hh indradyumnaswami mhgs diaryVolume 5, Chapter 7

[Guest guest]

> "Indradyumna Swami"

> Volume 5, Chapter 7

>

> Diary of a Traveling Preacher

>

> Volume 5, Chapter 7

>

> July 2 - August 16, 2003

>

> "Help From Above"

>

>

> Mathuranath das and I were the first to arrive on

> the Woodstock field, two

> weeks before the great three-day event. Although 52

> bands and 500,000 people

> would soon come here, only a few rabbits now

> scurried across the large grass

> field that was once an airfield. The German air

> force launched its first

> bombardment of Poland from here at the beginning of

> World War II.

>

> After the war, the region became part of Poland, and

> Jewish freedom fighters

> trained on this field to fight in Palestine (now

> Israel) in 1946. As I lay

> on the grass looking up at the sky, I thought how

> ironic it was that in a

> few days this field would host the biggest musical

> event in Europe with the

> theme "No Violence, No Drugs."

>

> Jurek Owsiak, the organizer of the massive event,

> had once again invited us

> to participate with our Krsna's Village of Peace, as

> the village fit well

> into the theme of his festival. This year, at his

> insistence, we planned to

> increase both the size and activities of the

> village.

>

> It would be no small task. Last year, our main tent

> was filled with over

> 10,000 young people a day. When I asked the tent

> company if we could rent a

> bigger tent, the man in charge just laughed. "It's

> the biggest tent in

> Europe," he said, "and nobody but you people can

> fill it to capacity."

>

> We decided to build some extra exhibits and a Vedic

> Temple where 50 people

> could fit in for kirtan in front of our tour

> Deities. The Russian devotees

> had designed and built an impressive structure, with

> scaffolding as a base

> and plywood cut in intricate patterns. After being

> painted, it looked like a

> real Indian temple. Using the same techniques, they

> also built a huge Vedic

> gate, which people would pass through when they came

> into the village. We

> also had plans to increase our prasadam distribution

> from the 90,00 plates

> of last year, to 100,000 plates. Fifty tons of

> foodstuffs had already been

> donated, all free.

>

> It would take a marathon effort to put up such a

> village, so for a while I

> just relaxed, taking a rare few moments' rest from

> an already intense

> schedule on the beaches of the Baltic Sea coast up

> north. Since the

> beginning of summer, three weeks earlier, we had put

> on 18 major festivals

> along the coast.

>

> I thought back on the success of those events. We

> had introduced tens of

> thousands of people to Krsna consciousness. Still, I

> couldn't focus my mind

> on any particular festival. My mind was a blur of

> many Harinams across the

> sands of crowded beaches, of thousands of people

> standing before our stage

> applauding, of many more browsing through our

> exhibits or enjoying prasadam

> in our festival restaurant or standing in long lines

> to get gopi dots

> painted on their faces.

>

> What made it more difficult to focus was that we had

> been doing the same

> thing for 13 years. Sometimes the face of a little

> girl dressed in a sari

> dancing before our stage or a man inquiring in the

> question-and-answer booth

> came into focus. But was it 1990 or 2003?

>

> We have seen the results brought by so many years of

> festivals on the coast.

> We saw them while we chanted down the crowded

> beaches, carefully moving our

> Harinam party of 100 devotees along the little

> spaces in the sand between

> the people. "Look, Mommy!" a child would yell. "It's

> Hare Krsna!" and the

> parents would send the child forward to get an

> invitation to the festival.

>

> Many people waved, and many smiled. Only a few were

> antagonistic - a sign

> that we were winning a decade-long battle with

> anti-cult propaganda in the

> country. I speculated that the church found it

> difficult to keep up such

> abuse year after year, whereas we derived unlimited

> enthusiasm from our

> yearly festivals. And, so it seemed, did the people.

>

> satyam eva jayate: "Truth will always prevail"

>

> But for the moment, I was exhausted, and I wondered

> how I would lead 450

> devotees in setting up Krsna's Village of Peace and

> staging a great yajna of

> the holy name for three days. As I fell asleep in

> the soft grass, I prayed

> for mercy.

