(from Monkey On a Stick)
When Westemers tried talking to him about physical attraction and
other nonsense he'd heard in their pop songs, he always gave the same
explanation: ''What sounder foundation could a marriage have than devotion
to Krishna? Surely, Krishna is a stronger bond than you transitory
feelings?"
But the letters proved that the devotees had simply not advanced far
enough. Prabhupada sliced the flap of the first envelope with an engraved
silver letter opener given to him by one of his eager secretaries.
He ran his eye down the page: another complaining husband.
Prabhupada sighed and slit open another envelope. Here was a letter
from a devotee in Chicago reporting that the temple president had delivered
a speech saying that the number of devotees the movement attracted
was no longer important. Prabhupada shook his head. This is all
nonsense. The president was in maya.
So many were in maya.
''This is too much for one sick old man to handle,'' he said to his
secretary, who was still standing by his side. "If only Krishna had sent
me help in the form of one enlightened devotee. But none of these boys
has experienced samadhi, none is advanced enough to be my successor.''
Then, he smiled at the irony. Maybe it was just as well. If there
was only one successor, the others would surely gang up to destroy the
man.
Prabhupada once again rang his bell. Another devotee entered.
''I will take massage now,'' he said, placing himself on the massage
table. "As I once called Kirtanananda Kitchenananda, I should call myself
'Problempada.' ''
The masseur didn't respond.