By Satsvarupa dasa Goswami
While attending the Janmastami festival at the ISKCON farm in Czechoslovakia several years ago, I was asked to give a lecture about the appearance of Lord Krishna. Afterwards I asked for questions and an elderly, red-haired lady raised her hand. Since almost all the devotees there spoke only Czech, I was surprised when she began to speak in English. She said, “Satsvarupa Gosvami, could you tell us something about Prabhupada, because you knew him very well?”
I started out by remembering Janmastami 1966 in the storefront. “The room we are in now reminds me of that storefront,” I said. “It was about the same size. 1966 was the first year Prabhupada observed Janmastami in America. In 1965, he left India and observed Janmastami at sea a few days later. By 1966, ISKCON had just begun. So he asked the devotees to stay all day in the storefront and fast.
“His request seemed like a very difficult proposal. Some of us expressed doubt that we could do it, so Swamiji said, ‘If you get hungry or weak in the afternoon, you can take some fruit from our refrigerator.’
“When he said that, it gave us some hope, because it seemed almost impossible that a living being could go all day without eating. He wanted us to try for it, and yet it was not such a hard and fast rule that we had to do it or die.
“Fasting was one problem, and another problem was what to do all day? How to control the mind? When Prabhupada stayed with us in the storefront, reading his manuscript from the Bhagavad-gita, then it was very enjoyable. But whenever he left us alone, our consciousness and conversation dropped way down. We began to complain, ‘I don’t think I can do this. How does he expect us to stay like this all day? This is like being in prison; you can’t even leave the temple.”
Even while Prabhupada was present, one of the disciples who was later to be initiated as Janaki dasi said, “Swamiji, I am sorry but I have to leave. I have to go home and feed my cats.” Swamiji said, ‘No, do not do it. Stay here and you can take care of them later.’ Janaki thought about it but then said, ‘I’m sorry, I have to go and take care of them.’”
“The rest of us reluctantly surrendered and stayed there for a whole day, which very slowly turned into afternoon, and night. We sat against the wall drowsily and weakly, trying to chant on our new beads.”
I went on to tell the devotees about the jar of ISKCON bullets that Prabhupada kept in a corner of his room upstairs. Many of his devotees had been cigarette smokers and almost everyone committed illicit sex. This jar of ISKCON bullets was like the last resort against temptation. If you became agitated, before you broke any of the principles, you knew you could go up at any time and take a gulabjamumn, an ISKCON bullet.
In 1966, the International Society for Krishna Consciousness was still in its infancy. Srila Prabhupada had arrived in America the previous year, and his mission was taking shape in a small storefront in New York City.
That year, he observed Janmastami in America for the first time.
The devotees were asked to remain in the storefront throughout the day and observe a fast. For the young Western followers, this was no small request. They were new to spiritual discipline, new to chanting, and still adjusting to a way of life completely different from what they had known.
When some expressed doubts about managing the fast, Srila Prabhupada offered a simple concession: if they became hungry or weak, they could take some fruit from the refrigerator.
It was characteristic of him. He expected discipline, but he also understood the limitations of his new disciples.
Fasting was only part of the challenge. The devotees also had to learn how to spend an entire day absorbed in spiritual consciousness.
When Srila Prabhupada was present, everything seemed easier. He would read from his Bhagavad-gita manuscript, and the atmosphere in the storefront became focused and purposeful.
When he left, the young devotees found their minds wandering. Conversations changed. Complaints surfaced. The idea of remaining in the temple all day suddenly seemed almost impossible.
Yet they stayed.
For these early disciples, Janmastami was not simply a festival. It was an introduction to a new standard of life.
They were learning to chant, to serve, to fast, to hear, and to place spiritual practice ahead of the habits and priorities they had previously considered normal.
One of the memorable tasks that day was making their chanting beads.
The prospective initiates spent hours stringing wooden beads, tying one end of the string to a window bar or radiator and carefully knotting each bead.
With every bead, they chanted the Hare Krishna maha-mantra.
The process was simple, but to them it felt momentous.
They had heard that devotees in India traditionally chanted sixty-four rounds of the maha-mantra each day. For young people trying to maintain jobs and ordinary responsibilities, that seemed almost impossible.
Srila Prabhupada understood their situation. Rather than demand what they could not realistically maintain, he established a minimum of sixteen rounds daily.
His disciples eagerly accepted the vow.
There was also the famous jar of gulabjamuns that Srila Prabhupada kept for his disciples.
Many of the early devotees had been smokers, and some were struggling with other temptations. The gulabjamuns became affectionately known as “ISKCON bullets”—a last line of defense when temptation became particularly strong.
The humor surrounding the sweets reflected something important about Srila Prabhupada’s approach. Spiritual life was serious, but he knew how to make it accessible to people who were taking their first steps.
And when Janmastami finally arrived, those gulabjamuns became part of the feast.
Srila Prabhupada personally prepared them, slowly frying the milk-based sweets in ghee and soaking them in syrup.
After the offering, he encouraged his disciples to take more prasada.
Even when they were already full, he would reach into the pot and say, “Oh, take, take.”
His insistence was affectionate. Food offered to Krishna was not simply a meal. It was mercy.
The next day was Vyasa-puja, the appearance day of the spiritual master.
The disciples gathered for the initiation ceremony. Srila Prabhupada sat before them on a simple cushion beneath the storefront’s single hanging light.
For these young followers, the ceremony marked a profound transition.
They had come together around a storefront and a Swami from India. Now they were formally accepting a spiritual path, spiritual discipline, and a lifelong commitment to the mission Srila Prabhupada had brought to the West.
What began as a small gathering in New York would eventually become a worldwide movement.
The devotees listening were separated from that original New York storefront by decades and thousands of miles. Yet the memories transported them back to those early days.
That is perhaps the most remarkable part of remembering Janmastami 1966.
The storefront is gone. The original gathering has passed into history. The young disciples have grown old, and generations of devotees have followed them.
But the essential practice remains.
The chanting of the Hare Krishna maha-mantra continues. Devotees still gather for Janmastami. Krishna prasada is still prepared and offered. Srila Prabhupada’s books are still read, and his instructions continue to guide those who take them seriously.
The history of ISKCON is therefore not simply a story about what happened in New York in 1966.
It is a story about how a small group of people accepted a spiritual teacher, adopted a new standard of life, and helped carry his mission far beyond the limits of that original storefront.
Janmastami 1966 was one of the first steps.
What followed changed the spiritual landscape of the modern world.