This article examines Jayadvaita Swami’s deletion of the line “Lord Ramacandra, of the Ramayana, an incarnation of Krishna, is the mightiest of warriors” from the purport to Bhagavad-gītā As It Is 10.31 in posthumous printings by the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust International (BBTI). While the line was almost certainly inserted by one of Srila Prabhupada’s editors, it was later affirmed by Srila Prabhupada himself in recorded conversation. Once that acceptance is confirmed, the matter is settled — and the later deletion is revealed as a breach of paramparā, not a restoration of accuracy.
Type of change
Deletion — removal of a complete sentence from the published purport.
Category
Philosophical/Devotional change.
Commentary
The editor added it — and Srila Prabhupada accepted it
We do not have evidence that Srila Prabhupada personally wrote the line naming “Lord Ramacandra” in the 10.31 purport. The wording almost certainly came from an editor working under his supervision — and that is fine. Prabhupada relied on editors to help prepare many purports.
The crucial point is this:
Srila Prabhupada heard the exact purport, which included the reference to Lord Ramacandra, and explicitly accepted it as correct in a conversation quoted in the article. He repeated the same identification in his own voice.
Once that happened, the sentence became authorized. No one has the right to remove it after his departure.
Prabhupada confirmed the meaning of “Rama” here as Ramacandra
In a recorded discussion, Srila Prabhupada used this exact verse (10.31) as an example of how Lord Ramacandra is mentioned in the Gītā. He did not say, “This was an editorial invention.” He accepted it. And even though the term “Rama” also can refer to Parasurama or Balarama, Prabhupada confirmed Ramacandra as one of the valid referents in this specific context of the Gita. That is enough to fix it into the purport permanently.
There is no scope to overrule the ācārya’s final approval
Posthumous editing is sometimes defended on the basis that “Prabhupada didn’t write this line himself.” But in Krishna consciousness, the test is not authorship — it is acceptance.
Once the ācārya approves and uses a sentence, it belongs to him. The disciple may not later argue: “But that wasn’t his original phrasing.” That is editorial hubris disguised as scholarship.
The deletion erases a confirmed Vaiṣṇava possibility
By removing the reference to Lord Ramacandra, BBTI did not just “restore ambiguity” — they erased part of Srila Prabhupada’s own explanation.
Srila Prabhupada made it clear: “Rama” can include several incarnations of the Lord, but also includes Lord Ramacandra in the context of this verse — a point he heard in the purport, accepted, and personally repeated.
The purport, as originally printed, reflected that full Vaiṣṇava understanding. After the deletion, it no longer does.
So the issue is not that the edited version is “uncertain” — but that it is incomplete. It no longer reflects the full range of meaning as accepted by Srila Prabhupada himself.
Removing what Prabhupada approved doesn’t improve accuracy. It reduces fidelity.
Why this is not negotiable
Even if the line was originally added by an editor, Srila Prabhupada approved it, used it, and confirmed its meaning in his own voice. That turns an editorial suggestion into an ācārya-sanctioned teaching. Removing it is not just a mistake in publishing. It is a mistake in disciplic succession.
The Arsa-Prayoga principle is simple: You do not remove what the spiritual master has accepted. Once he confirms it, it becomes sacred.
The deletion of Lord Ramacandra’s name is not the editing of a “mistake.” It is the undoing of Prabhupada’s acceptance — and that is the real error.
This article explores how changing the chapter title “Sankhya-yoga” to “Dhyāna-yoga” in Bhagavad-gita As It Is alters the reader’s perception of Srila Prabhupada’s intention — not because “Dhyāna-yoga” is inherently wrong or historically invalid, but because Prabhupada had a purpose in not using that more common title. The issue, therefore, is not academic accuracy, but fidelity to the ācārya’s personal voice — a core principle of Arsa-Prayoga, especially in the context of posthumous editing by BBTI.
Type of change
Substitution — one term from the Vedic tradition replaced by another, equally authentic, but conveying a different emphasis.
Category
Philosophical change.
