My visit to New Mayapur —if my memory works well

The idea I explore throughout these essays is that the science of citizens’ well-being —what we call democracy* where I’m from— go hand in hand, and the former depends on the latter. I’ll share my personal experience with these two foundational elements, much like I did in my article about the origin of cherry trees. 

* As a Prabhupada’s follower, I keep in mind his critics about it: he used to call it demoncrazy. 

The COVID crisis was a dark time. A sort of martial law forced people to stay home, and masks were mandatory everywhere —even if you were walking alone in the woods. It was absurd. Yet philosophers and scientists, like Michel Onfray and physicist Étienne Klein (to name a few), boldly declared on TV and radio that this was the best way to fight the virus —even calling for a 'war on the unvaccinated', in good tune up with President Emmanuel Macron, who declared on TV right from the beginning of the crisis: 'We are at war!' I’ll explain later why this was foolish. Suffice to say for the moment that language is a powerful and essential tool for controlling minds. Nudging is no longer enough. it’s time for action. And words, if repeated relentlessly by authorities and the media, should help do the job. (I explain this propaganda tactic in a note I called: "With Confucius —Words Must Keep Their Meaning.”)

After spending weeks with my family in France (my flight back to Canada had been canceled), I longed to reconnect with Krishna devotees at one of their farms. What a perfect chance to recharge, as they say —waking up early for mangala arati, chanting in the company of devotees... I love it.  

I called temples in Belgium (Radhadesh), Germany, and New Mayapur. All refused me, citing COVID rules. (They didn’t even ask if I was vaccinated.)  

By Christmas, restrictions eased, and travel was allowed again. I called the temples to announce my visit —offering to pay for my stay, no problem. Oddly, they were defensive. Things had changed in Europe: Life Members now got better treatment than Prabhupada’s disciples. They demanded to know "who I was" and where my Krishna consciousness stood —in writing, please! So I sent a polite letter explaining my spiritual journey, assuring them Prabhupada was my guiding light and politics didn’t interest me. Still not enough. Radhadesh even wanted me to face a committee! At that point, I gave up.  

A former devotee, hearing my troubles, connected me with Gopaswami (pictured next to my wife). He’s Prabhupada’s disciple, the oldest devotee at New Mayapur, and a dear friend. Immediately, he arranged my visit.  

When the media first warned of COVID’s "terrible consequences" in December 2019, I was in Melkote, India. Later, I traveled to Sri Lanka, France, and Canada. My wife and I lived normally, ignoring alarms —as long as no vaccine pass was required since we were reluctant to do so.

A few weeks later, around Christmas time, the crisis seemed less severe and travel restrictions were lifted. So I called all those temples again to announce my visit. Of course, I would gladly pay for my room and meals.  

Strangely, they were all defensive. Apparently, things had changed in Europe —though I suspect it's the same everywhere in the world. They wanted to know who I was and where my Krishna consciousness stood. All in writing, please! So I wrote a nice letter explaining my spiritual journey, reassuring them of my allegiances: Prabhupada was my God on earth, —my guiding light— and political disputes weren’t my cup of tea. It wasn’t enough. In Radhadesh, they wanted me to appear before a committee!? At that point, I gave up.  

After hearing about my misadventures, a devotee put me in touch with Gopaswami (pictured next to my wife). He’s a direct disciple of Prabhupada and the oldest devotee at New Mayapur. He’s also a longtime friend of mine, dating back to the founding of the community. Though he too asked a few questions, he quickly arranged for me to visit. A few days later, I finally received the community’s approval and set off, knowing the journey would be taxing at my age.

Caution was still necessary —catching COVID could range from uncomfortable to downright disastrous, both for oneself and those around. The media never stopped hammering the point home. Masks were mandatory outdoors, and travel was restricted to essential trips. So I took advantage of the slight easing of restrictions during the holiday season and traveled by train to New Mayapur in Berry, central France. It wasn’t an easy journey.

Many still wore masks, but I felt better now that mandates had been lifted for the unvaccinated. Yet one can’t help but wonder about the long-term repercussions these health policies will have on populations in the near future.

Until 2021, we had the freedom to choose whether or not to get vaccinated. We believed eugenics was a cursed science of the past. How many times did I have to remind anyone who would listen that the cheerleaders of progress —those Sputnik dreamers eager to launch a new civilization on Mars— are determined eugenicists aiming to transform humans into superhuman robots? These white-coated figures call themselves transhumanists. Their vision of life and the future has attracted hordes of followers. With COVID, the democratic ideal has suffered a stinging slap. The vaccination freedom that top government officials swore they’d never touch has now been outright stripped from citizens, met with the blind approval of the majority. 

