The worldwide Hare Krishna movement appoints new Vrindaban’s leadership, but the sour taste left behind after the community’s implosion under Kirtananda has left many averse to strong leadership. Ad hoc decision-making is a major struggle, but the temple’s most fundamental difficulty is money. Having shrunk in population by about 95 percent since its peak, New Vrindaban wages financial battles constantly. Maintaining aging buildings, caring for visitors, supporting monks who spend large parts of the day chanting, and traveling to nearby cities such as Pittsburgh and Cleveland to reach out to non-Hare Krishnas isn’t cheap. The dairy operation alone costs about $95,000 each year — not including badly needed upgrades and repairs.
When New Vrindaban’s troubles in the 1980s and 1990s caused it to hemorrhage residents and supporters, a seemingly obvious group filled the void of support and funding: Indian-American Hindu immigrants. Even non-Hare Krishna Indians found comfort in New Vrindaban’s services, where well-cared for deities and vegetarian food were reminiscent of Hindu worship in India.
As more and more Indians moved to the United States, especially to urban areas, Hindu temples began to sprout up closer to home for many Indian-Americans. But New Vrindaban had the potential to offer something urban temples couldn’t: cows. Hindu families visiting New Vrindaban perform Hindu ceremonies with some of the cows and spend time with them.
Although some Western residents, like Chris, are slow to follow through on the daily care of New Vrindaban’s cows, Hindus across North America donate to its cow protection and rescue programs. A plaque in the barn honors families who have financially “adopted” cows: Dr. Inderjit Saini and family of Sterling Heights, Michigan, adopted Laxmi; Sonia Lohiya of Newport Beach, California, adopted Sunita; M.R. Kothary and family of Ontario, Canada, adopted Gauri. Others cows are supported from families in New York, South Carolina, Wisconsin, and Arizona. Polaroids of deceased cows are taped on the barn’s wall with their names carefully penned below, as if grandparents, aunts, uncles. |