Category — Patriarchy Across Cultures by Tapati

by Tapati

Even the animals loved Krishna

I had already succeeded in indoctrinating myself from the comfort of my Iowa home in only a few months at the age of 15, as you will see from this letter. Plus I was trying to impress Swarupa with my devotion because by this time Carolyn and I had a bit of a crush on him.

November 9, 1974

Dear Swarupa,

Hare Krsna,

I received your letter as mine was being mailed out. I wanted to reply to your letter, so I’m writing this.

I agree that Miss Levine’s book [The Strange World of the Hare Krishnas], although giving a detailed account of temple life, was somewhat mundane, especially on the subject of illicit sex. She also seemed to lack understanding of the purpose behind austerities. She was so easily discouraged, by such unimportant things as cold, lack of sleep, and sickness. She was so concerned with disease of the body that she overlooked the soul. I (and Carolyn) realized that her conclusions were highly subjective and incorrect, but it did give me some idea of temple life. I’d say that I like it for the same reasons that she disliked it—austerities. It is comparable to Thoreau’s plea to “simplify.” You can’t expect to get close to Krsna if you’re bogged down by the material world. It seems obvious, but I guess a materialist wouldn’t understand. What I can’t see is why Miss Levine left.

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by Tapati

Tapati January 1978

It’s been a hard day’s night, and I’ve been working like a dog
It’s been a hard day’s night, I should be sleeping like a log
But when I get home to you I find the things that you do
Will make me feel alright – Lennon/McCartney

We were still in the laundry room when I started having Braxton Hicks contractions more and more frequently. At about the same time my midwife, Manindra, let me know that she was moving to Hawaii and would be leaving shortly. This seemed rather sudden to me and I didn’t know what all was behind this move, but it made me anxious. I had just gotten to know her and was feeling confident about her skill. She told me that there was another midwife in the community, Revati dasi, and she could deliver my child. With that referral I went off to find Revati who, thankfully, was happy to take over my care. We had a meeting and she did an exam. She urged me to also see a doctor when my welfare and medical card came through.

Two weeks before I gave birth, just after New Year’s Day, I got my retroactive welfare check and we found an apartment fairly quickly. It was a basic one bedroom and as a bonus had a built in bookshelf. There was no refrigerator but I had my own stove and we had heat and our own bathroom, so to me it was a palace. I’m not sure where we got it, but we had a makeshift platform bed from plywood and wooden blocks, and on that we put my foam pad from the laundry room. This would be where I’d have my baby. I was firmly in nesting mode, knowing that I had a limited time to make my new apartment into a home that was ready to receive a baby. I painted the bookshelf and a side table someone gave us, both white. I gathered my baby stuff—the women in the community had been quite generous and we also had a changing table. My family was sending packages too. Everything was finally coming together. [Read more →]

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by Tapati

Crashing against the wall
World spinning crazily
Your voice from a distance
Screaming in fury
Self righteous condemnation

Again the blows come
They seem to explode inside my head
I don’t see your fist
in its journey towards my body.

In defeat I huddle
Arms over my head, shielding in vain
Knees drawn up to chest
I believe this is the end.

Finally you finish
Your anger and frustration relieved.
Surprised to be alive
I remain where I am, in shock.

Slowly reason returns.
I try to pull myself together
Clutching the shreds of sanity–
Determined to survive.

In bitterness I hear the pleas
To forgive you one more time.
Ignore the empty promises
“It’ll never happen again.”

I know better than that
I’ve heard it all before.
I’ve also heard the denial
In between the beatings.

I want you to understand:
Violence has no excuse.
There is no rationale.
No end justifies that means.

You’re wrong about me.
I can make it without you.
Someone else could love me,
And I can love myself.

Now I’m on my own.
Life is peaceful and serene.
No fear intrudes on my home,
Or in the lives of my children.
I have won, after all.

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 by Tapati

Cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good,
Now, cryin’ won’t help you, prayin’ won’t do you no good,
When the levee breaks, mama, you got to move.

—Led Zeppelin version, original lyrics by Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie.

Previously some friends had offered me shelter at their cabin in Big Bear, a mountain community. I said a tearful goodbye to my husband Mike—now known as Mahasraya following our initiation.

Their cabin was cute and had an amazing view of the snowy landscape. The main living area contained the kitchen, dining room and living room in an open floor plan. I was to sleep downstairs where there was a separate bathroom. Jayasri and I enjoyed being two pregnant ladies, drinking our red raspberry leaf tea and comparing notes about how we felt and what names we were thinking of. She was further along than I was and we must have looked quite funny waddling around with our huge bellies.

