Go-Go-Gopalji

When I was little we used to play a game called ‘Go Go Govinda’. It was basically a Hare Krishna version of a regular game, where one person stands with their back to a line of the other players who are trying to reach him by moving slowly. He chants ‘Go-go-go-go,’ and when he says ‘vinda!’, he turns around and everyone has to freeze. I don’t know what the regular purport to this game is, but I always imagined that Krishna is sneaking up behind the person, and he can hear him, just over his shoulder, but if he turns, Krishna freezes.

It reminds me of the story where the deity of Sakshi Gopal Krishna agrees to follow the brahmin to testify to his promise, providing he doesn’t turn back and look. As the brahmin walks, he can hear Krishna’s ankle bells tinkling behind him, but he has to keep his eyes on the road ahead, though he knows Sri Krishna, the most beautiful is right behind.

This summer I’ve felt a little like I’m being followed by Sri Gopal – or maybe I’m pursuing him. He has bookended my journey, and appeared along the way too – sometimes behind me, and sometimes in front, so charmingly smiling as he glances downward. We don’t worship this form of Krishna so much in ISKCON temples, I suppose because we emphasise the worship of Radha and Krishna together on the altar.

The first day that I arrived at Avatar Studios, where Gauravani recorded the As Kindred Spirits album, he took me up to see the resident deity of Gopal. He was astonishingly beautiful, and I prayed to him I would be able to do something useful by taking part in the Mantralogy tour.

His form remained in my mind, and I was so happy to see him again when we went to Chowpatty temple, in Mumbai. There the intensity of our tour reached a new high, as we drove back and forth to rehearsals and press engagements in the monsoon heat, almost always returning home at midnight. Every morning I would sleepily go and see the deities, and the serene smile of Gopalji felt like a soothing balm. I prayed to him in my tired state, feeling as if I was just going through the motions.

Monsoon rain
I call your name
Watching wet leaves tremble on the branches
Muddy footprints
Voices echo across the courtyard,
cool breeze before the heat descends.
Distant horns, distant thunder,
water fills the crowded street.
I pause to see your lotus feet.
Unchanging, ever fresh,
as this new rain on the kadamba trees.
I wonder why it is still so difficult to just
call your name, as if I really mean it,
with arms upstretched, or an extended trunk.
Why does my prayer sound hollow still?
Dear Gopalji, you hold the key.
Your eyes glance downward,
saying surrender.
Please help me.
Please see my droplet of sincerity.
I wish it would multiply,
like this relentless downpour, and wash the grimy pavements of my heart.
I wish
I wish
I pray,
dear Gopalji,
my only treasure,
I wish to be your servant.

Before we left, I drew a picture of him, and gave it to Radhanath Swami.

When we went to visit Giriraj Maharaj in Santa Barbara, I was so inspired to see the many images of Gopal around the property, and lost myself in the most beautiful illustrated book about the daily worship of Gopal (Sri Nathji) in Nathdwara, Rajasthan.

Together with my friends Mandali (Gopalji’s pujari in New Vrindavan!) and Sachi, I made a sand Gopal that evening on the beach, and we meditated on how the ocean would rise to wash his feet, as we gave him shells for eyes, and ornamented him with seaweed garlands.

Now I’m back in DC, and the rain is falling again. I am blessed to be here, and I feel Gopalji is standing right behind me. My prayers are far from sincere, but with his mercy I continue to chant ‘Go-go Gopal!’ Tomorrow we leave at 5am for Block Island, where we will be performing kirtan for the first date of the ‘Roots and Wings’ tour, with drummer/poet John de Kadt.

Overdue Update

The past two months have been intense, non-stop, eye-opening and educational, as I’ve travelled across America in a white van with the ‘Gaura Vani and As Kindred Spirits’ kirtan band on our ‘Mantralogy’ tour. We move from place to place, usually stopping for no more than a day to perform kirtan a diverse range of settings – from nightclubs in New York, to devotee homes and temples, to an array of different kinds of yoga studios (where kirtan has become very popular, both as a stand-alone event, as well as a live accompaniment to asana classes).

The reception from the people we meet has so far been great. It’s an incredible feeling to see people being touched by the experience of chanting – sometimes for the first time. In New York a lady came up at the end of a rip-roaring evening of kirtan and handed us a letter. We opened it later on in the van, and were moved to read her outpouring of gratitude for the appearance of kirtan in her life. She explained how riding her bike one day after listening to our kirtan, she was suddenly struck by the deep realisation that God is personally present in the names ‘Hare Krishna’ and feels that her life has been transformed since this moment. Other people have expressed similar stories. I definitely feel we can’t claim to be responsible – of course this is purely by the mercy of Srila Prabhupada and Lord Caitanya, but I am praying that somehow, we are acting as instruments for their will.

