Basic Transcript of November, 2018 Video
Twelve Chief Deviations: The Root Issues

by Kailäsa Candra däsa

Part One

November 2018


The history of Çréla Prabhupäda’s movement contains no shortage of nastiness and deception, and the important events of it, even when negative, must be admitted and assimilated despite their sordid nature. Devotees are not supposed to be ordinary human beings, and, as such, they must be willing to hold the leaders of Prabhupäda’s movement accountable for all that has transpired while they held—and, in one sense, still hold—the reins of power. This means you must understand, with intelligence free from delusion, what constitutes deviation from the principles of the guru-paramparä, because there has been plenty of it.

The policies of the fabricated, so-called “ISKCON” confederation are not merely based upon its philosophical system; they are actually based upon its politics, which prioritizes that which does not merit such importance. The objectives of “ISKCON” are no longer the aims of Prabhupäda’s Hare Kåñëa Society, a great movement hijacked forty years ago. The logical flow of “ISKCON” core assumptions can only be ascertained by understanding its history accurately, and that is what is being presented here for your benefit.

The “ISKCON” worldview is flawed. It thrives in its own echo chamber. It is dreadfully deviant. You should not participate in it, because, if you do, you will be implicated—and held accountable. Throughout the last four decades, every major player, enabler, and unwitting participant in “ISKCON” has contributed to a deviant political culture with deep roots. To get the overview, to achieve an accurate perspective of “ISKCON,” it is incumbent upon you to understand its history, particularly in terms of the big events that formed, shaped, and augmented that history. As per the realization of your host speaker, there have been twelve of them. Those events, meetings, and deviations have molded “ISKCON” into what it is now—and what it almost certainly will continue to be for as far as the eye can see.

Now, there were more than twelve events that, indirectly at least, influenced the degradation and deviation of Prabhupäda’s Kåñëa movement into its perverted reflection of today. Still, many of those were spin-offs from what will be described. Some of them were dependent upon a future, more significant event, and some were one-offs. In one case, it was a controversy and cannot be definitely ascertained as constituting an event.

Most of these secondary developments will be mentioned in passing, but they cannot be considered important in and of themselves. For example, Kértanänanda’s brash disregard of Prabhupäda’s order (just after he was given sannyäsa) caused a stir, but it did not have legs. Eventually, he and his fellow renegade, Hayagréva, begged forgiveness from Prabhupäda, and the escapade merged into oblivion. It does not qualify as a chief deviation.

Similarly, there was the concoction by four senior men formulated in late 1969. They pontificated that Prabhupäda was God, locked him up in his room in Los Angeles, declared to all their godbrothers and godsisters that Prabhupäda was displeased with them, and made plans to centralize everything into one center in Greenwich Village. It was thwarted.

All four conspirators were given sannyäsa and split up, and Prabhupäda’s newly-established governing body, along with his power of influence, de-fanged the whole thing by the late summer of 1970. There was no lasting trace from it, and those four all once again engaged in authorized seva to him and his cause.

These discourses constitute a multi-part video presentation. The first three chief events all took place while Prabhupäda was physically manifest. Ditto for the next three. As such, the six that took place after he departed were all conducive to deviations, were deviations in and of themselves, or were transformations of the Hare Kåñëa movement. They will be discussed as the series unfolds. One of the events—one which will be discussed in Part Two--was not at all inauspicious itself, but disregard of its orders led to major deviation.

Proceeding now to the first of the chief deviations, there can be little doubt that it was the centralization scheme of March, 1972. To wit: Eight of the twelve appointed governing body commissioners—appointed to their posts in the summer of 1970 when the G.B.C. was created—arranged a meeting in New York City in order to make major changes to the way Çréla Prabhupäda’s movement had been operating. They rationalized their legitimacy to make resolutions on the basis that seven commissioners constituted a quorum. They did not even inform Prabhupäda about the meeting.

This idea that the movement needed to have its centers and finances centralized had been formulating in the late winter of 1972, less than two years after the governing body had been formed as an unincorporated entity. In the early spring of 1972, specifically in the last week of March, this scheme blossomed. The inner workings of the G.B.C. during that ad hoc meeting of eight rogue members remains mostly a mystery.

