Translated from the weekly Gauḍīya Patrikā, Volume 13, year 1933-34, composed under the guidance of Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura Prabhupāda, authored by one of his devoted disciples (likely Śrīla Bhakti Prajñāna Keśava Gosvāmī Mahārāja).
First rendered into English on the auspicious disappearance day of Jagadguru Śrīla Bhaktisiddhānta Sarasvatī Ṭhākura Prabhupāda, dated December 19, 2024 (Nārāyaṇa Māsa, Caturthī, Gaurābda 538).
Dedicated in the name of Gauḍīya Goṣṭhī Pati Śrī Śrīla Bhakti Siddhānta Sarasvatī Gosvāmī Ṭhākura Prabhupāda Paramahaṁsa Jagd Guru
The Personal Account of Service (A Personal Accounting) [Sevaar Khatiyaan]
More than thirteen years have passed since the mahendra-kṣaṇa—the supreme moment—when the words of my śrī-gurupāda-padma first entered the cavities of my ears. From that very instant, I have been ceaselessly pondering the true essence of the word sevā. Sevā is the engagement of oneself solely in the satisfaction of the senses of the Supreme Transcendental Sovereign, Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the Adhokṣaja and Parātpara Para-Tattva. It is devoid of the slightest pretense, deceit, or disguise of self-sense gratification. The most piercing strike against the desire for self-indulgence, and simultaneously, the inspiration to embrace the free and fervent inclination to serve the senses of Kṛṣṇa—this potent(viryavati) and virile speech(vani)—I found in no so-called spiritual guides or preceptors.
It was precisely for this reason that the words of Śrī Caitanya captivated my heart. Within that speech, and through the exemplary conduct and propagation of my satīrtha-gana(spiritual companions), I discerned that service is my eternal dharma. But such service is not the so-called jīva-sevā (service to living beings), nor the misnamed ārtasevā (service to the afflicted), nor the service of one’s own desires, nor the service of whimsical mind-made religion (mano-dharma), nor the service steeped in hypocrisy, nor the service of ostentatious scholarship or deceptive preaching for the sake of acclaim. It is, rather, the singular and absolute truth—the service of the one non-dual enjoyer, the independent, willful, and transcendent supreme person. On the very day I received the mantra of sevā, I also heard this: “Whether knowingly or unknowingly, if the servant uses the object of service to fulfill any desire apart from service itself—regardless of the external appearance of the act—it is not a service but becomes the gravest of offenses at the feet of service.
The Veṇu-mādhurī of Sarasvatī—that current of divine, sonorous potency—once flowed into my ears. That was a singular day. And today, nearly fourteen years later, is yet another day. I now see that the radiant, conscious energy of Mahādeva, which had entered my ears that day, which has been discarded. Instead, the false doctrines of the gods of illusion, the demons of materialism, and the specters of this ephemeral world have usurped a rightful place in my hearing.
At the Threshold of the Temple of Service
At the gateway of the Temple of Service, I had once read the mantra of the sādhana-path:
“utsāhān niścayād dhairyāt
tattat-karma-pravartanāt,
saṅga-tyāgāt sato vṛtteḥ
ṣaḍbhir bhaktiḥ prasidhyati.”
But I cast aside the Veṇu-mādhurī of Sarasvatī from my ears and allowed the vile incantations of ghosts and spirits to infiltrate my being. With no hesitation, I employed these sacred mantras for the satisfaction of my own senses. I exhibit enthusiasm in abundance. Such is the intensity of my zeal and efforts that the creatures of the earth and even the devas of svarga tremble in dread. I had read in the Purāṇas that the fervor, determination, and relentless drive of asuras like Hiraṇyakaśipu, Hiraṇyākṣa, and Rāvaṇa caused anxiety to spread among gods and mortals alike. A faint impression of that asuric ideal seems to have left its mark upon me.
No rest, no time for meals, no glance toward worldly concerns. Neither do I pause to consider the education and needs of my children and wife , nor do I spare a moment to offer consolation or care in the sickness and sorrow of near and dear ones. Observing this inhuman service-disposition of mine, renunciate Vaiṣṇavas—who had long since relinquished all worldly duties for the sake of guru-sevā—have now begun to reconsider those very forsaken obligations.( They say Oh! You are doing so much service , now please go and look for your worldly affairs too ) How remarkable my enthusiasm for guru-sevā appears! Such zeal, such unrelenting effort, such tireless endeavor!
