Everything changed for Linda Katz in 1967, when she was 25.
Wounded by a failed marriage and exhausted by the academic grind, Katz interrupted her studies toward a doctorate in classical literature at Columbia University in New York City and took a bus to San Francisco.
On a sunny afternoon while walking toward the crest of Hippie Hill in Golden Gate Park, she discovered a group of young people playing hand cymbals and drums and chanting a series of unfamiliar words she found soothing and stirring:
”Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare.”
Seated in their midst was a tiny, wizened, utterly tranquil old man. As she looked at him and let the sounds wash over her, she could feel her anxieties melt away, replaced by an absolute peace.
She was only days away from enlisting in a new and demanding religious sect founded in this country a year before by a 69-year-old immigrant from India named A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami, the elderly man in Golden Gate Park.
Its official name was the International Society of Krishna Consciousness or ISKCON, but Americans would come to know the society and its followers as the Hare Krishnas.
The name refers to the first two words of the maha mantra-the great mantra-taught by the society`s founder, who in 1968 assumed the title Prabhupada (PRAHB-hoo-pahd), which means spiritual master.
Linda Krishna would decide to devote her life to the worship of Krishna, or God, taking the devotional name Lilavati Devi Dasi and hitting the streets to spread the word. She has carried the message in San Francisco, London, Miami and now Chicago, where she lives with seven other Krishna disciples at the society`s temple in Rogers Park.
During the `60s and `70s, it was not easy to ignore the Lilavati (lee-LAH-vah-tee) and her fellow followers. Darlings of the counterculture, their name and mantra celebrated by a song in the hit musical ”Hair,” the Hare Krishnas seemed to be everywhere.
Part of their apparent ubiquity was a function of their appearance, which was not inconspicuous. They wore saffron-tinted robes and symbolic clay markings on forehead and nose, and the males shaved their scalps clean except for a tuft of hair at the back of the head, which represented their connection to Krishna.
Their tactics contributed to their impact. They could often be sighted in the business districts of cities-singing, chanting, playing musical instruments, recruiting.
And as every air traveler knows, they also targeted terminals for raising funds and consciousness.
They were exuberant, cheerful and sometimes annoyingly insistent, their fervor fed by youthful idealism. The initiated members or devotees (accent on the second syllable) were invariably in their late teens and 20s.
For former hippies and other veterans of the Age of Aquarius, those days may seem like yesterday, but-believe it or not-the International Society of Krishna Consciousness this year is observing its 25th anniversary.
In the beginning there was nothing international about it except the origins of its founder and his beliefs, derived from an evangelical branch of the Hindu religion.
But over the years, the society has grown from a single storefront
”temple” rented for $125 a month in a decrepit neighborhood in Manhattan to a worldwide movement with 321 worship centers, restaurants and farm communities worth millions of dollars in more than 65 nations.
Scholar Larry D. Shinn, an authority on Asian religion and the Hare Krishnas, says that while the society can be justifiably proud of these accomplishments, another aspect of the quarter-century milestone is even more significant.
”I think the most remarkable thing about the Krishnas is that they`ve survived,” Shinn says.
Survival, he says, has meant overcoming a serious drop in income and devotees in this country in the last 10 years, the death of Prabhupada in 1977, reams of bad publicity and widespread opposition, much of it hostile.
Cities have tried (and failed) to bar devotees from distributing literature and soliciting donations at airports. Anti-cult organizations have accused the society of kidnapping and brainwashing, and some parents in turn have abducted and ”deprogrammed” their Hare Krishna sons and daughters.
Several families and former members have won hefty settlements and awards in custody battles involving minor members and children reared in the movement. The society now faces the possibility of selling six properties to meet a $5 million judgment for its treatment of a minor in the `70s.
Some members have been convicted of crimes or forced out for misconduct. Shinn notes that of the 11 ”initiating gurus” designated by Prabhupada as his successors, five have been banished for immoral, unethical or illegal actions.
A host of mistakes
Hare Krishna leaders and members concede they have brought many of their troubles on themselves through poor judgment and arrogance.
”We`ve made a lot of mistakes,” says Naveen Krishna Das, the society`s minister of finance, who lives in San Diego. ”There was too much confidence from our early rapid growth and success.”
Naveen explains the fall of the five top leaders as a classic abuse of authority. ”With power often comes corruption,” he says. ”The six who are still leaders have learned much from the experience.”
Kunti-Devi Dasi, a member of the editorial board of ISKCON World Review, published in San Diego, says the custody battles have been instructive.
”They have taught us respect for family consent, which we should have sought from the beginning for any child raised in the movement,” she says.