In the past three weeks we travelled first to England for the Janmashtami festival – my first at home after three years of being in America for the summer on the Krishna Culture Festival bus tour. It was wonderful to come home and share what I’ve been doing with all of my family and friends. I felt such a strong sense of unity as we all joined together to celebrate the festival, and had many hours of joyful, moving kirtan together. When we did kirtan on the main festival stage, I’d look out and see the most incredible variety of people – from close family and friends of all ages, to local villagers, to Gujarati grannies (who we actually got to clap and sing – much to our surprise). Our brief stay culminated in a final stage kirtan, after which we were whisked out to the car park and driven straight to the airport to fly to Mumbai, where we would be performing a kirtan concert for a special launch of Radhanath Swami’s book ‘The Journey Home’.

We arrived in India to masked faces – Mumbai was in the grip of a swine flu scare. Luckily we were unaffected! We had an intense week of rehearsals with local musicians and also did several other types of programs in between, including appearing on Radio Mirchi, with Jeeturaj, India’s no.1 DJ. He has a huge influence on the youth of Mumbai, both in his recommendations in music and film. He was very eccentric, but a lot of fun too, and he was completely amazed to learn that all of the band members had been born of devotee parents. When he learned that all the girls knew how to put on saris and that we could all sing in Sanskrit, he almost fell off his chair! There was a lot of media interest in our project, and we did many interviews and photoshoots with various newspapers.

It was my first time in Mumbai, and first experience of Indian monsoon season. The rain would normally start at about 6.30 every morning – with barely a minute’s drizzle, it would suddenly be coming down in an almighty torrential downpour, hammering down on the temporary tin rooftops that cover the open air courtyards and rising to ankle deep level in the street. Within the grounds of Radha Gopinath temple, an oasis in the heart of the busy city, it was wonderful to watch it wash the leaves of the kadamba and tamal trees, sending the birds high up into the shelter of the canopies. Inspiring and beautiful to meditate upon the analogy of the spiritual master’s mercy being like this downpour of cooling rain as we burn in the forest fire of material life.

The Prodigal Blogger

I started out this summer with all good intentions. I would blog every week, typing thrilling tales for my friends and family about everything I have been seeing and experiencing. Obviously, that didn’t happen. When you’re on the road every day, driving hours and hours to the next kirtan concert, or just the next Wal Mart, good intentions aren’t enough to motivate blogging.

So here I am, after almost three months, apologising. I hope I can start this up again, because if for nothing else, I hope that blogging is one way to keep some sort of connection with those that I care about. It’s not always easy to find the time to write personal emails, but hopefully I can attempt to share something in this way.

Today I am in Washington DC, having just flown in from LA last night. Saturday night was the official last performance of the summer Mantralogy tour, at ‘Bhaktifest’ in Joshua Tree, California. We have been performing and travelling in California for the past two months, with a brief whirlwind trip to London and Mumbai inbetween. I am lost for more to write at the moment. For now I’m just enjoying the brief pause in the tour, and appreciating the rain falling outside. It’s been weeks since I felt rainfall – in Mumbai during monsoon.

What Lies Beneath: De-junking the Lake!

Today was Gundicha Marjana, a day when hundreds of years ago in Puri, on the East coast of India, worshippers of Lord Jagannath gathered to cleanse the Gundicha temple from top to bottom. They took a vow to speak only Krishna’s name whilst they worked -  splashing water everywhere and competing to see who could sweep up the most dirt. At the end of  long day of cleaning they lined up with the piles they’d collected. Whoever hadn’t collected enough was required to pay a tax in sweets and other delectable goodies. Afterwards they feasted together and cleansed their hearts by continuing to chant the names of the Lord.

At Bhaktivedanta Manor today, a big clean up was scheduled to commemorate this event. Some of us youth really wanted to get involved, so we chose the most interesting sounding task (anything involving waders, water and litter pickers is a recipe for fun!) – cleaning up the lake.

Armpit high trousers are all the rage this season.

We boated around for four hours, dredging up foul smelling plastic bags; broken deities; tennis balls; crisp packets; bottles and cans; and even a jewellery case! Our top find had to be coconuts – we pulled up about one hundred, in various states of decay.