They had a lot of good books and recommended The Lord of the Rings to me. I’d read The Hobbit years earlier so I was happy to indulge in this guilty pleasure. We weren’t supposed to read things that weren’t related to our devotional service but my friends were on the “fringes” of the movement at this point and lived a bit freer of such restrictions. The strait-laced devotees were scandalized by them, in fact. I certainly wasn’t inclined to feel critical of people who took me in when no one else offered!

Jayasri and her husband seemed to have a very pleasant and even playful relationship and I envied them. I remember one night they had fun cooking together, making something they called “love tarts.” These were small pastries made in muffin tins with a filling that reminded me of pecan pie without the nuts. Incredible!

Unfortunately this interlude would soon come to an end as Jayasri began to have Braxton Hicks contractions strong enough to make her think that she would soon be having her baby. We had agreed that when her time drew near I would leave, so I packed up my things. They encouraged me to take the books I was reading with me so I could continue on through The Lord of the Rings. I was hooked by that time!

My husband, Mahasraya, was staying in a laundry room beneath the apartment of his friend Bruce. They dropped me off there, apologetically. I looked around at this room in despair. There was a water heater in one corner, ugly institutional green walls, a cement floor and a gap under the only door to the room. There was one window. Laundry hookups protruded from the wall and the floor was strewn with boxes and Mahasraya’s sleeping bag, plus an old printing press that Mahasraya had acquired. Bruce had a few things stored there as well and they were pushed under the window. There was no heat and one light fixture overhead.

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God forbid you ever had to walk a mile in his shoes
‘Cause then you really might know what it’s like to sing the blues–Everlast

Previously we had just received word that Mike’s mom had passed away. Mike wanted to go to her funeral but we were broke. We called his dad. It turned out he was nearby and he offered to take us to Chicago in his van. John said he felt bad for not being there while his son was growing up and that this was the least he could do. So we let Mike’s grandma Emma know we were on our way and drove off, all five of us crammed into their aging van, determined to make it to Chicago in three days, just in time for the services.

We headed up through Nevada to Highway 80 and followed it across country. During the final night of our trip, the van made an awful sound and came to a halt. Something in the front end had broken and needed to be replaced. We were in Iowa, near Amana, and we had AAA service but everything was closed. We wouldn’t be able to even start repairs until the following day. Mike decided to hitchhike. He caught a ride with a semi driver a short while later and was on his way. He missed the funeral but arrived at the cemetery in time for the burial.

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by Tapati

Grandpa Glen and Grandma Velma Tallman

My mother sounds like a horrible person as I write about her blocking my efforts to leave home, hitting me, and subsiding into depression and suicide. Of course there remains a stigma associated with mental illness and it’s difficult for most people to find compassion for people who act out when their illness is poorly managed. In the 1970s there weren’t any really good anti-depressants on the market and the ones offered to my mom came with some hefty side effects. Psychotherapy also wasn’t as sophisticated. I wonder how she would have responded to modern therapies but I can never know.

Mom didn’t develop her illness in a vacuum. There is a genetic component and childhood abuse and neglect involved. I couldn’t say exactly how far back these behaviors go. I know Mom was physically abused by her father, Glen Tallman, to the point of drawing blood during a beating with a shoe. I know that he himself showed signs of severe depression in later years. I know that my own beloved Grandpa, Jerry Hull, was accused by both Mom and Aunt Virginia of trying to molest them from the time he became their stepfather, when they were just 11 and 9, respectively. I also know that my mom forever felt unloved by Grandma, and I observed the relentless criticism and scornful comments both to her face and behind her back. I’ve suspected that Grandma similarly felt she never got her own mother’s full approval.

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by Tapati

Temple Deities

In January of 1977 Mike and I were preparing to ask for initiation. We were carefully composing letters to Srila Prabhupada to indicate that we understood the commitment we were making and hoped that he would accept us as disciples. Mike shaved his head, something he’d avoided up until that point. He knew he would not get a recommendation for initiation from the temple authorities if he kept his hair shoulder length. Embarrassed, he wore a cap over his head until it grew out again. We were more strictly abstaining from sex as well, trying to genuinely follow the instructions we had received from Srila Prabhupada.

My initiation letter is dated February 2nd, 1977. We expected a wait before we heard whether or not we were accepted. Occasionally we knew that initiations were delayed, and Srila Prabhupada was said to be gravely ill. In March we were asked to pray for him and there were 24 hour a day kirtans on his behalf. He improved for awhile after that but remained ill and under medical guidance.

The day came when we heard that we were accepted, and Radhaballabha Dasa was informed by telegram that our names were to be Mahasraya* Dasa and Tapati* Dasi. We were ecstatic! Both of us felt like we had waited so long for this. Mahasraya had been involved in the movement for several years and I had first written to ISKCON members in 1974. We knew it was a big step and a huge commitment. We were agreeing to spend the rest of our lives in the service of our spiritual master and to follow the four regulative principles—no meat eating, intoxication, illicit sex life or gambling, plus we would be required to chant at least sixteen rounds of the mahamantra each day.

