Суд над Бхагавад-гитой / Attempt to ban Bhagavad-gita

In Every Town and Village
This type of short arrest became a common event. Many of the devotees had been arrested several times and went through what they had to. In each arrest the KGB confiscated books, which we were spending so much time and effort to make, plus the cash collected from the books. As for the devotees, many were leaving the temple or not coming to the temple, because they did not want to be arrested.

More and more, many devotees came to Armenia from different parts of the U.S.S.R. to get Srila Prabhupada’s books and flyers.

One devotee said, “It would be wise if you Armenian devotees did not go out and distribute books at all. Just print and bind good quality books for us, and we will come here, take them from you, and distribute them for you as well. If they arrest you, then where will we get the books?”

Another devotee said, “Devotees are making photocopies of the Bhagavad-gita and binding and distributing them from home. Some of the devotees do not have the original books, so what they produce is a fifth or sixth photocopy, which is hardly readable. Sometimes the pages are mixed up and one cannot find the right page. But people still buy them from devotees because they thirst for those books.”

Preaching Is the Essence
Sako, who later received the initiated name Sachisuta Dasa, returned from book distribution. He started to glue some books and pack some of the Russian books in a box to be shipped. The atmosphere was peaceful, with some devotees singing a sweet kirtana. Some were talking about Krishna consciousness, and some others were cooking.

Then, all of a sudden someone started to scream, “The KGB is here!”

After the fourth day, it was clear to all of us that the KGB had already taken our leaders to the jail from the police station. Having our leaders in jail was so depressing that sometimes we would not go out for days, only chanting, eating, and sleeping. The only person who was doing some active work was Sachisuta—he was making more and more books ready for distribution and hardly ever talking with us. He was serious, and it was as if he was in a different world. He was often the only one who would clean the floor, do the shopping, wash the pots after cooking, and so on.

My Last Arrest
I had forgotten how many times they had arrested and released me, but at the time of Sannyasa and Kamalamala’s arrest, I thought that because the police were now convinced they had the leaders of our movement in Armenia, they wouldn’t be arresting the rest of us anymore. But I was wrong. The police arrested me and some other devotees many times after that. During this time, we rented another house to store books and important items, and we would go there perhaps once a week.

At about eight o’clock one evening, Sachisuta and I were going to that house, bringing some missing Gita pages to complete the books. At that time I had a strange premonition while riding on the bus. I asked Sachisuta if he had the same feeling. He said that he also felt that there was some danger, but we did not know what to do and which way to go, forward or backward.

Both of us had such strong feelings of danger that we decided to go back without taking any further pages for the books. I do not remember any other incident of Sachisuta's stepping back from any situation, ever.

Once we were arrested, one fat policeman hurt me the most, even stomping on my toes with his boots, giving me excruciating pain.

“So,” he said while hurting me, “now I think you can tell us where your books are printed and where you are storing them.”

“I do not know, sir," I said. "I really do not know. I told you that many times already.”

“Okay, after I prepare a nice seat, then you will tell us everything immediately.”

He waved his hand to the policeman next to him and asked him to bring one beer bottle. Then he came close to me and with his whole strength stepped on the tip of my toes with his big boots.

“O God,” I thought, “this is one of the worst things I have ever experienced.”

Then a policeman came in with a glass bottle in his hand and placed it in the middle of the room.

“So now for the last time I am asking you, and that’s it. Either you will tell me or you are going to sit on this bottle.”

I hung my head and started to chant loudly, “Namaste narasimhaya,” and prayed for help.

Then he came and twisted my hands while another one held my legs, and they pulled me up. The third one came and tried to take off my belt. I had started to jump and shake my whole body so they wouldn’t be able to take my pants off. So then he hit me, probably with his full power, on my belly, and I thought that maybe now I’ll be cut into two pieces. But still I didn’t give up shaking.

I started to kick them and scratch as much as I could. I tore the shirt of the policeman who was holding my hands, which made him even angrier. Somehow, even after so much beating, I got some enormous amount of power and started to move in such a way that they could not take my pants down. I started to scream louder than I had ever screamed in my life, like a tiger, non-stop for a long time. I started to think how loudly Nrisimhadeva screamed when He appeared to kill the demon Hiranyakashipu. As soon as they brought me close to the bottle, I moved fast and it fell on its side. After several times of trying, they finally dropped me down and left the room.

They took me downstairs and locked me up in one of many rooms. Some criminals were in the room, too, and they started to ask me many questions. Some of them had already heard about Krishna, and one had even read the Bhagavad-gita a little bit.