A Cow And God’s Goodness

Looking back at a time of joy and challenge and delight in a
country ashram.

By Visakha Devi Dasi 

MANY YEARS AGO I  had the unusual  experience of living in a small ashram in Grants Pass, Oregon, with two godsisters, Yamuna and Dinatarine Prabhus. Their company was sublime, their deity worship was out of this world, and their cooking and the traditional devotional songs they sang were similarly special. Beyond all that, they had their own delightful pet cow, Bimala Prasada.

Prior to meeting Bimala Prasada, I’d always looked at cows from a distance – a safe distance. Bimala, however, was practically an ashram resident who happened to live in the pasture just outside the ashram. She and Yamuna and Dinatarine were on close terms, and over the months I stayed at the ashram, Bimala became my friend too. She was young and occasionally took pleasure in mischief, like escaping from her enclosure and feasting on the carefully tended hyacinth flowers in the front yard that were intended for the deity’s garlands. When Dina and Yamuna sternly scolded her for her transgression, Bimala seemed to assume an innocent, sweet look that said, “I’m sorry, but it was too good an opportunity to miss!” which made it difficult to stay upset with her for long.

Once safely back in her own pasture, Bimala thoroughly enjoyed my stroking the underside of her neck and brushing her. Her short brown hair was thick and velvety soft, and as I brushed her, I’d watch the coarse brush bristles as they followed the rounded contours of her plump belly, the gentle rises of her ribs, and the high peaks of her bony hips.

Once I had the rhythm of milking down and had developed some strength in my fingers and forearms, milking Bimala before sunrise became a favored activity. Even now decades later, I can still hear the sound of the thin, strong streams of milk rhythmically hitting the stainless-steel bucket, releasing wisps of steam into the cool morning air. As the bucket gradually filled with rich, frothy milk, Bimala, contentedly chewing grains, would make subdued snorts and grunts that melded with the calls of the early rising song sparrows and black-capped chickadees in the nearby forest. The unique stillness of that predawn hour was filled with scents of dung and hay and fresh, pure milk.

And how much milk there was! With this single and incredibly versatile ingredient, we made yogurt, cream, panir cheese, and unbelievably scrumptious milk sweets. We made butter and ghee, whey and buttermilk – and with all that, there was still enough milk left to sell to a local restaurant that valued whole, organic, locally sourced milk.

The three of us loved Bimala Prasada, and we felt that she loved us. Besides her milk, her very presence contributed mightily to the ashram. The cow, Srila Prabhupada explains, exemplifies the mode of goodness.

Mixtures of the three modes of material nature govern the workings of this material world. The mode of ignorance is characterized by laziness, indolence, and sleep; the mode of passion by busyness, desire, and material ambition; and the mode of goodness by peacefulness, satisfaction, and tolerance. In general (that is, when she wasn’t in heat), Bimala was peaceful, satisfied, and tolerant, and being around her somehow increased my sense of peacefulness, satisfaction, and tolerance – and that is a bit of a mystery. How does being around an animal bring one closer to the mode of goodness, the mode of learned and gentle brahmanas, those who are elevated in knowledge, good character, and behavior?

One of the principles Sri Krishna explains in the Bhagavad-Gita is that one becomes a brahmana not by being born in a brahmana family, but by acquiring the qualities of a brahmana. Krishna says,

samo damas tapah saucam

kshantir arjavam eva ca

jnanam vijnanam astikyam

brahma-karma svabhava-jam

 “Peacefulness, self-control, austerity, purity, tolerance, honesty, knowledge, wisdom and religiousness – these are the natural qualities by which the brahmanas work.” (Gita 18.42)

These attributes of the mode of goodness aren’t academic. That is, it’s not by excelling in math, English, history, and science that we’ll become peaceful, self-controlled, austere, and so on. Rather, to acquire the qualities of the mode of goodness we need an environment conducive to that mode, and we need to have the company of those with good qualities. To be in the mode of goodness is to be internally fit, and to become fit in this way we first must desire to be, which ideally will lead us to find genuine spiritual teachings as well as sincere practitioners of those teachings.

