Off The Road
Please accept my humbled obeisances. All glories to Srila Prabhupada!
In continuum… on the grueling 'Warped Tour' schedule it's hard for me to contemplate the significance or insignificance of our activities while frantically driving hundreds of miles between venues. Luckily we are doing this for God and the nectar comes along as a special bonus otherwise I would have with all sense and purpose turned into a pumpkin by now. Therefore with no further ado, the following rapturous escapades take place at concerts from Virginia to Florida to Texas and happen between July 25th and August 6th, 2000.
As far as I can figure out the town of Bristow, Virginia, is an intersection of two roads a few miles west of Washington DC. The concert venue located here is a little larger and is our destination after New York City. Nowadays our practice is to drive straight to the back-stage parking and ask where the 'Production' office has set up. Most of the time this is all that need be uttered but here we encounter one youth with a walkie-talkie and it seems that he has been itching to use the gadget for a while. It's sad to watch as no one responds to his rapid successions of "copy"s and helpless "hello"s. He finally decides to regain control of the situation by allowing us admission on his own authority. Once inside, my practice is to try and search out Eileen from amidst all the roadies, technicians, crews, etc, in order to get passes that will allow us free access in and out of the venue all day. Today I find Eileen in the "Mothership" bus. Before I can say hello she is explaining to me the ecstatic symptoms that came over her while munching on Ekacakra Prabhu's homemade Molasses Gingersnaps at the New York show yesterday. The euphoria spreads as everyone in the bus enters into the deep trance of remembrance. It feels like everyone is remembering their childhood's favorite preparation. It's not all smiles as some of the crew are spooked by the Hare Krsna food and wont even touch it for fear of hair loss. But the ones who do throw caution to the wind and revel.
I tackle the parking lot for a while. Did I just hear a "namaste" from the lady who just took a 'Quest'? The next lady takes another book to add to her collection because she says that the devotees are always nice to her.
Inside it is loud as all the stages are pumping out pure white noise. At this show I loose my voice completely due to my attempting to hold comprehendible conversations over the din. But at one point during my vocal decline, a couple of hours before I enter goldfish mode, five young and upcoming transcendentalists are enlivened to take a book each. TY has been waiting patiently for me to part with the panca-jivas before moseying on over to satisfy his inquisitiveness. He is completely transfixed by the books I have been showing people and at once begins by taking all the books out of my hands and looking through them with an evident hunger for knowledge. His wallet is elsewhere so soon he's off to find his brother's pocket. It's not long before he's back bringing Laksmidevi to Vaikuntaloka (dasa) and picking up five steps to heaven.
"I received a Srimad Bhagavatam from last year's Woodstock festival." This last sentence is a decoded statement from one fellow that Parama has approached. The words "Srimad Bhagavatam" were slurred in a remote Martian dialect undecipherable to anyone but the highly experienced. Luckily Parama is specially trained in decoding these dialects and therefore asks our friend if he has read the book? "Yea, I read the whole thing!" replies our man. When the question of what he thinks of the book is posed, our man answers; "It was phenomenal." That's a new one for the guest book! He and his friend have now graduated to the tenth canto by claiming a 'Light of the Bhagavata' each.
Colin strides over and asks Parama the big question, "Are you a Hare Krishna?" This must have been due to the books in Parama's hand as believe me this Vaisnava dresses like a gentleman. Long gone are the free-spirited sikhas, kopin tails within eyeshot, and Goodwill shirts from the 70s that are the trademarks for the chosen few. What we have here is an exchange purely on the literary level because as soon as Colin finds out that he has indeed found a Vaisnava he acquaints this fortune to the continuation of his spiritual progress: "I've been reading the Srimad Bhagavatam in my local library. It's very interesting and the philosophy makes sense. Where is the temple?" Colin selects a book with addresses, gets an e-mail, and we have contact.
Two persons with scowling looks on their faces are standing in front of me while I hold books up for them to at least look at. It's a mistake and I am left there in limbo hopelessly holding the books up while my observers keep observing. But the Master of all mysticism does His thing again and just as the Red Sea is parted by Moses, JJ parts my two purifying friends and seizes the books out of my hand. I observe JJ is wearing a yarmulcha (Jewish skullcap) and as his friends, also wearing yarmulchas, gather around he is making comments such as "wow", "I'm into this", and is asking his friends to look at these wonderful books. What JJ and his friends are doing at a concert like this dressed like this I do not know? But I do know they picked up a little Krsna consciousness on the way.