At any rate, three of those eight men were especially gung-ho about centralizing all the satellite centers into one main temple in each zone and amalgamating all extra collections under the jurisdiction of one individual. He worked for a New York brokerage firm as one of its chief investors. He sold them on the idea that, if all the temples had their collections—or whatever could be spared—put under his control, he could make investments with that revenue which would very significantly increase the total wealth of the movement.

Of course, we are talking about casino capitalism here, but he was selling his expertise, and those eight men were buying. Whether the meeting’s proposals were heavily debated or not—and whether the final vote or votes was or were unanimous or not—this Iranian-American investor won the day. Not only did his financial scheme get approval, but he was also voted into a new post created by this ad hoc committee: He was voted in as the Secretary of the Governing Body Commission. De facto, this made him just like another G.B.C., although de jure, he was not actually added to the body.

Controlling most the movement’s monies was no small thing. In point of fact, on the day that it went down, this fellow became, aside from Prabhupäda, the most powerful man in the movement. He did not remain so for any significant length of time, and he wound up humbled when Prabhupäda overturned the whole scheme.

As it turned out, only one of the commissioners actually acted on the resolution, and, ironically, your host speaker was impacted—negatively—by that. The G.B.C. for the Midwest zone wrapped up temples in Madison and in Chicago. He also closed two centers in Ohio at Columbus and Cleveland. None of those temples were failing.

The Madison center was alone averaging two dedicated devotees joining it per month and was thriving, but on a small scale. The ad hoc eight, however, had no use for small scale; they were thinking big! They were thinking big profit and centralization, although Prabhupäda’s movement, from the very beginning, spread via a decentralization paradigm, one which emphasized individual initiative at the local level.

During the first week of April that year, His Divine Grace was visiting devotees in Australia on the way to Japan, so he was a great distance from the United States. Word got to him about the appointment of the new secretary, the centralization scheme of moving all the devotees and assets into one center in each zone, and the investment of all excess monies into a Wall Street account. Predictably, he was very, very displeased!

In a letter dated April 4th, he wrote as follows to one of the meeting’s participants:

“I am in due receipt of your letter, and the contents have greatly surprised me. I had no intimation that you all G.B.C. members have met and decided such big, big issues without consulting me. So, I have issued one letter in this regard to all of you, and you may take note that I consider that both the meeting and the resolution is irregular and immediately there should be no change. . . if you all, my right-hand men, are doing things without consulting me and making such big, big changes within our Society without getting my opinion, and the opinion of all the G.B.C. members, then what can I do? You mentioned that you are taking great help from Ätreya Åñi, but Ätreya Åñi is not a member of G.B.C. nor has he any position in my scheme to manage the whole Society. . . you may inform the other G.B.C. members that for the time being there shall be no change within the Society . . .”

His displeasure did not stop there. Two days later, in all capital letters, an identical telegram was sent to three of those wayward commissioners. It read as follows:


Some of the commissioners implicated responded amenably to this hard-hitting telegram, but His Divine Grace, the more he thought about it, saw the need to make a drastic change, which he did a mere two days after the telegram. In an identical letter sent to all of his temple presidents, he communicated the following directive:

“I beg to inform you that recently some of the Governing Body Commission members held a meeting at New York on 25th through 28th March, 1972, and they have sent me a big, big minutes, duplicated, for my consideration and approval, but in the meantime they have decided some appointments without consulting me. One of the items which struck me very much is as follows:

‘Ätreya Åñi däs was selected to be the Secretary for G.B.C. and receive all correspondence including monthly reports.' I never appointed Ätreya Åñi member of the G.B.C., and I do not know how he can be appointed Secretary to G.B.C. without my sanction. ‘He was also appointed to be on the Management Committee with Karändhara for the purpose of supervising ISKCON business and implementing the decisions reached by G.B.C..'

This has very much disturbed me. Çréman Ätreya Åñi däs may be very expert, but without my say, he has been given so much power, and this has upset my brain. I also understand that immediate actions are going to take place even prior to my permission, and that, also, ‘without divulging to the devotees(!)' Under these circumstances, I AUTHORIZE YOU TO DISREGARD FOR THE TIME BEING ANY DECISION FROM THE G.B.C. MEN UNTIL MY FURTHER INSTRUCTION. . . Finally, I beg to repeat that ALL G.B.C. ORDERS ARE SUSPENDED HEREWITH BY ME UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.”

