Tulsi: I was initiated with Jayatirtha, Ujjvala, and some others. We sat on the floor with Prabhupada and watched him chant on our beads and do the fire sacrifice. When Prabhupada said, “Your name is Tulsi das,” somehow or other I got a shocked look on my face. Prabhupada said, “Is that all right?” I said, “Oh, yes, Prabhupada!” That was my first personal interaction with Prabhupada. I was a new devotee and I hardly recognized any of the names, but because we’d done tulasi worship I knew the name Tulsi das.
When Prabhupada came to Los Angeles in 1974, I was temple president and I went on his morning walks and attended his afternoon darshans in the little garden in the back of the temple. One evening there were quite a few devotees in that garden when I came in, and Jayatirtha said, “Prabhupada, I’d like to introduce you to our new temple president, Tulsi das.” Prabhupada said, “Oh, I know Tulsi das.” In my heart in a nanosecond I felt really good, “Prabhupada knows me! Prabhupada recognizes me!” Then Prabhupada said, “Why did you leave Bombay?” I went crashing to the bottom, my heart was beating loudly, and I started making excuses, “I was having some trouble with the management,” “I was doing this or that.” Finally I looked straight in Prabhupada’s eyes and said, “Srila Prabhupada, I was in maya.” Prabhupada said, “Yes!” and went on to give a lecture about the power of maya. That moment in the L.A. garden was a highlight for me.
I’d wanted to get married for some time, but Ramesvara and a couple of others were convincing me, “You should take sannyas,” and, although I didn’t accept the idea in my heart, it seemed that Prabhupada was giving sannyas to everybody as a gift of mercy. One day about 30 devotees were in a darshan with Prabhupada, Ramesvara was standing behind him, I was 15 feet in front and Jayatirtha was beside me. When there was a lull in the discussion Ramesvara pointed at me. I stammered, “Srila Prabhupada?” Prabhupada said, “Yes?” “I’ve been talking with some devotees and there’s a thought that it would be good for me to take sannyas.” Prabhupada said, “How long have you been a brahmachari?” I said, “Five years.” He said, “Very nice. What about the butter?” I said, “What about the butter?” Jayatirtha whispered to me, “You know, women— fire, butter.” Instead of being truthful with Prabhupada and saying, “I’d really like to have some female association and all that goes with it,” I said, “Prabhupada, as long as I’m traveling and preaching everything is fine.” Prabhupada said, “Okay, you can take sannyas.” I said, “Should we bring my name up in Mayapur and then wait a year?” He said, “No, you take this year.” Oh no! What am I going to do? I’m going to take sannyas in a few months time! I didn’t envision myself like any of the other sannyasis, traveling and preaching—I was a manager. After leaving L.A. Prabhupada went to Hawaii, and there was a boat there that the devotees wanted but nobody could skipper. I love the water, I’ve always lived on the water, and I thought, “This is a nice idea.” I wrote a proposal for a traveling boat sankirtan party. I could manage the boat, sail it into towns and preach—it would be fun—and it seemed like something Prabhupada wanted. Ramesvara saw it as a way to increase book distribution. Prabhupada read my proposal and wrote back a short paragraph, “Why waste time sailing? Better to fly instead.” I accepted what Prabhupada said, but I still had sannyas looking at me. What am I going to do? Prabhupada was in Bombay and Ramesvara had Harikesh bring this boat idea up again. Prabhupada asked, “Why is Tulsi so anxious to do this?” Harikesh said, “Prabhupada, he’s in L.A. and he’s agitated by all the women there. With the boat, he’ll always be out.” Then Prabhupada wrote a scathing letter to Ramesvara, who wouldn’t show it to me for years. In that letter Prabhupada saved me. He said I was a rascal, a fool, and a bad choice for sannyas. When I heard that Prabhupada said I couldn’t take sannyas, in the core of my being I was thankful. I felt saved. I had been duplicitous when I told my spiritual master that as long as I’m traveling and preaching, then I’m fine. I had been stupid. First, I had asked to take sannyas and second, I was not straight-forward with Prabhupada. If I’d have said, “Prabhupada, I’m not sannyas material. I would like to get married and have a nice wife,” he’d have probably instructed me down those lines. But I didn’t give him the information he needed to give me those instructions. But by his grace he straightened it out anyway.
Jayatirtha was so tired that he was falling asleep and Prabhupada wouldn’t let him drive from Laguna Beach to San Diego. So Jayatirtha approached me to drive Prabhupada. I felt that this was a great and rare opportunity. But in those days, we hardly slept. The only way I stayed awake in Bhagavatam class was to exercise my temple president privilege and stand up to fan Prabhupada for the whole class. I was just as tired as everybody else. While I was driving the hour-long drive from Laguna Beach to San Diego, I looked in the mirror and saw that Prabhupada was asleep. A bit later I looked in the mirror and Brahmananda was asleep. Then a bit later I looked over to Jayatirtha, who was riding in the shotgun seat, and he was asleep. I was the only one awake and I was dying to fall asleep. I couldn’t roll down the window, I couldn’t turn on the radio, I couldn’t chant japa loud or anything. I was struggling and struggling with this— and I’d have probably fallen asleep and killed us all—but at the darkest moment when my eyes just wouldn’t stay open, from the back seat of the car I heard Prabhupada softly clapping his hands to start a kirtan. Then everybody in the car gradually woke up and the four of us had a wonderful kirtan on the way to San Diego.