Commentary
Not a question of “right” or “wrong” — but of honoring intention
Many commentaries throughout Vaiṣṇava history title Chapter 6 as “Dhyāna-yoga.” This is not a mistake. But Srila Prabhupada chose not to use this more common title. Instead, he used “Sankhya-yoga” consistently in his lectures, manuscripts, and published edition of Bhagavad-gita As It Is. That choice is not random — it reflects a pedagogical and theological strategy. When BBTI editors later replaced it with “Dhyāna-yoga,” the question is not whether their choice could be justified in a vacuum, but whether it should override Prabhupada’s own.
Srila Prabhupada’s framing is the governing standard
Prabhupada repeatedly emphasized that his edition of the Gītā was not merely another translation, but the definitive presentation of the Bhagavad-gita “as it is.” To alter his chosen structure — even in a title — is to alter the interpretive lens he intentionally set. This is where Arsa-Prayoga becomes relevant: the principle that once the ācārya has spoken, his presentation stands. Posthumous editing, however well-meaning, must not replace the spiritual intuition of the empowered teacher with the academic preferences of his disciples or followers — whether they be Jayadvaita Swami, Dravida Dasa, or any future editor.
Why “Sankhya-yoga” rather than “Dhyāna-yoga”?
Prabhupada’s use of “Sankhya-yoga” emphasizes that meditation is not an isolated practice, but flows from knowledge — specifically, the discrimination between matter and spirit. By choosing “Sankhya-yoga,” he was teaching that yogic practice is incomplete without philosophical realization and ultimately Kṛṣṇa consciousness. He may also have been signaling a departure from modern, technique-focused interpretations of yoga that are divorced from devotion — a trend evident even in the 1970s which has only grown stronger since.
The editorial risk: erasing Prabhupada’s corrective
Changing the title to “Dhyāna-yoga” removes that corrective emphasis and defaults back to the format familiar from other editions. This is exactly what makes the change problematic. If Prabhupada was deliberately shifting the focus — away from impersonal or secular yoga narratives and toward theistic Sankhya — then the editorial change undoes his work. This is not a disagreement with previous ācāryas. It is a disagreement with editing the ācārya after his departure.
The issue, therefore, is not whether “Dhyāna-yoga” is a legitimate title in the wider tradition, but whether BBTI has the right to retroactively override Srila Prabhupada’s intentional wording in Bhagavad-gita As It Is. A single change in a chapter title may seem small, but it signals a larger trend: the subtle reshaping of Prabhupada’s work through posthumous editing instead of paramparā.
That is why this matters — not because of a word, but because of the principle.
A devotee recently pointed to the following excerpt from a 1973 conversation and argued that, based on this alone, Bhagavad-gītā 18.66 should be “corrected” to replace the word religion with “occupation”:
Prabhupāda: Now, Kṛṣṇa says, sarva-dharmān parityajya [Bg. 18.66]. Satish Kumar: Yes. Prabhupāda: Now, dharma means occupation. Dharma is not translated as “religion.” Satish Kumar: No, no. Prabhupāda: This is wrong translation. Dharma means occupation. Satish Kumar: Activity? Prabhupāda: Activity, occupation. (Conversation, London, July 30, 1973)
Before rushing to “fix” the book, a few points need to be made—especially in light of arsa-prayoga, the principle that the words of the ācārya are not to be tampered with after his departure:
No instruction, and thus no authorization, was given to change the verse. Srila Prabhupada often spoke freely and loosely in conversation, but he gave direct, literal instructions for book changes while present. Here, he did not.
Srila Prabhupada himself frequently translated dharma as “religion.” This is not a one-off occurrence—it appears hundreds of times in his books and lectures. Are we now to “correct” them all? On what authority?
He heard the verse read aloud repeatedly and never objected. This is decisive. He personally approved the printed Gītā, lectured from it, and signed off on it as finished work.
What happens when we find other places where Prabhupada gives different meanings or emphases? Language is fluid, and Srila Prabhupada tailored his wording to context and audience. Selectively mining conversations to override the final, published work is not fidelity—it’s revisionism.