Wounded by the betrayals of this world, I had, for a brief time, donned the robes of a renunciate. In my work of preaching, what extraordinary vigor I displayed! How tireless my efforts in delivering lectures and discourses! I am an unpaid missionary, an experienced editor, a seasoned writer, a refined littérateur, and a speaker adorned with accolades and letters of honor. I take pride in being one of the principal pillars of this institution. Yet, in these fourteen years, have I taken even a single moment, a single day, to test my endeavors against the touchstone of the words of my śrī-gurupāda-padma? What is the purpose of my zeal and labor? Is it truly a gesture of service, or is it merely the enterprise of enriching my own aspirations for prestige, my hunger for wealth, and my longing for sensual pleasures with women?
The spectacle of frenzied activity so pervasive in this modern mechanized civilization has even led worldly thinkers to conclude, in unison, that the driving force behind this obsessive industrial efforts among men lies principally in the influence of women, and subsequently, the thirst for renown that arises from it. To please kāminī (women), individuals immersed in the machinery of civilization march boldly before the cannon’s fire, plunge into the ocean’s deepest recesses, ascend to the skies, and pursue unimaginable feats. This is where they find prestige—and, if fortune favors them, wealth as well. Yet whether wealth comes or not, prestige alone animates their being, even raising the lifeless back to life.Civilized society has thus adorned the feminine with the title of śakti-jāti (the race which infuse power), for, as the thinkers have asserted, the ultimate reservoir of inspiration for all inert energy(jada-sakti) lies safeguarded in the hands of women, the partial embodiments of Mahāmāyā herself.
An eyewitness writer once observed that, in the throes of battle, when fear and terror cause weapons to slip from soldiers’ trembling hands, the mere presence of a beautiful kāminī can electrify their hearts. Her touch, like a current of vitality, imbues them with newfound strength and vigor, driving them to heroic feats of valor and untiring effort in war. This concealed yearning for the approval of the śakti-jāti—this secret thirst to win their hearts—transforms men, whether renunciates or indulgent seekers, into tireless laborers, fervent enthusiasts, and consummate masters of action.
Some may deny this assertion; others may vehemently refute it. Yet, deep within the recesses of our indulgent or renunciatory intellects, Māyā, cloaked in disguise, orchestrates such phenomena in mere moments. Thus, the exuberant displays of valor and industrious efforts—the unfurling of banners that pierce heaven and earth, the proud beating of chests, the triumphant proclamations of victory—are ultimately revealed in their true nature during the fiery ordeal of deprivation: when stripped of prestige, wealth, or the favor of kāminī.
The Veiled Hunger for Recognition
As long as the stream of recognition continues to pump through my being, inflating my ego, I can pose as the industrious one—the great servant, the paragon of guru-sevā, the tireless laborer, the unyielding preacher, the eloquent speaker. But the moment the stream of prestige begins to wane, so too does my enthusiasm falter, my vigor dissipates. Even the smallest loss of prestige is, to me, an unbearable torment, a piercing arrow of agony. Words that even slightly diminish my standing cut me deeply.
In such moments, I engage in self-justification, striving to recover every ounce of lost honor. Sometimes I become defensive, other times I withdraw from action entirely. At times, I parade the visible proofs of my might and capability as weapons—evidence of my strength and worth. And so, after fourteen long years, I ask myself: Was all this zeal and labor truly guru-sevā, or something else entirely? For what purpose did I come, and what have I become? Not once have I taken a moment to assess, with impartial and tranquil heart, the account of my endeavors.
To my fellow companions when they try to correct me, I say: “Your criticism stems only from envy and malice. You are offenders of Vaiṣṇavas.” Perhaps I do not utter these words directly, but through the subtle machinery of my coterie of eulogists—the faction of flatterers who sing my praises—I convey these sentiments indirectly. Their efforts to shield me, I secretly approve, even as I cloak myself in the guise of humility or wield this pretense as a weapon to outwardly vanquish my critics. In doing so, I manage to safeguard my fragile veneer of “Vaiṣṇavism.”
Through silent rebuttal and an unwavering faith in my cause, I have anchored my reliance on yet another pillar—none other than Śrī Gurupādapadma himself! I convince myself that, since Śrī Gurudeva neither opposes my actions in my presence nor voices dissent in writing, my endeavours must necessarily carry his tacit approval and blessing. Thus, considering the “Chief Justice” himself as my de facto barrister, I fortify myself against the critiques of my adversaries by leaning on the shield of my eulogist assembly. With the resolute conviction that “what I understand is truth,” I march forward, hoisting the banner of enterprise, enthusiasm, determination, patience, and ceaseless activity, advancing my campaigns of ambition and desire-fulfillment.