>

> A half hour later I woke up, a dog licking my face.

> I shouted "Hare Krsna!"

> and pushed the animal away. Wiping my face with my

> hand, I sat up and saw an

> old man on an equally old bicycle beside me.

>

> "Welcome to Zary," he said enthusiastically. "I've

> been waiting all year for

> you to come back."

>

> I was still half asleep. "All year?" I said.

>

> "Yes," he said, "not only me, but many other

> residents of Zary. Will there

> be a wedding at Krsna's Village of Peace during

> Woodstock? The last one was

> two years ago."

>

> "Yes, there will be," I replied, rubbing my eyes.

>

> "Well then I'm going to video it," he said. "I

> videoed everything in your

> village last year, and spent the rest of the year

> traveling all around

> Poland showing it to my family and friends."

>

> "Really? I said.

>

> "Yes," he said, "and whenever I come back to Zary, I

> visit this field and

> remember you people. I have lived in Zary all my

> life. I saw the German

> bombers take off from this field when I was very

> young. But the memories of

> your festivals here are the strongest in my mind.

> They are so beautiful."

>

> His words touched me deeply. He was an old man and

> had no doubt been through

> many experiences in life. But somehow, the mercy of

> Lord Caitanya had made

> the greatest impact of all upon him. "Whatever great

> efforts will be needed

> to set up this year's Woodstock festival," I

> thought, "it will be worth all

> the trouble."

>

> And just to convince me, if I still had any doubts,

> a young girl accompanied

> by several friends, came up as I was speaking to the

> man.

>

> "Hari Bol, Maharaja!" she said enthusiastically.

> "Thank you for all the

> postcards you sent me and my friends during the

> year. We liked the ones from

> India the best."

>

> "Oh, you are most welcome," I said. "What is your

> name again?"

>

> "I'm Paulina" she replied. "And I'm 9 years old."

>

> "She keeps a picture of you on her bedside dresser,"

> one of the girls said.

> "And she talks about you every single day too. And

> you know what?"

>

> "What?" I asked.

>

> "She has kept her promise to you, to chant six

> rounds on the beads every

> day. I saw her."

>

> Paulina proudly showed me her beadbag, with a little

> hole in it from where

> her thumb had rubbed through from chanting.

>

> "Thank you," I said, looking at Paulina.

>

> "This year we want you to give chanting beads to the

> rest of us too, " said

> Paulina's friend.

>

> "Hari bol!" answered the others in chorus.

>

> But just as I couldn't distinguish the multitude of

> festivals we'd done

> through the years, I couldn't remember these girls,

> whom I'd obviously had

> an exchange of Krsna consciousness with last year.

> They brought out a photo

> of me with them at Woodstock, but it didn't bring

> back a distinct memory.

> I've stood with thousands of people for photos at

> our festivals through the

> years. But the eagerness of these young people for

> devotional service was

> proof of our previous contact, and so I sat on the

> grass with them for over

> an hour and did my best to encourage them further in

> Krsna consciousness,

> telling them pastimes of Krsna.

>

> At the end, the youngest one spoke. "Will you pull

> the big red chariot again

> this year at Woodstock?" She said. "My parents want

> to know. They want to

> invite my aunt and uncle from Germany if you do."

>

> The next day, huge trucks rolled onto the field to

> deliver the big tents for

> Krsna's Village of Peace. Smaller trucks came to

> offload the nylon siding

> and the heavy metal frames for construction, and a

> team of 30 men began

> putting up the large frames. It was a noisy affair,

> with all the big trucks

> and machines, and sometimes a huge metal piece would

> crash to the ground

> with a loud noise.

>

> But it was all music to my ears. We were building a

> small replica of

> Vaikuntha, the spiritual world, on the four acres of

> land assigned to us by

> the festival organizers, and we would soon be

> inviting thousands of

> conditioned souls inside. And to get into this

> spiritual world, there would

> be no special requirements- only the causeless mercy

> of Lord Caitanya

> Mahaprabhu.

