Mayapura, India
A Monk...
A monk from the Orient, China, I suppose, excitedly and hurriedly ran to me with a gift. It was a gamsha, a short lower garment for sleeping in, or to be used as a towel after bathing. He doesn't know me very well, but he extended himself for that devotional touch.
"What is your name?" I asked him.
"My name is ??? Swami," he answered, with a name that was the length of the Ganges.
"Is there a short form to that?"
"Haridasa," he replied.
"Thanks. I can handle a three syllable word."
He was all smiles.
I walked to the samadhi auditorium for the morning drama session. When I came out, the Russian pilgrims were sitting, partly on stone, partly on the grass. A senior monk of the brahmacaris was delivering a class. All eyes came my way when I stumbled upon the group. The class was interrupted. The listeners offered obeisances in my direction, as is done in a place like Mayapura. I threw everyone a kiss. Laughter followed.
I walked to my room, Number 505 in the Gada Building and there on the bed was a copy of the latest "Padayatra Newsletter," an actual glossy magazine. I was thrilled that my article entitled, "The Bruce Trail in Canada," made it into the 2019 edition.http://www.padayatra.com/padayatra-newsletter-2019/
High points—these brief encounters were, but there's more. Another day of converging with monks of guru or teacher-status devotees was really special. Then there was the dress rehearsal for, "The Queen's Secret." The troupe expressed being tired, but they worked on, nevertheless. https://www.instagram.com/p/BupjPteAsVM/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=z4ru0ff0b8xh
May the Source be with you!
5 km
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