyway, he will end up convinced of something that is not true. To find the right answer, he has to first cure his craziness.

Similarly, the question appears difficult to us because under material illusion we tend to consider it from a false premise. Prabhupāda explains it in many passages, and he keeps consistently repeating the conclusion every two or three paragraphs in his whole corpus. It’s easy if we just go along, but when we stop to deeply consider it using our intellect, material illusion catches us, and we become absorbed in the apparent contradictions. See the purport to Bg 7.14, for example:

“The Supreme Personality of Godhead has innumerable energies, and all these energies are divine. Although the living entities are part of His energies and are therefore divine, due to contact with material energy their original superior power is covered. Being thus covered by material energy, one cannot possibly overcome its influence. As previously stated, both the material and spiritual natures, being emanations from the Supreme Personality of Godhead, are eternal. The living entities belong to the eternal superior nature of the Lord, but due to contamination by the inferior nature, matter, their illusion is also eternal. The conditioned soul is therefore called nitya-baddha, or eternally conditioned. No one can trace out the history of his becoming conditioned at a certain date in material history. Consequently, his release from the clutches of material nature is very difficult, even though that material nature is an inferior energy, because material energy is ultimately conducted by the supreme will, which the living entity cannot overcome. Inferior, material nature is defined herein as divine nature due to its divine connection and movement by the divine will. Being conducted by divine will, material nature, although inferior, acts so wonderfully in the construction and destruction of the cosmic manifestation. The Vedas confirm this as follows: māyāṁ tu prakṛtiṁ vidyān māyinaṁ tu maheśvaram. “Although māyā [illusion] is false or temporary, the background of māyā is the supreme magician, the Personality of Godhead, who is Maheśvara, the supreme controller.” (Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad 4.10)”

Prabhupāda’s explanation is sound, but it can appear contradictory to the casual reader. Prabhupāda mentions that the soul is part of the divine potency of Kṛṣṇa and at some point becomes covered, but later says that the soul is eternally conditioned. How to understand that?

1) The first point is that the soul is part of the spiritual potency of Kṛṣṇa, the eternal superior nature. We are not matter. Kṛṣṇa has two principal potencies: the internal or spiritual potency, and the external, or material potency. The soul is part of the superior nature, but because we have free will, staying either under the shelter of the spiritual potency or the material potency, we are called marginal. Marginal means the possibility of choice, not constitution. Other passages emphasize we are like Kṛṣṇa in quality, although different in quantity.

The soul may thus be covered by the three modes and forget his spiritual nature, but we do not belong to the material world. It is important to keep this point in mind, for misunderstanding it is the source of much confusion. We don’t need to become something else; we just need to uncover our original constitutional nature of love and service to Kṛṣṇa. This point is emphasized by Mahāprabhu Himself:

“Pure love for Kṛṣṇa is eternally established in the hearts of the living entities. It is not something to be gained from another source. When the heart is purified by hearing and chanting, this love naturally awakens.” (CC Madhya 22.107)

2) Although the soul is spiritual by nature, once we are covered by the material energy, we cannot overcome its influence by ourselves. For this, we need the help of Kṛṣṇa. A person can jump into the ocean, but to get out, one needs help. When one is tied, one cannot untie oneself; the only hope is to be rescued by another person. This point is elaborated by Prabhupāda later in the same purport:

“Another meaning of guṇa is rope; it is to be understood that the conditioned soul is tightly tied by the ropes of illusion. A man bound by the hands and feet cannot free himself – he must be helped by a person who is unbound. Because the bound cannot help the bound, the rescuer must be liberated. Therefore, only Lord Kṛṣṇa, or His bona fide representative the spiritual master, can release the conditioned soul. Without such superior help, one cannot be freed from the bondage of material nature. Devotional service, or Kṛṣṇa consciousness, can help one gain such release. Kṛṣṇa, being the Lord of the illusory energy, can order this insurmountable energy to release the conditioned soul. He orders this release out of His causeless mercy on the surrendered soul and out of His paternal affection for the living entity, who is originally a beloved son of the Lord. Therefore surrender unto the lotus feet of the Lord is the only means to get free from the clutches of the stringent material nature.”

