We need to give up our royal dress to meet the Lord
To meet the Lord, we need to give up our royal dress. We may think that this is not relevant for us, since we are not kings, but this is just another misconception. We are all kings of the body.
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In a previous article, we discussed how Mahāprabhu refused to meet Pratāparudra, although he was a very pious king and was very eager to see him. At first, the question appears to be simple: Mahāprabhu did not want to meet a mundane ruler, upholding the principles of the renounced order of life. However, this pastime shows us a much deeper principle: the Lord is not approached through status, power, learning, wealth, or any other material qualification. He is approached only through pure love and an attitude of service.
This is indicated by Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya in his instructions to the king:
“As soon as the Bhaṭṭācārya saw the King’s firm determination, he declared, “The Supreme Lord is approached only by pure love. Your love for Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu is very, very deep; therefore without a doubt He will be merciful upon you.” Sārvabhauma Bhaṭṭācārya then suggested, “There is one means by which you can directly see Him. “On the day of the car festival, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu will dance before the Deity in great ecstatic love. “On that Ratha-yātrā festival day, after dancing before the Lord, Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu will enter the Guṇḍicā garden. At that time you should go there alone, without your royal dress.” (CC Madhya 11.52-55)
This highlights the central point: to meet the Lord, we need to give up our royal dress. We may think that this is not relevant for us, since we are not kings, but this is just another misconception. As described in the Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam in the allegory of Purañjana, each conditioned soul is a king inside the body. It does not matter whether one is a man or a woman. Regardless of gender, a person sees themself as an enjoyer of this world.
In conditioned life, everyone tries to be a “boss.” Each person seeks some sphere of influence, some domain where he or she can feel like a controller. If someone has the means, one may aspire to dominate a nation or become the emperor of the world. If he achieves that, one may seek even more. Hiraṇyakaśipu was the ruler of Sutala-loka, an entire planetary system, but still, he wanted more. He wanted to control the whole universe. In conditioned life, there is no natural limit to this ambition. The only limitation is one’s available power and resources.
Most people, of course, do not have the means to become emperors of the world or even leaders of a nation. So the same tendency manifests on smaller scales. One may try to become a high executive, the CEO of a large company, or at least a smaller one. If that is not possible, one may try to become the controller at home, the supreme controller of a small apartment and one or two children. If even that is not possible, one may get a cat or a dog, a bird, or a hamster and become the king of a small zoo. The scale changes, but the mentality remains the same.
If a materialist is not able to feel like a controller anywhere, to get even a small sphere of influence, one may go crazy or lose the will to live altogether. This is a common pattern in the material world.
A devotee, however, can live differently. A devotee can live with the conviction that, “I am a servant of Kṛṣṇa. I do not need to be a king here.” This is real freedom. And this passage teaches precisely that lesson: as long as we hold on to the idea that “I am the king of something,” we cannot fully approach the Lord. Eventually, we must give up this mentality and accept our genuine position as servants of Kṛṣṇa. Then we can truly come close.
Therefore, the example of Mahārāja Pratāparudra is not merely a historical anecdote but an example for all of us. The pastimes described in Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam and Śrī Caitanya-caritāmṛta are not told simply as stories about other people; they are meant to be applied to our own lives. Just as the story of Purañjana (in the Fourth Canto) represents the history of each conditioned soul, similarly, Pratāparudra’s situation also reflects our own struggle. To approach the Lord, we must stop trying to be kings and learn to come as servants.
We can see this at play even in the highest spheres. Seeing the pastimes of the Lord in Vṛndāvana, Lakṣmī Devi desired to also participate. She is already the eternal wife of Lord Viṣnu, but seeing the pastimes of the Lord and the gopīs, she learned of another dimension of the glories of her husband that she was not aware of previously. For this, she performed great austerities and performed vows. Still, however, she was unable to join: she couldn’t leave her royal dress. She couldn’t give up the idea of being Lakṣmī, the bestower of opulence, of having a certain position and worshiping the Lord in a particular way. Even though the position of Lakṣmī Devi is already spiritual, still, because she was not prepared to renounce it, she couldn’t become a gopī. The gopīs gave up everything for Kṛṣṇa. Just like them, we need to give up our royal dress to be able to approach the Lord. Royal dress, in our case, means the false ego. Any kind of false ego will hold us back. As long as we are king of something, we will not be able to wholeheartedly approach the Lord.
Ego brings pride, and pride brings up the need for control. Love is the opposite; true love brings us to a platform of dependence. Pride demands possession; love brings surrender. To love someone means to become dependent on that person. To love Kṛṣṇa means to become dependent on Him.
This contrast is also evident in the description of the devotees from Bengal who came to Pūri to see the Lord, also described in the Caitanya Caritamrta. Seeing them from the top of the palace, Pratāparudra was astonished:
“The King said, “Upon seeing all these devotees, I am very much astonished, for I have never seen such an effulgence. Indeed, their effulgence is like the brilliance of a million suns. Nor have I ever heard the Lord’s names chanted so melodiously. I have never before seen such ecstatic love, nor heard the vibration of the holy name of the Lord chanted in such a way, nor seen such dancing during saṅkīrtana.” (CC Madhya 94-96)
Mahārāja Pratāparudra was astonished by their brilliance, their beauty, their melodious chanting, and their ecstatic dancing. He had seen many chanters before, many pilgrims, and many types of religious performers. But this was different. Their kīrtana carried real spiritual force. Their bodily effulgence reflected purity. Why? Because they were not performers displaying themselves, they were surrendered servants absorbed in glorifying the Lord. This is the difference between external imitation and genuine devotion. A person may sing nicely, speak impressively, or conduct worship expertly, but if the royal dress of ego remains, the spiritual quality is lacking. Pure devotion has another taste, another potency, and another beauty.
In this way, the entire passage teaches that the spiritual reality opens not to one who promotes himself or herself, but to the devotee who can fully surrender to the Lord. One may chant, worship, preach, study, or serve, but ultimately, advancement depends on whether we are actually relinquishing the royal dress. This covering of false ego may remain even in spiritual life, disguised in subtle forms. One may think, “I am a senior devotee,” “I am learned,” “I am a preacher,” “I am advanced,” or “I am essential.” These are only more refined versions of the same old kingly mentality. Mahārāja Pratāparudra’s example warns us that as long as we cling to these coverings, Kṛṣṇa will remain at a distance.
The same example, however, also gives hope. The Lord did not reject him permanently. Rather, through humility, determination, and service to the devotees, he came close. This is the mercy of Śrī Caitanya Mahāprabhu. However covered one may be, the path remains open. If one is willing to let go of false prestige and come in the dress of a servant, then the Lord becomes accessible. Not by force, not by entitlement, but by love.
Thus, the instruction is there for all of us. If we want to meet the Lord, we need to give up our royal dress. We need to abandon the mentality of being king, controller, enjoyer, and master. We have to approach Him without the ornaments of ego. When we become genuinely humble, the path opens. Then the Lord, who cannot be reached by pride, becomes conquered by devotion. Then what was impossible becomes possible. Then the soul can finally come near, not as ruler of anything, but as the eternal servant of Kṛṣṇa.
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