Chapter 42

[Guest guest]

Diary of a Traveling Preacher

 

Volume 3, Chapter 42

 

July 2-11, 2001

 

Kolobrzeg is one of the principle beach resorts along the Baltic Sea coast.

It's fine, white sandy beaches and quaint port attract hundreds of thousands

of Polish tourists each summer. Many German tourists also come to

Kolobrzeg, partly because vacations are cheaper there than in Germany and

also because many German families trace their history back to the region.

Kolobrzeg was a German city before World War II and was called Kolen.

There are many beautitul German buildings from the 19th century in the

city and surrounding areas.

 

I have always had my eye on Kolobrzeg as an ideal place for our festivals

because it attracts the upper class people of Poland. Numerous wealthy,

famous and important people take their vacations there and the city is the

site of many big events during the summer. But it has always been difficult

for us to get the cooperation of the city officials for our own festivals.

Ten years ago, when we rented indoor halls and had a small programs

consisting of bhajans, lectures and short theaters, the Kolobrzeg officials

would always give us an obscure hall on the edge of town. Once myself and

another devotee were exploring the idea of doing an outdoor festival in

Kolobrzeg and went to the boardwalk that ran along the main beach. There we

found a beautiful plaza with thousands of people milling about and enjoying

the many cafes and restaurants. As we stood appreciating how the plaza, the

very heart of Kolobrzeg, would be the perfect place for our Hare Krsna

festival, two policemen approached us and asked what we were doing there.

When we told them we were thinking about doing our festival program on the

plaza, they just laughed. One of the policeman said, "You'll never get

permission to do a festival here. Stop dreaming and move on."

 

In 1995 when we started doing big outdoor festivals along the coast, the

authorities in Kolobrzeg gave us a small outdoor amphitheate, far from the

beach area and all the tourists. The next year they simply refused to give

us any facility at all. Last year they gave us an old abandoned parking lot

to hold our festival in.

 

Each summer, when we would go on harinam to advertise our festivals, we'd

pass through that big plaza on the boardwalk and I would think, "This is the

place I want." But then I would remember the policeman's words: "Stop

dreaming and move on."

 

This year, however, Krsna had a different plan for Kolobrzeg. While

traveling and arranging for the summer festivals on the coast, Nandini and

Radha Sakhi Vrnda met the newly elected deputy mayor of the city. He told

them that he had been to one of our festivals years ago and appreciated it

very much. When he heard our plans for this summer he agreed to give us all

the facilities we needed in Kolobrzeg. In fact, he was so inspired by

our festival that he agreed to Nandini's proposal that we do the festival on

the plaza not only once, but twice in July! When Nandini phoned me from

his office and told me the incredible news, I couldn't believe my ears. My

dream had finally come true. I took it as a small miracle.

 

Last week, a gentleman who has recently taken an interest in Krsna

consciousness and is reading my diary, wrote to me saying that he's amazed

how our festival tour is always full of "miraculous events." He humbly

inquired how it was possible, saying that nothing noteworthy has ever

happened in his life. I wrote back to him that if he remains faithful to the

process of Krsna consciousness, many amazing things will unfold before his

eyes, especially if he shares the process with others. I ended my letter by

quoting a pious scientist:

 

"There are two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a

miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."

[Albert Einstein]

 

We held the first of the two festivals in Kolobrzeg on July 1, the

beginning of the summer holidays. Early in the morning, as thousands of

cars poured into the city for vacation, we were busy setting up our

festival on the plaza. Myself and one other devotee were actually on the

plaza at 5am, well before anyone else had arrived - even our own festival

devotees. We wanted to make sure that nothing went wrong. As we stood there

in the dark, protecting our spot, we were startled when we saw two big

trucks approach the plaza. The deputy mayor had warned us that beer

companies often set up on the plaza at night and sold beer to people in the

morning, before being removed by the police. As the trucks came closer we

saw them more clearly and laughed at ourselves - they were only garbage

trucks, come to collect the bins on the square.

 

"In the night, imagining some fear,

How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear!"

[shakespeare - A Midsummer Night's Dream]

 

By mid-morning, our big stage was up and our 20 colorful tents spread

throughout the square and even on to the nearby sand. As thousands of

people began arriving on the beach, they were pleasantly surprised by the

exotic array of culture and began browsing through the shops, displays and

restaurant. The stage program was scheduled for 4pm, and as the harinam

party went out to chant and distribute invitations along the 2km beach, I

simply couldn't pull myself away from my spot on the plaza. I had waited

years for this opportunity and wanted to oversee that everything went

smoothly.

 

Throughout the day people came and inquired about the program. By

4pm the plaza was packed with thousands of people, many having left

the beach early to go home and change their clothes for the festival. I

still sat riveted watching each and every soul as they came on to the plaza

to receive Lord Caitanya's mercy. My bliss knew no bounds when one man,

not noticing myself and one another devotee, passed by and seeing the grand

festival stopped and said out loud, "So the Hare Krsnas finally made it big

time!"

 

When the opening dance began on stage the crowd surged forward to see the 12

young Indian dancers from South Africa perform. Dressed in colorful outfits

they mesmerized the audience with their beautiful performance. They received

a long applause as they left the stage. As I walked around the festival

grounds making sure that everything was going well, a mother and her teenage

daughter came up to me. I felt a little uncomfortable as the young girl was

staring at me as if I were a demigod. She said to me, "Maharaja do you

remember me?"

 

I replied, "I'm sorry, no. But I hope you'll understand; I meet so many

people every day."