3) There is a difference between the external potency of Kṛṣṇa, which is eternal and divine, and the material manifestation, which is temporary. We can say that the external potency is the eternal energy, the material creation is the temporary manifestation of that energy, and Māyā is the bewildering or covering function that acts upon the conditioned souls, making them forget their transcendental nature and identify with matter.

As Prabhupāda mentions in his purport:

“As previously stated, both the material and spiritual natures, being emanations from the Supreme Personality of Godhead, are eternal. [...] Inferior, material nature is defined herein as divine nature due to its divine connection and movement by the divine will. Being conducted by divine will, material nature, although inferior, acts so wonderfully in the construction and destruction of the cosmic manifestation. The Vedas confirm this as follows: māyāṁ tu prakṛtiṁ vidyān māyinaṁ tu maheśvaram. “Although māyā [illusion] is false or temporary, the background of māyā is the supreme magician, the Personality of Godhead, who is Maheśvara, the supreme controller.” (Śvetāśvatara Upaniṣad 4.10)

When Mahā-Viṣnu glances at pradhāna, the external potency is assembled into the cosmic manifestation, and later dissembled back into its original constituents, in an eternal cycle. This is a delicate philosophical discussion held in the Vedānta-sūtra 1.4.25 and 1.4.26, but the important part is that the external potency comes from Kṛṣṇa and is eternal, even though the cosmic manifestation is sometimes active and sometimes not.

4) Here is the part where it appears to become contradictory: “The living entities belong to the eternal superior nature of the Lord, but due to contamination by the inferior nature, matter, their illusion is also eternal. The conditioned soul is therefore called nitya-baddha, or eternally conditioned.”

If the souls are part of the internal potency of Kṛṣṇa, belonging, constitutionally, to the spiritual nature, how can they be called nitya-baddha, eternally conditioned? Do they actually belong to this material world? This is explained in the next sentence: “No one can trace out the history of his becoming conditioned at a certain date in material history.”

There is a difference between the constitutional nature of the soul, the factual, eternal position as a servant of Kṛṣṇa, and the apparent, conditioned nature of the soul, which appears to be eternally part of this material world. These two points must be considered together.

The relation between the eternal nature of the soul as part of the spiritual potency, as well as the eternal constitutional nature of service to Kṛṣṇa and the nitya-baddha classification, can be better understood when we study the CC Madhya 22.107 I just quoted:

nitya-siddha kṛṣṇa-prema ‘sādhya’ kabhu naya
śravaṇādi-śuddha-citte karaye udaya

Here, the opening states the eternal nature of the soul: nitya-siddha kṛṣṇa-prema, emphasizing that the eternal nature of the soul is love for Kṛṣṇa. That’s exactly the point Prabhupāda makes. Then, the second line, ‘sādhya’ kabhu naya, refutes the opposing element, making the point that the idea that love for Kṛṣṇa has to be established is incorrect. Then, the third part, śravaṇādi-śuddha-citte karaye udaya, gives the process, explaining that this eternal perfection that is already there is uncovered by sādhana, hearing, chanting, etc., which purifies the heart. This is again emphasized by the words karaye udaya: it is not gained, but awakened. Therefore, nitya-siddha kṛṣṇa-prema refers to the constitutional position, while “nitya-baddha” describes the soul as he appears in the beginningless condition of forgetfulness.

The term nitya-baddha explains that the conditioning of the soul cannot be located within material history, and therefore its beginning cannot be calculated in terms of years, kalpas, or any other material unit of time. It is not a historical event that can be traced back. Therefore, for all effects, it appears that the conditioned soul has always been here.

