An assist from Lord Siva
Feb21

An assist from Lord Siva

I met a nice person, Trey, last week at a university (picture att.). He was wearing a black necklace with Siva engraved on the pendant. He said he wears it to symbolize his current mentality toward life. I am grateful that Lord Siva has been purifying this person and brought him to me to receive a handful of Srila Prabhupada’s books. Your servant, Krsna Bhagavan...

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With a super-interest, a lady gets suitable books
Feb15

With a super-interest, a lady gets suitable books

An open-minded older lady passed by, and I gently called her over and showed her the books. She was super-interested. She said, “I have heard a lot about India and Eastern philosophy in my life, but I’ve never read an ‘authorized text’.” She took books and gave a nice donation. She loves Indian food, so she had come to buy Indian spices for the first time, to start cooking. So I offered her a large cookbook as a...

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A flash from the past
Feb13

A flash from the past

Mayapur-sasi Prabhu recently put online (in his international book distribution newsletter) a PDF of the old newsletters from the nineteen-seventies and early eighties. Reading them and the scores was pretty interesting, a flash from the past. Especially I liked this one: NEWS FLASH! This weekend, the South American GBC, Hrdayananda Dasa Goswami, flew into Washington D.C., put down his danda, took off his saffron robes, and put on...

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Instrumental at Brooklyn College
Feb12

Instrumental at Brooklyn College

I was at Brooklyn College, on a street outside the campus, where I met many nice people. Toward the end I only had a Bhagavad-gita and Srimad Bhagavatam left. I approached a Chinese girl (they are often not so open), and she was very genuine. She didn’t have money, but had just received a bunch of fruit from a food bank and offered some of it to me. I took some fruit, and she had many questions, so I was answering them and then...

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Stopping the Army General
Feb05

Stopping the Army General

A few months ago I was distributing books in downtown Porto Alegre (southern Brazil) and saw General Vilas Boas (at the time, the commander of Brazil’s army) coming in my direction. Old and sick, he was being pushed in a wheelchair, surrounded by two dozen high-ranking military men and bodyguards. It looked like an impregnable aksauhini. The chances of being able to talk to him were small, but it was too good an opportunity to...

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