Am I Dreaming?

I am sitting in my usual spot at the top of the book room steps, observing the Holy Dham, writing this on a piece of paper, and feeling supremely fortunate and happy to be here. Pinch me I must be dreaming.

You cannot live in Vrindavan without becoming very quickly "monkey conscious". I was happy today to see the little scrawny sick monkey I saw the other day and had run to find biscuits for to follow him down the street and feed him. Later that day I saw who I thought was him laying down in a corner to die, but it must have been another soul. And though I am feeling much affection for the monkeys caution is always needed. I saw one today jump on a little girl of about two, he was as big as she was, and she had to be rescued by granddad; no harm done thankfully. I nearly got peed on by one today too. They sit on the ledges of buildings, (monkeys not granddads) and from time to see you see a trickle of pee descending to bless those below; today it missed me by about two feet but my awareness is increasing and I knew he was there so was watching out!

The cows wandering on their parikrama are so beautiful and affectionate they are heart melting. Actually I feel more in common with the pigs as I also spend most of my time in the gutter covered in filth; the only qualities of theirs that I lack is their utter tolerance and humility. The pigs never cause any disturbance although sometimes they will fight amongst each other for particularly juicy nasty things. The worst thing a pig will do to you is brush against you, fresh from the sewer, which you don't want to happen, believe me.

Now I am beginning to recognize and know the local people, and getting warm smiles when I greet them as they pass by. Very wonderful.

I just caught three boys trying to sneak up on me to let off their cap guns in my ear. They let me have a go instead. Crowds of pilgrims pass by: large groups of Bengalis on their whistle stop ten day tour of Gaya, Kashi and Vrindavan by bus, racing around the temples, a couple of guys at the back getting in a quick bidi before the next holy place. Gujarati widows in their severe black sarees. Rajasthani men in great turbans smoking pipes, their womenfolk a blaze of colour and bangles. City slicker Delhi wallahs in jeans and t shirts sipping coca colas. All passing by and calling out "Radhe Radhe!", used here for every possible meaning. Rickshaw wallahs use it to mean "get out of my way", store owners to mean "would you like to purchase some of my delicious pottel', as well as hello, goodbye, and everything in between. This is definitely HER town, but of course as aspiring servitors in the line of Caitanya Saraswat we do not take Her divine name so lightly, so I usually respond with a simple "Hare Krsna" or "Jaya Gurudev".

I just had a wonderful talk with Johan, a yoga teacher from Sweden who was passing by. Really the conception of reality given by our divine guardians Srila Sridhar Maharaj and Srila Govinda Maharaj is unparalleled anywhere, and irresistible to a sincere seeker. I really hope I am not dreaming all this.

The Wealth of Vrindavan

Every day from 10am until midday and then again from 5pm until 8pm I open up the book room, clean the surfaces and floor and then sit on the steps chanting or reading or watching the world go by. Everyone come down Seva Kunj, it really does feel like the epicenter of the spiritual world; Sri Radha Damodara around the corner, Sri Chaitanya Saraswat Math, Sri Krsna das Kaviraj Memorial building, and Sri Seva Kunj and Sri Imli Tala Mandir just up the road.

Such wealth is in Vrindavan, but no doubt it is locked up tight and unreachable by all but the most developed and surrendered souls. But the mercy of Sriman Mahaprabhu and Sri Nityananda Prabhu flows in a great torrent through our beloved Guru Varga and is manifest here in Seva Kunj in the book room of our Math. Who can begin to estimate the transcendental wealth that lays within these writings?

Sri Jamuna Devi

Now she is all the way to the steps of Imli Tala, and the Parikrama Marg has vanished.

Prayers of Queen Kunti

Oh Krishna, as the river Ganges forever flows to the sea, let my mind, my being, be constantly drawn to thee. Oh most gentle, oh original personality, master of the senses, seated in the hearts of all that be, existing both within and without, seeing all but seen by none, unto You I offer all my respects. Oh Krishna, oh Soul of the Universe, beyond the range of our perception, covered by the curtain of misconception, we are bewildered by your movements. Though you work you are inactive, though you take birth you are unborn, and though you descend amongst men, sages, animals, and aquatics, you are the transcendent reality. And although you are unknown, above all that be, you reveal yourself to the surrendered souls who worship you in the core of their hearts. Unto you I offer all my respects.