>

> And come they did, when we finally opened the

> village on the first day of

> the Woodstock festival. They poured onto our

> festival grounds. My good

> friend Bhakti Bringa Govinda Maharaja estimated that

> at one point there were

> 30,000 people in Krsna's Village of Peace. I asked

> him how I could describe

> the event in writing. "No one can understand," he

> replied, "unless they come

> here to see."

>

> He was right. How does one convey the satisfaction

> of seeing 100 thousand

> people eating prasadam in our village? How does one

> describe the ecstasy of

> the book distributors who sold 2,800 books in those

> three days, or of the

> performers on our main stage, as thousands of people

> (sometimes as many as

> 10,000) loudly applauded their bhajans, dramas,

> lectures, dances, and bands.

> How does one recount not one, but three Ratha Yatra

> parades on three

> consecutive days, passing among an ocean of tents on

> the main field, where

> each and every festivalgoer could not help but see

> the cart and hear the

> chanting of the holy names? How can one imagine the

> daily scene of hundreds

> of young people in different tents around our

> village, chanting and dancing

> to kirtans led by such stalwarts as Sacinandana

> Maharaja, Kadamba Kanana

> Maharaja, and Deena Bandhu Prabhu? But even these

> men could hardly keep up

> with the demand of the young people for unending

> kirtans. By the last day,

> most had lost their voices and had to settle for

> just speaking, not singing.

>

> That evening, as I walked past the meditation tent,

> I saw a tumultuous

> kirtan going on inside. At least 60 people were

> dancing wildly, loudly

> chanting the holy names. Curious as to who could be

> leading such a kirtan, I

> looked inside and was amazed to see a young woman in

> a scant bathing suit

> (and wearing big black boots) playing the harmonium

> and leading the kirtan.

> Her friend was playing a small drum, the kind we

> were selling in our gift

> shop, and another friend was playing kartalas. There

> was not even one

> devotee in the tent, but these three girls,

> intoxicated by the holy names,

> were leading a kirtan that had sixty other young

> people chanting at the top

> of their lungs. When I returned two hours later,

> their kirtan was still

> going strong.

>

> Throughout the entire three days, the four acres of

> our village pulsated

> with kirtan, stage programs, long lines of people

> eager for prasadam, and

> endless questions and answers about the process of

> Krsna consciousness. At

> one point, I noticed a large group of distinguished

> persons, wandering

> through the village, looking at our exhibits and

> taking particular interest

> in our large ratha cart, parked right in the middle

> of the field.

>

> I asked Radha Sakhi Vrinda to speak with them. After

> a few moments of

> conversation, she excitedly waved her hand to me,

> indicating that I should

> quickly come over.

>

> I went right over. "Srila Gurudeva," Radha Sakhi

> Vrinda said, "I'd like to

> introduce you to the governor of the state, the

> chief of police of the

> state, the head of the fire department of the state,

> the chief health

> inspector of the state...." She went on to introduce

> me to various other

> dignitaries.

>

> "They came specifically to see Krsna's Village of

> Peace," she continued,

> "and they like it very much."

>

> I shook the governor's hand and thanked him for

> coming.

>

> "I very much appreciate what you are doing for these

> young people," the

> governor said, "and I can see that the bad things

> people sometimes say about

> you are simply not true."

>

> The others in the group all nodded in agreement.

> "It's obvious that your

> presence here at Woodstock keeps things peaceful,"

> said the chief of police.

> "How much food do you plan to distribute?"

>

> "A hundred thousand plates," I replied.

>

> The police chief was speechless.

>

> I could not help smiling. "We have a lot of help

> from above, " I added.

>

> "I'll be taking lunch with Mr. Owsiak in an hour,"

> the governor said, "and I

> understand your group is catering for that. Is that

> right?"

>

> "Yes, sir," I replied. "Every day we cater for the

> organizers and all their

> support teams of three hundred people. I hope you

> like the food."

>

> "I'm sure I will," said the governor. We shook hands

> again, and they left.