Big Pharma has seized the reins of humanity, turning the planet into an open-air laboratory. We are the test subjects, and science has become a tool of demagogic and physical manipulation. Who still doesn’t know these vaccines remain experimental? They’re still in Phase III trials: the stage where side effects are analyzed in lab rats. Except now, humans are the rats. They’re testing vaccines on them, on their children, and they mistake this evolution of eugenics for extraordinary scientific progress, achieved in record time. And they applaud it.  

It wasn’t an easy trip. I arrived after nightfall, and when the bus drove away, I was left in complete darkness. Despite announcing my arrival, no one was there to greet me. I dragged myself along the dirt path as best I could, suitcase in arms, until I reached the castle. I tried to stay positive —after all, I was the one who wanted this experience after over thirty years of absence. Daylight would eventually chase away the night, and all would be set right.  

I was among the first to arrive for mangala arati. After thirty years, nothing had changed in the temple hall. In a few minutes, the pujari would ring a small bell, and the curtain would open to reveal the magnificent Deities. I had witnessed their installation. In my fading memory, Srila Prabhupada was present at one of them, seated in the very spot where his vyasasana now stands. Memories flash before me: I am young again, brimming with hope. I fiercely believe this movement will change the world, that the train I’ve boarded is painted in the vibrant colors of freedom, progress, and spirituality. I am so happy. During the kirtanas, I lose myself like an ecstatic madman. The atmosphere is paradise itself, enchantment at its peak. Srila Prabhupada smiles. Our joy replenishes his life force, for his health is failing.  

Suddenly, a devotee sitting on a chair in a corner of the temple called out to me in an untimely voice: "Your mask!" And he pointed out that the rule was even stricter for visitors. He wore a plexiglass one covering his entire face, like those welders use when working. Yet when the devotees arrived for the ceremony, some weren’t wearing any. It wasn’t practical for singing, and they didn’t seem too concerned. Truthfully, I never had a serious discussion about it —not even with Gopaswami, who is, incidentally, a retired doctor. 

One day, I crossed paths with former Swami Paramgati, who had also been the GBC for France in the early 1980s. He was unassuming and friendly —a stark contrast to the charismatic personalities we’ve grown accustomed to. You could tell right away he wasn’t American: approachable, humble, and determined to speak French at all costs.  

Delighted to see him again (and sensing the feeling was mutual, though disappointment soon crept in), I tried to spark conversations whenever we bumped into each other between doors. No luck. He evidently had bigger fish to fry (sorry). But on the eve of my departure from New Mayapur, another chance arose. I seized it to share my regret over the distant, if not cold, relationships I’d experienced in the community. He acted surprised. So I gave him his own example: during my entire stay, he hadn’t once invited me for a one-on-one prasadam meal or any other personal exchange. He hurriedly apologized —the bare minimum— but for a former GBC, his response felt lukewarm.  

With COVID raging, I took the opportunity to ask his thoughts on the pandemic and any realizations he’d had. His reply: “Oh, it’s a complex issue.” Instantly, I sensed his confusion about the virus’s spread. Nothing from Prabhupada’s teachings seemed to help him here, nor did it bridge the gap in our mutual realizations —despite sharing the same guru.  

In short, like with Aristanasana, he had little to say and no interest in listening. Increasingly, I encounter this attitude among Krishna devotees: no appetite for societal or philosophical topics, even though Srila Prabhupada regularly debated them throughout his life with us: Darwin, progress, science, yoga, preaching, celibacy, purification through chanting, wars, landing on the moon, etc. Yet at New Mayapur, with rare exceptions, no devotees showed interest. It simply doesn’t seem to concern them. We parted minutes later, wishing each other well.  

"Former sannyasi" —because he had sexual relations with a boy, if I remember correctly. Dowgraded to the rank of a simple brahmacari, he now has to serve Srila Prabhupada’s murti for a few years at New Mayapur, France. Of course, as I just explained, I didn’t ask him about it. If you want to discuss or read about sannyasis’ deviations, you can go on Facebook or Vedic Enquirer —they really go all out there. Even atheists —former devotees— get something out of it.  

