Yamuna: The first time I met Srila Prabhupada was in his room at a lunch that he had cooked for his first twelve initiated disciples, minus one. Kirtanananda was not present at that time. My sister, Janaki, was the first female disciple. Mukunda warned me, “When you meet Swamiji, you can say ‘Hare Krishna’ and fold your hands.” I walked into Srila Prabhupada’s quarters. He didn’t have his shirt on and was sitting in a corner in a shaft of light underneath the window, dishing out prasadam. I said, “Hare Krishna, Swamiji.” He said, “What is your name?” I said, “Joan.” He said, “When will the other family members come?” I said, “I am the only one. No one else is coming.” He said, “Oh. Generally in India the bride side of the family makes a big celebration. Never mind. We will celebrate.” That day I respected prasadam for the first time, and it was a very memorable lunch for a number of reasons. I was a macrobiotic afficionado at that time, and Srila Prabhupada’s prasadam was power-packed not only due to its taste, but also because his hand had touched it. The way he served the prasadam was like no meal I’d ever been served. There was so much affection manifested through Srila Prabhupada’s distribution. Each one of the men ate up to twelve chapatis at that lunch, which means that Srila Prabhupada made and served a minimum of a hundred and twenty chapatis and also served them whatever else they wanted. That was my first meeting with Srila Prabhupada.
Yamuna: In those days we were inefficient in everything that we did and incapable of knowing the significance of initiation. At the fire yajna for our marriage, we didn’t have enough money to buy butter, so we used margarine. When Srila Prabhupada tried to start the fire, he dipped a piece of wood into the margarine. Prabhupada’s hands were magnificent, with long fingers. He held the wood over the flame, but it wouldn’t light. He dipped it and held it over the flame. Again, no action. He looked up gravely and said, “Oh, this marriage will have a very slow start.” I was mortified. I thought, “Oh, Oh. What have I gotten into now?” Srila Prabhupada first gave me the name “Kalindi,” which is another name of Yamuna dasi, but within ten or twelve seconds he said, “No. It is Yamuna devi dasi.” I said, “What does that mean?” He said, “The river that Krishna sports in, in Vrindavan, is Yamuna.
Yamuna: In that early San Francisco period, Srila Prabhupada allowed us to spend time with him all day and into the night, but morning walks were one of the most relishable, glorious times with him. I generally wanted to be on the morning walk. One of the other devotees and I used to get up at two in the morning, pick flowers in Golden Gate Park, make garlands for Srila Prabhupada, present them to him, and go on the morning walk. Those moments in the park were always very special for us, walking next to our spiritual master, trying to chant Hare Krishna just as he chanted Hare Krishna. The morning walks were japa walks, and he walked briskly, chanting Hare Krishna with his hand in his bead bag. He walked like a young man of twenty-five. The first day I went I was wearing wooden yogi shoes, and my feet bled because Prabhupada was walking on and on very fast.
Yamuna: The first time that I assisted Srila Prabhupada in the kitchen was in New York on the occasion of my sister’s wedding. Srila Prabhupada cooked in his apartment in a small galley kitchen with counters on both sides. He gave me the singular task of making a very difficult preparation called aloo kachori. It’s one of the most complex pastries to cook properly because it has to cook for a long time without becoming greasy, which is almost impossible. For nearly eight hours I made aloo kachoris while Srila Prabhupada single-handedly cooked a fourteencourse wedding feast in his small kitchen. In the course of cooking for that feast, I made many mistakes. It was my very first day, and the first mistake I made was to wear a short skirt and a little T-shirt. Sitting crossed-legged I said, “Swamiji, may I have a cigarette?” He popped his head out of the corner and said, “Go wash your hands.” I washed my hands. Then he explained the four prohibitions in Krishna consciousness: no meat eating, no gambling, no illicit sex life, and no intoxicants. A short time later I said, “Swamiji, may I have a glass of water?” He said, “Go wash your hands.” Then he explained that the first and foremost principle in cooking was to engage our senses in the service of the Lord. He said that we should cook for Krishna with love and devotion and not think about our senses, our tongue, our sense of smell or our belly, because we were cooking for Krishna’s pleasure. A short time later I said, “Swamiji, it’s very hot in here.” I was fighting perspiration. “Go wash your hands.” In this way he introduced me to the simplest, most rudimentary principle of external cleanliness. He also explained a simple touch of internal cleanliness and said, “We can serve Krishna through the art of cooking when we are externally and internally clean.”
