KuliMela Reflecitons: Prasadam ki jai!!

I must correct a possible misunderstanding. In my last post, I wrote that sometime after the closing ceremony, someone approached me 20 minutes before the Feast to confirm that he could serve out prasadam. Twenty minutes before. Now, this may have sounded like a one-time deal, a marvelous glitch in the aftermath of so much appreciation at the closing ceremony.

Allow me to clarify: I had people tracking me down all weekend long to let me know they wanted to serve. Sometimes they would approach me at weird, random times – maybe I just finished my japa workshop, or I was on a mission for the Registration booth. Sometimes a whole crew wanted to assure their place in the serving line – Gaura Nitai from the Polish Crew literally informed me a day early that they all wanted to serve dinner.

It was no joke. You either came early, or you lost your spot to serve. That was that. In the organized chaos of making sure everything ran smoothly in feeding 400 people, I will say that I never, ever ran short of servers.

I’ve heard it said in class throughout my life about some great Vaishnava who would serve everyone else prasadam – seconds, thirds – and then clean up after everyone before sitting down to take any prasadam for himself… and he actually enjoyed being last! He was actually in bliss. I kind of wrote that attitude off as a bit masochistic – delay prasadam??

But then, suddenly, I was in the shoes of that Vaishnava – if only for a couple days. I showed up early, was switched “on” for over two hours three times a day to make sure there were servers, utensils, the prasadam prayer was sung, prasadam didn’t run out, tables cleaned, pots put away… then and only then did I carry my plate up to the lawn in front of the castle to listen to the bhajans from the kutir. Often my friend Rupa would join me, and as we settled to the grass and took our first bite of prasadam, we would simply look at each other and smile in bliss.

Note: Although I enjoyed my work, I would like to apologize to Bimala (who was THE prasadam boss) and Narada (who often covered for me when I had to leave early) for not fulfilling my duties as thoroughly as I could have. Thank you for letting me know where I could improve in service to the Vaishnavas.

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KuliMela LIVE – Day 4

One of my favorite parts of a huge festival like this is the ‘thank you’s at the end. The flow of gratitude begins… and then overflows. I certainly came away from the closing ceremony transformed with appreciation. I am certain others came away transformed as well.

You know why I know? At lunch, after the ceremony, people were positively crying out for a position as a server of prasadam. Someone arrived 20 minutes early to notify me they wanted to serve. I only laughed and assured him a place.

To listen to the glories for over an hour of the Vaishnavas who ran this festival certainly inspired others to serve.

I have planned to stay awhile in Radhadesh before heading out to my next destination, and I look forward to the serenity of this castle and reflecting on the KuliMela. I actually planned this next week here for this sole purpose of reflection.

An experience like this needs to sink in. I believe experiences need to be digested… There’s a saying in Ayurveda that nectar will be poison with bad digestion, and poison will be nectar with good digestion. Similarly, if I allow myself no time to ‘digest’ this festival (‘bad’ digestion), it’s almost as if I did not experience it at all. But giving myself the space and time to reflect and savor the beautiful moments (‘good’ digestion), then certainly the festival becomes ten times more powerful.

I hope to write a few more posts on this festival in the next week. As for now, I am still in my ‘is-this-real’ space, and a sweet melancholy that this festival has ended. After so long, so much planning, after so much eager anticipation… KuliMela has ended.

But not really. Watch out LA 09. Watch out Australia 010. Alachua 011… others on the horizon, such as Kazakhstan… Siberia… Mayapur… New Mayapur, France…

So really, KuliMela has only just begun.

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KuliMela LIVE – Day 3

Insanity, insanity, insanity. Right now it is 1am, and I must split what happened during the day and what happened JUST NOW into two posts.

One word: Madhava. When night fell, all were drawn to the giant entertainment tent to the sound of a brewing kirtan. He sang one simple melody – no high parts, no low parts, nothing – just the holy name. AND WE ROCKED IT. I don’t know how many gurukulis packed into that tent, but like a rock concert, ALL DANCED. The sheer energy could knock over a bystander.

AAAAHHH!! We danced and we danced! Circles and trains and spins, crying out the holy name! Everything was thrown aside.