Prabhupäda did not let it go. Three days after this letter, he wrote another letter to one of the aforementioned eight commissioners, one who was, in some ways, arguably its chief instigator. In a letter dated April 11th to Hansadutta, Prabhupäda dove into the specifics of the meeting’s many discrepancies:

“The meeting of the G.B.C. appeared to be very unconstitutional, because all the men were not informed or invited. Çyämasundara was not invited, Sudama was not invited, Kåñëa däs was not invited, Tamäla Kåñëa was not invited, neither I was informed. Why? You cannot hold meeting of eight persons without inviting the others. Seven may be a quorum, that's all right, but you cannot convene without a general announcement to all the members and myself, giving a proposed agenda, like that, the topics to be discussed, why the meeting is being called, etc. Then, there is correspondence for deciding these things, and if there is great necessity, then meeting may be called, but not whimsically, only after much thought is given, and there is clear intimation of all the members plus myself. . . And I am surprised that none of the G.B.C. members detected the defects in the procedure. It was detected only when it came to me. What will happen when I am not here, shall everything be spoiled by G.B.C.?”

That last ominous question has now been unequivocally answered.

The suspension of the G.B.C. for this unauthorized centralization scheme was temporary, and the exact date that it was lifted is difficult to ascertain. Ultimately, that is not important. Prabhupäda prevailed, and the rouge commissioners did not. Yet, just before 1972 came to a close, His Divine Grace reminded one of the meeting’s chief organizers and gung-ho participants that the incident was a close call. In a letter to Karändhara dated December 22nd, 1972, Prabhupäda indicated that the centralization scheme almost killed his Hare Kåñëa movement of Kåñëa consciousness:

“Do not centralize anything. Each temple must remain independent and self-sufficient. That was my plan from the very beginning; why you are thinking otherwise? Once before you wanted to do something centralizing with your G.B.C. meeting, and, if I did not interfere, the whole thing would have been killed. Do not think in this way of big corporation, big credits, centralization—these are all nonsense proposals.”

This was the first major deviation, and, and it went down prior to Prabhupäda’s leaving the scene in November of 1977.

(Bhakta Ernest) I have a question.

Bhakta Ernest.

“It seems that nothing really came of the centralization scheme. Even in that Midwest zone which acted on the resolution, all of those aborted temples were once again re-opened in a relatively short span of time. The excess monies from collections never were centralized and invested by that Wall Street broker. The G.B.C. was once again authorized and activated after a short suspension. How can this particular incident—as unseemly as it was—constitute one of the chief deviations when it appears to have had no negative impact after the fact?”

Superficially, your supposition appears to have legitimacy, but appearances can be deceiving. The deviation left a residual trace, because those eight members were not removed from the Commission. Their punishment received was very light. Basically, they were humiliated a bit, and little more than that. Also, the overwhelming majority of the real workers in the Hare Kåñëa movement never even knew about this incident. For example, your host speaker did not become aware of it until many years after it went down.

Instead of rectifying themselves, many if not most of those eight men came away with the belief that they could stretch the rubber band, and, even if it snapped, they were so dear to Prabhupäda that he would simply give them a slap on the wrist.

Was not this proven beyond a shadow of a doubt a mere six years later? Almost to the day when the centralization scheme created its resolutions in New York City in 1972, six years later there appeared, out of the ocean of Maya, the eleven zonal äcäryas. Many, if not most, of the G.B.C. men who attended that New York meeting became pretender mahäbhägavats in March of 1978, but, before that even, they defied their mandate contained in its Particulars, those that created the Governing Body Commission. This will be discussed next in our discourse. They also defied Prabhupäda’s injunction of “Regular guru, that’s all,” which will be considered in Part Two of this series.

It is the view of your host speaker that the 1972 centralization scheme left a residual trace of nescience that was never uprooted, and there is plenty of evidence to substantiate this conclusion. Externally, it could be argued that the ad hoc meeting in New York in 1972 came to nothing, but we are not very concerned about such superficiality. The incident left a malefic and malignant trace, and we have all been paying for that.

That G.B.C. centralization scheme was an unauthorized action, a deviated COMMISSION that was thwarted. The next deviation--which contributed to the shaping of what would eventually become today’s fabricated, so-called “ISKCON” confederation--was also made by the G.B.C.. However, it was just the opposite in nature: It was an unauthorized OMISSION, a failure of that entity to act according to, not only the expressed desire of Prabhupäda, but also according to its own formative tenets of legitimacy.


