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.