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by Tapati

My 18th birthday came and went in December. We didn’t celebrate birthdays, although I’d made a cake for Mike’s birthday in September. I was disappointed that he did nothing for mine. I was used to celebrating it every year in some way.

I began to talk about having a baby. It seemed like many of the women were having babies in New Dwaraka and the more time I spent with moms, the more I wanted a baby of my own. While there was no expectation that we would have lots of children, having children was the point of being householders. We were supposed to raise good devotee children, children who would be even more devoted than we were because they wanted to take birth as devotees while we were born karmis. These children would help change the world and bring about the Golden Age predicted by scriptures, an age where peace and devotion to Krishna would sweep the earth.

I wanted to conceive a child in the right way, by chanting 50 rounds of the Hare Krishna mahamantra–thereby calling a Krishna Conscious soul to take birth as our child. I was babysitting on Sunday mornings for Srilekha while she taught Sunday school to Indian children. Her little girl Kishori was conceived in this way. Kishori was a delightful little girl and spending time with her only increased my desire to have a child.

The Hare Krishna maha-mantra

Mike didn’t want to plan a child and so he wouldn’t agree to chanting 50 rounds. On the other hand, he didn’t want to use condoms or other birth control. I figured we’d end up having a baby anyway, though not the way I preferred to. We discussed this a few times but when he became frustrated and a little angry, I backed off. I didn’t want to inspire his anger because I was never sure where it would lead.

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by Tapati

Kiss me once again
Don’t you never, never, never say that we we’re through
Cause I ain’t never, I ain’t never
I ain’t never, no, no, loved a man
The way that I, I love you

–Ronnie Shannon (sung by Aretha Franklin)

Sri Sri Rukmini-Dwarakadhish

Once we arrived at my mom’s apartment, our relationship was on fast forward. We spent a few weeks together every waking moment, with my mom at work and the run of the place. We cooked together, with Mike teaching me a lot about Indian cooking. He’d been hanging out around the temple for years and had learned a lot. He was four years older than me and seemed wise beyond his years. Like me he was raised by a single mom and had previously had a stepfather he despised. He told many stories of his life in Chicago and his travels, the concerts he’d seen, the martial arts he’d studied, his first marriage, the child he had as a result, and his “fall-down” into drugs and stealing. We talked about “surrendering” together and which temple we should move to. In a few months I’d be 18 and mom was even talking about signing the papers so we could get married.

I was so in love that I lost all my reservations about losing my virginity and we soon began a sexual relationship. Mike assured me that this was OK because in Vedic times there was something called “gandharva marriage” where a warrior would carry away a maiden and she would be considered his wife. I accepted this like I accepted many things in this whirlwind romance. I didn’t know about the heady cocktail of love chemicals that science has since discovered, but I was completely under their spell. I remember that summer Diana Ross released a song called Love Hangover that expressed my feelings exactly: If there’s a cure for this, I don’t want it, don’t want it.

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by Tapati

Chicago, Illinois

Cold late night so long ago
When I was not so strong you know
A pretty man came to me
Never seen eyes so blue
I could not run away
It seemed we’d seen each other in a dream
It seemed like he knew me
He looked right through me

–Heart

Previously I described how I left the Chicago Hare Krishna temple. I was headed for my friend Suprabha’s apartment. I had her phone number and address written down, and knew which El stop to look for. When I got off the El I called Suprabha and she gave me directions to her dad’s home. She’d told me that he traveled a lot and wouldn’t be around.

Suprabha greeted me warmly and we talked and cooked together and generally enjoyed hanging out. There was a George Harrison special on the radio, with interviews and music, and we taped it. I was given my own room in the large apartment and for the next several days I settled in to life in Chicago. Suprabha took me to visit a counselor at her college who gave me job referrals for child care. I met a couple of parents who were friends and was well on my way to getting a live-in job with a very nice Jewish couple. They invited me to dinner and were so respectful of my beliefs that they offered to leave the room while I offered my food—what a change from my family!

One day Suprabha told me a friend was coming over. It turned out to be Bhakta Mike, the new guy from the temple. It was a little awkward socializing with him since just a few days before I wasn’t supposed to give him the time of day. He seemed a bit shy too, though he and Suprabha got along well and had been spending time together. I wasn’t quite sure what their relationship was—were they a couple or just friends or something in between? It seemed rude to ask. We spent a few hours together and I enjoyed myself. Bhakta Mike had a good sense of humor and he seemed so nice after the cold and distant brahmacaris at the temple. We had fun listening to karmi music, something we couldn’t do at the temple. The three of us were dipping our toes into the pool of maya, trying to find some comfortable balance between devotee and karmi life. We didn’t want to get in too deep—but we weren’t ready to fully commit to the temple either.

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