The name of the document which formed the Governing Body Commission was, and remains, The Direction of Management, sometimes abbreviated by its acronym, the D.O.M. Three of the following by-laws of its operations are found within it, and they read as follows:


The purpose of the Governing Body Commission is to act as the instrument for the execution of the Will of His Divine Grace. And further,

1. The G.B.C. oversees all operations and management of ISKCON, as it receives direction from Çréla Prabhupäda and His Divine Grace has the final approval in all matters.

2. His Divine Grace will select the initial twelve members of the G.B.C.. In the succeeding years the G.B.C. will be elected by a vote of all temple presidents who will vote for eight from a ballot of all temple presidents, which may also include any secretary who is in charge of a temple. Those eight with the greatest number of votes will be members for the next term of G.B.C. Çréla Prabhupäda will choose to retain four commissioners. In the event of Çréla Prabhupäda's absence, the retiring members will decide which four will remain.

3. The commissioners will serve for a period of three years, and they may be re-elected at the end of this period.

The G.B.C. was made an official association—it was formed—on July 28th, 1970 in Los Angeles when three of its original twelve commissioners (with all twelve specifically named in the document) affixed their signatures to it, along with Prabhupäda’s signature. There were nine Particulars detailed, and what has just been read comprises the first three of those Particulars, which the document clearly states must be followed in order for the G.B.C. to validly function. However, Particulars Two and Three were never followed.

The commissioners were authorized—or, if you choose, empowered—to serve for only three years. That is specifically stated in Particular Three. Then, to remain commissioners, they had to be RE-ELECTED to the post. Particular Two gives the specifics of just how that vote was to take place. Everything is there. It is crystal clear, but there never was such a vote held at any time since the G.B.C. was formed.

The vote was due to take place no later than July 28th, 1973. Nothing was done. It is very doubtful that most ISKCON temple presidents even knew that they had both the power and duty to determine who would be future members of the governing body, because the D.O.M. was, more or less, kept a secret document by the commissioners themselves.

No vote transpired, although it was specifically mandated in the document, a Directive which established the Commission. The D.O.M. was never formally amended until one Particular was changed (by the verbal adjustment of His Divine Grace in May of 1977) for reasons that were basically forced upon him.

Your host speaker talked, by phone, to one of the original twelve commissioners in April of 2012. I brought up this discrepancy, and that former leader (of a movement that he now more or less condemns) furiously jumped all over me. I considered his unseemly reaction to be nothing more than anger after frustration, because I indeed kept frustrating him. I kept pointing out that the original G.B.C.s, almost all of whom were still commissioners by mid-1973, were obliged to have held the vote.

He adamantly objected to this, alleging that any such vote would simply have exacerbated the politics within the movement. Did not the politics of the movement have plenty of ever-increasing politics active in it despite this vote not having taken place? His objection was personally motivated, and I recognized it as such.

Not only was his rationalization about why the decision not to hold the vote was right, he became even more furious when I insisted that each G.B.C. man—and that certainly included him—was duty-bound, at bare minimum, to have consulted His Divine Grace about whether or not he wanted the vote to take place.

In other words, Prabhupäda was never informed—and that G.B.C. verified this fact to me (which I had already pre-supposed anyway)—that the remaining commissioners had no intention whatsoever of jeopardizing or giving up their posts. They were not going to subject themselves to any vote--what to speak of one from their underlings, the temple presidents. The commissioners deviated by omission, by not acting upon what they were obliged to act upon—and not even consulting Prabhupäda about their failure to do their duty.

That they continued to act as governing commissioners without the further (and required) vote authorization as enjoined in the D.O.M. is a historical fact beyond dispute. This deviation by omission is the second major dereliction of duty that shaped the current sahajiyä enterprise known as “ISKCON.”

(Bhakta Ernest) Väsu Gopäl has a question.

Väsu Gopäl

“There is no record of Prabhupäda speaking up about the G.B.C. not holding the vote mandated by the D.O.M. in the summer of 1973. The G.B.C. still appeared to be functioning according to his will and orders after that. Why didn’t he remind all of his commissioners—or at least some of them or at least one of them--that they were obliged to have held that vote? By not doing so, didn’t he, at least indirectly, also agree that the vote, as per the Second Particular of the Direction of Management, was no longer required for the body to continue to function?”

