Answer
You see, the real reason is this: Śrīla Prabhupāda had been guiding and nourishing me all along — even before I ever met the present gurus.
I began reading his books four or five years earlier, around 1980–81. In fact, even before I knew there was an organization called ISKCON, from around 1977 to 1980 I was simply reading his books in the library. At that time, I only knew him as a teacher — but I was deeply inspired by what he was saying. His teachings transformed my life. So my connection with Prabhupāda was already there from the beginning.
Then, when you come to ISKCON, a particular idea is introduced: that you must choose one guru. As an innocent newcomer, you don’t question this. You naturally assume that whatever is being taught in ISKCON must be exactly what Prabhupāda established. So when you are told that Prabhupāda appointed eleven gurus and that you must accept one of them, you simply follow — without questioning.
Now, there are two aspects to this. First, according to the principle of guru, one is expected to place faith, as instructed by śāstra — to project faith. But second, that faith truly becomes firm and complete only when the person receiving that faith actually possesses the corresponding spiritual stature. As they say, it takes two hands to clap. Full faith can only develop when both conditions are met: your faith and the worthiness of the person.
Otherwise, the faith remains theoretical — “Śāstra says I must have full faith, so I must have full faith.” But it does not naturally consolidate.
So when the very foundation of that faith — the idea that “Prabhupāda appointed these eleven as gurus” — turns out to be incorrect, then everything becomes shaken. It is painful to realize that one may have been misled for so many years. That pain is natural. But truth must prevail.
At the same time, the deeper and more foundational connection — your real connection with Prabhupāda — remains intact. After all, you know who truly changed your life.
Also, even earlier, doubts had already arisen. We saw many gurus falling down, and a serious question emerged: If Prabhupāda appointed them, how could they fall? Prabhupāda cannot make mistakes — so what is the explanation? There was no satisfying answer.
But when the July 9th letter was understood — that these persons were appointed as ṛtviks, not as initiating gurus — everything fell into place. The confusion was resolved, and it became clear that there had been a misunderstanding, even a form of misrepresentation.
Now, in any relationship, when such a realization comes, there is naturally a period of adjustment. Just as in ordinary relationships, there can be making and breaking, even separation. Similarly, here too, when one feels misled, it takes time to process the truth.
But by the strength of Prabhupāda’s instructions, it becomes possible to reorient oneself. In my own case, I came to understand that the person from whom I thought I took dīkṣā was actually acting as a ṛtvik — and that the real dīkṣā was from Prabhupāda. So I adjusted my understanding: I respect that person as a ṛtvik. If he had simply acted within that role, it would have been proper. But when someone goes beyond their authorized role, that is where the problem arises.
It is like being given an envelope to deliver. One is meant to pass it on as it is. But if the person claims, “This envelope is mine,” that is a misrepresentation. Still, receiving the envelope is not your fault. The only issue was unknowingly giving credit in the wrong place due to being misled.
Looking back, I felt that for many years I had unknowingly committed an offense in my relationship with Prabhupāda — because he is actually the dīkṣā-guru, yet I did not properly recognize him as such.
There is also an important distinction between śikṣā-guru and dīkṣā-guru. Every relationship has its unique role. A śikṣā-guru instructs and guides, but the dīkṣā-guru carries a specific responsibility — to ultimately take the disciple back to Godhead.
I often explain this with an example: in a school, different subject teachers come and teach — chemistry, physics, mathematics — and then they go. But there is one class teacher who oversees everything, ensures the student is progressing in all subjects, gives personal guidance, and takes responsibility for promoting the student to the next level, year after year, until the final stage.
Similarly, the responsibilities differ greatly. In terms of impact, both śikṣā and dīkṣā gurus can be spiritually powerful — even a śikṣā-guru can awaken someone deeply. But the defining difference lies in long-term responsibility.
As Prabhupāda himself expressed, the dīkṣā-guru takes responsibility for the disciple’s ultimate liberation — even to the extent of guiding them life after life until they return to Krishna.
And that is not a small responsibility. That is the true meaning of dīkṣā-guru.