I have heard that my eulogist assembly, much like collectors of newspaper clippings, diligently archives every scrap of praise and validation I receive, meticulously assembling a file of accolades. It is said these records shall serve as pāśupata weapon in present and future battles against my critics. Be that as it may, if I begin to rely on these praises as my shield rather than the ever-luminous Śrī Sarasvatī herself, if I attempt to repurpose her service into an invulnerable armor for safeguarding my prestige and fulfilling my ulterior motives, then I must ask: have I truly heeded Caitanya-Sarasvatī? Or have I instead enshrined the mantra of inert chaya-Sarasvatī( Shadow Saraswati) within my ears?
To become a mere puppet of my eulogist assembly—is this the service of Caitanya-Vāṇī? Perhaps I might argue: “They are my eulogists,that’s not the reason I align with them. They serve my Śrī Gurupādapadma, that’s why I approve their actions.” But I must question further: are they truly servants of the Vāṇī, or merely servants of the vapu (the external form)? If they remain deaf to the voice of the Vāṇī, then how distant must they stand from Sarasvatī’s sacred station and role? Have I consistently kept this truth resplendent within my heart, at all times and without delusion?
Perhaps my clever mind whispers: “Merely shouting ‘Vāṇī, Vāṇī’ is not sufficient. To carry out endeavors in this world, one must inevitably enlist a handful of supportive individuals who operate with the vapu as their focal point.” Ah, such craftiness in reasoning indeed deserves applause! Yet if the praise of these vapu-centered associates gradually distances me from the ideals of Sarasvatī’s faultless Vāṇī, if their conduct strays ever farther from her impeccable standards, what then? Shall I not see how I have abandoned the ideal of “saṅga-tyāgāt” (renunciation of detrimental association) by forsaking Sarasvatī’s faithful companions and instead embracing the company of the deafened deniers of the Vāṇī? Does this not reveal that I have traded the radiant companionship of the Vāṇī for the mirage of loyalty from those who, in truth, only tether themselves to transient forms?
Sarasvatī as Nṛsiṁhadeva’s Vāgvilāsinī
Sarasvatī is the eloquent consort of Nṛsiṁhadeva, the destroyer of obstacles to devotion and the bestower of perfection in service to Kṛṣṇa. Within Sarasvatī, not even the slightest trace of ulterior desire is permitted to take root. She is utterly immersed in singular, unalloyed service. Sarasvatī accepts no compromises; she embodies purity untainted by any admixture. Through her divine speech, she instills the potency of transcendental sound into the ears of the soul, directing all senses, in every way and at all times, towards the sole pursuit of service to Adhokṣaja-Kṛṣṇa.
If the external forms of a subject—its behavior, the outer manifestation of service, or its symbolic attire—fail to align with the impeccable ideals of Sarasvatī, is it not essential to discern whether Sarasvatī has deceived me, or if I myself have sought to deceive her?
At times, Sarasvatī may appear ambiguous, seemingly indicating dual meanings. In such moments, we being misled is no surprise. However, it is equally true that alongside the “substance” lies the “shadow.” If I harbor ulterior desires, I inevitably choose the shadow form of Sarasvatī. If I abandon the flawless, exclusive, and unconditioned message of Kṛṣṇa’s service that Sarasvatī embodies and instead accept duplicitous, ambiguous rhetoric that seeks to confuse rather than illuminate, then, with unpretentious humility, I must beseech Guru-kṛpā and pray thus: “O Master! Let me not be swayed by deceptive words alien to the pure, untainted message of Bhaktivinoda. Let not such speech, which instead of fostering true service turns me into the object of service, take hold of me. Let not that speech, which should destroy the obstacles to devotion but instead glorifies impediments like wealth, worship, and prestige, become my standard. Such speech is not Bhaktivinoda-vāṇī, nor is it the pure(Shuddha) Sarasvatī.”
That pristine(Shuddha) Sarasvatī, in whom no trace of ulterior desire or deception can reside—can I invoke her in barrister-like advocacy to protect even the minutest seed of my selfish ambitions? Perhaps I may audaciously claim: “My position is exalted enough that what appears incongruent within material cognition for others bears no fault upon me. I am radiant, capable of playing with the serpent without peril. This is not for all to emulate—it is my privilege.” Yet, if I introduce discord within my conduct and preaching under the pretense of “ulterior desire,” as though claiming an exclusive prerogative akin to Kṛṣṇa’s inconceivable harmonies, do I not thereby distance myself from the magnanimous līlā of Śrī Gaurasundara as the ideal ācārya? Do I not estrange myself from Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī itself?