I remember when Paramgati Swami arrived from South America to Paris. I would meet him in what served as his office, and we’d talk happily. There were no taboos; we talked about everything. But times have changed. Now there’s the internet, along with many disciples (or ex-disciples) waiting for him to be reinstated as a guru. I’m just speculating —I don’t actually know. But he told me he was very busy, alone in his room, with no time to waste on idle talk —or prajalpa, as we say.  

Only Gopaswami and a devotee I didn’t know, Nandarani -in charge of the guesthouse- were willing to take prasadam with me. It still makes me smile when devotees solemnly declare that Krishna consciousness is one big, happy family.

I couldn’t believe my eyes: one morning, during the Srimad-Bhagavatam class given by Janananda Maharaj, I was utterly stunned to see the temple president, Sulocana das, originally from India, who had duly received his brahminical cord as befits a serious devotee, biting his nails, seated in the front row, facing the swami who seemed unconcerned, fully engrossed in his discourse.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness." I have always liked this saying, and so did many devotees in the Sankirtana movement of Caitanya Mahaprabhu.  

One of the first lessons a new devotee learned in Krishna consciousness was to wash with water instead of toilet paper and to take a shower afterward. The first service often assigned to him was cleaning pots in Krishna’s kitchen. Throughout the day, if one touches the floor, a waste bin, or any bodily opening, they must wash their hands before touching anything else.  

The mouth is considered unclean, so one should avoid sucking on fingers, pens, or biting nails. If the mouth is touched, hands should be washed immediately. Licking stamps or blowing out candles and incense sticks is also discouraged.  

This made perfect sense to me, especially for someone striving to rise above a sudra ignorance and cultivate brahmaṇa qualities —a key teaching emphasized during the two weeks bhakta program.  

Back then, the term "muci" (contamination) was frequently used. A serious devotee —whether a sankirtana preacher, pujari, or BBT translator— quickly internalized these rules. No matter which temple you visited around the world, the standards and understanding were consistent, and in many places, I suppose, they still are.  

Sadly, today this is no longer the case everywhere, not even in temples where Prabhupada remains the central focus of the community, such as ISKCON temples, particularly New Mayapur as you just read. Here we observe that things have changed, not for the better. Science has lost its meaning in connection to Krishna Consciousness.

We can debate the concept of democracy endlessly, but its very essence is free speech: without it, democracy is just an illusion. The photo I’m using to drive this point home shows Socrates moments before government agents forced him to drink the fatal poison, all because he spoke too much and influenced the youth against the state’s interests.

Yet today, deep discussions about global events —or even the inner workings of the Krishna devotee society— are nearly nonexistent. When they do happen, they circle the same tired topics: "What defines a true guru according to Srila Prabhupada?" "How to surrender to Kṛṣṇa and cultivate unconditional love for Radharani?" "How to perfect the maha-mantra chanting?" and so on. 

Take Vedic Inquirer, that popular Facebook discussion forum. The rule is clear: freely discuss sexual abuse of children within our movement —but never mention the thousands of Muslim children assaulted, tortured, and killed daily in Palestine. That’s how ‘free speech’ is framed here.  

In truth, democracy itself is rejected —politics included. So we only speak of ‘Kṛṣṇa’s children,’ as if karma stops at the doors of our ashrams." That is not rationalism; it is not science.

Free talk does not mean prajalpa —mindless chatter or speaking aimlessly about trivial things. One should know the purpose of our words; otherwise, it is better to remain silent, listen, and learn.  

This was the fate of many philosophers in Greece: those who failed to flee into exile were condemned. Such was the reality of the so-called "great and first democracy" we romanticize today. Now, we repeat the same delusions with Ukraine and Israel as great examples of democratic countries. What true wisdom can come from such distorted views of history? What benefits for our progress and unity for the mouvement? 

As a conclusion I will say : the relativity of free speech in modern democracies bears a striking resemblance to ancient Athens, where offending the collective conscience —not inciting violence— was enough to warrant a death sentence. Socrates was not hated for what he said, but for disturbing what had to remain unquestioned. Science cannot flourish in that situation. I remind you that Greece had disappeared not long after that famous democratic regime. In fact, it did not last more than two centuries. 

Since I am a devotee of Krishna and a humble follower of Srila Prabhupada, I reject this ocean of propaganda and nescience. My duty and that of my spiritual brothers and sisters is to rise above it and guide others to the truth. ■