Les grands enjeux de société et les idées qui en font la trame, avec humour, passion et gravité.
25 Décembre 2025
(I should note, however, that I faced a ban from entering a temple in France — Nouvelle Mayapura — in December 2020, for no apparent reason. It was eventually lifted after weeks of negotiations, though I was never given a reason for this ban.)
"One who gives personal instruction to each and everyone does more for others than the platform speakers do. Generally, whatever platform speakers say cannot solve the problems of everyone in the audience, nor can it always benefit every individual." -- Bhaktisiddhanta Maharaja
I am deeply inhabited by the idea that a personal relationship is indispensable within the Vaishnava path. It constitutes the essential link —the bridge— between the disciple and the spiritual master. The more I advance in age, the more this conviction takes root within me. Before elucidating how my name fits me so perfectly, I wish to dwell upon the "personal" dimension of the spiritual bond I cultivate with Srila Prabhupada. During his three-week stay at Nouvelle Mayapura, and despite his declining health, he did not renounce his afternoon walks.
My memory bears the imprint of those rare moments when his gaze met mine. One of them, undoubtedly the most emblematic of the disciple’s condition, occurred as I was offering flower petals at his lotus feet while he sat upon the Vyasasana.
While vision has its importance, our tradition places a singular emphasis on sound vibration. In truth, the term 'darshana' embraces both realities. The ideal lies in the proximity of the disciple seated at the foot of his spiritual master, as advocated by the Upanishads; therein, he benefits from both aspects. This privilege was not granted to me.
Yet, all my life I have been taught that devotional service in separation constitutes the supreme aspiration. Though my deep intuition felt led astray by this, I strove to apply myself to this discipline through the path of purification. Was I always constant in this? To be honest, no. When Prabhupada honored Nouvelle Mayapura with his presence, I transgressed this conception of service: I resorted to a subterfuge, feigning illness to withdraw from Traveling Sankirtan. Through this stratagem, I was able to enjoy his association. Consequently, I remain naturally inclined to believe in the privilege afforded by a personal presence.
This is precisely what distinguishes me from the ritviks, for whom an impersonal association with the Divine transcends dualism, turning separation from the guru into a pragmatic principle. And I admit, they are not entirely wrong. However, I have already expounded upon these reflections at length and do not wish to revisit them here.
I seek now to discover if there exists an intimate and personal relationship between my being, my name, and Srila Prabhupada. As I have previously explained, I identify more with Akhilesvara than with Haridas Thakur. It is my name that carries me, and not I who carry my name.
Jean Paulhan, a famous French writer, warned us in Les Fleurs de Tarbes that words manipulate us the moment we allow them to think for us: they stop describing the world and begin dictating what we should see in it.
I believe he is right in the case of my name. Thanks to my initiation, from the very moment I received it, it dictated what I was meant to see.
This name is composed of two words: akhila and isvarah. The former signifies 'everything,' and the latter 'God'. In the complete works of Srila Prabhupada, this name is mentioned only once —a testament to its uniqueness. This occurrence is found in the Srimad-Bhagavatam (3.1.2). While conversing with Maitreya Rishi, Vidura says:
"What is there to say about the Pandavas' house? Sri Krishna, the Lord and Master of all that exists, acted as your minister there. He entered your home as if it were His own, yet He paid no attention to the house of Duryodhana."
(It is worth noting that Bhagavan — the name of my ritvik — precedes mine, Akhilesvara; a striking coincidence, to say the least.)
Just as the word pantheism is divided into two roots: pan (the whole) and theism (God). The pantheism we are familiar with, notably that of Spinoza, is essentially atheistic, though the etymology of the word suggests otherwise. Spinoza, in a sense, misled the world by misusing this concept. However, as a Vaiṣṇava — whose name signifies the servant of Him who permeates the entire world with His divine presence — I share my realization, what I have learned from Prabhupada.