“Ācāra pracāra nāmera kare dui kārya,Tumi sarva guru, tumi jagater ārya.”
This is the pure and flawless Caitanya-vāṇī. When the embodiment of union(Sambhoga-Vigraha), Śrī Kṛṣṇa, manifested His magnanimous līlā as Śrī Gaurasundara, is it befitting to shroud the brilliance of His divine speech? If, in my weakness and ulterior desires, I seek refuge in “tejyasāṁ na doṣāya” and attempt to conceal my inconsistencies beneath the veil of Kṛṣṇa’s transcendental independence, am I not, thereby, depriving myself of the truth? Will such an approach benefit either myself or the world?
If I have built a world founded upon Caitanya-vāṇī, then I must ensure an unadulterated harmony between my conduct (ācāra) and my preaching (pracāra) while keeping in view the responsibility I bear toward those entrusted to my care. I am not a recluse reveling in the bliss of solitary devotion; I am a part of Kṛṣṇa’s vast creation. I am a servant of the institution of service, engaged in the propagation of its ideals. My weaknesses may exist—and they do—but if I constantly adorn and defend them under the guise of being a mahā-bhāgavata or Kṛṣṇa’s transcendental freedom, will this not shatter the sanctity and ideal of the service institution I represent?
Silencing a critic, deceiving my own heart by shutting my ears to dissent, assuming every critic to be an adversary, aiding the growth of their opposition, or cloaking myself with the guile of exceptional cleverness and skill to elude accountability—is this the skillful service of Sarasvatī? If I cannot keep the gates of my ears perpetually and unpretentiously open to receive Sarasvatī’s call, will I not remain bereft, despite outwardly engaging in grand displays of reverence and veneration for her form?
Consider Balabhadra Bhaṭṭācārya, Kṛṣṇadāsa Vipra, and Bāuliyā Viśvāsa—did they lack diligence in the external service of Śrīman Mahāprabhu? Śrīvallabha Bhaṭṭa, too, welcomed Śrīman Mahāprabhu into his home and, alongside his family, rendered service with the utmost devotion, considering himself supremely blessed. Yet even then, Śrīman Mahāprabhu did not hesitate to speak the truth to Śrīvallabha Bhaṭṭa. Without reserve, He revealed how the desire for prestige becomes an insurmountable obstacle to the attainment of pure devotion.
Let us ask: does Sarasvatī’s true service lie in crafting elaborate facades of external devotion, or in unwavering fidelity to her message of pure, unalloyed bhakti? The answer is ever found in her untainted voice, free of any compromise or deception.
Even if we disregard ancient examples, has not Sarasvatī clearly and repeatedly shown us how individuals, who displayed great effort in rendering physical service (vapu-sevā) to exalted personalities such as Vaiṣṇava Sārvabhauma Oṁ Viṣṇupāda Śrīla Jagannātha dāsa Bābājī Mahārāja, Oṁ Viṣṇupāda Śrīla Bhaktivinoda Ṭhākura, and Oṁ Viṣṇupāda Śrīla Gaura-kiśora dāsa Bābājī Mahārāja, yet neglected to hear and sincerely embrace their vāṇī, eventually became ensnared by worldly attractions, overwhelmed by materialism, and even crossed into the extremes of hypocrisy?
For an entire year, I lavished myself with the glory of eloquent speeches delivered in the name of Vyāsa-pūjā. But how far did I truly progress in selfless and sincere service to the Guru? How deeply did I strive internally to achieve this? Did I ever pause to reflect on this with a calm and honest heart? No. What mattered most to me was how much or how little my share of praise was in the Vyāsa-pūjā addresses or in the accolades of the Prachāriṇī Sabhā. Though I claimed to be a humble servant, was I not inwardly craving prestige as my reward for the year’s service? And if that prestige wasn’t forthcoming, my heart remained dissatisfied—even the blessings of Guru and Vaiṣṇavas couldn’t touch me.
I claimed, “I do not seek such praise,” yet secretly I desired recognition. And if that recognition had been even greater, would I not have welcomed it more? Such was my hidden ambition.
While writing this account, a simple-hearted godbrother remarked:
“Sarasvatī’s form (vapu) is non-different from her words (vāṇī). In the transcendental realm, there is no distinction between the body and the possessor of the body. Therefore, vapu-sevā is naturally a manifestation of vāṇī-sevā. So why do you speak so unfavorably about vapu?”