This is exactly how “The Blessed Lord” was removed by Jayadvaita Swami and the BBTI from later editions. Even though Srila Prabhupada accepted that phrase while alive, and even used it himself, editors saw one conversation where he expressed a reservation—and used that as a pretext to delete it from the entire book.
If this logic is allowed, what will be next?
This is the fatal pattern: use a stray comment in a private conversation to overrule the public, authorized book. It weaponizes Prabhupada’s own words against his finished legacy. That is the opposite of arsa-prayoga. That is how the books slowly stop being his.
I met Hayagriva’s son in front of the Doughnut Plant perhaps ten years ago when I was working there as the treasurer and accountant. I asked him what his father had to say about the recent changes being made to Srila Prabhupada’s books. He said, “My father told me, ‘If I made all those changes to his Bhagavad-gita, he would have cut off my head.'”
We know Hayagriva presented many editing suggestions to Srila Prabhupada. He was being directed by His Divine Grace. How could another editor come along without knowing what edits to the manuscript Srila Prabhupada had specifically approved when working with Hayagriva? To think that by returning to the original manuscript and reversing what Srila Prabhupada had approved puts the modern editor in a precarious position of having likely negated and overruled the intentions of Krishna’s pure devotee. It is like a razor’s edge. If you are not cautious, you can get a bloody cheek, or much worse.
Argument for changing “planet of trees” to “planet of pitris”:
“Surely no one is claiming that ‘planet of trees’ was Śrīla Prabhupāda’s intended wording. It was clearly a transcription error, not his philosophical statement. The Sanskrit verse itself says pitṝn — meaning the forefathers — so the translation should read ‘planet of Pitṛs.’
Correcting this is not speculation or rewriting Śrīla Prabhupāda’s teachings; it’s simply fixing a typographical mistake introduced by a disciple who misheard or mistyped the word during transcription.
If we refuse to correct even such obvious human errors, then we’re not preserving Śrīla Prabhupāda’s message — we’re preserving someone else’s mistake. Surely Śrīla Prabhupāda would want his books to be accurate and consistent with the Sanskrit, not left with an obvious blunder that misrepresents his meaning.
So why shouldn’t we correct what is demonstrably wrong?”
The Logical Skeleton of the “Planet of Trees” Problem
Let’s define the argument formally and trace the logic step by step.
The Act
An editor proposes to change the phrase “planet of trees” in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s text.
Let’s denote:
A: the act of editing (in this case, changing “planet of trees”) P: the principle or justification offered for editing
The Principle (P)
When asked “Why make this change?”, the editor must appeal to some underlying principle. Examples might include:
P₁: To make the text clearer. P₂: To make it grammatically or factually correct. P₃: To make it more acceptable to scholars. P₄: To make it easier for modern readers to understand.
Each of these is a normative principle — a rule about how and why editing is justified.
But behind every such justification lies a network of unspoken assumptions. These assumptions are rarely admitted, but they silently shape the reasoning that allows the change. They are:
Assumption of Superior Understanding: The editor assumes he understands the Sanskrit, the author’s intention, and the correct translation better than the edition Śrīla Prabhupāda personally approved and distributed.
Assumption of Posthumous Authority: It is assumed that one has the right to alter the work of a departed ācārya, even though he explicitly warned against posthumous changes.
Assumption of Editorial Infallibility: The editor presumes that his perception of what is “obviously wrong” is reliable, objective, and free from personal or cultural bias.
Assumption of Legitimate Precedent: It is assumed that this one change will remain isolated — that it will not logically justify further changes made for similar reasons.
Assumption of Empirical Verification: The Sanskrit is treated as an unambiguous, mechanical key to what Śrīla Prabhupāda must have meant, as though his English usage and spiritual purpose can be reduced to literal Sanskrit equivalence.
Assumption of Authorized Reconstruction: The act of posthumous editing is seen not as alteration but as “restoration,” implying that human reconstruction can better represent revelation than the ācārya’s own approved work.
Assumption of Non-Transcendental Editing: The editing and publishing done under Śrīla Prabhupāda’s supervision are assumed to be purely material processes, not sanctified by his approval or by the paramparā principle of transmission.