This concept is put poetically in the Gita-mahatmya (6):

sarvopanishado gavo

dogdha gopala-nandanah

partho vatsah su-dhir bhokta

dugdham gitamritam mahat

“All the Upanishads are like a cow, and the milker of the cow is Sri Krishna, the son of Nanda. Arjuna is the calf, the beautiful nectar of the Gita is the milk, and the fortunate devotees of fine theistic intellect are the drinkers and enjoyers of that milk.”

In other words, the Upanishads, of which there are 108 and which contain vast knowledge about the Absolute Truth, are likened to a cow. Sri Krishna, who is famous as cowherd boy, is the milker of that cow. Arjuna is likened to a calf. In the presence of her calf the cow gives profuse milk, and that milk is the Bhagavad-Gita. Arjuna’s strong desire to hear from Sri Krishna inspired him to ask questions.

In response, Krishna offered Arjuna the essence of the extensive Upanishads for his nourishment and wisdom. And to this day, pure and learned devotees continue to take this milk, the nectarean instructions of the Bhagavad-Gita, Sri Krishna’s divine song.

Before he heard the Gita from Krishna, Arjuna was confused and dissatisfied. As he heard verse after verse, his confusion and dissatisfaction gradually dissipated, replaced by a previously unknown clarity of purpose as well as a process for attaining that purpose – bhakti, devotional service to Krishna, the Supreme Personality of Godhead.

Back To Bimala

Sadly, before I came to the ashram, Bimala’s calf had died at birth, yet for years afterwards, as the ashram residents gave her profuse care and love, Bimala continued giving profuse milk. The reciprocal relationship, the loving exchange, between the beautiful devotees and this beautiful animal was impossible to overlook. I was living in a simple ashram that was blessed with the natural abundance that accompanies bhakti. By the grace of our teacher, Srila Prabhupada, we ashram residents were experiencing the sense of fulfilment and happiness that comes from trying to live according to Krishna’s plan. Srila Prabhupada explains:

The bull is the emblem of the moral principle, and the cow is the representative of the earth. When the bull and the cow are in a joyful mood, it is to be understood that the people of the world are also in a joyful mood. The reason is that the bull helps production of grains in the agricultural field, and the cow delivers milk, the miracle of aggregate food values. The human society, therefore, maintains these two important animals very carefully so that they can wander everywhere in cheerfulness. . . . The bull and the cow can be protected for the good of all human society simply by the spreading of brahminical culture as the topmost perfection of all cultural affairs. By advancement of such culture, the morale of society is properly maintained, and so peace and prosperity are also attained without extraneous effort. (Bhagavatam 1.16.18, Purport)

One cow, one small ashram with just a few ashram residents, but such a lesson in living well and living joyously! Just as throughout our body there are all sorts of complex actions and reactions going on that we don’t fully understand but that lead to our wellbeing (or lack thereof), so with our relationship with the earth and her creatures, especially the cow. Bimala Prasada, in her own ineffable way, was nudging me toward a fuller, more holistic life. It was a life steeped in appreciation and gratitude for God’s miraculous gifts, and my acknowledgement of those gifts and attempt to reciprocate them. It was a wholesome life of joy and challenge and delight.

Perhaps looking back on it after so much time I’ve idealized that little Grants Pass ashram, or perhaps – because it was a life of simple living and high thinking that Krishna describes for human beings – it was truly enchanting.



Visakha Devi Dasi has been writing for BTG since 1973. The author of six books, she is the temple president at Bhaktivedanta Manor in the UK. She and her husband, Yadubara Dasa, produce and direct films, most recently the biopic on the life of Srila Prabhupada Hare Krishna! The Mantra, the Movement, and the Swami Who Started It All. Visit her website at OurSpiritualJourney.com.