Two Ghost Stories
Once when Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati was opening a new center
in a house that had been given for the use of the Gaudiya Mission, a ghostly
He was staying in a room on the second floor. One brahmacari was in
attendance, reading Srimad Bhagavatam while he worked at his desk.
That brahmacari suddenly saw a bone‑hand float in
through the window. He cried out and fainted. When Srila
Bhaktisiddhanta inquired the cause for his alarm, the brahmacari told what
he’d seen, but Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati didn’t seem to take it as very
important. He told the brahmacari to chant Hare Krishna, not cry unin‑
Thereafter the hand again appeared and floated into the room as if
to grasp the neck of Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati. This time the brahmacari
chanted Hare Krishna and then fainted. Srila Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati
revived the brahmacari, saying, “Don’t faint. Chant and read Srimad Bhaga‑
vatam.” When the hand came again, the brahmacari did just that. Srila
Bhaktisiddhanta saw the hand and chanted, “Haribol!”, and the hand
disappeared. He then said to the brahmacari, “No need to worry,
that ghost is now delivered.”
In Vrndavana, one baba was visiting from Bengal. He was staying at
one guest house (the owner of this guest house told this story). So that
baba, not knowing Vrndavana too well, inquired directions from the guest
house owner how to visit one temple and return. The proprietor gave him
directions, but with the warning to stay off the sidestreets in
a certain district he’d have to pass through.
So that baba went on his tour, and when returning, he passed by those
small, narrow side roads. From down one he heard the sweet sound of kirtan.
He thought, “There is a festival of Harer Nama! It sounds ecstatic. Let
me see this. After all, this is Krishna’s own holy dhama ‑ what can be the
harm in passing this way?”
So he went down that street, and soon came upon a group of men and
women chanting the Hare Krishna mantra to khol and karatalas. They all looked
like pukka Vaishnavas. The baba happily joined in the kirtana. After some
time they offered him a place to sit for honoring prasad, but he told that
he had to return. So they rolled prasad into a bananna leave and gave him.
He arrived at the guest house in ecstacy. “It was wonderful!” he
began telling that proprietor. “I went down your forbidden narrow street
on my way back here, and saw the most wonderful harer nama kirtan festival.
And just see ‑ they’ve given nice prasad!” He unrolled the leave ‑ there
was only hunks of raw meat inside.
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