Yamuna: As early as 1967, I wanted to go to Vrindavan. I always had an attraction to Vrindavan. One morning I was walking right next to Srila Prabhupada when he stopped, put his cane out to lean on, and said, “You have received a letter from Achyutananada? He wants some men to join his party in Lucknow.” I immediately popped up and said, “I’d like to go, Srila Prabhupada. May Gurudas and I go?” He said, “Yes. We can arrange that. We will start an American House in Lucknow.” Then he walked a little further and said, “No. You should not go now.” He turned around and said, “Someday I will take you to India, and I will show you India on foot.” From that moment I was waiting for that day, and three years later, on October 4, 1970, Srila Prabhupada’s party of American and European devotees landed in Bombay. Our party had arrived in Calcutta via Tokyo just a few days earlier. From October 4th to the time Srila Prabhupada left India in the spring of 1971, he showed us many places on foot, literally walking through the streets with us.
Yamuna: The first San Francisco temple had certain similarities to the first New York temple, as well as quite a few dissimilarities. One dissimilarity was that in New York there were very few women, whereas in San Francisco there was almost an equal balance of men and women. So the chemistry of the temple was different. But in both places we were like Srila Prabhupada’s children. He called us “boys and girls,” and we were. Most of us were between twenty-five and thirty. I think the rasa of our being like his children was foremost, although when one studies the letters of this period, one will find that sometimes Srila Prabhupada referred to us as his “sons and daughters” and sometimes as “mothers and fathers.” He would let the roles reverse for intimacy. I think there isn’t a devotee from these early days who did not feel that every moment with Srila Prabhupada was intimate. Srila Prabhupada had such a way of showing love and affection through distributing Krishna consciousness that immediately we felt how much he cared about us. I would have never known what love was unless I met Srila Prabhupada, and I think that was true for all of us. Through Srila Prabhupada we learned to love each other. With Srila Prabhupada as our father, we had very deep, wonderful, transcendental relationships between each other as Godbrothers and God-sisters.
Yamuna: Prabhupada was lecturing on the Caitanya-caritamrta, and one of the devotees asked, “Who is Lord Chaitanya?” Prabhupada said, “Oh, such a nice, intelligent question. You are so intelligent for asking this question,” although this had been the subject of his lectures for several days. He was so patient with us. Whether we fell asleep or cried, somehow or another, we began to feel a little conscious of Krishna. Most of us tasted Krishna consciousness through chanting and dancing and feasting. That was how we engaged our senses best.
Yamuna: In simple ways Srila Prabhupada tried to teach us cooking technique, procedure, quality, cleanliness, and purity, not with a lot of words, but by his example. The preparations that he taught us were generally fatty and juicy, sweet, succulent, and very sumptuous. That was the era of sumptuous prasadam. The tongue has two functions, vibrating sounds and respecting prasadam, and Prabhupada felt that if he could catch us through those two functions, then we would begin to taste Krishna consciousness more and more. So the food was sumptuous and rich. As for Srila Prabhupada’s prasadam preferences, while he had personal favorites, he liked anything that was well prepared. By this time Srila Prabhupada had a little tummy and was eating immense quantities of rice. Sometimes he would finish off most of a very large thali, only leaving a little maha for all.