From the spiritual perspective, however, the soul is never separated from Kṛṣṇa at any point, even while living here in the material world. The spiritual connection is thus permanent and constitutional, while the material covering is nonconstitutional and terminable. The eternal relationship with Kṛṣṇa is like the sun, and the material covering is like a cloud covering it.

This delicate point is further discussed in the Third and Fourth Cantos of the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam, in a layered discussion that finds a crescendo in the allegory of King Purañjana.

Ultimately, however, this is a very delicate philosophical point that can be understood only by realization; it cannot be forced through material logic. The more we try to force this subject into the categories of material time and logic, the more prone we become to reaching the wrong conclusion.

That’s a point where we have to accept the explanation given by Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu:

ayi nanda-tanuja kinkaram, patitam mam vishame bhavambudhau kripaya tava pada-pankaja, sthita-dhuli-sadrisham vichintaya

“O son of Maharaja Nanda [Krishna], I am Your eternal servitor, yet somehow or other I have fallen into the ocean of birth and death. Please pick me up from this ocean of death and place me as one of the atoms at Your lotus feet.”

We must accept the main point, that the soul is the eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa, that our position in this material world is an unnatural condition, and from there try to reestablish this forgotten relationship. The intelligent question is not how we fall but how to get out. That’s how Prabhupāda teaches us.

Go deeper:

• Uncovering the soul’s eternal nature

• Achieving the transcendental platform

• Conditioned life: The reflection in the dark room

• How the soul enters the body without leaving the spiritual sky

• Reflected consciousness

• Becoming free from the false ego

• Releasing the soul from material bondage

• Awakening from the dream

• Our real position and relationship with the Lord

• The conclusion of the instructions of Sanat-kumāra

• Everyone should surrender to the Lord

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 support this work with a monthly contribution. When you subscribe, you can choose between a free subscription and a monthly contribution, and you can switch from a free subscriber to a supporter at any time.

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

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Śaṅkarācārya is an extremely well-known and revered figure in Indian philosophy. He is also honored by Vaiṣnavas as an incarnation of Lord Śiva and respected for his work in restoring the authority of the Vedas after they were obscured by Buddhism. In fact, the name “Śaṅkarācārya” is mostly used by Vaiṣnavas. His own followers usually call him “Ādi Śaṅkara.” Vaiṣnavas add the honorific ācārya.

However, Śaṅkarācārya is also accepted as the founder of the Māyāvāda school, which is massively criticized in Vaiṣnava circles. One may have a certain difficulty in reconciling both points.

First of all, what is the problem with Māyāvādis? There are many points, but the central issue is that they conclude that Kṛṣṇa’s form is material and His activities are performed under the material modes. In other words, they believe that Kṛṣṇa is covered by māyā, just like us. That’s why their doctrine is known as Māyāvāda.

The point, however, is that Śaṅkarācārya was not a Māyāvādī, although he incidentally became the founder of the school. He spoke certain things that were later distorted by his followers. He became the origin of it, but He did not agree with their interpretation of Kṛṣṇa falling under the influence of Māyā and having a material form.

We can see it clearly when we examine his commentary on the Bhagavad-gītā.

He opens his commentary with the words:

nārāyaṇaḥ paro ’vyaktād aṇḍam avyakta-sambhavam
aṇḍasyāntas tv ime lokāḥ sapta-dvīpā ca medinī

Avyaktād means pradhāna, the unmanifest material nature; “paro” means “beyond.” Nārāyaṇaḥ paro ’vyaktād means that Nārāyaṇa is beyond this cosmic manifestation. Who is this Nārāyaṇa? After a few sentences, he declares:

sa ādi-kartā nārāyaṇākhyo viṣṇur bhaumasya brahmaṇo brāhmaṇatvasya cābhirakṣaṇārthaṃ devakyāṃ vasudevād aṃśena kṛṣṇaḥ kila sambabhūva

