I am going to attempt to write about my time in Karuna Bhavan, the Scotland branch of ISKCON (the International Society for Krishna Consciousness). I will try to make this account as full and accurate as possible, but since I have no notes from my time there, I may have forgotten things. Also, while I wish to be as accurate and truthful as possible, there are one or two things that are very personal to myself, and which I want to keep secret. Otherwise, I intend not to withhold any information.

That aside, this is a personal work. It is in part about the community, but also very much about myself. The past seven or eight months of my life have been very revealing for me, and I would like to share my little insights and thoughts. (This is going to be quite a long story. Are you sitting comfortably?)

This starts in November '08. Well, no, not really. It starts in January '08, when I first visited this community. I came to Karuna Bhavan (sanskrit: "the abode of mercy") in early January, since I had a few days off from uni and no more exams. I also visited over the course of the year for different festivals: Nityananda Trayodasi, Nrsimha Caturdasi, Balarama Purnima and Sri Krishna Janmastami. My memory of these times is a little sketchy, and I don't keep many notes or a diary.

The community consists of a number of houses around a hill, in Lesmahagow, Lanarkshire. There is a small temple, an asrama (rather like a monastary), an orchard, a few gardens and some other buildings, mostly houses for married couples and families. There is a little bit of land and several barns (used to be a farm), with potential for development.

I came to the temple community at the beginning of November for one of the larger festivals: Govardhana Puja, the worship of Govardhana Hill. I missed quite a bit of the actual festival; I was drafted into a drama to play the part of Samvartaka, the personfied raincloud. Actually, I only got into the temple room for the end of the last kirtana (singing and dancing). This was due in part to the drama; the other reason is as follows.

The special guest at this festival was a sannyasi (a kind of monk with no material possessions) named Sivarama Swami Maharaja. He has several disciples in Karuna Bhavan, and takes a special interest in the spiritual development of Scotland in general (although his main area of responsibility is his home country, Hungary). At that time I felt a strong need for a guide or guru in my life, so I asked one of the older monks, a man named Javat Vasi, if I could speak to him. So it was arranged: I would go to see him with Javat and another disciple.

There's not much to tell about our first meeting. Javat spoke first, and then had to leave to do some service. Then I was asked to speak. I was very nervous (I used to be very shy). I asked him if I could be his disciple. He asked me what I was doing at that time. When he had ascertained that I wasn't doing anything very much, he asked me to move into the asrama as a brahmacari (monk). Oh boy! Here we go... wait a minute; I don't want to do that!!! (Actually, I already had a feeling that he'd ask me to do this; one more reason why I was so nervous.) I presented several excuses and alternatives; and he demolished each and every one of them. We came to some sort of conclusion (I can't remember what) and I left, a little scared and with a heavy heart.

The rest of the evening was easy: go have fun singing and dancing, then enjoy the wonderful feast that had been prepared. Then take rest.

I woke the next morning and went to morning worship. After this is a two-hour period for meditation, then the greeting of the deities, more worship and then class. I'd volunteered to go out on sankirtana (distributing literature on the streets of Glasgow) for a couple of days, so I went back down the hill to get ready. (The temple is at the top of the hill; the asrama much further down.) At that time the asrama also had a small altar, and I offered my obeisances to the deities there when I arrived. Just as I was getting up, Sivarama Maharaja came round the corner. He looked down at me and said, very kindly: "So. Alex... are you moving in then?"

I was speechless. I had to make a choice. Oh no! I wanted to move in, I knew I'd love it. But what about my family? My girlfriend? I was happy with things just the way they were. However, the self-sacrificing side of me - that tiny bit of goodness that I possess - won. I found myself saying "Y-yes." Sivarama Maharaja turned immediately to Prabhupada Prana (the temple president) who was standing nearby. "You hear that? He's moving in." Prana shook my hand, and spoke some words of welcome.

I spent the next two days on Sauchiehall Street in Glasgow, trying to distribute a few books. Then I returned home to sort out the specifics of moving in. I only remember standing in the middle of the street one evening, embracing Phoenix. She didn't want me to go, I didn't want to go; but I felt the need to. She was crying. I left the next day, very early in the morning.


Will try to write more soon.

If you get back online, I would love to hear how things are going there for you.

Ditto. What a wonderful story. Those moments of stepping out into the unknown are magical--and, as you rightly say, terrifying.

One clarification: is ISKCON the organization whose members are known to the outside world as Hare Krsnas? Is that considered a pejorative term?

It depends who you ask! The people who talk about "those ****** Hare Krishnas" intend it in that way. But according to the Hare Krishna philosophy regarding the nature of God's names (such as Hare and Krishna), these names are so pure that even if one speaks them by accident or to indicate something else - or as a pejorative term - they have a spiritually purifying effect on both the speaker and the listener. So, we don't normally take offense at someone saying "Hare Krishna" to slander us; on the contrary, we're happy that they are benefitting spiritually.

Also, I'm not in Karuna Bhavan anymore.