In the purport of this verse, he explains the philosophy of acintya-bhedabheda-tattva. He writes: for the Gaudiya, "anything which satisfies the senses of the Supreme Lord, Sri Krishna, is also Sri Krishna. For example, Sri Vrindavana dhama is nondifferent from Sri Krishna because at Vrndavana the Lord enjoys the transcendental bliss of His internal potency. Similarly, the house of the Paṇḍavas was also the source of transcendental bliss for the Lord. It is mentioned here that the Lord identified the house with His own Self."
Therefore, to see God everywhere does not mean that my cherry tree or the hedgehog in my garden are manifestations of God; that is how the atheists think. What I am saying is that the material world and its diversity are permeated by God, by Krishna. On the other hand, the house of the Pandavas was different, for the reason that Krishna regularly trod its soil —in person. I repeat—bis repetita placent—in person!
Where am I going with this? A devotee of Krishna, like any believer — whether Muslim or Christian — takes it for granted that God knows perfectly the heart of every human being, and even more intimately the heart of His own devotee. He posits as a fundamental principle that nothing happens without His will: not the trembling of a blade of grass, not the slightest movement of my arm, nor even a simple blink of the eyelids.That being so, what remains is to identify the link that truly unites the soul to God — not God conceived as an impersonal force, but as a Person endowed with qualities, will, and relational capacity.
I therefore continually return to this idea of the link that unites me to God through His pure devotee, Srila Prabhupada. In joining Krishna consciousness, I learned an essential principle of Vaishnava theology: God can only be approached through the intermediary of His pure devotee. And that devotee is not different from Him.Such is the philosophy of acintya-bhedābheda-tattva — simultaneously inconceivable difference and non-difference — which has nothing to do with relativism, incidentally. For it would be all too easy to shift from one aspect to the other according to one’s convenience, to make this doctrine say whatever one wishes, and thus to mislead oneself while misleading others.
In my early days in Krishna consciousness, I knew nothing of Prabhupada or the spiritual stature he possessed. Very quickly, however, one discovers that he is no ordinary man and that, among yogis, he occupies the highest rank. One would even hear or read him being presented as superior to Vyasa himself. He was said to be a saktyavesa-avatara —that is, empowered with exceptional divine potency as the intimate friend of Krishna and Balarama. It was not so much a matter of understanding as it was of welcoming through faith. A philosophy such as acintya-bhedabheda-tattva does not easily yield to the scrutiny of the mind. Beyond goodwill and sincerity of heart, lived experience is required, especially when one lacks an academic background in these fields.
We were so determined in our will to transform the world and purify our hearts that we did not distinguish between mystification and the preaching that came down to us from above. In this instance, we were resolved to save our spiritual master from an illness that was gravely weakening him, to the point that he risked leaving us. How? Through the distribution of books.
I truly believed, along with all my Godbrothers and our superiors, of course, that Prabhupada’s health could improve through our determination; that through the prodigious efforts of his devoted disciples, his life could be prolonged. In doing so, Prabhupada could, in turn, ask Krishna to consider the importance of his mission and grant him a little more time on earth among us. It was enough that he simply desired it. After all, why would that not have been possible? In the Chaitanya Charitamrita, it is mentioned that by the mercy of God, of Krishna, a blind man can see the stars in the sky, a mute can become an eloquent orator, and a lame man can cross mountains.
Since his visit to New Mayapur, Prabhupada’s health had done nothing but decline. This anomaly could not be explained. Who can understand the inconceivable plans of Krishna? The fact remains that Srila Prabhupada galvanized the book distributors whenever he showed his satisfaction with their service. 'He who can do more can do less,' as the French saying goes, but we had the wild ambition to prove that proverb wrong.