To avoid misunderstandings like this, let me clarify: in the transcendental realm, vāṇī and vapu are indeed non-different—this is the teaching of Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī. However, the moment one views them as separate, this illusion gives rise to what I call “vapu.” For me, the merely the external service to Śrī Gurudeva’s transcendental form (śrī-aṅga) is not the ideal example of vapu-sevā. Such service does not render us deaf to Gurudeva’s vāṇī. However, any ostentatious display of vapu-sevā while being deaf to vāṇī undoubtedly carries the subtle contamination of ulterior motives (anyābhilāṣa).
Even when one outwardly imitates the hearing of vāṇī but remains internally attracted to gross materialism, this too is simply the extended influence of vapu. The objects that Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī identifies as “opaque” perfectly illustrate what I mean by “vapu.” It is the dense, non-conductive mental sheath fashioned from the misuse of my independence—a barrier that prevents the current of service-consciousness from flowing into my heart through the electric touch of Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī. This self-created barrier of mine, appearing as a transcendental form, is the illusion that I term as vapu. It is my sincere hope that if there is any error in my understanding, Gurudeva and the Vaiṣṇavas will kindly correct it.
I Say—”Work! Work! Work! I Demand Work!” Those who fail to show physical effort or enthusiasm, who lack the ability to showcase grandiloquent displays of words or deeds, I label them as lazy, inert, infirm, foolish, or unfit. Declaring them as unqualified servants, I dismiss them from the list of worthy workers. In my mind, only those who can rival my ambitions for prestige or material pursuits I label them as somewhat “ capable people”—But those who demonstrate boundless zeal in fulfilling my desires for recognition, wealth, and comforts—deserve to be called actually “capable people.” Only they earn my appreciation, sought-after in both outward acknowledgement and inner sentiments.
Yet, in that transcendent moment when Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī unimpededly flowed into my ears, I heard this truth alone: “In Śrī Mahāprabhu’s teachings, in the naiṣkarmya of Bhāgavata-dharma, the word ‘work’ has but one meaning—unceasing hearing of Hari-kathā and faithfully repeating what is heard. In Bhāgavata-dharma, no other work exists. Whether in Satya, Tretā, Dvāpara, or Kali—whether in the past, present, or future—śravaṇa and kīrtana remain the sole activity.”
Any grandiose labor that overshadows śravaṇa-kīrtana, or obstructs the radiant progress of the luminous Sarasvatī Surya , is not seva. It is not the naiṣkarmya of Bhāgavata-dharma. Such toil is merely a pursuit of wealth, women, and prestige—a gross manifestation of karmavāda. Beneath the guise of śravaṇa-kīrtana, or while chanting strings of names, if one’s heart remains aflame with the volcano of ulterior desires, the outward blaze of labor and enthusiasm it fuels will inevitably extinguish in time.
Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī does not advocate such fleeting excitements. The unbroken flow and establishment of śravaṇa-kīrtana in the listening halls of Sarasvatī is the very foundation of the Śrī Gauḍīya Maṭha. This is not a structure of bricks and stones, but the eternal abode of Śrī Rūpa and Śrī Sanātana’s very life and soul—Śrī Govinda, Śrī Madana-mohana, and their divine temples. Though external adversaries once envied and desecrated these sacred edifices built by the great sampradāyas, shattering their spires, but they could not harm the immortal essence of Śrī Rūpa’s Bhakti-rasāmṛta-sindhu, Śrī Sanātana’s Bhāgavatāmṛta, and Vaiṣṇava-toṣaṇī. In these scriptures reside the eternally established Śrī Caitanya Sarasvatī. No countless enemies, no Kalāpahāḍas, could ever destroy these treasures. For the true sādhaka, the prestige of Sarasvatī lies in the ceaseless śravaṇa-kīrtana that flows through her eternal sanctum. Such is the lasting legacy of Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī, unshaken by time or opposition.
This structure of inert matter, built of bricks and stone, may serve—or has served—as a rest-house for tanners, a refuge for intoxicated hemp smokers, or even a den for gamblers. Yet within the voice of Rasāmṛta-sindhu and the Sarasvatī of Vaiṣṇava-toṣaṇī, neither Kali-yuga nor Māyā finds refuge. Here, there is space only for the unparalleled Enjoyer, the sovereign, whimsical, self-willed Śrī Kṛṣṇa, the Supreme Personality of Godhead, who inspires unfeigned enthusiasm and unrelenting endeavor for śravaṇa and kīrtana as offerings of pure devotion.