When vans of gurukulis arrived on Wednesday from various countries, commencing the flood of inspiration, I felt a little distant from the mass of exotic faces and exotic languages. All were in their traveling clothes of jeans and a t-shirt, and the barriers were still raised…

This kirtan smashed the barriers! Like, obliterated. Poof, gone. We are devotees of Krishna. What more can we possibly have in common?

When Madhava drew his kirtan to an uproarious close, we formed a parade and headed up the way to the castle for a mind-blowing fireworks show. Truly mind-blowing. I have been in Washington D.C. for the Fourth of July, on Capitol Hill watching the fireworks go off, and this fireworks show rivalled that. Fired off from the tower parapet of the castle, the fireworks themselves were unique and stunning, but I think the magic had to do with chanting “Gauranga!” “Nityananda!” the entire time. One firework fired so low, the sparks flashed off the tree nearby and glowing points of light rained down on us – all ducked and screamed!

As I sit here, I am in AWE that I am… well… here. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Even if another KuliMela takes place in Radhadesh in the future somehow, this festival holds a magic, something glittering, something powerful, something I will never forget.

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KuliMela LIVE – Day 2

The day began with an overflowing gurupuja. Nearly one hundred devotees filled the templeroom – and as Gadadhar (from Italy) sang Sri Guru Vandana, chills chased down my arms as the voices resounded. Srila Prabhupad has united all of us. He believed in us. And here we are, generations later, organizing massive festivals out of sheer inspiration in the message he has given.

The bhajan kutir is the heartbeat of this entire festival. More than the entertainment tent and even – dare I say it? – the prasadam. Sankirtan – congregational chanting – unites us.

After I hosted the japa workshop, I headed over to the bhajan kutir. The combination of actually teaching the nuances of the holy name immediately followed by a heartrending kirtan by Jahnavi (from England), touched me powerfully. I felt deeply, deeply connected with the holy name.

Something momentous happened for me today. For the first time, I sang and danced in a kirtan by Madhava Prabhu, a gurukuli originally from Vrindavan. His intensity drew me – and everyone else – deep into the holy name. In the golden early evening, he began his kirtan. The unique aspect of Madhava’s kirtans is that he can sing the same tune for hours, and yet the mood remains fresh and beautiful.

I am in charge of prasadam distribution for the Mela, and dinner along with all of my duties was fast approaching. With a determined stride, I left the bhajan kutir to track down someone to delegate to. I could not miss this. I would not miss this kirtan. And so with some pleading, Kalindi (from England) agreed to take over for me. I returned triumphant.

And so Madhava’s kirtan flowed on… and on… past dinner… we didn’t care… at one point, after the first part of his kirtan had ended, he said softly, “They say in the spiritual world, every word is a song… and every step is a dance. So, let us stand up, let us dance… let’s party and make this the spiritual world.” And with a roaring cry, everyone rose to their feet… and Madhava began again.

We halted the mind-blowing kirtan because the evening entertainment needed to begin. The kirtan party missed dinner entirely – nothing was left of prasadam.

It is now 10:30pm, and I am beyond exhausted. I’m hovering in an “is this real?” kind of space. I have been so immersed in the service of prasadam distribution as well as the two japa workshops I am hosting (plus other intense services) that my capacity to absorb other aspects of the Mela has maxed out, such as the seminars and the entertainment.

I believe you all would love to read pages and pages on this festival, and all of the amazing events and revolutionary concepts getting planted here.

I feel infused with an otherworldly inspiration.

P.S. by the way, this is my 100th post, so as this is a pretty impressive landmark for me, I would like to thank all of you for reading this humble blog. I encourage you to check out some of the archives as well. All of your feedback and your encouragement inspires me to continue.

Thank you.

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KuliMela LIVE – Day 1

This is a festival to cross borders. Picture this: 350 gurukulis from 25 different countries, all drawn to the lush hills of Belgium with sometimes nothing more in common than a passion to connect and to inspire one another.