As we worked, the water began to look more sparkly…Prahlad got the enviable task of paddling the boat of giggling girls around.

Because many visitors view the temple lake as a holy place, they seem to feel that this means it’s acceptable to throw any puja remnants or offerings into the water. As for the rubbish – I have no idea what’s going on there. Sometimes people’s attitude toward the environment is totally unfathomable.

Cleaning the dock. You missed a spot Mohini.

We had great fun though. It was the perfect day to be wading around in the (albeit stinky) water – clear, hot and sunny.By lunchtime we had pulled out six bags of rubbish, and dumped it into a more appropriate resting place – the skip.

As for the deities, we could hardly consider them rubbish. They stayed by the lake – presiding over the muddy waters…

G is for Graduation, Gratitude, and also ‘Goodbye’.

I graduated last month, and whilst initially I was just enjoying the feeling of not having to sit at my computer, racking my brains and consulting a stack of books, for the past week or so I’ve been tying up loose ends and preparing to leave England for yet another summer.

Part of leaving has been saying thank you to all of those people who have helped me, taught me, inspired me or just been friends to me. If that seems a bit final, perhaps it’s only because we often wait until the last moment to show gratitude. I think it’s so important, and I’m really trying to remind myself to make a point of appreciating people as a natural habit.

Since I’ve had more time lately, my gratitude has been coming out creatively, which has been doubly satisfying.

I’ve also had time for other little creative projects, like designing things for the new farm shop at the Manor.

And just having time to draw – for no reason!

So what’s next? I will be travelling to the west of Canada in a few days, to the Hare Krishna farm community in British Columbia – known as Saranagati. I’ll be there for a little time and will then be joining Gaura Vani and As Kindred Spirits for recording and touring in different places in America. It’s exciting, but I’m also just a little nervous. I am taking the first step on the path of ‘life after university’. So far I’ve been overwhelmed with the way that things have beautifully fallen into place. This is surely all by Krishna’s merciful arrangement, and I hope to never, ever forget it.

I’m hoping to keep this blog updated as far as possible while I’m away. For other updates, check www.gauravani.com, where you can see photos and download kirtans from all of the shows we do.

Since it’s possible to do almost everything on the internet, I figure I can also seek your blessings. Please bless me to strive for sincerity, humility and real devotion – and if you see me on my travels, say hello!

P is for Puja

In my house, the morning is a time for offering respects to God, and to those masters that help us understand how we can develop our relationship with him. These daily practices are known in Sanskrit as puja – worship.

Every morning my father worships his deity, blowing a conchshell at the beginning and the end of the ceremony. I love to hear this sound, and the ringing of the bell as he offers flowers other items. Every sense feels purified by seeing, touching, smelling and hearing these things. After some puja where food is offered, taste is purified too, as we accept the prasad (mercy) afterward.

I came across a charming painting this morning, by artist, Kalyani (http://surfkye.com/) that made me miss those mornings in India, where it feels as if the whole country is awake in the early hours, sincerely making offerings of devotion.

Here’s what Kalyani had to say about her painting:

Having lived in South Bangalore for a long time, on several occasions I would encounter little boys going for their morning prayers, in little groups, rehearsing their chanting, some with offerings. I painted what I thought was a magical morning through a little girl’s eyes.

BBT Art Seminar 2009

When I wrote a report of the first ever BBT Art Seminar in 2007 many people asked when further seminars would be taking place. Last November, the second one was successfully held, and I’ve just received the dates for this year’s seminar: October 20th-November 9th, again, in Vrindavan.

It’s a wonderful experience, and I’d really encourage anyone who wants to explore how they can offer their creativity to Krishna, as well as learn a skill that serves in so many ways, to attend. Here’s a video of the 2007 seminar.

Stamping at Stonehenge

Last Friday I travelled with the other members of Srishti Yuva Culture to Stonehenge in Salisbury. We were there to perform our collaboration with Kuljit Bhamra and his band as part of Salisbury Arts Festival. The piece imagined what the stones would say about their experience if they could speak – from their creation within the depths of the earth, to being used to construct a sacred temple by the Druids of Ancient Britain.

It was a really unique experience. We began working on the choreography as a group a month ago, but only had one rehearsal with the live musicians. Stonehenge is a protected site and tourist attraction, open to the public every day – so there was no chance to rehearse on site until an hour before the show! We were all nervous about how this would affect the performance. Whilst we are senior Bharatanatyam students, we aren’t professionals, and sometimes this  difference in level of experience can be crucial in confidently navigating a semi-improvised collaboration like this.