“To claim all prestige for myself,” “To hoard all wealth for my enjoyment”—if these attitudes drive the performance of service or the display of zeal, can that be called seva? Or is it merely a hollow enactment of Kṛṣṇa’s līlā to fuel one’s internal greed for adoration and gain? Let the Vaiṣṇavas not judge my service as great simply by my external actions or apparent fervor. Instead, may they discern the sincerity of my role as true sevaka through these measures:
How earnestly have I chanted the kīrtana of Sarasvatī, free from deceit?
How deeply have I strived and yearned for śravaṇa-kīrtana, and how faithfully have I executed it?
To what extent has śravaṇa-kīrtana sparked within me fresh revelations of conscious ecstasy(cid vilasa), manifesting in my kīrtana?
Only through these measures will the Vaiṣṇavas deem me a true servant of Sarasvatī.
If, on the other hand, I neglect Sarasvatī—if I exploit her service to accumulate accolades, titles, gifts, public adoration, and worldly success or failures—let the Vaiṣṇavas see me for what I truly am: an imposter, not her servant. Whether I am sick or healthy, utterly incapable in worldly terms or supremely skilled, a fool or a scholar, Sarasvatī remains the personification of the fierce, majestic vāk-vilāsa of Nṛsiṁha. She is Vāgīśā herself, the eternal voice of Śrī Caitanya. The extent to which I sincerely hear and chant her message, the depth of my inner enthusiasm, conviction, patience, and dedication to this labor, determines how closely I align myself with the role of her servant.
To discard Sarasvatī from my ears, despite the mantra she has instilled in me, would be a betrayal of her gift. After fourteen years, I humbly pray at the lotus feet of the Vaiṣṇavas, at the sacred soles of my Godbrothers, and at the serene, fearless, nectar-raining,like cooling of millions of moon lotus feet of my Śrī Gurudeva. I seek forgiveness and renewal.
For fourteen years, I have heard whispers that my spiritual lineage(My Swarupa or original identity) has undergone transformation. This perception has often led to disputes and wars of words with so-called societal commentators. Yet, after fourteen years of dedicated service to my master, have I borne any true progeny of spiritual worth? Should I not investigate the root cause of this barrenness? Does it not stem from the overpowering pride of my ego of beng enjoyer (purusha-abhimana) ?
In the hymns of Ṭhākura Bhaktivinoda, I once heard:
“chodata puruṣa, abhimāna। kiṅkarī hailu āji kāna।।
baraja vipine sakhī-sātha। sevana karavu rādhānātha।।”
“Abandon the pride of being an enjoyer(masculine). Today, become a maidservant. In the groves of Vraja, along with the sakhīs, Serve the Lord of Śrī Rādhā.”
But with my towering puruṣa-abhimāna (pride of masculinity), I have approached the narrations of Vraja-bhajana distributed by Śrī Gurupādapadma in the Mādhurya Maṇḍala, seeking to grasp them only through the intellect. If not guided by other streams of thought, such narratives appear easier to comprehend when tethered to materialistic inclinations. Yet, with this overpowering pride, can I ever hope to gain entry into the aṣṭa-kāla-līlā? Drifting along the current of worldly prestige, will I attain the knowledge of the siddha-praṇālī?
Carrying the burden of the stool of kanaka (wealth), kāminī (lust), and pratiṣṭhā (fame), can I truly aspire to be counted among the ranks of Śrī Lalitā’s followers in the intimate entourage of Gāndharvikā Śrīmatī Rādhārāṇī? Will I ever become a spiritual maidservant (kṛṣṇa-yoṣit) of transcendental bliss, residing under the care of Śrī Rūpa Mañjarī in transcendental Javāṭa village?
How will the eleven aspects of my ekādaśa-bhāva—such as my siddha-deha (perfected spiritual body), siddha-nāma (spiritual name), form, age, and disposition—manifest if I remain bound to the bhajana of worldly names (prestige)?
Can I ever receive the name “Mañjarī” if I fail to free myself from the snares of prākṛta-pratiṣṭhā (material prestige)? If I remain captivated by the gross, fleshly form of this world, how will the radiant service-form (sevāmaya-rūpa) of Śrī Rūpa, igniting the fire of divine desire for Śrī Kṛṣṇa, ever be revealed to me?