”We should have known better.”
Shinn, professor of religion at Bucknell University and author of ”The Dark Lord: Cult Images and the Hare Krishnas in America,” says the society has also been hurt by attacks from the anti-cult movement. ”The Cult Awareness Network and the American Family Foundation are anti-cult groups that have been skillful in lumping the Krishnas with destructive cults,” he says. This view, Shinn says, is inaccurate. ”The Krishnas subscribe to an authentic and traditional form of Indian religion that goes back to the 16th Century and ultimately to the 2nd Century B.C.”
What makes the Krishnas so unusual and threatening to many Westerners, he says, is their Indian dress and ritual.
”The form of religion brought to the United States by the founder was primarily the monastic version of this tradition,” Shinn says. ”In effect, he tried to create men and women priests who would devote their lives fully both to the devotional practices as well as preaching the new faith to others.”
Cynthia Kisser, executive director of the Cult Awareness Network in Chicago, agrees that the Hare Krishnas ”have changed considerably and in some instances can be said to have cleaned up their act,” but she still believes the society is ”a repressive movement” with ”cultic elements.”
Anti-cult groups, Shinn says, seem to have adopted a strategy to bankrupt the Krishnas through litigation. ”These groups have filed lawsuit after lawsuit seeking to curtail the Krishnas` 1st Amendment rights (to religious freedom),” he says. ”The Krishnas have been successful in defending themselves, but it`s very expensive.”
The continuing strife and the strictures of monastic life, Shinn says, have contributed to a drop in devotees in this country from a peak of 5,000 to fewer than 1,000 and a reduction of temples in North America from 55 to 40.
The decline is reflected at the Chicago temple, a four-story brick building at 1617 W. Lunt Ave. In the past 12 years, says temple President Prithusrava Das, the Chicago devotees there have decreased from 50 to 16.
Finance minister Naveen says that the total of between 600 and 900 devotees at the temples in North America is sufficient to operate the society`s programs and that the society`s once-plunging finances are now stable because of a new emphasis on ministering to people of Indian heritage. Chicago`s Prithusrava says that while the society is struggling to hold its own on this continent with 40 temples, Hare Krishnas are thriving in Eastern Europe.
Shinn confirms the rising interest in Eastern Europe and estimates that between 10,000 and 15,000 devotees live in the 187 temples outside North America.
In this country in the last 15 years, he says, a larger number of devotees are taking ”secular jobs” and living outside temples.
”More than 15,000 Americans have been initiated as devotees,” Shinn says. ”Probably twice or three times that number identify themselves as devotees, recite prayers at home and attend feasts.
”Krishnas provide religious instruction for the children of Indian immigrants,” he added, ”and American Hindus are increasingly coming to the defense of the Krishnas.”
Another factor in their survival, he says, is encouragement and support from India itself. ”The Krishnas are deeply respected in India. There`s a temple in Bombay with 6,000 members whose entire priesthood is American.”
Like teens in love
San Diego`s Kunti-Devi Dasi, 41, while recognizing past errors, is optimistic. ”Our founder said the movement wouldn`t become fully effective until three generations had passed,” she says.
”In our early enthusiasm we were kind of fanatical, like a teenager in love. Now we are middle-aged and entering our second generation.”
Hare Krishnas, she says, increasingly participate ”in the larger society.” ”The sons of some of our devotees in San Diego have formed a Boy Scout troop,” she says.
Such normality does not extend to the typical devotee. Just ask the former Linda Katz, now 49, to describe only her mornings.
Lilavati awakes before dawn to attend a meditation with fellow devotees at 4:15 a.m. All must make 16 rounds on their string of 108 prayer beads, reciting the great mantra at each bead.
Lilavati says she usually needs two hours to complete the 1,728 mantras. At 7 a.m., devotees greet the carved marble figures of Krishna and his female consort, Radha, displayed within an elaborately carved teakwood altar.
”We sing to them for a while,” Lilavati says, ”then at 7:15 a.m. we greet Prabhupada and sing a song to him.” A strikingly life-size resin figure of the founder sits on an another teakwood altar.
An hourlong class on Scriptures is at 7:30 a.m., followed by breakfast. Lilavati often spends the morning distributing books at the Morse or Fullerton elevated train station before returning to the temple for lunch, then resting briefly in her room.
A reporter jokingly inquires whether she also has a poster of Michael Jordan. ”Who`s Michael Jordan?” she says.
Lilavati says she hasn`t watched television or seen a play or movie since her initiation. ”All I want to do is serve Krishna. It makes me feel happy. We were created to serve God.”