 

With my reply she became obviously upset and turned to her mother. Her

mother said, "This is my daughter, Premanandi. She came to your festival

10 years ago when she was 9 years old and you told her friends and her

stories about Krsna. When they asked for spiritual names, you gave my

daughter the name Premanandini, a name she has called herself since then.

She has been chanting Hare Krsna every day since she met you, and in the

past two years has read all the books of your movement. She owes her good

fortune to you and was hoping so much your would remember her."

 

I replied, "After hearing what you have told me, there's no way I can forget

her now. Let's go over to the restaurant and talk some more about Krsna."

 

As the afternoon went on, I kept my eye on the program, knowing

that at such big events, with so many people attending, anything can go

wrong at anytime. When things go well at our festivals most of our

devotees relax, but I often remember Napoleon's words after returning to

France from his invasion of Russia. Alone on a dog sled, his army

defeated, he said: "From the sublime to the ridiculous in one moment."

 

A small incident did happen, but by Krsna's mercy nothing came of it. As it

was getting dark, I went behind the stage to check on our big generator

providing power for our sound system. As I left quickly, my bodyguard,

Vaikunthapati dasa, didn't see me go and I was alone checking the controls

on the generator when I noticed a big man standing nearby watching me. As I

saw that he was smiling I didn't think anything was wrong, but as minutes

went by and he didn't move I became uneasy and turned around. No longer

smiling but with a grim look on his face, he walked up to me slowly and said

in English: "You're American, aren't you?" Becoming suspicious, I stepped

back without replying.

 

He continued, "We know who you are. You're the guru and you've come to

steal our children. You're a very bad man and we will kill you."

 

Stepping back even further, my eyes quickly checked his body for any

weapons.

 

Making a gesture like a rope being tied around his neck, he said, "And when

we get you, we'll hang you by the neck until you're dead!"

 

Unknown to either of us, my servant Druva was only meters away filming the

incident from the back of the stage. Seeing what was happening he quickly

alerted my bodyguard, while continuing to film the whole incident. When

the man suddenly looked around and saw Dhruva filming and my bodyguard

coming around the corner, he quickly ran away.

 

Moments later Vaikunthapati arrived and said, "Who was he, Maharaja?"

 

I replied, "I'm not sure. But he threatened to kill me."

 

"What shall we do?" Vaikuntha said.

 

"What can we do?" I replied. Looking out at the huge crowd I said,

"There are many people who love us here and some who hate us. Sometimes it's

hard to know who's who. We have to depend on Krsna."

 

rakhe krsna mare ke - mare krsna rakhe ke

 

"If Lord Krsna protects a person, who can kill him? And if Krsna desires to

kill someone, who can protect him?"

 

Later that evening when Dhruva replayed the video, the man's threats to me

were clearly audible. I told Dhruva to keep the tape as possible evidence.

Should the man's words ever prove true, I suppose this diary will come to

its natural conclusion; the final chapter an epitaph written by a loving

disciple or a well-wishing friend.

 

Later in the evening, I did the last kirtan on stage with 40 devotees,

just before Sri Prahlad and the reggae band came on. It's always my

favorite moment of the festival, as at that time the crowd is usually the

biggest. I sometimes tell the sound technician to turn the volume up, so

the holy names will mercifully penetrate the hearts of all the fortunate

souls before the stage. Before we begin I always mention to the

children in the audience that I will be giving my flower garland away to the

child who dances the nicest during the kirtan. Each time it inspires a

large group of children to dance excitedly in front of the stage in

competition for the garland. That evening there must have been more

than 50 children dancing wildly in the kirtan - some of them even chanting

the Hare Krsna mantra. As the kirtan went on, they would look

up at me with pleading smiles as if saying, "Give me the garland!" Because

the crowd was so large that evening, I kept the kirtan going for 45 minutes.

When it finished all the children rushed forward eager to receive the

garland.

 

I had noticed a number of enthusiastic kids, but that evening one

14-year-old boy in particlar caught my attention. He was mentally retarded,

apparently having Down Syndrome. Actually I had been watching him the

whole festival. He was always in front of the stage enjoying everything,

especially the chanting and dancing. Because of his mental illness the

other children shied away from him, but his handicap didn't seem to be a

deterrent to his enjoying Lord Caitanya's mercy, so I chose him to come on

the stage to get the garland. When he first appeared a hush came over the

audience, but he was so thrilled he could hardly contain himself. He

immediately began waving to the big audience and they spontaneously gave him

a huge round of applause. When he started blowing them kisses, the

applause increased. As I thanked him publicly for his enthusiasm his

chest swelled with pride, and when I gave him the garland he beamed with the

biggest smile you could imagine. As he started to leave, I put out my

hand to thank him and he gave me a big hug. Looking towards the audience I

could see some people crying. Afterwards, many people approached me and

thanked me for encouraging the young boy. One man said to me, "I used to

think you people were a dangerous sect, but the kindness you showed that

retarded boy convinced me otherwise."

 

Srila Prabhupada, I pray that you will forever engage me in this service of

helping you deliver the fallen conditioned souls. I cannot imagine life

without these festivals of love and bliss. Should the festivals ever stop

my life will cease with them, for life without experiencing and sharing the

mercy of Lord Caitanya would not be worth living. Having experienced the

association of Lord Caitanya through these festivals, separation from Him

would be unbearable.

 

"The fortunate town of Navadvip remains on the earth. The seashore at

Jagannatha Puri remains. The holy names of Lord Krsna remain. But, Alas!

Alas! I do not see anywhere the same kind of festival of pure love for Lord

Hari as before. O Lord Caitanya, O Ocean of mercy, will I ever see Your

transcendental glory again?"

[srila Prabodhananda Sarasvati - Sri Caitanya-candramrta - Text 140]