Assumption of Harmless Intent: It is believed that because the motive is sincere or scholarly, altering the guru’s words cannot be spiritually harmful.
Assumption of Human-Centric Epistemology: Truth is viewed as something improved by human refinement and correction rather than preserved by faithful hearing and transmission.
Assumption of Continuity Through Change: It is presumed that one can modify the form of revelation while maintaining the same authority — that textual alteration does not alter metaphysical authenticity.
Each of these assumptions is philosophically weighty. Together they invert the traditional hierarchy of authority: revelation is no longer the standard to which the human intellect submits, but the raw material upon which the intellect exercises control.
The Universalizability Test
A principle, once invoked, cannot rationally be restricted to one case unless there is an additional principle that limits it.
So, if we accept P₁: “We may change the text to make it clearer,” then that principle must logically apply to all cases where the editor believes clarity could be improved.
This is the universalization of P₁.
It follows from the principle of consistency — that identical reasons must yield identical permissions in identical types of cases.
The Problem of Subjectivity
Now, terms like “clarity,” “correctness,” and “scholarly acceptance” are subjective when judged by material standards. There exists no empirical or linguistic rule by which such clarity can be objectively verified in spiritual literature.
The only true standard of clarity is the revealed principle that transcendental sound must be preserved exactly as spoken by the realized soul. Therefore, applying P₁ or P₂ based on academic or personal judgment replaces revealed authority with subjective interpretation.
That judgment is fallible, culturally conditioned, and limited by material perspective.
So: P₁ ⇒ subjective authority replaces divine authority.
Slippery Slope Formalized
We can now model the chain of reasoning:
1) Accept A₁: “Change planet of trees for clarity.” 2) This implies acceptance of P₁: “We may change anything that increases clarity.” 3) By universalizability, P₁ applies to any word, sentence, or concept. 4)The editor, being the judge of clarity, now possesses implicit interpretive authority. 5) The distinction between “editor” and “author” dissolves in principle.
Therefore: A₁ ⇒ authorization of all Aₙ justified by the same principle.
This is the essence of the slippery slope — not a mere rhetorical trope, but a logical entailment: once the normative justification for one action applies equally to more consequential actions, those actions are justified in principle unless an independent limiting condition is introduced.
The Limiting Condition Problem
To halt the slope, one must introduce a limiting condition — a new premise L that restricts P₁. For example: L: “We may only edit obviously mistaken phrases like “planet of trees”, but not others.”
However, L itself must be justified by a new principle Pᴸ. If Pᴸ lacks independent justification, it is arbitrary. And arbitrary limits collapse under rational scrutiny.
Thus, unless one can show a non-arbitrary, divinely sanctioned, epistemically objective boundary between “permissible correction” and “impermissible alteration,” the permission to change anything for clarity logically includes permission to change everything for clarity.
The Transcendental Counterprinciple
The only consistent way to avoid the slope is to affirm an opposite axiom:
P*: The author’s words are inviolable, as they carry transcendental authority.
Here, clarity is not improved by editing the text, but by purifying the reader’s consciousness. This inverts the premise entirely: instead of adjusting revelation to fit human comprehension, the human must adjust his comprehension to fit revelation.
Conclusion
The argument against even changing “planet of trees” is not fanaticism — it is philosophical consistency. Because once you accept a humanly defined justification for altering revealed speech, you’ve imported a subjective epistemology into a domain that claims divine origin. That is not editing — it’s epistemic rebellion disguised as scholarship.
Sometimes devotees laugh at those who object to “minor edits” in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books. They say, “Come on — only fanatics would object to correcting a comma, a typo, or a small grammar mistake!” And many accept that reasoning without much thought, assuming that those who resist changes must simply be sentimental or stubborn.
But this attitude hides a serious misunderstanding. It assumes that changing a small detail is harmless, and that the only people who care are extremists. In reality, the issue is not about commas or spelling at all — it’s about who has the right to adjust the words of the spiritual master.