I am gradually becoming so entangled in disfigurement that instead of being enlivened by kṛṣṇa-kāma (divine desire for Kṛṣṇa), I am deteriorating under the weight of prākṛta-kāma (worldly lust). Have I, for so many years, engaged only in self-deception and deception of Kṛṣṇa? Where I ought to have deceived the prākṛta-ārya-janas (worldly so-called noblemen), have I instead deceived my own Ācārya, thus cheating myself eternally? Where I was meant to renounce the worldly husband, have I instead renounced Kṛṣṇa the supreme husband Himself, becoming perpetually bereft of His grace?
How long such days will continue to pass like this indefinitely? Even if I arrange for a meticulously calculated end to my life, can I truly conquer the realm of the conscious reality with my mere cunningness? Can I outwit Sarasvatī? My obstinate aversion and my excessive cleverness in trying to deceive her have left the Bhaktivinoda-vāṇī retreating into a state of silence, adopting a disposition increasingly inert and withdrawn.
Once, Bhaktivinoda Prabhu exhibited this very līlā:
“śrīgaura-vimukhabhāva, rādhākṛṣṇa-premābhāva, bhakativinoda dekhe yave।
saṃsārera dekhi gati, kṛṣṇabhaktihīna mati, vātavyādhi-chale maunī tave।।
avalamvi’ jada bhāva, jadatyāge vrajalābha, anukṣaṇa ei kathā mukhe।
kṛṣṇabhakti-śūnya dharā, dekhi prakāśila jarā, antara daśāya bhaje sukhe।।”
“When he beheld the people have no interest in the vani of Śrī Gaura and the absence of love for Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa, Bhaktivinoda saw such movement of the world and the intellect devoid of devotion to Kṛṣṇa. Afflicted by the malady of worldly airs, he became silent. Adopting inertness from the external world , he proclaimed the abandonment of the inert to achieve Vraja. At every moment, he uttered this truth. Beholding the world devoid of Kṛṣṇa-bhakti, He manifested aging in its external form, Yet found solace within his inner state.”
Realizing me to be cunning and deceitful, a seeker of messages revolving around kanaka, kāminī, and pratiṣṭhā, he deprived me of those very things, withholding their supposed means and ends. Concealing his potent, conscious voice, he left me bereft of her nourishing touch.
When I first came, bearing a liberated spirit and thirstless aspiration, this hidden mood of self-withdrawal did not reveal itself before me. In his impeccable, spotless speech, I never once heard words meant merely to flatteror messages advocating compromise with the world. His vāṇī remains as untarnished and unyielding as ever.
Beware! A dense and terrifying darkness is descending. The cry of “Sādhu, beware!”—which I once repeated with unrestrained fervor—now falters on my lips. Why? Because I myself have become careless. I have forgotten that vigilant warning: “Take care! Swindlers, thieves, and pickpockets abound.” As soon as the sun sets, bandits, thieves, pickpockets, and deceivers—hidden in all directions around me—will pounce upon me in an instant.
How much hypocrisy, how much atheism, how much deceit, how much cunning, how many countless forms of greed, worship, and lust for prestige! How many variations of sensual indulgence and opportunism stand like ravenous beasts, their jaws agape, waiting for the disappearance of the Ācārya-sūrya (the sun of my spiritual preceptors) into the horizon!
That merciful ray of Goloka, which had descended for the misfortune-stricken wretch that I am, now retreats into the twilight of the west (Spiritual world). Does its vigilant signal still attract my gaze at the end of the day? Or am I merely engrossed in other tasks, or worse, submerged in lethargy? Why this activity, and why this inertia? Are not the restlessness of deeds driven by lust for kanaka-kāminī-pratiṣṭhā (wealth, sensual desires, and prestige) and the paralysis of karmic idleness essentially one and the same?
Have I already forgotten the cherished song of Śrī Caitanya-vāṇī’s Manah-śikṣā, composed especially for someone like me? Long ago, I had cast Śrīla Raghunātha’s teachings into the waters of negligence!