Your doubt appears to have some teeth, and this would certainly be the chief argument against the conclusion that the vote not being held constituted a deviation. However, what your question here ignores is how a spiritual master can and does deal with wayward disciples. It also overlooks the fact that His Divine Grace planted a kind of transcendental time bomb into his movement, one which could and would explode after he departed.

Major deviation has been an “ISKCON” hallmark ever since the imposition of the eleven pretender mahäbhägavats as zonal äcäryas in late March, 1978. It was not the spiritual master’s duty to remind his direct agents for management that they were obliged to hold the D.O.M. vote. If they were so ignorant—or, more to the point, if they were so attached as to intentionally ignore that obligatory directive—then he was not going to interfere with their collective misuse of free will. The çaktyäveça-avatär, the Founder, has no obligation whatsoever to remind his disciple of any order he gives.

All twelve of those men—although one had resigned in 1972 and had been replaced—were aware of the Direction of Management. They were thus aware that they were duty bound to have shared the Particulars of the document with the temple presidents. Don’t believe for a moment that Prabhupäda was unaware of the fact that they had not done so—not, at least, on the scale required. None dare call it a conspiracy.

His Divine Grace gave them three years to prove to him that they were willing to accept the restrictions to their power that were contained in the D.O.M. Not only did they not accept those restrictions by not making any preparations for the vote or holding the vote, they did not even discuss that collective decision with Prabhupäda. His leading secretaries all failed a major test. The movement’s history following this failure attests to it being a major deviation which helped to form and empower “ISKCON.”

Now, on to number three. A mere five months after this action by omission, a most glaring and consequential innovation took place in the movement: The plainclothes pick. By its very nature, it was based upon deception. Previous to this, devotees distributed magazines and books in devotional attire, including at the airports. Your host speaker was one of those distributors at O’Hare airport, and people who approached us there knew, as they came out from the arrival gate to the open pavilion, just who was waiting for them.

All of that changed, radically, with the plainclothes pick. Did Prabhupäda actually approve of it? Did he actually want it? Here are some indications:

“Regarding our sankirtana party members dressing up as hippies in order to increase book distribution, this is not a very good plan. . . the devotees can dress up in respectable clothes like ladies and gentlemen in order to distribute my literatures under special circumstances, but even this program should not become widespread.”

(Bhakta Ernest) I have another question.

Bhakta Ernest

“The excerpt from the letter you have cited here is quite specific. It includes the order that plainclothes distribution could only be done in special circumstances and should not become widespread. How was it that this clear order from the Äcärya was so blatantly disobeyed?”

It’s because many, if not most, of the big guns were already corrupt or being corrupted by that time. They were already inclined to do their own thing, and they thought they knew better than him. They were already converting Prabhupäda into a figurehead, and they saw the opportunity to indirectly degrade so many devotees under their control by converting them into passionate collectors of money and lying swindlers “for Kåñëa.” At the same time, they gained control of such a huge increase in the revenue. With it, they could do as they saw fit—often, to fulfill their ambitious desires. It was their movement now, and they were determined to prove it. Prove it they did by insisting that full-out deceptive collection techniques were what Kåñëa wanted. No. It was what THEY wanted, and, by God, they got just what they wanted, the movement be damned.

The above-mentioned excerpt was from a letter dated February, 1973 to a commissioner. The idea of the plainclothes pick was percolating--and even perhaps formulating--at that time. Here is another letter, with a similar theme, to another commissioner. This one is dated December, 1973, when the plainclothes pick had already been actuated:

“So why not give them the chance of seeing by wearing the beads, tilaka, and çikha? You are not paramahaàsa that you can do whatever you like. So, my advice to you is that you remain ideal Vaiñëava internally and externally, and everyone will respect you.”

In July of 1973, as this plainclothes idea was not yet implemented, Prabhupäda wrote to a different commissioner, wherein he approved his male devotees wearing wigs and plainclothes for the purpose of distributing books. However, His Divine Grace made it clear that they must be identified as devotees when approaching someone to accept literature and make a donation:

“There is no objection to going in Western clothes in order to distribute my books. It is not necessary that we always wear the robes, but we should always keep çikha and teelok.”

