Our Story

Picture this: It’s the early 1980s. In the swanky, warm glow of the Los Angeles ISKCON temple, Caru Dāsa and his wife, Vaibhāvi Devī, were living the good life. Think endless sunshine, devotee companionship, and probably an ample supply of perfect California mangoes. Then, the divine inspiration—or perhaps, a momentary lapse of sanity—struck.

“We need to start a mission,” they declared, their eyes focused not on the familiar beaches, but on the distant, stark mountains of Utah.

Now, Utah Valley in 1981 was about as far from L.A.’s transcendental boho scene as you could get. It was—and largely remains—a beautiful, but overwhelmingly Latter-day Saint (LDS) community. Undeterred, and perhaps slightly delusional about the ease of proselytizing in a place where everyone already had a very specific, deeply rooted spiritual path, they pooled their meager resources.

The “assets” part of their move was, shall we say, a bit thin. Their vision, however, was massive. They scraped together a small down payment on an ancient AM radio station license and five acres of windswept land. Thus, KHQN was born, broadcasting “The Sounds of Transcendence” 24/7. Imagine tuning your dial for farm reports and getting ancient Sanskrit poetry and ecstatic kīrtan! They were aiming to awaken souls, but let’s be honest, they probably woke up a few bewildered farmers first.

The early days were a masterclass in missionary grit mixed with humble pie. Caru and Vaibhavi arrived with many illusions and few worldly goods, quickly discovering that converting a predominantly LDS area wasn’t going to happen on their aggressive, L.A. time frame. They probably thought they’d have a massive temple complex built by Tuesday.

But here’s the cosmic punchline: God (Kṛṣṇa) is great, and He has a far better, far slower, and ultimately far more effective plan.

To their immense credit, Caru and Vaibhavi didn’t pack up the microphone and head back to the comfy confines of Venice Beach. They were faithful, patient, and hard-working, grinding away at the radio station. And the universe responded through the most unexpected channel: the friendly, welcoming spirit of the local Utah community. That neighborly kindness wasn’t a hindrance; it was the Lord’s secret weapon. It allowed the mission to take root not through conversion, but through genuine, warm-hearted sharing.

Fast-forward to today, and their little mission has blossomed into something magnificent. The original 5 acres has expanded to about 20 acres, and standing proudly next to the humble radio station is a breathtaking, magnificent temple, built from the ground up and opened in 2001. Thousands now flock there yearly—not just to listen, but to wander the sprawling grounds, visit the resident llama, the proud peacocks, the chatting parrots, and the dazzling koi fish swimming in a 200,000-gallon lake with a waterfall.

And the grand finale? Those same once-barren grounds host the largest and longest-running Festival of Colors in North America every year, drawing 15,000 people in the most recent installment. From one small down payment and a whole lot of illusion, Caru and Vaibhavi got a result that was infinitely better than their original plan—all on the Lord’s perfect, majestic, and patient schedule.