As I write this on the evening of the first day of the KuliMela in Radhadesh Belgium, I realize with a depth I’ve never known how much Krishna crosses borders. No matter our language, our country, our body, our culture – Krishna reaches past all of those walls to touch our heart. Many don’t speak English here, but when bhajans began to fill the castle grounds this afternoon, we all became in sync.

From my personal realization, I feel infused with a desire to serve. And the spirit is infectious.

Stay tuned for the next four days and I shall attempt to write every evening updates and realizations (hopefully a little longer than this one) on this mind-blowing festival.

If you are not personally here in Radhadesh, don’t worry, Krishna knows no boundaries.

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Dancing with Mother Mitravinda

I wrote this last night…

Mother Mitravinda passed away this morning. Gaura Shakti held bhajans at his house in honor for her this evening.

And as Jagi settled down to the harmonium to sing, he said, “So this was Mother Mitravinda’s favorite tune,” he paused and everyone went quiet. “I went to go visit her and I was singing this tune. Then she said softly, ‘It’s not fair,’ and I asked, ‘Why is it not fair, Mitravinda?’ and she replied, “It’s not fair because this is my favorite tune… and I want to dance but I can’t,’ She then bagan to weep,”

When Jagi sang the first mantra, chills ran down my spine. Everyone sang so deeply and so beautifully and my face shone with tears to remember Mother Mitravinda dancing. Her spirit moves me, even now as I write this.

I remember the very last time I danced with her – it was the Sunday Feast before she would go to the hospital to begin treatment. I was elated to still see her at the temple. At one point in the kirtan, we both raised our arms as we sang. And as we faced each other, the expression on Mother Mitravinda’s face took my breath away. Her intensity, her prayer to Radha Shyamasundar, hit me like a wave, enough to bring tears to my eyes… much the same tears I wept at bhajans tonight. And suddenly I knew – this is the last time I will ever dance with Mother Mitravinda.

And so it was.

Now I am realizing, though, that really she hasn’t stopped dancing. I know this sounds all poetic, but I believe that she dancing in the hearts of all the lives she has touched.

She’s dancing in mine.

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One day… one day.

Lord Balaram’s Appearance Day, 2007

I dash into the templeroom, out of breath in this sultry heat. Excitement flutters through my chest as I offer obeisance to Radhe Shyam – Radhanath Swami is just sitting down on the vyasasan. There are only a few people here right now, and so all the women scoot up to sit right behind the five aspiring disciples of Maharaj.

Sitting so near, I feel enclosed in an intimate circle, completely enthralled as Maharaj speaks on spiritual life, commitment, and offering our devotion and service to guru and Krishna. Every word weaves its way to my heart.

I reflect on my own journey.

Earlier this year, I had asked Mother Laxmimoni to ask Maharaj if I could receive initiation this year. She had responded that Maharaj had considered it very carefully, and then told her to tell me to wait at least another year. He had implored me to not feel disheartened, but rather to become stronger and more resolute in my spiritual life.

And so I have come to realize that I’m at the mercy of Radhanath Swami. Whenever he feels that I am ready to take initiation, so be it. He has shown me time and time again that he knows exactly where I’m at, even if I’m not completely aware for myself.

And so here I am, sitting so close that if I nudged my way up by just a few feet, I would be sitting in that arc of five people. These five committed, deeply spiritual, inspiring people sit reverentially listening to Maharaj’s every word with much the same expression on their faces that lights up my own.

Then Maharaj calls up Lalita to receive her beads and her new name. Chills course through my body as he extols the virtues of this wonderful vaishnavi who was eating prasadam “in the womb”. I sense everyone holding their breath as Maharaj holds out her chanting beads and proclaims, “I am very pleased to offer you the name Lalita Sakhi devi dasi,”

Balaram Chandra calls out, “Lalita Sakhi devi dasi, ki – “

“JAI! HARRRIIIIIIBOOOOOL!!!” Tremendous roars resound throughout the templeroom. I glance back to shockingly take in how fast the templeroom has filled with people to witness this soul-stirring event.

And then my dear friend, Radhika, is beckoned to sit before Maharaj. Tears well in my eyes – a gurukuli who dives into Krishna consciousness inspires me more than any other. We have both traversed this path to guru for the past year, and I tremble at this moment. Maharaj then holds out her chanting beads, and with great reverence he bestows upon her the name Radhika Rani devi dasi.