>

> On my way back to our base that night, I was falling

> asleep, exhausted by

> the day's activities. I laughed to myself, thinking

> that during Kartika each

> year, I pass the month in utter peace in Vrindavan,

> softly chanting the holy

> names in the company of many saintly persons. Here I

> was at Woodstock,

> surrounded by thousands of people engaged in all

> sorts of illicit

> activities. For a moment, I hankered for that

> peaceful atmosphere of Vraja,

> but I quickly caught myself, remembering that to

> attain that transcendental

> abode would require sharing the holy names of the

> Lord to the fallen souls

> at Woodstock for many lifetimes to come.

>

> As we drove on, we passed by a group of young people

> heading into town to

> shop. When I stopped at a red light, a group of at

> least fifty of them,

> three playing guitars, walked past loudly singing

> Hare Krsna, Hare Krishna,

> Krsna Krsna, Hare Hare, Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama

> Rama, Hare Hare.

>

> What was this great miracle Lord Caitanya was

> enacting at the Woodstock

> Festival?

>

> And so it went for days. If all the devotees who

> were present would write

> down their own experiences, we might well produce a

> voluminous book. But

> again, could words ever capture the mood of such an

> enormous yajna?

>

> Then suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, the

> Woodstock Festival was over.

> A couple who had stayed in our village for three

> days turned toward us as

> they left. "We never even made it to the main

> stage," they said, laughing.

>

> The devotees in our Food For Peace tent stayed up

> until 6 AM the next

> morning distributing prasadam to the kids and then,

> exhausted, they closed

> the tent and went home. When I went back down to the

> festival site at 8AM to

> oversee the breakdown of our village, I was

> surprised to see a long line of

> about 400 young people, still in front of the tent.

> Then I noticed a small

> opening in the tent, where every so often a ladle of

> rice would appear and

> empty into the cup or plate of one of the kids.

>

> I went closer and finally into the tent. To my

> surprise, an older Polish

> devotee woman, Surabhi dasi, was slowly giving out

> prasadam, sometimes

> nodding off to sleep. "I've been up all night," she

> smiled.

>

> I was even more surprised when she pointed to 10

> large containers of rice,

> halavah, and papadams that had not been distributed.

> I opened the tent flaps

> even wider and began to help her distribute the rest

> of the mercy. I

> telephoned for more help, and within an hour, a crew

> of devotees came, and

> we continued distributing prasadam until noon.

>

> As we cleaned up, I marveled to think that the tent

> had served prasadam

> almost continuously for over 60 hours. Just as we

> were leaving, another

> devotee arrived. She was taking a tally of all the

> paraphernalia left at the

> site. With pen and paper in hand, she casually asked

> how many plastic plates

> were left.

>

> "Actually, not a single one," I said. "We ran out an

> hour ago and put the

> last portions of prasadam into the kids' hands."

>

> Her eyes opened wide. "That means we distributed

> exactly 101,000 plates,"

> she said.

>

> I closed my eyes. "Srila Prabhupada," I said

> silently, "please accept that

> as an offering at your lotus feet."

>

> I started walking back to my car. Then, to my

> surprise, the old man on the

> bicycle came riding up. It almost seemed like part

> of a script.

>

> "Another great festival!" he said.

> "Congratulations."

>

> "Thank you," I replied.

>

> "I hope I'm around when you come back next year," he

> said. "You know I'm

> quite old. If I leave before the next Woodstock,

> I'll take my video with me

> and show the Good Lord what you are all doing down

> here."

>

> He went pedaling off slowly, then looked back. "But

> I'm sure He already

> knows," he said.

>

> "I pray that He does," I replied under my breath.

>

> "In public places I glorify your mercy, which is

> granted to even low

> creatures, and which enables me, even though I am

> lowborn, to live in this

> forest of Vrindavan - the place where Your great

> devotees, filled with pure

> love aspire to take birth even as a blade of grass."

>

> [srila Rupa Goswami, Stava Mala, Volume 2, Utkalika

> vallari, text 66]

>

>

 

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