Bhagavan had the transcendental idea of 'forcing Krishna’s hand.' To do this, he sent the men and women of the sankirtan into a book distribution marathon: we were to outmaneuver the forces of evil that were attacking our spiritual master's health. The challenge was to distribute so many books that the record achieved would give him a second wind of life. During this marathon, we set aside all our non-essential personal needs, and Bhagavan had made all the arrangements so that the goal could be reached without our determination wavering.
I will not describe here this extraordinary adventure that pushed us beyond the limits of our personal capacities; however, I am providing the virtual link that allows you to hear, from the mouth of Tamal Krishna Maharaja, the communication of this marathon’s results to Prabhupada, whom I imagine bedridden. Here, then, is the transcription. It is particularly significant, knowing now how unique my name — Akhilesvara — is in comparison, for example, to that of Bhagavan or Govinda. I am hearing and reading it for the very first time, even though Adhishekar Prabhu had already conveyed its essence to us in person back then — Prabhupada having sent a telegram in which he congratulated us and mentioned, in a kind of comparison, the service of the six Goswamis. Its significance comes from that personal aspect, in the sense that it touches directly on my relationship with Prabhupada — if there truly is one — given how fallen I am, and on the subject of this account, among other things the way the Ritviks interpret that relationship.
I had the text translated by AI and reposted it as is; I highlighted my name.
Tamāla Kṛṣṇa: I think we'll give you another report later on. It's successful. That's a fact. Only these are suggestions how it can be improved. We'll speak with Svarūpa Dāmodara about it. [break] ...from the devotees in France, Bhagavān's zone. In fact, it's a four-page telegram. Should I read it? It says, "Dear Śrīla Prabhupāda, please accept our most humble obeisances at your lotus feet. Knowing how dear your book distribution is to you, Śrīla Prabhupāda, the devotees in France would like to humbly offer you the results of our week-long marathon saṅkīrtana, hoping in some way to please you." Śrīla Prabhupāda? The devotees there, they went out on book distribution for twelve hours every day. All the devotees. They went out every day for seven days in a row, for twelve hours each day. And here is the results of their distribution. This is only for this one temple in France. It says, "We have distributed 25,061 hard-cover Bhagavad-gītās in one week." Twenty-five thousand, Śrīla Prabhupāda. We usually print of a Bhāgavatam 20,000 for the whole society. They distributed 25,000 Gītās in one week in French, Bhagavad-gītās in French. He says, "...to the conditioned souls of this country in seven days. We hope that these results are the biggest in the history of your movement and that they will give you some solace. Our top distributor were Bhakta Richard..." [laughter] Somebody who isn't initiated yet. "...who distributed 1,504 big books in one week." Every day he distributed over two hundred hard-cover books. That's pretty good. [laughter] That means he did about say 240 in twelve hours. He distributed about one book every three minutes for twelve hours in a row, Śrīla Prabhupāda, every day. "Jagad-vaśī dāsa, who distributed 1,125 big books; Ariṣṭa-nāśana dāsa, 864 books; Veśa-kīrti dāsa, 851 big books; Akhileśvara dāsa, 835 big books; Kṛpā-siddha dāsa, 760 big books." Then they say, "Thank you for allowing us to assist you in preaching this message of Lord Caitanya in the Western countries. All glories to you, Śrīla Prabhupāda. Your humble servants, the devotees in France." Pretty big distribution. Bhagavān estimates that they collected over sixty thousand dollars in one week. It's amazing. Seems like Kṛṣṇa's giving unlimited facilities to spread His glories, Śrīla Prabhupāda.
Prabhupāda: Yes. We do not want liberation. We want to serve the purpose of the Gosvāmīs, in association with pure devotees. To stop birth and death is not our purpose. Tāṅdera caraṇa-sebi-bhakta-sane bās, janame janame hoy...
The esoteric and monastic teachings of the Six Goswamis of Vrindavan are certainly not what prevails in my daily life, unfortunately. It doesn't truly reflect who I am; it doesn't align with my personality. I have been confronted with the influence of American positive thinking, which has spread across the world — and certainly in Canada where I lived most of my life — but also with my own superego, my 'false ego' (as we say among the Krishnas). These forces constantly drive me to assert myself, to strive to be the first or the best. These are material aspirations. Even when they are tinged with religiosity, they remain deeply rooted in a materialistic conception of life.
According to this vision, one must build oneself up to succeed; whereas with the Goswamis, the goal is not to succeed in the world, but to be liberated from it. I have celebrated this vision since my first initiation. The more a devotee of Krishna invests himself in bhakti, the more he meditates on the rejection of the material world. All religions, at the heart of their doctrine — whether Christian or Muslim — encourage this renunciation; one only needs to read Teresa of Avila or Al-Ghazali to be convinced. But these monks and monasteries no longer exist, except for rare exceptions... The market and competition have taken over, marginalizing renunciation. To follow in the footsteps of the Goswamis, as Srila Prabhupada encourages, is to become as insignificant as a blade of grass. To mark his humility, since he had worked for a Muslim government, Sanatana Goswami approached Caitanya Mahaprabhu with a straw between his teeth.
tṛṇād api su-nīcena
taror iva sahiṣṇunā
amāninā māna-dena
kīrtanīyaḥ sadā hariḥ
“One who thinks himself lower than the grass, who is more tolerant than a tree, and who does not expect personal honor yet is always prepared to give all respect to others can very easily always chant the holy name of the Lord.”
As I told you — or at least as I tried to say when speaking of Haridas Thakur — the type of character described here does not resemble me. It is not that positive thinking influenced me to the point of entirely rejecting this 'extravagant' humility. In truth, positive thinking never took hold of me. I am like a duck with water sliding off its feathers; I like neither its pretension nor its sophistry. It is the extremist counterpart to the teachings of the Goswamis. In fact, I believe with all my soul that I am very fallen. And that is why I find a certain legitimacy in imploring Mahaprabhu when I meditate upon Him while chanting the Vaishnava prayers, such as those of Narottama Das Thakur:
'O Lord Hari, I was born into this low world, but instead of worshipping Radha and Krishna, I drink the poison of worldly pleasures. You descended to earth in the form of the chanting of the Holy Names, but I have no taste for them. Why, my God, do I feel no attraction for them, as Haridas Thakur did? Jagai and Madhai acted like brigands of the worst kind, and they were delivered by your mercy. Why should I not be entitled to this mercy, when I am nothing, nothing but a blade of grass? Why make me doubt so, when I am so weak after all these years dedicated to your service?'
And I chant with all my heart and all the sincerity I am capable of:
hari hari! bifale janama gonainu
manusya-janama paiya, radha-krsna na bhajiya,
janiya suniya bisa khainu.
But I have never done that. Nor have I ever seen a devotee do it. However, we have all mentally integrated the meaning of this gesture —theoretically, at least. In the ideal. Devotees in general do not project this posture; on the contrary. For me, 'integrated' means that I have detached myself from my parents' religion: I am not Muslim. I am not Algerian, nor Canadian, nor French. I am still a man, however, and my name is Akhileswara dasa. (In researching my name, I learned that Prabhupada had given the name Akhileswari dasi to an American girl). Although I am not this body and I should not identify with it, theoretically, I am indeed a man.
Generally, I am more cultivated than the majority of men and women. By far. When I enter a gathering, whether of devotees or karmis, most of them do not know who Spinoza is or what pantheism means. Even the concept of democracy and its history is unknown to them. How can one not be indignant and remain silent before ideas passed off as truths, such as the one claiming we come from monkeys or that the world is the result of chance? I never miss an opportunity to cry out loud what I think of all this, and to put forward the teachings I received from Prabhupada —that is to say, the teachings of the Goswamis."
Do I have the right to represent the Goswamis when I am so fallen? Truly fallen. Because of this fallen state, my wife was never initiated. Yet, she is a devotee in her soul and conscience. Bhakta Richard wasn't even initiated then; today he is a sannyasi. Prabhupada, I believe, gave him the name Ramavijay. He received his second initiation from Bhagavan. He travels the world preaching Krishna consciousness.
After Prabhupada heard the figures regarding the book distribution marathon in France, we received a telegram repeating his words concerning the Goswamis. I heard someone say they shouldn't be taken literally. Obviously, no one was to interpret that neophyte or even uninitiated devotees could be compared, near or far, to the Six Goswamis. However, I couldn't accept the idea that he said this lightly either. Everything Prabhupada says is sacred; even if what he says appears false, let’s say, it becomes truth. That was my mindset. I have always been considered by my Godbrothers and Godsisters, and by others as well, as a fanatic. I have no resentment as I write this. I certainly don't see myself like that at all, but this is how I am generally perceived by those who know me: uncompromising and fundamentalist. The stereotype that Arabs are hot-blooded is widely circulated in France.
Nowadays, everything is blurred: words and ideas, good and evil. Amidst the relentless flow of continuous news, pédagogues, politicians and journalists now seems to bet on a modern alchemy: that by hammering home delusions and lies, repetition will eventually give body to a truth digestible by the consumer. The challenge lies not in the fact that reality contradicts the narrative, but in the ability to win adherence to the wildest projects —conditioning people to mistake fool's gold for the real thing. I long believed that Krishna’s devotees were vaccinated against this evil —the poison of demonic propaganda— thinking Krishna granted them the intelligence to ward it off. I have since been disabused of that notion. I found myself thinking alone, talking to the walls.
I have expressed elsewhere my disappointment upon discovering that devotees no longer believe in Prabhupada’s project to establish varnashrama-dharma. They say it is an impossible dream, that we cannot turn back the clock five thousand years, or return to the Middle Ages. I understand this, and I am the first to sincerely admit it. But since Prabhupada said it and repeated it, I choose to believe in his word. To my mind, this is a scientific approach: no civilized society can exist without recognizing its inherent social and spiritual divisions, even in their latent state. In 2026, people are more inclined to speculate on a third world war or nuclear extinction than to try to understand why Prabhupada saw varnashrama as the solution. Years ago, I proposed a brainstorming session on this subject to close acquaintances; not one showed any interest. They judge politics, philosophy, or science as being too 'mundane.' True, those individuals were focused on the bhakti of the Gaudiya Math, on esotericism, but I find, alas, that it is the same everywhere.
I could not suppress a secret satisfaction when Prabhupada’s telegram compared us to the Six Goswamis. If he used such a metaphor, there had to be a connection somewhere. But what was it? In 1977, no one could have guessed.
"It is by the grace of God that one can become an expert poet, acquire the gift of memory, and instantly memorize anything," Nimai replies. "For the merits He grants us, He has our full gratitude." *
“Banana!”
Today, a former devotee—a disciple of Prabhupada who was on the famous list of top book distributors—wrote to me. Among other things, he pointed out some minor "historical" errors in my text, The Genesis of My Name.
Memory is a fickle thing; I didn't remember him as a book distributor, which is actually what he did in the beginning before moving on to public relations and producing the newsletter for the Friends of Krishna. I had noticed that strange name right before mine on the list, but I couldn't put a face to it, which was a bit embarrassing.
He ended up calling me a "banana!" He had casually asked me if I knew who the devotee listed just before me was. I went to check, and it was Veśa-kīrti dāsa. His name is Vrishakriti—at least, that’s how I’ve always known him. He is much more involved in writing than I am (or was), and naturally closer to the Goswamis than I am.
I replied that I didn't know who that devotee was, but I spontaneously joked, "It’s probably you!" That’s when he called me a "banana."
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* From my book The Encounter of Nimai and Keshava Kashmiri # 14
*Fisrt part: The genesis of my name —Akhilesvara das.