Miracle at the Mall
The marathon started and we decided to go on a traveling sankirtan trip for four days to the countryside, away from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne. Unlike previous times, we decided to distribute in devotional clothes. We looked at the weather forecast for the week and found that from Wednesday on it was pretty bleakÑthunderstorms and rain. Nevertheless, praying for the mercy of the Lord, we embarked on our trip and soon reached our first stop D Bendigo a couple of hours from Melbourne. There we distributed books the whole day, till the town became quiet. That same evening we drove to our next destination, Castlemine, a small country town 30 Km from Bendigo, with a number of people interested in alternative living. There we set up camp for the night.
The next morning, as predicted, buckets of water started pouring down and the country town seemed deserted. It looked like the demigods were not in our favor! Time ticked by . . . At 10:30AM we hadn't even started yet, and the rain showed no sign of letting up. We had two options: either we could go back to Bendigo and distribute books and drive to Warnambool the next day, which would be very circuitous, or we could go to the next big town, Ballarat, which was on the way to Warnambool. The latter plan sounded logical, but over the years I had been kicked out of the shopping mall in Ballarat whenever I had tried to distribute. If that would happen again, practically the whole day would be ruined! But we had to decide, and so praying for Lord Caitanya's mercy, in desperation we raced to Ballarat.
By mid day we reached Ballarat, packed our book bags, and went straight to the mall, the only happening place in town. As I entered the mall, I saw a short security guard in sunglasses standing next to a pillar, smoking a cigarette. The book bag I was dragging and my bright saffron garb grabbed his full attention. "This is the end of today's sankirtan here," my mind whispered. Nevertheless, I proceeded toward him. The security guard asked in a rough country accent: "What's going on?"
I replied, "I'm a traveling monk from Melbourne, and I'm showing people some books."
"Give us a look," he said gruffly.
I immediately handed him a hardbound Bhagavad Gita and started showing him the pictures from the one I held in my hand. The moment he saw the artwork he took off his sunglasses and started swearing. He exclaimed, "These pictures are so true! They're awesome!"
I was shocked. I explained to him the pictures about reincarnation, the chariot of the body, and the yogi, and then we came to the karma picture. When he saw that, he grabbed the Bhagavad Gita from my hand and read what the text said. I thought to myself, "Oh no! Now he's reading the caption to the karma illustration, and it's not good news for him."
After reading, he said, "My karma is very bad."
"Don't worry," I said, "karma can be changed by spiritual activities."
The security guard replied, "Mine can never be changed."
"It *will* change," I retorted.
We went back and forth like this for awhile. Then the guard said, "Anyway, how much do you want for this book?"
I was dumbfounded and said, "This cost us $15 to print. People give whatever donation they can."
The guard said, "I don't have that much to spare right now."
I told him, "Don't worry. Take this 'Perfection of Yoga' and these cookies as a gift."
He happily accepted the book and cookies and promised he would read it in the evening. Now I asked the crucial question — whether we could distribute books in the mall — and the security guard, appreciating what we were doing as "good work," offered his assistance if anyone created trouble. Then for the next four or five hours we distributed in the mall, stopping everyone, and many people bought books. Every 20 minutes our security guard would meet us and ask if everything was OK. He also told us where the good spots were and warned us about thugs hanging around.
He seemed to be quite influential. His supervisor saw us selling books on the CCTV, and our guy got the supervisor on his side. Later he introduced me to his wife, who was hanging around the shopping mall with their friends. She complained to me that I was stopping everyone except her to show the books. I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
So the whole day we distributed books in the Ballarat Mall — with security cover.
Sankirtan yajna ki jaya!
Your servant,
Nanda Mandir dasa