Once we say, “We can change a word for clarity,” we have already accepted the principle that human judgment can improve what was spoken by the pure devotee. And if that principle is accepted once, it can be applied again and again — not just to commas, but to sentences, meanings, and even philosophy. The logic that allows one small change can justify any change.
To call those who resist such logic “fanatics” is easy, but it misses the point entirely. Their concern is not over grammar — it is over preserving the disciplic succession intact. The words of the ācārya are sacred sound vibrations, not material literature to be polished according to our taste.
What follows will show — step by step — how even the smallest editorial correction rests on a principle that, once accepted, opens the door to an endless chain of justifications. What begins as “just a comma” can quietly become the rewriting of revelation itself.
To see this clearly, we must put emotion aside and follow the logic wherever it leads — beginning with the simple question, “Why change a comma?”
The Logical Skeleton of the “Comma Correction” Problem
Let’s define the argument formally and trace the logic step by step.
1. The Act
An editor proposes to change a comma in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s text.
Let’s denote:
A: the act of editing (in this case, a comma correction)
P: the principle or justification offered for editing
2. The Principle (P)
When asked “Why make this change?”, the editor must appeal to some underlying principle. Examples might include:
P₁: To make the text clearer.
P₂: To make it grammatically correct.
P₃: To make it more acceptable to scholars.
P₄: To make it easier for modern readers to understand.
Each of these is a normative principle — a rule about how and why editing is justified.
3. The Universalizability Test
A principle, once invoked, cannot rationally be restricted to one case unless there is an additional principle that limits it.
So, if we accept P₁: “We may change the text to make it clearer,” then that principle must logically apply to all cases where the editor believes clarity could be improved.
This is the universalization of P₁. It follows from the principle of consistency — that identical reasons must yield identical permissions in identical types of cases.
4. The Problem of Subjectivity
Now, terms like “clarity,” “correctness,” and “scholarly acceptance” are subjective when judged by material standards. There exists no empirical or linguistic rule by which such clarity can be objectively verified in spiritual literature.
The only true standard of clarity is the revealed principle that transcendental sound must be preserved exactly as spoken by the realized soul. Therefore, applying P₁ or P₂ based on academic or personal judgment replaces revealed authority with subjective interpretation.
That judgment is fallible, culturally conditioned, and limited by material perspective.
So: P₁ ⇒ subjective authority replaces divine authority.
5. Slippery Slope Formalized
We can now model the chain of reasoning:
Accept A₁: “Change comma for clarity.”
This implies acceptance of P₁: “We may change anything that increases clarity.”
By universalizability, P₁ applies to any word, sentence, or concept.
The editor, being the judge of clarity, now possesses implicit interpretive authority.
The distinction between “editor” and “author” dissolves in principle.
Therefore: A₁ ⇒ authorization of all Aₙ justified by the same principle.
This is the essence of the slippery slope — not a mere rhetorical trope, but a logical entailment: once the normative justification for one action applies equally to more consequential actions, those actions are justified in principle unless an independent limiting condition is introduced.
6. The Limiting Condition Problem
To halt the slope, one must introduce a limiting condition — a new premise L that restricts P₁. For example: L: “We may only edit commas, but not words.”
However, L itself must be justified by a new principle Pᴸ. If Pᴸ lacks independent justification, it is arbitrary. And arbitrary limits collapse under rational scrutiny.
Thus, unless one can show a non-arbitrary, divinely sanctioned, epistemically objective boundary between “permissible correction” and “impermissible alteration,” the permission to change anything for clarity logically includes permission to change everything for clarity.
7. The Transcendental Counterprinciple
The only consistent way to avoid the slope is to affirm an opposite axiom:
P* : The author’s words are inviolable, as they carry transcendental authority.
Here, clarity is not improved by editing the text, but by purifying the reader’s consciousness. This inverts the premise entirely: instead of adjusting revelation to fit human comprehension, the human must adjust his comprehension to fit revelation.
8. Conclusion
The argument against even a “comma correction” is not fanaticism — it is philosophical consistency. Because once you accept a humanly defined justification for altering revealed speech, you’ve imported a subjective epistemology into a domain that claims divine origin. That is not editing — it’s epistemic rebellion disguised as scholarship.
