The True Believers Survive -- Hare Krishnas In The '90S Are Fewer In Number, Stronger In Spirit

The Issaquah rambler represents suburbia right up to the front steps.

The mortgage is cheaper than in Seattle, the local schools are good, and there is room for the children to play in the front yard.

And for the Hare Krishna family that lives there, it's home.

Inside, the only chair in the front room is a throne for the human-like figure of the East Indian Hare Krishna founder, Bhakivedanta Swami Prabhupada. On the other end of the room, 4-foot high statues of the 5,000-year-old Krishna and Radha, Krishna's female counterpart, stand under spotlights. A bare black-and-white tiled floor fills the rest of the room.

It's also where Krishna devotees gather informally for Sunday dinner, chanting and dancing a Krishna-style hop. A couple of years ago the Krishnas sold their Madrona temple, an old church, and settled in this community on the Sammamish Plateau.

With numbers dwindling and finances tight, the Krishnas have downsized. Many of the hippies who flocked to the religion when it began in New York City in 1965 have since left. Now the Krishnas, like many other religions, are struggling through a transition, said Parijata dasi, a Swiss native who joined the Hare Krishna movement in Paris 20 years ago.

"There was a time 15 years ago that we had a big community in Seattle," said Parijata dasi, who lives in the Issaquah house with her husband, Harivilas das, and three of their five children, ages 5 to 17. "Now you go out on the street and young kids are not as interested. There are not so many joining as in my generation.

"When we all joined we were in our 20s, now we are in our 40s. We didn't care about where to eat or sleep. We were searching for spiritual things. Now we have to support a family, get a job. This is a materialistic age and people are not as interested in spirituality. That's why you don't see so many anymore. The ones who stayed are the ones who took it seriously."

The Seattle temple used to draw 150 for the regular Sunday dinner and services. Last week, 40 people attended a communal Sunday dinner in Issaquah, the higher end of the 25 to 50 devotees who usually gather on Sundays now. Half the 40 people were Hindus. The nearest Hindu temple is in Vancouver, B.C., and the Krishna religion is similar enough to feel like home for many Hindus, said Indu Bhardwaj, who left India to join family members in South Seattle five years ago. She said India has many Hare Krishna devotees.

GAINS OVERSEAS

The momentum the Krishnas have lost in this country, they're gaining in India and especially the former Soviet bloc, said Harivilas das. Recruiting is as fertile there as it was in the United States 20 years ago, he said. A Krishna who lives with Parijata and Harivilas, Udarakipti dasi, joined the Krishnas 12 years ago in Moscow.

"The Hare Krishnas have gone through an evolution from hippies to Hindus," said Yoginath das, who joined the Krishnas in Seattle in 1975 and has seen more and more Hindus join Sunday gatherings.

Hindus come because of the cultural similarities between the two faiths, Bhardwaj said. Both are vegetarian, both believe in reincarnation. Some of the Hindus brought potluck dishes to share during the dinner last week. "It's not just a religion," Parijata dasi said. "It's a whole way of life. Everybody chants the same."

Chanting and dancing on street corners and airports gained Hare Krishnas recognition and notoriety in the '60s and '70s. Devotees still chant and dance in other cities and countries, but rarely in Seattle. But public chanting is still a preferred form of worship, Harivilas said.

"Our mission is chanting and dancing in public," said Harivilas das, who arrived in Issaquah from Berkeley, Calif., last year to strengthen the Seattle membership. "This is the best way for people to become God-conscious. In this age, people are so busy running around doing this, doing that, they don't even have time to go to church. People deride us for chanting, but we make a social sacrifice to bring religion into the daily lives of people."

COMPROMISES MADE

Across the country, many devotees have adapted to Western life. Many have moved from the communal temples to private homes and families, and some have shed the saris and dhotis for Western clothes, at least in public places.

To avoid excessive attention at work or in the grocery store, some have grown the trademark shaved heads into stylish cuts, though most leave a tuft of extra hair at the back. The tuft is a convenience for Krishna, should he want to grab a devotee and take him back to the spiritual world.

KIDS ARE KIDS

"Look at the Christmas tree," Subhadra, 5, exclaimed gleefully as she and Janaki, 7, pressed their faces against the steamy front window, gazing at the colorful lights switched on in the yard across the street.

The adults were in mid-ceremony when the two girls bolted for the window. The chanting, "Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare. Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare . . ." continued uninterrupted.

Within 10 minutes, Subhadra and Janaki lost interest in the lights. Subhadra slid across the room to grab the incense holder the adults had finished offering to the Krishna statue. Subhadra passed through the room with the holder, offering a whiff to each person. Janaki, Udarakipti dasi's daughter, followed with a flower that had also been offered to Krishna.

Even in the suburbs, raising children in the Krishna faith is difficult. Sudarsana dasi, 28, hopes to keep her two children in the faith. Sudarsana dasi, a former Baptist, joined the Krishnas nine years ago in Portland. She's one of the younger recruits.

Sudarsana dasi and her husband moved to Issaquah from Seattle a couple of years ago to live nearer fellow devotees. Her 5-year-old daughter attends public school in Issaquah. Her 7-year-old son left for a Krishna boarding school in India this fall.

"I want my kids to grow up to be an honor to Krishna," Sudarsana dasi said.

Parijata dasi has had mixed success. Her 14-year-old daughter attends a Krishna boarding school in Alachua, Fla., but her 16-year-old daughter dropped out of the school and is living outside the Krishna community. Her 17-year-old son left home for a time, but recently returned to finish Issaquah High School. Her two youngest, Subhadra and her 8-year-old brother, also attend Issaquah schools.

"We try to raise them with knowledge and consciousness, but you cannot force anybody to be like you," Parijata dasi sighed. "It's their own free will. They are individuals. We give them a good upbringing, and I hope that when they're older they'll understand."