Arrival of a Saint

From up here on the balcony, I observed the crowd of people who gathered below in the courtyard. Their black hair shone against white marble and caramel sandstone. Kirtan filled the hot yellow air.

Suddenly, everyone rushed towards the gate, like drops of water sliding down the inside of a basin. My heart drummed in my chest. Cries arose from the crowd, and many fell to the ground to offer obeisance. But I couldn’t see anything yet, so I gripped the banister and riveted my eyes to the gate.

And then, an unassuming man wrapped in orange cloth entered through the gate. I could see his smile from up here.

In the most magnificent moment of all, this man – who everyone had come to greet – fell to the ground to offer his respects. And like a drop of water falling into a basin of water, everyone offered their obeisance in return in concentric waves. Even the kirtan halted for several breathtaking moments.

I didn’t fall to the floor of the balcony. My astonished eyes would simply not leave the small figure of orange bowing down on the floor, in the center of the whorl of people.

Radhanath Swami had arrived to Radha Gopinath Temple.

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In Love With Reality

So.

I’m falling in love with India.

A friend of my parent’s who has known me since birth once said, “Oh Bhakti, knowing you, you won’t experience culture shock when you go to India. Actually, it will feel like going home. The real culture shock – at least for me – was when I returned to America. That was the real shock.”

I’m beginning to understand his words… and I haven’t even returned to America.

In my various forays into Mumbai, I have witnessed birth, death, disease, and old age whirl before my very eyes. Trash, slums, starving women, hollow-eyed beggars, distorted limbs and faces… It’s there. It’s real. To me, this isn’t culture shock. It’s just reality. Folks, welcome to the material world.

And when I return to the temple of Radha Gopinath the end of the day, a sense of relief and peace washes over me… it’s like I have entered the spiritual world, that I’ve returned home. More than just enough food or a place to sleep, I feel the deep concern for the welfare of my soul – not just my body – by the devotees here.

I feel such a deep, deep appreciation to whatever karma or sukriti gave me such wonderful parents, who are devotees of Krishna. Where would I be without the mercy of my parents? Krishna consciousness is the key for the solace of my soul, and I truly feel it here in India, surrounded by the rawness of the world.

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Windows to Chowpatty

These snippets are from my journal, and as I am a little at a loss for words, I think you will enjoy peering through these little windows to be transported… if just for a couple moments.

*

So here I am in the temple, writing in soft golden light. Someone just turned the overhead lights off in anticipation of Sayana Arati. High-speed fans and hums of voices fill the air. When I glance back, I see a little sea of faces, all turned to the altar, waiting.

*

I went down to Chowpatty beach today, and although it was quite filthy, I just stood on the shore and listened to the sea. Such a great, wild sound, so unlike human noises. The great sea air tangled through my hair and pressed on my sari. And I wonder what it must have been like in ancient times to stand on that beach.

*

So Harinam and I turned a corner… and there was Ban Ganga – a vast ghat that is fed by a crystal clear spring. We walked down the steps and crouched before the water. I felt so at peace there, watching the wind create ripples on the water. The world seemed to quiet a little. Various temples by various sampradayas (lineages) encircled the ghat, their architecture carving the sky like they had been for hundreds of years.

*

I am writing this in my room in Chowpatty; the fan is whirling above me, and rain pours in heavy whispers outside. Metallic drips sound through the window as water falls from the roof. A picture of Radha Gopinath is hung on the wall above me, and They seem to give Their blessings. And an old maroon copy of Srila Prabhupada’s Lilamrita sits on the bottom shelf of my bookshelf, quietly telling me Srila Prabhupada’s story, and that he is the reason I am even here.

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The Magic of The Simple Temple

In 2003, Radhanath Swami invited me to Chowpatty, India.

So. Five years later, I have finally come. I don’t know what the next five hours will bring, what to speak of tomorrow, or a week from now. So I simply live in the moment, step by step.

I breathe in the rich, musty air. The roar as waterfalls of rain drench the world – people dashing from cover in their saris or dhotis. Orange cloth (lots of it) billows from bamboo rafters high above, drying in the sun. Rain patters through the fresh green leaves, and there, the pujari is a silhouette from the candlelight inside the little Laxmi Narayan temple.

Chowpatty works a slow magic. I knew it would take time, I knew I needed to be patient – this is a community based on relationships, and relationships take time. And so day by day, the petals of this community blossom for me… so very slowly.

A staggering number of people attend a morning program infused with devotion. This is not simply the dazzled observation of a newcomer. The kirtans are melodic and sincere; everyone dances together, and everyone raises their arms when they sing Hare Krishna. I sense a deep, deep connection with Krishna Consciousness here. And somehow, SOMEHOW, their enthusiasm remains fresh, even after so many years.

Ah… I sense the hands of Radhanath Swami here.

And have I mentioned that every single kirtan is beautiful? The singer, the mridanga, and the kartalas are all eloquent and expert with so much heart. And when everyone sings in response, voices flood the templeroom. Okay, I know, I’ve mentioned this, but kirtan is a big deal for me, and I am deeply impressed.