Our biggest challenges were using the stones creatively in the choreography without prior rehearsal, and dancing on grass – a surprisingly resistant surface! Also, we didn’t realise how little dressing time we had when we arrived, and had to do a run-through before we were ready. We ended with ten minutes left to finish dressing and sprinted back to the little office cabin we’d been given to use. The audience were already streaming onto the site, and they pointed at us as we ran past, holding on our jewellery with one hand, our saris flying behind.

Ultimately the evening was magical. The sun lowered as we began, and our worries floated away as we just enjoyed dancing in the open air, surrounded by rolling fields, staring sheep and birds circling overhead. It was wonderful to be dancing to live music, especially from the talented percussionists that accompanied Kuljit. Amongst them, they played tablas, djembes, clay pots, bells, steel drums, shakers, snare drums and mridangams. We were also lucky to have our music teacher, Y Yadavan singing. Afterwards, many people came up to us and said how lucky we were to have touched the stones. Normally visitors are kept behind a barrier three metres from the stones, and guards were present to make sure no one sneaked over the rope after the show. I hadn’t realised how rare it was to get near the stones – many years ago I visited when this was still allowed.

For more photos of the event, see www.flickr.com/photos/bimala

Before our group of six dancers left, we gathered in the shade of the tallest stone, and recited our Bhumi Pranam – the Sanskrit prayer to Mother Earth that we say before and after dancing:

Vishnu shakti samutpanne

Sarva varna maheetale

Aneka ratna sampanne

Bhumi devi namostute

O Mother Earth! You are born of the power of Lord Vishnu, and are made up of many jewel-like good qualities, therefore I bow to you.

All photos by Bimala Naysmith (copyright protected). www.bimala.com

On Standby – Back To Reality!

Since graduating just over two weeks ago, I’ve barely even thought about writing a blog. My relationship with my keyboard has changed perhaps. I spent many hundreds of hours, typing away on all of my essays and projects, and as soon as they were finished, I realised it was high time my computer and I took some time out from our relationship.

Absence doesn’t always make the heart grow fonder – with my newfound apathy towards blogging, I’ve discovered that sometimes it’s refreshing not to have to update the world on your every rambling train of thought. It’s nice to just think things, without having to report them. It’s nice to just have experiences, without taking mental notes for dynamic summarisations. It’s nice to just be. Forget about the internet world, with its pop-ups, and requests, and demands, and politics, and advertising, and ‘pokes’ and people I’ve never had a face-to-face conversation with. Putting a pen to real paper feels like breathing a lungful of fresh air. Knowing that that piece of paper will not be immediately fed through to hundreds of eyes is so grounding.

A friend of mine persuaded me to join Twitter the other week. I reluctantly gave in – others had been bugging me too, so I tried it out. I quickly lost interest, after a few posts. Perhaps something’s changing in my life again. Where I once felt a need to share, I feel a return to my old diary writing days coming on. Sharing thoughts with close friends; writing letters; working the earth of our vegetable plot outside; taking time to read the Bhagavad Gita – it’s back to reality.

I spent last weekend in Birmingham, attending a 24 hour Hare Krishna kirtan. It was wonderful – so simple – 24 hours, and all cares left at the door. I won’t tell you all about it. I won’t even write about what else I’ve been doing, or about my summer plans. I’m sure you don’t need to know, even if you’re curious. It’s not important. I’ll start blogging more regularly again soon, but perhaps with a better eye for what really needs to be preserved online for thousands of years, and what can simply be thought, then thrown away. How refreshing.

Kishori Yatra – Easter 2009: Day Five – Saying Goodbye

By the last day of our trip, I was exhausted! I never realised how much energy it took to lead a trip like this, and I was really grateful that I wasn’t doing it alone!

We spent the morning cleaning up the house we’d been staying in. Between all the girls, we managed to finish on time, and rushed to the temple to have one last kirtan with Pancatattva and the Swansea devotees.

We were due to reach Swindon by lunchtime, where we’d visit the home of Justin and Lisa – two wonderful devotees. Lisa runs a beading business, leading parties and workshops, as well as selling her own creations that often incorporate Tulasi wood.

After a delicious lunch, the girls went wild over the table full of beads. Hands reached, passing trays over heads – creativity was buzzing!

A few hours later, loaded with new earrings, bracelets and necklaces, we left Swindon for the final leg of the journey, back to good old Hertfordshire. Along the way Nadiya and I taught the girls some songs…

Home at last!