The Ginger-Haired Dhorio Maharaj

[Guest guest]

January 16, 2003

 

The Ginger-Haired Dhorio Maharaj

 

BY RAMESH KALLIDAI

 

ENGLAND, Jan 16 (VNN) — (from the Asian Voice UK)

 

"Sometimes people wonder how a white English guy with red hair can

become a Hindu priest - a dhorio Maharaj," laughed Kripamoya Dasa,

senior priest at Bhaktivedanta Manor Hare Krishna temple in

Watford. "Usually, before I conduct a wedding ceremony, there are a

few bemused expressions. But when I start speaking in Sanskrit, and

the audience sees the authentic Vedic rituals, they realise that an

Englishman can become a true Hindu too."

 

When I had entered his office earlier, Kripamoya had been bent over a

computer writing some story for a book. A polite greeting, an

effervescent smile and four strokes on his keyboard followed in quick

succession. Later he spread two cushions on the floor, and we sat

cross-legged in true yogi style for the rest of the meeting. A

saffron robed monk strolled in suddenly, studied me in earnest, and

departed with a pleasant smile.

 

"You have to spare a thought for an Englishman who becomes a Hindu,"

Kripamoya continued. "Its something of an identity transplant - much

bigger than a heart transplant actually."

 

Some people may have felt intimidated after turning to a minority

religion in the 1970s - a time when Hinduism was considered a quaint

immigrant religion. But Kripamoya drew inspiration from other

sources.

 

"When I visited India, I found that Krishna consciousness or Bhakti

yoga was not a watered down version, but an authentic, historic and

original tradition that every Hindu in India would recognise,"

remembered Kripamoya.

 

"In India, I felt that I had finally come home."

 

Kripamoya grew up in Cornwall where his earliest memory was an old

pre-Christian ceremony during which the Obby Oss, a frightening black-

robed figure accompanied by white-clad musicians proceeded through

narrow streets, with all the residents following them.

 

"Such annual events gave me the idea that singing in the streets

wearing unusual outfits was a normal thing to do," he explained. "It

proved reassuring to me when I joined the Hare Krishna devotees in

later years!"

 

When he was nine, his mother asked him what he wanted to be when he

grew up.

 

"I told her I wanted to be a Buddhist monk with a shaved head and

orange robes," Kripamoya smiled. " She probably figured I was not

going to become a policeman like my father."

 

Another Hare Krishna monk suddenly entered the room, and did the

staring-smiling routine once again in clockwork precision before

leaving.

 

Undeterred by the interruption, Kripamoya continued, "When I was 11,

I saw the devotees of Krishna on television, singing on Top of the

Pops."

 

Later at a pop festival in Buxton, he was fascinated to see four

devotees singing the Hare Krishna mantra. In 1974, at the 'free

festival' in Windsor Great Park, he again met the devotees who

invited him to come to Bhaktivedanta Manor.

 

"That was the beginning of six years of travelling throughout

Britain," he said. "We slept in transits and woke up in the morning,

always at 3.30 am.

 

It was usually so cold there would be icicles hanging from the van's

metal roof - on the inside! But the fellowship, the japa meditation,

the great outdoors, the heart-warming experiences when we met people

thirsty for spiritual knowledge made it all worthwhile. More than

this was the direct reciprocation from Krishna as we engaged in

direct devotional service. And even more than this, and best of all,

was the feeling that we were pleasing our spiritual master, Srila

Prabhupada."

 

Srila Prabhupada's visits to UK in 1975, 1976 and 1977 had left a

deep impression on young Kripamoya. "What struck me was his gravity.

He was no giggling maharishi twirling a rose," he sighed with great

fondness.

 

"Prabhupada had a sense of urgency about him. It was as if there was

something vitally important he had to tell and there was no time."

 

Kripamoya spent three years in Africa, returned to Britain and

married Gurucarana Padma dasi in 1982, and later ran ISKCON's mail-

order warehouse in Watford. Now he is engaged in congregational

preaching and priestly services for the English and Indian

communities across the UK.

 

"Are your wedding services different from the normal ones?" I asked.

 

Before he could answer, the door flew open without any warning. And

yes, another monk entered, dutifully studied us, and left with a

pleasant smile.

 

"Marriage is a challenge," philosophised Kripmamoya, trying to ignore

our interruption, although I found the smiling monks a welcome

distraction. "But if there is spirituality in the home, life becomes

easier. To that extent, we discuss the spiritual basis of a

successful marriage with each couple.

 

Certainly, the younger generation come up and tell me that my service

in Sanskrit and English gave them an understanding of the rituals for

the first time."

 

He concluded by saying, "Hinduism has so much to give. Let us learn

the value of our culture and let us learn to share it too."

 

The door flew open suddenly for one last time. I looked up expecting

another smiling orange-robed monk. Instead I saw a lady devotee in a

colourful sari, who peeped inside, smiled, turned and left.

 

I could not help wondering if the Hare Krishna devotees had

copyrighted a patent for pleasant smiles. In any case, knocking

before entering is not really their forte.

 

For more information visit http://www.kripamoya.com.

For the Bhajiya archives visit http://www.geocities.com/hotbhajiya.\

 

 

"This story appeared in the Asian Voice UK's weekly

column, 'Screaming Hot Bhajiyas' by Ramesh Kallidai, and has been

reproduced with their kind permission."