That original creator, Viṣnu, known as Nārāyaṇa, desiring to protect the brāhmanas, appeared as Kṛṣṇa in Devakī through Vasudeva. Prabhupāda elaborates on this point in CC Ādi 5.132 and Madhya 20.359:

“Even Śaṅkarācārya, the most elevated impersonalist, says in the beginning of his commentary on the Bhagavad-gītā: nārāyaṇaḥ paro ’vyaktāt. When this material creation is not yet manifested from the mahat-tattva, it is called avyakta, and when it is demonstrated from that total energy, it is called vyakta. Nārāyaṇa, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, is beyond this vyakta-avyakta, manifested and unmanifested material nature. This is the chief qualification of the Supreme Personality of Godhead when He assumes a particular incarnation. Kṛṣṇa tells Arjuna that although they both took birth many, many times before, Kṛṣṇa remembers everything about His previous appearances but Arjuna does not remember. Since Kṛṣṇa is beyond the cosmic creation, He is in the exalted position of being able to remember everything in the past. Everything within the cosmic creation has a material body, but Kṛṣṇa, being beyond the material cosmic creation, always has a spiritual body.”

Māyāvādīs conclude that the impersonal Brahman is the ultimate reality, while Kṛṣṇa’s form is a temporary manifestation. Śaṅkarācārya, however, contradicts them by mentioning (still in the introduction) that:

paramārtha-tattvaṁ ca vāsudevākhyaṁ para-brahmābhidheya-bhūtam

The ultimate reality (paramārtha-tattva), called Vāsudeva, the Supreme Brahman (para-brahman).

Later, in his commentary on Bg 4.6, Śaṅkarācārya explains that Kṛṣṇa is unborn, imperishable, and the Lord of all beings, from Brahmā down to a blade of grass. He describes the material nature as Kṛṣṇa’s own Vaiṣṇavī māyā, composed of the three modes, and explicitly states that Kṛṣṇa keeps this māyā under His control. Therefore, Kṛṣṇa only appears “as if embodied” and “as if born”; He is not born like an ordinary conditioned soul. In Bg 4.9, he is even more explicit, describing Kṛṣṇa’s birth and activities as divyam aprākṛtam aiśvaram: transcendental, nonmaterial, and divine.

At first, Śaṅkara’s use of the expression māyā-rūpam in the passage may appear to suggest the opposite, but proper analysis of the text is essential here. Māyā-rūpam qualifies janma (the birth), and not Kṛṣṇa Himself or His body.

In the previous verse, he has already described Kṛṣṇa as unborn, imperishable, and the Lord of all beings who keeps His own Vaiṣṇavī māyā under control, and then he immediately qualifies His birth and activities as divyam aprākṛtam aiśvaram (divine, nonmaterial, and transcendental). Māyā-rūpam, thus, does not mean that Kṛṣṇa assumes an ordinary material body under the influence of ignorance. It means “an apparent birth manifested through His own māyā” or, in other words, Kṛṣṇa appearing in His original, transcendental, and eternal spiritual form “as if embodied.”

Then, we have Bg 7.24, the verse where Kṛṣṇa Himself is heavy on the Māyāvādīs:

avyaktaṁ vyaktim āpannaṁ, manyante mām abuddhayaḥ
paraṁ bhāvam ajānanto, mamāvyayam anuttamam

“Unintelligent men, who do not know Me perfectly, think that I, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, Kṛṣṇa, was impersonal before and have now assumed this personality. Due to their small knowledge, they do not know My higher nature, which is imperishable and supreme.”

In his commentary, Śaṅkarācārya confirms the words of Kṛṣṇa, mentioning that,

nitya-prasiddham īśvaram api santam abuddhayo ‘vivekinaḥ paraṃ bhāvaṃ param ātma-svarūpam ajānanto ‘vivekinaḥ mamāvyayaṃ vyaya-rahitam anuttamaṃ niratiśayaṃ madīyaṃ bhāvam ajānanto manyanta ity arthaḥ

Kṛṣṇa is the eternally established Lord, but the unintelligent, devoid of proper discrimination, do not know His supreme nature, which is imperishable, unsurpassed, and absolutely supreme.