There was no enthusiasm expressed by Prabhupäda in extending this permission, as the phrase “there is no objection” is a far cry from his expressing really deep support. It was being forced upon him. He only wanted it undertaken, as he clearly stated, in “special circumstances.” He did not want the plainclothes pick to become widespread, but, beginning in December, 1973, that is just what it became. He wanted distribution of his literature, and the accompanying collection, to be made by disciples wearing some devotional attire, with the çikha, neck beads, and tilaka prominent. Indeed, as stated here, the çikha and neck beads had to always be visible on the bodies of his book distributors.

However, plainclothes distribution was established during the Christmas pick of 1973—mostly at the airports in the beginning—and it entirely ignored his orders. The innovation quickly spread. By 1976, no temple in the United States distributed and collected anymore in devotional attire or with tilaka, neck beads, and çikha visible. Devotees were meant to be honest and not to engage in lying, but daily mendacity became fundamental to the pick by all the collectors, beginning in 1973. It was a disaster for the movement in many ways, although the revenue flow increased substantially.

In hindsight, with book distribution and collection now emaciated for decades, it has to be seen as a deviation and a debacle, despite Prabhupäda approving some elements of it. Remember: He also ordered that it be restricted, which it never was. It grew and grew and grew. The so-called laxmé points grew and grew, and books were distributed in increased numbers. However, the mode of passion within devotees engaged in the plainclothes pick also grew. Various deceptions and lying also increased exponentially, and the rationalizations underlying such mendacity were not restricted simply to the outside world; they infiltrated everywhere throughout the movement, including into the temples themselves.

Temple presidents pushed devotees to eat grains on ekadashi so that they would have more energy to collect for longer hours. After Prabhupäda departed, this morphed into amphetamines. The original emphasis of distributing Prabhupäda’s literature morphed into collecting the most money by hook or by crook. The leaders loved it, although they were not the ones who engaged in the austerity of making these collections in the field. Instead, they reaped the benefits and the fame, which were tallied as “laxmé points.” Seeing all of this deceptive collection—in which so many of Prabhupäda’s real workers were converted into little more than gold-plated grifters instead of advanced, pure, and knowledgeable devotees—anyone can now ascertain that this innovation ushered in the formation of the fabricated, so-called “ISKCON,” rather than developing a real Hare Kåñëa movement.

(Bhakta Ernest) Väsu Gopäl has another question.

Väsu Gopäl

“Didn’t the massive increase in books distributed outweigh the deceptive flaws inherent in this innovation? Didn’t the increased revenue from the pick also assist in spreading Kåñëa consciousness by affording more opulent Deity worship and the purchase of expensive amenities for opening bigger and more well-equipped temples and satellite centers? Why did Prabhupäda let it go on if the negatives actually exceeded the positives?”

The answer to these questions requires a long-range perspective. Mass book distribution and massive collections were prominent in the Seventies, beginning with the Christmas pick of 1973. These did not last. The austerity required was not ultimately carried through after Prabhupäda departed, although the fan spun for awhile after it was unplugged. Also, the ever-increasing emphasis on money rather than books soon manifested. First, it was in the form of L.P. records, then candles, then South Korean knock-off paintings, and, in due course, almost anything and everything, including colorful scarves--anything except for books or magazines. B.T.G. distribution also dropped to almost zero.

One thing led to another. Providence gave way to Fate or material destiny, as each unauthorized action led to the next deviation. The pick was a big part of that. The fact is that Prabhupäda was forced by his leaders to accept the plainclothes pick, and there are more excerpts from letters (other than the three cited here) providing strong evidence that he never wanted this innovation.

Once it became clear that his leaders were going to do it anyway, he made demands. He demanded that the collection each year doubled the total from the previous year. If they were going to insist upon turning the mass of his movement into a bunch of mixed devotees in the mode of passion--pushed by personally ambitious leaders--then they were indirectly also forced to distribute his (at that point, unedited) books in a very big way.

Prabhupäda lost control of the movement in the mid-Seventies. However, he gave his mostly corrupt leaders one final kick before he departed, forcing them to put the pedal to the metal and increase the range of influence of his unedited books for the sake of their transcendental effect on posterity. Still, the plainclothes pick changed the whole direction of the movement.


Quotes from the books of His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada are copyright by the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust