A Pilgrim’s Diary: Part 4, The Secret of Vraja

editorials

Published on February 19th, 2011 | by Harmonist staff

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The fourth and final installment of Gaurangi-priya dasi’s reflections on her pilgrimage to Sri Vrindavana dhama. Read parts one, two, and three.

I just returned from a profound experience at the residence of a devotee named Prema Kishore, a Canadian man who I’m guessing is in his early 60’s. He has lived here in Vrindavana for over 20 years, and it is definitely his home in every sense of the word. He has some land, cows and bulls, gardens where he grows flowers for the Radha-Shyamasundara deities at Krishna-Balarama Mandira, and a beautiful, yet modest house.

This morning, along with my brother, Amala-purana, and his fiancee, Nadia, I went to visit Prema Kishore, arriving a little after 9am. He had just begun bathing a bull named Balaji, and when he saw us approaching he called out, “Radhe Shyam!”

The mornings here in Vrindavana have been very cold the past two weeks, but a few days ago the cold relented and the warming sun has been gracing us by 8:30. So, with the warm sunshine upon us, it was bath time for the cows and bulls. Prema Kishore gave us some brushes and a bar of soap, asking us to join him in cow seva, “the real mood of Vraja,” he said.

“Get in cowherd boy mode,” my brother said, as he hiked up his dhoti and discarded his socks and shoes.

I followed suit with my skirt and shoes, and soon my feet were squishing in the soft clay and grass with the warm water from the hose splashing between my toes. After we had cleaned and brushed Balaji’s white coat, the sisters Ganga and Yamauna came. These two cows are beautiful, with gorgeous black eyes, white coats, big humps on their backs, and gentle demeanors. All of Prema Kishore’s cows are indigenous species of India, and these two he purchased in Jaipur, Rajasthan. Ganga has a bull-calf named Bhima, and a heifer named Nandini, who was conceived on Prabhupada’s dissappearance day and born on his appearance day just four months ago. Yamuna has not had any calves, yet three years ago her udder swelled with milk, and ever since she has been giving milk for Giriraja, the Lord of this little haven of Vraja.

Prema Kishore personally found this particular Giriraja stone, who has an imprint of a cow on his back, and a face with an endearing smile naturally engraved on the other side. At that time, Prema Kishore promised Giriraja that if he came home with him, he would always have fresh milk to offer him. That is Prema Kishore’s explanation for Yamuna providing milk without ever having calved, just at a time when Ganga had started drying up. This is just one example of the magic of this place, and the very real connection devotees like Prema Kishore have to their deity.

These sisters are the two milking cows Prema Kishore has, and he said they are inseparable. After brushing, lathering, and rinsing them, we were ready for the next round. Saraswati, Triveni, Bhima, and tiny Nandini followed in quick succession, as we brushed them from heads to hooves, from noses to tails, until all of them were cleared of mud and dung and gleamed in the sunshine.

Yamuna was then fed and milked, and then Ganga’s calf Nandini was brought to drink a little milk and be next to her mom as Ganga was milked. Ram Charan, Prema Kishore’s helper, squatted while he milked with fast adept hands into a stainless steel bucket that he held between his knees. Ganga licked Nandini’s back, throughout the milking, showing us the affectionate nature of the mother cow.

Once the morning activities of bathing, feeding, and milking were done, the cows and bulls all ran off, tails upraised, down the path to their grazing area.

Carrying the bucket of fresh milk, we then followed Prema Kishore upstairs to a spacious rooftop adjoining his living quarters. With the warm sun upon us, we prepared for our next activity for the morning, churning yogurt into butter with a hand-pulled wooden churning rod. Prema Kishore began, showing us the rhythmic way of pulling back and forth, churning the yogurt until frothy bubbles began forming on the surface. For the next hour we took turns between the four of us as Prema Kishore shared with us not only his butter churning skills, but his deep spiritual wisdom. He explained his dependent relationship with his cows, telling us how he is maintained by them in a very real way, and respect for what cows give us humans is not at all theoretical for him. His life is simple, yet wealthy in all the ways it is important. He has land, friends, cows that give him dairy products, which he consumes, and also trades for vegetables from his neighbors, and a peaceful heart. “I find this churning very relaxing,” he said to me. “It calms the mind, and the rhythmic work is peaceful.”

I thought of us in America, surrounded by our machines that are supposed to save us time, but we run through our lives alone and stressed out, with no time. We’ve replaced high quality life skills like cooking, baking, gardening, and caring for animals with an industrial lifestyle that is good for making money, but not for living.

“Paper money has no value,” Prema Kishore explained. “Devotee families who are like-minded should get together and produce a functioning life-style that has true value. You find a community area where the cows can graze during the day, and then in the evening they go home to their individual respective homes. If you have land, cows, and the skills and ability to grow your own food, that is the greatest security and wealth,” he finished as he looked down at the big steel bucket now filled with floating butter.

The simple activity of churning butter, especially when done with friends as the gopis of Srimad-Bhagavatam did, accomplishes so much for mental, physical, and emotional well-being. It strengthens your arms, calms the mind, gives you the opportunity to talk and get to know your friends, and of course gives the valuable product of fresh butter!

Prema Kishore scooped out the fruits of our labor into a bowl, and then put the butter directly in front of his Giriraja, whom he had brought outside to enjoy the sun and watch us churn.

“I have to watch out for the monkeys,” he said, as he looked at Giriraja’s enormous smile with the big bowl of butter in front of him. “The other day I left the door to the roof open and came back to find a monkey sitting next to Giriraja, his palms and face full of butter. Then I saw Giriraja’s cheeky smile, and guessed that the monkey must have been invited to enjoy the butter with him,” he says with a laugh, “as the monkeys did were many thousands of years ago with that naughty butter thief, Krishna.”

With a smile he hands my brother and me cups of the cold fresh buttermilk, chach as it is called here. It can be drunk with added sugar or salt, and is an elixir for all things related to digestion. He also gave us a little bit of the residue butter left on his hand from scooping it out. “The best face cream,” he explained as he smoothed it on his face, arms, and hands. I’m not exaggerating when I say that he literally lives off the gifts his cows give him.

After having our fill of buttermilk, and with the noon sun on our faces, I thanked him for his time and wisdom and we headed back to our home for lunch. While walking back, I thought of Prema Kishore’s words, and the impact of they, as well as his example, had had on me.

I yearn for a simpler life, where those things that are important take precedence over everything else. Here in Vraja, the people I have encountered don’t try to do too much, and what they do may seem on the outside to be trivial and basic. But to them taking care of their cows, in the case of Prema Kishore, or chanting in kirtana for a few hours a day, like my brother does, or simply making one garland for Radharani, like Nadia does, all these things are considered a day well-lived. And really they are. Just a simple activity of devotion here in Vraja is so worthwhile and fulfilling and satisfying. And that is the way of the simple cowherd community, whom we aspire to follow.

Those cowherd men and women, boys and girls, they are just thinking of how to do something for Krishna everyday, something to make him smile. And that Krishna is also just a simple cowherd boy, who is pleased just by simple things. You take care of his cows, his friends, those devoted to him, serve his Radha, and sing his name and you bring a smile to his lotus face. He loves his cows and cowherd village, and so when you serve those whom he loves he will take notice. It’s all so simple actually. This is the secret of Vrindavana, and I feel today that I had a small glimpse of it. This village is being covered over by those who don’t know this secret, and trash, pollution, population, high-rise apartments and condominiums, cars and motorcycles are overtaking it. But if you’re lucky enough to come to this practically unknown little village, I hope you can walk down a dusty path away from all of that and find someone like Prema Kishore who knows the secret of Vraja and is living the simple yet oh so wealthy life.

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Harmonist staff

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