These are just a few passages among many. In summary, Śaṅkarācārya emphasized the impersonal aspect in his explanations, speaking according to the capacity of his audience, often in a very indirect way, but he was not a Māyāvādī; he did not agree with the conclusion that Kṛṣṇa has a material body or that He is a temporary manifestation of the impersonal Brahman. Śaṅkarācārya is Lord Śiva Himself, the greatest Vaiṣnava, who came with a specific mission of speaking about the Absolute Truth in a way that would bewilder the atheists.

He became thus the doctrinal source of the later Māyāvāda school as part of his divine mission, but his followers pushed conclusions that Śaṅkara himself explicitly did not accept. In his commentaries, he explicitly acknowledges Kṛṣṇa’s transcendental position. The vicious conclusions of the Māyāvāda doctrine as currently propagated appeared later, due to the influence of people who, as Kṛṣṇa puts it, are abuddhayaḥ, devoid of intelligence.

Even when Kṛṣṇa becomes personally visible, as He did 5,000 years ago, He remains covered to the ignorant. How? He remains covered by His internal potency. Pure devotees can perfectly understand Him as the Supreme Personality of Godhead, but the ignorant usually see Him as a common man.

Kṛṣṇa remains covered for the ignorant in the sense they cannot recognize Him, but in reality, Kṛṣṇa is not covered: they are. Just as a cloud cannot cover the sun, the illusory potency cannot cover Kṛṣṇa; it simply covers the vision of the conditioned soul, preventing one from understanding Kṛṣṇa and His opulences. How can this cover be removed? Only through an attitude of service. One has to hear from a self-realized soul, and by practicing devotional service according to this transcendental knowledge, one can come to the point of seeing Kṛṣṇa.

Māyāvādīs say that māyā covers Kṛṣṇa, but Kṛṣṇa turns it around in Bg 7.26: “O Arjuna, as the Supreme Personality of Godhead, I know everything that has happened in the past, all that is happening in the present, and all things that are yet to come. I also know all living entities; but Me no one knows.”

Māyā is not a problem for Him; He can perfectly see everything, past, present, and future; He can understand all the thoughts and desires of every single soul. It is the Māyāvādī’s knowledge that is covered.

You can see how these arguments develop further in our Vedānta-sūtra: Understanding the Govinda-bhāṣya of Baladeva Vidyābhūṣaṇa, Vol. I, especially sūtras 1.1.5 to 1.1.11:

• Sutra 1.1.5 - īkṣater nāśabdam: The Lord is not indescribable

• Sutra 1.1.6 - gauṇaś cen nātma-śabdāt: The Supreme Self

• Sutra 1.1.7 - tan-niṣṭhasya mokṣopadeśāt: Descriptions of the transcendental Lord

• Sutra 1.1.8 - (na) heyatva-vacanāc ca: There is nothing higher

• Sutra 1.1.9 - (na) svāpyayāt: The source of all incarnations

• Sutra 1.1.10 - (na) gati-sāmānyāt: The One and transcendental Brahman

• Sutra 1.1.11 - śrutatvāc ca: Material qualities can’t touch the Lord

• Exercise

Or, if you would like to read more about Śaṅkarācārya and other ācāryas, check the introduction:

• Lord Buddha - Śūnyavāda (nihilism)

• Śaṅkarācārya - Advaita-Vedanta (non-dualism)

• The Vaishnava schools

• Rāmānujācārya - Viśiṣṭādvaita-vāda
  (specific monism, non-dualism with distinctions, or purified monism)

• Madhvācārya - Śuddha-dvaita (purified dualism)

• Sri Caitanya Mahāprabhu: Acintya-bhedābheda-tattva (inconceivable oneness and difference)

• Acintya-bhedābheda-tattva and the Govinda-Bhāṣya

Read more:

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