Gauranga Kishore calls out, “Radhika Rani devi dasi ki – “

“JAI! HARRRIIIIIBOOOOOOOOOOOL!” Mridangas and kartals join the exultation.

After two others are given the name Balaram Nitai das and Balaram Acharya das, The last person to be called upon is Mother Adigopi Priya, who is receiving second-initiation. After the first round of HARIIIIBOOOLs, I only hear silence, so I take it upon myself to cry out her name, “Adigopi Priya devi dasi KI – “

“JAI!!! HARRIIIIBOOOOOOL!!!!” The templeroom cries out triumphantly. I’m grinning ear-to-ear, my face still shining with tears.

Maharaj pauses and says, “Hm, you did that better than the brahmacharis.” Rolling laughter. “Could you do it for every one of them? Do you remember everyone’s names?”

In shock, I just nod and begin to cry out each of the disciple’s beautiful new names, one after the other, the response building and building, the hundreds of devotees present showering their blessings upon these amazing people.

After I call out the final name, Maharaj looks to me and smiles. He pauses and then says gently, “She wanted to participate in the ceremony,” And then he laughs, his shoulders shaking, his whole body bouncing up and down on the vyasasan, and a flood of laughter fills the room.

Yet only a few people understand the deeper significance of his words.

I smile, trembling.

One day… one day.

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Appreciation for a Vaishnava

Last night I slipped out of the Bus Tour party at Shanti’s to visit Radhe Shyam. As I parked and walked to the temple in the steaming night, the stars shimmering above, I felt so at home, so at peace. I offered my obeisance to Srila Prabhupad, then began to put mats away, the mic away, and adjust the lights, ever the custodian.

Just as the conch shell blew, Bali walked in. Slightly surprised to see him, we smiled and hugged. I settled down with the harmonium, and as Bali sat next to me with a mridanga, he said softly, “I can only play softly; my shoulder hurts,”

“Still?” I asked, a flutter of worry crossing my chest. I remembered it had been paining him at LA Rathayatra.

“Yes.”

The curtains opened, and I offered my obeisance to my beautiful Radhe Shyam and Gaura Nitai. I began to sing. Bali played softly. As I picked up the pace of the bhajan, there was a point where Bali had to stop playing drum to massage his shoulder. But he jumped back in again, although very softly.

I usually don’t hear Bali sing in the response during kirtan, but last night, he sang.

After the arati, I approached him, “Thank you, Bali, for playing mridanga. I know that to play is painful for you and you played anyway even though you didn’t have to.” I asked him about his shoulder, “Is it from playing mridanga?”

“Oh, I know it’s from playing mridanga,” he said despondently.

“You know, I can empathize because I twisted a bone in my foot and to dance now is painful at times. I just think, ‘Oh Krishna, why? To dance is to live!’”

“I don’t even want to think about it,” he responded, turning away. “I don’t know what I’ll do. This is the end of my devotional life, I swear,”

We bid goodnight, and he walked away chanting japa.

Bali’s indomitable spirit has inspired me in so many ways, and to see him dejected has affected me. In the past, I actually wondered sometimes what Bali would do if he could not play mridanga any more, for it has been a part of his identity his entire life. I even asked Bali himself what he would do. And yet he had replied, “I would be devastated, but life goes on.” He had paused. “I would find another way to serve the Vaishnavas,”

I pray that his shoulder heals and that this will all just be a memory. I remember in LA when I had lead the kirtan during the Santa Monica harinam, and he had been right by my side, the heartbeat of the kirtan, serving the Vaishnavas.

Thank you, Balaram Chandra, for inspiring me.

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The Vrindavan Virus

I arrive just as the pujari blows the conch to end Sayana Arati (late evening). Tulasi turns to smile with me as we take darshan of our beautiful Radhe-Shyam. After some moments of quiet, she says, “My Guru Maharaj [Bhakti Bhringa Govinda Swami] is coming in on Monday, Bhakti. “

A pang of regret twinges through me. “I’m leaving on Monday, Tulasi,” I reply.

