Most weekends, especially in the warmer months, busloads of Indian-American pilgrims arrive from New York, Detroit, Washington, Toronto, and all over North America to experience rural Hare Krishna living. Such pilgrimages are common in India but are more rare in the United States because there are only a handful of such rural temples and, because of its illustrious past, New Vrindaban is one of the oldest and most well known. And, like in Indian culture, “all the rich people maintain the religious people,” Jay says. Donations keep the community alive, and Jay supplements charity by selling excess milk to local Hindu families. In one of the barn’s rooms, stacks of boxes filled with dried cow dung, an excellent fuel for fires, are shipped to distant Hindus and even to Westerners for use in exorcisms.

But getting residents themselves to pay more than lip service to the dairy operation has been difficult. “It’s sad, because we know that real wealth is coming from this. You have milk, and you have ox. You are independent and you have time for yourself,” Jay says. “It’s so difficult. I don’t have the answer.”

The pitch in the whirring sound of the milking machine changes, signaling that it’s time to unhook the milking machine from the quieting cows. He records how much milk each cow gave that morning and pours it into large containers. “Do you know the secret to caring for cows?” Jay asks with a half grin and a raised eyebrow. “Patience.”

Jay works with New Vrindaban's cows every day, tending to agricultural projects just as he did in his native Brazil.