Yamuna: One day I made Bengali meals and arranged them on the thalis in a Bengali fashion. Srila Prabhupada sat behind his desk, and Pishima sat on the floor directly opposite Srila Prabhupada. As soon as I brought the thalis in and set them down, Srila Prabhupada started making little comical, teasing remarks about his sister. He said, “You know, she says that it is water. I say it is fat.” I thought, “My goodness. He is talking about her weight. What’s going on?” Since Prabhupada’s voice was light-hearted, Pishima started chuckling. He said, “All this,” he was flapping his arms back and forth, “is fat but she calls it water.” He started talking about the days in their childhood when they flew kites, and he said, “I always used to beat her at kites.” He spoke very brother-sisterly about his little sister, and she was laughing, although she didn’t understand a word. In the course of all this jesting, I was bringing in chapatis. When Srila Prabhupada finished his meal, he piled every katori (the little round bowls that all of the moist preparations are in when serving a thali) one on top of the other from the largest to the smallest, nearly twelve inches high. When I walked into the room, Prabhupada knocked down the whole stack with his finger and said, “Yamuna dasi mayi ki jaya!” I said, “Srila Prabhupada ki jaya!” Pishima said, “Gaura Nitai ki jaya!” Then I said, “Oh, Srila Prabhupada. You ate everything.” Srila Prabhupada said, “Excellent!” This was my first meeting with Pishima, and Prabhupada’s mood was light, sweet, jovial, and humorous. Although she didn’t understand a word of what was going on, Pishima truly loved it. She was very fond of Srila Prabhupada. From the day I met her until the very last day I saw her with Srila Prabhupada in 1976 in Vrindavan, I saw that she worshipped her brother, and that he was obviously very fond of her.
Yamuna: With kirtan came the joy of watching Srila Prabhupada pray to Krishna. In the evening on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, he sang Mangalacharanam alone, sitting on his vyasasana, and we were all the rhythm section behind his singing. He almost always had his eyes closed and went very deeply into prayer. Simply observing him pray to Krishna, we got an idea of the depth of prayer even in these early days. When he opened his eyes and looked at you, very often you felt as if Srila Prabhupada was looking right through you seeing everything, seeing Krishna. The San Francisco temple was a very musical place. We had many instruments. Everyone played something, and kirtan established a very reciprocal relationship with Srila Prabhupada. They were simply rock-out sessions. If one person stood, everyone stood. If one person danced, you danced, because we were all packed in together. They were very joyous, beautiful, warm, sweet kirtans.
Yamuna: Generally, Prabhupada would reveal what he thought we needed to know. Some people’s nature is to ask endless questions, but I always felt like a fool asking more than Srila Prabhupada revealed. Sometimes, if we didn’t hear properly, then we would have to ask Srila Prabhupada questions, and he would have to repeat himself. But very often I found the same things that he taught in 1967 were revealed again in 1976, so many years later. Prabhupada kept Krishna consciousness very simple, and my relationship with him was to simply hear and follow his instructions.
Yamuna: When we arrived in London in 1968, Prabhupada wanted us to make a splash, and our small party decided that the best way to become known would be to reach the Beatles, because they were luminaries of the time. So we made apple prasadam dishes and brought them to Apple Records every day to catch someone’s attention. The prasadam went from the lower floors to the upper floors, and ultimately everyone tasted prasadam and became a little addicted to it. The first person to strike a serious friendship with George was Shyamasundar. He and George Harrison just clicked like brothers and became close friends. When George heard that we were into transcendental chanting, he really wanted to hear us. Almost right away we started having kirtans with him in his house. He said, “I want to record this,” so we recorded the Hare Krishna mantra on a fortyfive. That song became number one in Czechoslovakia, was the top of the pops in England, and led to the Govindam album. Srila Prabhupada was very pleased with the connection that we had with the Beatles.
Yamuna: We were behind the closed curtains, adjusting the Deities, when someone inadvertently knocked one of the columns with their elbow, and it fell over. With the speed of lightning, Srila Prabhupada moved the arati paraphernalia off the bottom granite step with his right hand and stepped on the first step with his right foot. With his left foot on the second step, he grabbed one huge column (it was six to eight inches in diameter) with his right hand and Radharani’s hand with his left hand. Little beads of perspiration were on his brow. This was the first time I ever saw him perspire. Srila Prabhupada showed such chivalry in protecting Radharani that I understood what the rasa of chivalry was. This was one example of Srila Prabhupada exhibiting a very personal rasa with Krishna, actually saving Radharani from disaster and exhibiting superhuman strength. The movement of the mind couldn’t have been faster than Srila Prabhupada’s movements that day.