“Ah yes, I remember… you couldn’t stay even one more day?”

I laugh softly. “My flight leaves at 7am sharp… I will miss him, Tulasi. I truly will. I had the opportunity to play some bhajans with him in Panihati, and I was struck by his sweet, serene mood.”

Tulasi sighs, smiling.

In the pause, my mind turns to Radhanath Swami. I say slowly, “You know, I’ll be missing my own guru maharaj by a matter of days, too. The next time I see him it will have been… ” I take a deep breath. “… two years.”

“Well, this summer was the first time I saw my guru maharaj in five years,” she says.

“Yeah, but you were saying you were neighbors for a while,” I counter saucily.

Tulasi grins. “Yes, for twelve years, in Vrindavan. If he wanted something, sometimes he would call over from his house. ‘Hey, Tulasi, do you have any butter?’”

We both chuckle. “I want to go back,” Tulasi says softly. We fall quiet again, gazing at Radhe Shyam. “You know what my guru maharaj says is the most dangerous virus?” Tulasi asks as the pujari rings the bell to draw the curtains closed.

“What is that?”

“The Vrindavan Virus. Once you get it, you have it for the rest of your life; it consumes your entire life to return to Vrindavan.”

I laugh at B.B. Govinda Maharaj’s wit and offer my obeisance to Radhe-Shyam. I say to Tulasi, “Oh, one day I hope to get the Vrindavan Virus,” I say wistfully.

She looks at me. “You already have it.”

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Reminisce…

Sometimes my mind turns to Mexico and the beauty and adventure of such a vivid country. The photos transport me right back there, so here is a little photo essay to glimpse into the eye of the winter 2005 – 06 Bus Tour.
Group shot at Mexico city temple. I believe one of my coolest experiences in Krishna Consciousness happened here. After the Sunday Feast kirtan, most of the Bus Tour troupe left during Bhagavad-Gita class for the simple fact that, well, it was in Spanish. And yet I stayed… and understood every word. I sat there, utterly enthralled. I experienced – didn’t just read about – that Krishna philosophy reaches into every corner of the world, no matter the culture or language. Srila Prabhupada ki, jai!On top of the Pyramid of the Sun, you can see the Pyramid of the Moon over our shoulders. Yeah, this WOULD be those ghastly pyramids where they sacrificed millions of people to the Sun God, believing the sun would not rise if they didn’t do so (which I think is a load of B.S. … I think the priests were power-tripping.)“This New Year’s harinam is INSANE!!!” We rocked it out in La Plaza de Los Toros in Mexico City. In about twenty minutes, hundreds of people in the Plaza were dancing and smiling with us. We were already 45 minutes into 2006 before I glanced at the giant clock and realized it was a New Year. That’s how amazing this was.
A clearer idea of the insanity. And no, that’s not really Bus Tour or Mexico devotees. Those are the Mexicans.

These little Mexican village boys were hilarious! (Spiderman? Batman?) They joined us for campfire bhajans and absolutely LOVED us.Turns out they loved Lord Jagannath, too. Check out the boy in the striped shirt’s expression.

I sang in the shade, closing my eyes, listening to the ocean and feeling the breezy shade of the waving palm tree above me. Then, a boy I had been playing chess with earlier made his way over (and eventually his papa and uncle). I then smiled and shared in my halfway-Spanish the beauty of chanting. I have no idea who caught this gentle moment. Christmas Day in Mexico, and we got some snow… well, from a distance. We shared our realizations of Christmas and feeling humble while in the presence of this breathtaking mountain, El Popo.
This sunset in Acupulco stole my breath away. I went on a long walk away from the crowds and the soccer games that lined the entire beach. I hummed, and then finally sang at the top of my voice, when not a soul was in sight, Mama Mana Mandire.

“Oh, please, Krishna Murari, may you always reside in the temple of my heart.”

(This was just a tiny, tiny glimpse of Mexico. I can post more if someone is interested.)

Guess what? We’re doing it again. Winter Bus Tour, 2007-08, Mexico. Stay posted to Krishna.com/bustour or contact me.

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