The Comma Argument — Explained Simply
If the above explanation felt a little technical, here is the same argument expressed in simpler terms. And if you already understood everything written above, you don’t need to read this — but it may still help you explain it to others.
1. What Begins as Small
An editor wishes to correct what seems like a small detail in Śrīla Prabhupāda’s book — perhaps a misplaced comma or a minor grammar issue. It sounds harmless, almost helpful.
2. The Justification
When asked why, the editor replies: “To make it clearer,” or “To make it grammatically correct,” or “To make it more respectable to scholars,” or “To help modern readers understand.” This reason — whatever it is — becomes the principle that justifies the change.
3. The Law of Consistency
But once a principle is accepted, it cannot logically apply only once. If we can change one comma for the sake of clarity, then that same rule allows changes to any word, sentence, or idea — whenever an editor feels it will improve clarity. The permission extends to all similar cases.
4. The Real Issue: Whose Standard?
Words like “clarity,” “correctness,” and “modern understanding” are not absolute. They depend on culture, education, and opinion. So, if we rely on these human measures, then human judgment becomes the standard. That means divine revelation is being adjusted according to the limitations of the editor. Yet śāstra gives a higher rule: the words of the realized soul are perfect as they are. Our duty is to understand them through humility and service, not revision.
5. How the Slope Works
Once the principle of editing is accepted, it can be used again and again. First a comma, then a phrase, then a whole sentence — each change defended by the same reasoning: “It’s clearer now.” This is not a paranoid fear; it’s the logical consequence of the principle itself.
6. The Futile Attempt to Draw a Line
Someone might say, “We will only correct minor things.” But that limit has no real foundation. If we may change for clarity, then anything can be changed if it seems unclear. Any stopping point is arbitrary — a line drawn in sand. Unless there is a divinely given boundary, the permission to change one thing is permission to change everything.
7. The Only Consistent Principle
There is only one safe and consistent position: The words of the ācārya must remain exactly as they are. We do not make transcendental sound more “perfect” — it is already perfect. Our task is not to edit the message, but to purify the heart so that we can hear it properly.
8. The True Meaning of Faithfulness
To reject editing is not fanaticism — it is fidelity. It means accepting that revelation stands above our judgment. Once human reasoning is allowed to “improve” divine sound, the message ceases to be revelation and becomes interpretation. That is how “fixing a comma” slowly becomes rewriting the words of a pure devotee.
Those who have altered Śrīla Prabhupāda’s books like to speak of “devotee cooperation” and “proper channels.” What they mean is submission without scrutiny. They have built a system where questioning is punished, reasoning is re-framed as offense, and loyalty is measured by silence.
Whenever a devotee raises a concern, the reply is almost scripted:
“The problem of the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust (BBT) editing can be summarized fairly well with four concise points:
(1) False Assumption of Authority: where Prabhupada only granted conservative, provisional authority, the BBT editors assumed unrestricted, open-ended authority.
(2) Editorial Overreach: where Prabhupāda requested only simple copyediting and correction of obvious mistakes, the BBT editors took great liberties in revising, omitting, and even attempting to correct the author’s content.
(3) Noncompliance with Scholarly Standards: where Prabhupada requested scholarly editorial standards, the BBT editors misapplied scholarly textual methods and employed arbitrary and inconsistent editing practices.
(4) Editorial Changes without Transparency: where devotional and scholarly editorial standards compelled full transparency, the extent of editorial changes by the BBT editors are undisclosed in the author’s works.”
Reference:
Posthumous Editing of A Great Master’s Work – Special Focus on the Writings of A. C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, Edited by Graham M. Schweig, 2024, Lexington Books, Introduction, p. 3-4)
Our previous chat was very messy and unstructured. It was not possible for either of us to present our arguments and points in an orderly way. Therefore let us now start a debate where we focus on some concrete points. I suggest we start with your above request:
Jaya Krsna Dasa (JKD):
“Whenever possible, please share any verse you found which is philosophically completely against what Srila Prabhupada taught because of this change. I mean only philosophical changes only, not any other type of changes”
Now, there are a few significant things about this request of yours. It has an implied premise, namely that:
“All changes that are not of a philosophical nature are okay.”
