The story of a man who never stopped dancing
“The supreme occupation [dharma] for all humanity is that by which men can attain to loving devotional service unto the transcendent Lord.” (Śrīmad-Bhāgavatam 1.2.6)
Seattle, Sacramento, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Phoenix. Five cities in five days. I am physically exhausted, but emotionally refreshed.
Two special experiences stand out.
First, my stay at the Los Angeles temple.
Second, my reunion with Bhakta Avatar Prabhu.
The Los Angeles ISKCON temple, also known as New Dwaraka, is home to the beautiful deities of Sri Sri Rukmini Dwarakadish. Ironically, I’ve never been to Dwaraka in Gujarat, India, but my visit to New Dwaraka has surcharged me with spiritual energy. I guess the Lord thought, “If you can’t come to me in Gujarat, let me arrange a meeting in California—with palm trees and parking issues included!”
The main reason for this spiritually uplifting experience is His Grace Svavasa Prabhu, the long-serving temple president of New Dwaraka.
He has been serving here for donkey’s years, and yet has never missed mangala-arati. That’s right—he beats even your mobile alarm clock in reliability. A dynamic manager with the workload of a corporate CEO, yet the heart of a cowherd boy—he still carries the simplicity and warmth of a child. When he embraced me and welcomed me to the temple, I suddenly felt like I was reuniting with a loving father. His affection totally floored me. I wasn’t sure if I was being greeted by a temple president or hugged by the entire Bhakti tradition.
So many devotees have come and gone, but Svavasa Prabhu and his good wife, Tadita Mataji, have served here faithfully, quietly, and with immense gratitude to Srila Prabhupada. In a world that’s addicted to “breaking news,” their life is breaking pride and building legacy—silently, steadily.
Then there is Jagadambika Mataji and her husband Mayapur Shashi Prabhu, who have been here for over fifty years. They are completely fixed in service, never seeking limelight.
Mataji manages Srila Prabhupada’s quarters and has diligently preserved all of Srila Prabhupada’s personal belongings, attending to every detail with love and reverence.
Can you imagine—she has preserved even the dried flowers that Srila Prabhupada once smelled fifty years ago? It’s like spiritual archaeology, except it doesn’t gather dust—it gathers devotion.
The carpet, shawl, glasses, bag, clothes—hundreds of items used by Srila Prabhupada—are all lovingly maintained for future generations. Despite her recurring back pain and advancing age, she serves with contagious enthusiasm, prayerfulness, and reverence. As she narrated Prabhupada’s pastimes to me, I felt I was in the presence of a modern-day female Ghanshyam Das Babaji, as described in The Journey Home by Radhanath Swami.
Her husband, Mayapur Shashi Prabhu, has handled the temple accounts for over five decades with unwavering dedication.
Here, devotees rise early, work hard, attend morning programs, honor every visitor, and carry deep love for Srila Prabhupada in their hearts. No corporate HR training can replicate this mood.
Yet, my most emotional moment came when I met Bhakta Avatar Prabhu.
When I first saw him in 2010 in Vrindavan, I was stunned. How could one human being dance for so many hours? He was already in his seventies, and yet he danced non-stop at Krishna Balaram Mandir. I mean, even my phone battery would’ve given up.
Any time there was a kartal or mridanga beat, he would jump up and begin dancing.
I remember skipping my dham darshan plans just to stay at the 24-hour kirtan site and watch him dance—for twelve hours straight! Most of us need electrolytes just to survive a half-hour kirtan; he needed only the Holy Name.
He circled and jumped like a jubilant child, losing himself in the rhythm of the holy names, and absorbed in love. Every time I went to Vrindavan, my main attraction was not the temples or places—it was watching him dance.
During one visit years ago, I had approached him to ask for blessings. He was deep in meditation, but as I came near, he emerged from his trance and spoke to me gently. He blessed me profusely, asked for my name, and returned to his sacred dance. That encounter lasted less than five minutes—but it etched itself into my heart. I walked away dazed, like a man who just got a hug from a tornado of bliss.
Then suddenly, he disappeared. I couldn’t find him. Few remembered him; fewer still knew where he had gone.
And then, after more than a decade, now in 2025, I entered the temple hall at Rukmini Dwarakadish temple—and there he was! Bhakta Avatar Prabhu, dancing once again before Their Lordships!
I rushed up to him and embraced him. He didn’t protest. He embraced me back and said, “You are Vraja Bihari?”
I was stunned. He remembered me—from one short meeting, more than ten years ago, in a crowded Vrindavan temple hall! I’ve forgotten my phone passcode more times than that, but he remembered me. And there he was, older now, still dancing with the same childlike joy and total absorption. Occasionally, he’d clasp his left knee, wincing from age-induced pain, but never stopping. He danced in circles, smiling constantly—addicted to the Holy Names.
What gives him this strength? Perhaps it’s his genuine humility. He respects everyone—even the newest, youngest visitor. He considers himself their servant. Now in his eighties, despite health challenges, he continues to perform the yuga-dharma of sankirtan with the purity and innocence of a child.
He embraced me, again blessed me, and sat teary-eyed during the Srimad Bhagavatam class. His eyes constantly returned to the deities—like a child gazing at beloved parents. He was mesmerized.
ISKCON New Dwaraka is one of those rarest of rare temples where the deities are dressed three times daily—and Bhakta Avatar Prabhu is always there to greet them, to dance and sing for Their pleasure. He’s like the temple’s unofficial timekeeper—not by clock, but by heartbeats of kirtan. Some people walk into temples to take darshan; others like Bhakta Avatar Prabhu become the darshan.
When you see a devotee dancing like Bhakta Avatar Prabhu, you realize that age may slow the body, but the soul knows no brakes. If I had to write a phrase to describe him, it would be: “Twelve Hours of Dance, Fifty Years of Service, One Lifetime of Grace.”
My dear friend Krishna Sakha took a few photographs—I am sharing them below.
These are the kinds of devotees, the genuine followers of Srila Prabhupada, who give us faith in Krishna consciousness. Their lives have been touched by Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu and Srila Prabhupada. They serve, sing, dance, cooperate, tolerate, and carry forward Prabhupada’s mission with love. They’re not Instagram influencers; they are eternity influencers. Srila Prabhupada said that devotional service is not a matter of sentiment; it is a science. And here, we see the science works. As Radhanath Swami says, “The greatness of a person is not measured by how many people serve them, but how many they serve.” The devotees here are always serving.
As an Indian, I always wanted to go to Dwaraka—but never managed to, even in fifty-two years. And yet, here I am, ten thousand miles away from India, in New Dwaraka, sheltered by Sri Sri Rukmini Dwarakadish, and feeling as if I’ve stumbled into a spiritual world. Some travel to Dwaraka for pilgrimage. I took a Delta flight to New Dwaraka and found Vaikuntha hiding in Los Angeles traffic.
The twenty-four hours I spent in Los Angeles were brief—but they gave me a glimpse into eternity.
This experience is now permanently etched in my heart. In one lecture here, Srila Prabhupada said, “New Dwaraka is non-different from the original Dwaraka because the Lord is present where His pure devotees are sincerely serving Him.”
I hope and pray to return again to this holy abode of New Dwaraka. I am also now inspired to go to Dwaraka in India.
Srila Prabhupada ki Jaya!
Srila Prabhupada’s sincere followers ki Jaya!
