Buenos Aires, Argentina
I really admired this cricket. You know, the cricket, those black chirping insects that especially make known their presence in summer nights.
Gunagrahi Swami, a dear monastic friend since 1973, and I were sitting in my accommodation room in a newly acquired old private school in Colegiales, Buenos Aires district, when one of those innocuous creatures started his shrilly round. To Gunagrahi’s credit the building is now a Hare Krishna monastery after years of devotees staying in a rented house in another section of town. I recall the floor boards of that building bouncing under the feet of the thumping chanters and dancers. What comes along with any purchase of a new or old building are rent-free tenants. Our cricket friend happens to be one of them.
The reason for my affinity to those rather inconspicuous creatures is that he has a beat. He was like a clock emitting regular strikes. He was like an incessant chanter with only short brakes periodically. I wish I could do that. This one went on all night. Gunagrahi is known for his love of music, a former jazz lover, and still craves for the sound of djembe when played right at a chanting session. He also liked the sound of the cricket coming through ever so clearly from the window outside.
Cricket sounds remind me of a peaceful night in an Indian village like Krishna’s village, Vrndavana. Have you ever heard hundreds of them in concert at once? Quite extraordinary! I think you find them just about anywhere in the world to the exception for the globes far north and south. There has been a many late nights when I would walk and they would be my companions, practically guards of the night.
This one stayed with me all night long. I could hear him, but not see him. Maybe it’s just as good. If it wasn’t for a crickets black color I would mistake him for a cockroach.
He’s God’s creature and worth mentioning because of the non-stop chanting. In this way he inspires.
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