I don’t know how I will ever attend a morning program again without remembering the soulful kirtans and japa of the people here in Chowpatty.

To those who have given their prayers and assistance for me to come to India, I offer my deep gratitude to you. The blessings of the Vaishnavas allow me to taste the magic here.

Note: The DVD on this community, The Simple Temple, is available from Krishna.com. I guarantee you, it does not exaggerate. This place really is that amazing.

So what are you waiting for? Click here to order it. Or, better yet, click here.

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KuliMela Reflections: The Japa Revolution

“My name is Bhakti lata. Several months ago I took a Japa Retreat and a Japa Workshop, and I was deeply affected by them. I have had a deep crisis of faith in chanting the holy name since. I am not particularly qualified or even inspired in my own japa, but I wanted to share my experience with all of you and to somehow keep growing.

“Srila Prabhupada once said that 90% of our progress in Krishna Consciousness can be determined by our relationship with the holy name. Ninety percent.

“So this workshop is about looking closer.”

During the KuliMela Festival, I co-hosted two Japa Workshops, with first Govinda (Alachua), and then Manu Dasa. All I can say is: to teach is to learn. I connected deeply with the holy name through conducting others in their experience.

On Friday morning, after conducting the first Workshop, I walked over to the bhajan kutir. I felt incandescent, glowing with knowledge and experience of the holy name. In this mood, I settled into a bhajan that Jahnavi (England) was leading. I found myself singing the holy name for the call as well as the response. I just didn’t want to stop singing. For the first time in many, many months, I connected with the holy name.

The following morning, I conducted the Workshop with Manu. Although I facilitated the activities, his insight and experience guided the workshop. We ran out of time and the next workshop needed our space, but the flow of realizations had just begun! And so we moved out onto the lawn beneath the trees and continued to share for another 45 minutes.

I do not claim that I am particularly qualified to give a workshop on japa, or even inspired to chant japa. I have no taste for the holy name on my own, but the grace of the Vaishnavas keep me in the fire of realization and inspiration.

¡Viva la Revolución!

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the brainchild

I’d like to introduce you to… my journal. She (yes, she, in all her incarnations) has been the source of my inspiration to write for over ten years now.

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A Poem for Srila Prabhupada

A Poem for Srila Prabhupad
on the occasion of his appearance, Sri Vyasa Puja
August 25th, 2008

When I first drew breath
Srila Prabhupad was the air in my chest

he is the shadow
when I enter the templeroom

he is the silver voice
just beyond the margins of a bhajan

he is the rhythm of my footsteps
when I dance in a kirtan

he is the echo of my heartbeat
in the stillness when I chant

he is the smile
when I serve the devotees

Srila Prabhupad
gives me faith -

I would draw away from the Deities
question the scripture
and refuse to chant
without his example

Srila Prabhupad
is the significance in my life
the reason I breathe
and I believe
that you, my dear Vaishnava,
feel the same.

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A Poem for Krishna

A Poem for Krishna
on the occasion of His Divine Appearance, Sri Krishna Janmastami
August 24th, 2008

Your eyes
anoint my eyes
with tears of recognition

Your eyes
illuminate my horizon
a dawn in a darkened world

Your eyes
suffuse my soul
in stillness

Please
don’t close Your eyes
allow me to gaze into them
for an eon

I am a beggar
I possess nothing in this world
but this desire
to rush to the temple
to see
Your eyes

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Serendipity

On Balaram’s Appearance Day in Nueva Vrajamandala, Spain, I entered the quiet templeroom to sing bhajans. So would the stirrings of serendipity begin.

Deva joined me on the mridanga soon after, and people began to filter in after taking prasadam from the feast. The bhajans were amazing. Afterwards, a man approached me and said, “Have you ever recorded? You need to record. With Deva.”

I had only one day before I returned to Barcelona. And so the next day, we drove to Madrid. Straight up, I have experienced that level of intensity – to record in a studio – maybe 5 times in my life. My bones were exhausted by the time I returned to Nueva Vrajamandala. I think what got me through was Deva’s encouragement.

Travel is like this, though. You just ride the waves of serendipity, making a plan but never quite knowing how it’s going to turn out. Never in a million years would I have imagined I would record for the first time in a foreign country, working in a foreign language, with complete strangers.

On another note, I’d like to reflect on something with you. I haven’t been writing in here very often, but it’s not for lack of computer access. I simply find myself at a loss of what to share with the public. I have ridden the waves of many deep experiences and come to many deep realizations, but to share them seems premature. So pardon the infrequency and curtness. This blog and all of its readers mean very much to me.

Thank you for your patience. I still invite you to continue to accompany me on my travels on these waves of serendipity. We’ve just gotten started.

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My Favorite Picture

Sara and Vijay

As soon as I took this picture, it became my favorite out of all of KuliMela (although I didn’t take many).

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