Oh Krishna, Oh eternal master and friend, once when you were a small child your mother Yashoda took a rope to bind you, your perturbed eyes filled with tears, and although Fear personified is afraid of you, at that moment, You were afraid.

How can I understand these things?

Oh my Lord I offer it all to you. Oh Lord whose glance is a cool as a lotus, who protected us from a great fire, from a poisoned cake, from cannibals, from the vicious assembly of the Kurus, from sufferings in exile, from a fierce battle, and from a devastating weapon. You befriended us and stayed with us and guided us, through all tribulations, and I offer myself, and whatever I have, unto You.

My Lord your loving kindness and mercy often come clothed in strange guises; enveloped in a shroud of tribulation. Yet our journey through life is made easy by these hardships You provide. Oh Lord let us not falsely claim that this world is our home. Let us not ever forget that this place is full of danger, but let the calamities come, again and again, that we may remember You, and meet with You, again and again, for by remembering You, we no longer meet with repeated birth and death.

Oh Krishna, those who always hear your glories, who always repeat your glories, who always see You in all things, and who always take pleasure in your pastimes, certainly find shelter at your lotus feet.

My Lord you can be easily approached, but only by those who are exhausted with sensual pleasure, unimpressed with opulence, unimpressed with fame and wealth, with prestigious birth, with scholarship; only by those who are finished with idle talk, finished with mundane beauty, finished with all forms of religiosity.

My Lord I am not afraid to be abandoned, by luck, and good fortune, by friends or relatives, I am not afraid to be handled roughly. I am not afraid to wander the streets homeless like a beggar, I am not afraid to be cast away, condemned, quarantined or exiled.

Oh most gentle, most holy, most merciful master, help me, prepare me, do whatever is necessary to render fit, this unworthy soul, for entrance into your eternal abode.

Cows, Festivals, and Electricians

So it's been raining a lot, whole days at a time. Jamuna devi is the highest she has been for many many years, parts of Delhi are flooded, and the government is delighted it can blame the country's unpreparedness for the Commonwealth Games due to start next month on the rains. And with the dampness as the season changes from the heat of the summer and monsoon to the pleasant coolness of autumn come coughs, colds and fevers. Everyone is sniffling or coughing, and of course I joined in the fun and have been laid up for three days. Today when I went to the Jamuna again she has risen another couple of meters and the old pagoda where I like to sit and chant in the afternoons and was still a little way from the river last time I was there is now right on the water's edge. Presumably as it was centuries ago when it was built.

There was no electricity for a couple of days in the Krsna das Kaviraj Memorial building where I stay, so an electrician was called. I believe "LOL" is the term I am looking for. I let him out onto the roof where he proceeded to yank a couple of bricks out of next door's already crumbling wall to chuck at the monkeys, and then leapt out onto the pole in the street, toolkit in back pocket ( a pair of pliers). Now most of the wires carrying current down the street are thick and super heavy duty; they have to be as monkeys, some of them not small, use them as runways and trampolines all the time. So I was a little disturbed to see the pathetic wire carrying current (or not) into the building; it looked like some third rate speaker wire from the dollar store. Then the man is yelling at me to tell him if the current is now on, which it is but I don't want to tell him in the hope that he will at least give the wire a few extra twists. Anyway, we have power again!

Also we have had several very High, Holy Days in the last couple of weeks, and of course in India generally and Vrindavan Dham especially that means chanting, meditation, introspection, quiet contemplation, large amplifiers and huge, ginormous speakers. This latter equipment is expensive to rent or buy so all knobs need to be turned to their maximum settings so as to ensure value for money, and never mind the distortion. The holy racket usually commences from all ten directions at around 3am, just as the nightly dog barking competition is winding to a close. (Of which I must say our local, Seva Kunj dogs are award winners, being able to set off other dogs right across town by their persistence and determination to succeed). I think I will save the whole Indian preoccupation with extremely loud noise for another post as there is so much to say.

The other morning I was sitting on the temple steps in the dark after Mangal Arati with Sukhananda Prabhu when two beautiful white bulls came thru the gate. One came to each of us just to nuzzle and be affectionate. Such beautiful animals....where but in India would a bull walk in off the street just to give you a kiss?

Pictures

Temples and cell towers