The truth of this implied premise can be disproved by quoting Jayadvaita Swami and the BBTI:
“As you know, and as we kept in mind while doing the work, Srila Prabhupada staunchly opposed needless changes.” (Jayadvaita Swami, Letter to Amogha Lila, 1986)
Now, as we see Prabhupada did not did not only disapprove of philosophical changes to his books. He also disapproved of “needless changes”. Therefore, if we can find any needless changes in his books, we know that Jayadvaita Swami and the BBTI have done something wrong. My contention is that Jayadvaita Swami and the BBTI have made many needless changes. Too many.
Here is one example:
“And the covers, if possible, should always be the same for each respective book regardless of what language it may be printed in.” (Letter to Jadurani, Bombay, January 3, 1975)
So why have the BBTI changed the covers of many of the books? This seems to be completely needless. Prabhupada loved the original cover. It was very special. It was popular. It made devotees. Why change it? We have asked the BBTI and Jayadvaita Swami why the cover was changed. But we have not received any reply.
Maybe you can answer this question, dear Jaya Krsna Dasa Prabhu?
1. Argued against your implied premise, and therefore against the validity of your question.
2. Presented positive evidence that the changes of the covers are against Srila Prabhupada’s instructions.
Now you have to:
1. Defend your implied premise, or admit that your question is invalid.
2. Argue against my points about the covers, or admit that you either cannot answer it, or that it is in fact against Srila Prabhupada’s instructions to change them.
3. Possibly present further points on the matter of the book changes.
Srila Prabhupada’s draft (so-called original manuscript):
Original and authorized 1972 Macmillan edition:
“From whatever and whereverthe mind wanders due to its flickering and unsteady nature, one must certainly withdraw it and bring it back under the control of the Self.”
From wherever the mind wanders due to its flickering and unsteady nature, one must certainly withdraw it and bring it back under the control of the Self.
What did Srila Prabhupada think about the verse?
Visnujana: Verse twenty-six: “From whatever and wherever the mind wanders due to its flickering and unsteady nature, one must certainly withdraw it and bring it back under the control of the Self [Bg. 6.26].”
Prabhupada: This is the process. This is yoga system. Suppose you are trying to concentrate your mind on Krsna, and your mind is diverted, going somewhere, in some cinema house. So you should withdraw, “Not there, please, here.” This is practice of yoga. Not to allow the mind to go away from Krsna. (Lecture on Bhagavad-gita 6.25-29, Los Angeles, February 18, 1969)
The words translated as “whatever and wherever” is “yataḥ yataḥ”. In the 1972 Macmillan edition the word for word looked like this:
yataḥ-whatever; yataḥ;-wherever
In BBT International’s 1983 edition this is changed to:
yataḥ yataḥ — wherever
Unfortunately these word for word synonyms are missing for 6.26 in the so-called original manuscript. But we do find something in Srimad-Bhagavatam:
yataḥ yataḥ — from whatever and wherever; (SB 7.15.32-33)
As a side note: This verse from Srimad-Bhagavatam in about the same subject as Bg. 6.26:
While continuously staring at the tip of the nose, a learned yogi practices the breathing exercises through the technical means known as puraka, kumbhaka and recaka — controlling inhalation and exhalation and then stopping them both. In this way the yogi restricts his mind from material attachments and gives up all mental desires. As soon as the mind, being defeated by lusty desires, drifts toward feelings of sense gratification, the yogi should immediately bring it back and arrest it within the core of his heart. (SB 7.15.32-33)
Again we left with the conclusion that Jayadvaita Swami and the BBT International are not bringing Srila Prabhupada’s books “closer to Prabhupada”. They are violating Srila Prabhupada’s, sastra’s and their own stated editing guidelines by making both needless and harmful changes in Srila Prabhupada’s books.
Arsa-Prayoga 
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