“pratiṣṭhāśā dhṛṣṭādhama, caṇḍālinī hṛde mama yatakāla karibe nartana।
kāpaṭyatadupapati, nā chādibe mama mati, śvapacinī yāhe haya dūra।
tadarthe yatana kari, prabhupreṣṭha pada dhari’, sevā tumi kara pracura।।
tenha-prabhu senāpati, vikrama kariyā ati, śvapacinī-saṅga chādāiyā।
rādhākṛṣṇa-prema dhane, dibekabe akiñcane, bale bhaktivinoda kām̐diyā ।।”
“That insatiable desire for fame, the insolent and abominable chāṇḍālinī,When will she cease her frenzied dance within my heart? Deceit as her husband and desire for fame as her offspring will not leave my mind, That vile śvapacinī (dog-eater) remains far removed from by my own efforts .Thus Bhaktivinoda cries to “ Make an effort, therefore, taking hold of the lotus feet of the most beloved of the Lord, And render abundant service to him. That commander of the Lord’s army, with his supreme prowess, Will sever my bonds with the śvapacinī, And grant the treasure of Rādhā-Kṛṣṇa prema to this penniless soul. Thus cries Bhaktivinoda for shelter of such supreme commander of Krsna’s army.”
If I mistake tadarthe yatna (“strive for her sake”) to mean efforts for the śvapacinī rather than kṛṣṇārthe yatna (“strive for Kṛṣṇa’s sake”), then I cannot hold the lotus feet of the Lord’s beloved. If, in the pretense of vast service to the commander of the Lord, I grow indifferent to his vāṇī, his heroic efforts will fail to eradicate the disease of my anarthas. I must cry with a guileless heart, again and again, imploring my welfare through Bhaktivinoda’s vāṇī. I must listen to his words—drink deeply of their nectar.
Today, I bring this partial account of my crookedness to a close. To sum up thirteen years of deception in a single breath is impossible. Furthermore, Māyā-devī has countless agents, and at the time of presenting this account, they have offered many counsels to conceal my duplicities. How deeply I have been influenced by their ploys, I cannot say.
Now, with one final statement, I shall conclude this account of mine. From time to time, some people accuse me of using such writings, cloaked in the guise of personal humility, to cast fiery arrows of critique upon others. Their remarks serve as fuel to the already blazing fire of my desire for prestige. In other words, I could cunningly portray myself as free from such faults before the world, while subtly imputing these very flaws onto others to fulfill my hidden ambitions.
But today, with a heart laden with grief and anguish, I share these words. My disease in form of insatiable hunger for recognition has taught me many such devious tactics, yet my well-wishing gurus and the one-pointed servants of the unadulterated Bhaktivinoda-vāṇī have pointed out the myriad anarthas, faults, and symptoms of maladies that are either presently festering within me or are likely to surface in the future.
If I conceal these shortcomings, I may forget them, pretend my saintliness, and deceive others, thereby perpetuating my own self-deception. Thus, I have laid bare the truth of my nature. Know this, that I am afflicted with grave and heinous ailments. Do not mistake these disorders for Vaiṣṇavism. My frailty is not merely weakness—it is a chain of inexcusable offenses and sins, painstakingly accumulated, nurtured, and fostered over time.I only pray that these flaws do not bring disrepute to the ideals of Bhaktivinoda-vāṇī. If in some indirect manner, I may serve even slightly, then I shall consider this account of mine fulfilled.
One more thing—do not let my base faults discourage you, even a fraction, from engaging in guru-sevā. Rather, let this realization inspire the auspicious-minded to serve guru and the Gauḍīya line with a hundredfold greater enthusiasm, understanding this truth: even after pretending to undergo fourteen years of treatment and medicine in the Gauḍīya hospital, if one remains insincere, protection from Māyā-devī’s deceptions is impossible.
In absolute truth, there are no flaws—there is no unconscious activity within the conscious reality. The faults lie in my own misuse of free will. This ignorance affects only my primordial estrangement from the Supreme. Understanding this ultimate truth, a soul, even amidst innumerable obstacles, perils, and thorny paths, never loses enthusiasm in service; rather, the current of devotion surges within with even greater intensity.
Thus, I pray that I do not become a hypocrite or an atheist like those worldly-minded individuals endowed with demonic tendencies. May I not turn into an atibāṛī (one who pretends to transcend all rules). May I never adopt the philosophy of “I am everything.” May I never abandon the path of discipline, nor allow the slightest trace of heretical independence to take root in my heart, where I see myself as a self-appointed leader.
Bless me, all of you, that I may serve the unblemished Bhaktivinoda-vāṇī with unalloyed and boundless enthusiasm. May I never abandon the association of this sacred vāṇī for any other, nor let my zeal or effort be diverted to another cause. Let no inclination for mere showmanship awaken within me. May I never misuse the vāṇī of Bhaktivinoda for the gratification of my senses.Today, with this humble plea for blessings and a heartfelt prayer, I conclude this account with a prayer for auspiciousness.