One thing that has struck me during this summer is the amount of people who approach us and ask about the books. Even though the mood of the people in general is definitely on the material upturn, it seems that there are more and more of the extreme few who are sincerely searching for a way out of the mayhem that is engulfing society. Brian is one of the thoughtful few who has come up to me and told me that he has been looking for a Bhagavad Gita for a while now. When someone sincerely asks like this it is my policy to give even if they can afford to only give little or cannot afford anything at all. These incidents serve as encouragements and reminders for me to remember Krsna and depend on Him for everything.
Anyone who has read any of my meanderings from a couple of years ago may recall that I have a very soft spot for cowboys. Unfortunately up until now I have been forced to fast almost until death in the desert of separation from my belt-buckled friends, as they neither have country nor western music at these shows. But Krsna being the most merciful and knowing Lord that He is has fulfilled my deepest and dear most desire. Why has Steve come to a punk show — I do not know? But nevertheless I spot that wide-rimmed hat a mile away. It turns out perfect; so perfect that when I ask Steve where his belt-buckle is he tells me that he's getting one (Pure bliss!!!). He even replies to my glorification of the round wooden beads around his neck with the customary, "Why thankya" (Too much bliss!!!). By the time I come to ask for a donation the hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end… but disaster strikes as he has no money. I am left despondent and demoralized, as I had become too attached to the result of my activity. Bhagavan Sri Krsna has again given me an opportunity to purify myself of the bodily concept of life and so when Steve leaves I am approaching others helplessly trying to grapple with the idea that one less of my horse riding friends has his ticket back to Godhead. I guess Krsna is not only dealing with me, as it isn't long before I feel a tap on my shoulder. When I turn I find Steve with some dollars and his necklace as a gift for a 'Dharma' and an 'Isopanisad' (Perfect bliss!!!).
Another interesting phenomenon is the amount of young people who are interested in religion at these wild shows and in this Godless civilization. So many express a willingness to read up about others' religions and a good few imbibe a mature philosophical understanding of their findings. One such example is a youngster that Vaikuntha has stopped. "It seems to me that all religions are on different levels of the same thing." Our young theology student also begins to explain how different religions and prophets are interwoven and affirms it all by assimilating a couple of books.
Vaikuntha has wisely found himself internally imploring the Lords mercy. It was getting tough, late, passionate but he felt compelled to continue so when he offered two ladies transcendental wisdom only to have them eternally and ambivalently repeat the "I don't know" line he resorted to the last resort… to silently scream for help. "Please, please, please Krsna, let these souls take books. Pleeeeeeease!!!" Vaikuntha looks up and the expression on one of the ladies faces has changed from hesitant to excited. "How about $10 for two?" I take the dust from Vaikunthaloka Prabhu's lotus feet.
Parama tells me the story of Cynthia. Like many others she had been patiently waiting for Parama to finish krsna-katha-ing with some soul. Once the opportunity arrived she had ambled over and asked what Parama was distributing. She was interested in spiritual books, having read up on Buddhism, but had no money on her at that time. She devised a plan. Her proposition was that she was willing to go to the ATM machine, miles away on the other side of the Pavilion, and leave some money in an envelope at the box office. Parama was to pick up the envelope and leave two books for her. As she was working with the Pavilion Parama thought this a wise idea. Therefore after a while Parama trekked over only to find a nonchalant box-office person and no envelope. So now Parama is in anxiety over losing time and a potential resurrected leaf in vaikuntha. Time is up for us and we are approaching the van back stage to leave when who should we find seated right next to our van but Cynthia with her walkie-talkie. It turns out to be a moving reunion as Cynthia explains that she had got caught up in her work and Parama explains his anxiety. We all jump in the van, drive around to our friendly local ATM and give Cynthia three books to talk about.
It's a relatively short journey to the next assignment close to Virginia Beach. It turns out that the venue has been changed due to the original one being turned into a field of mud by four days of rain. Unfortunately the new venue is indoors which means that the decibels are recycled by being bounced off the walls. Due to my lost voice I stop early but Krsna doesn't deprive me of the pleasure of meeting Muhammad. The prophet rode on a winged horse to Jerusalem to leave this world. My friend pulls up in an old banged-up blue pickup truck to relieve his boredom. He is possibly in his forties and looks as if he's been working hard all his life. When I place a couple of books in his rough hands he looks up at me and tells me straight up that he's got a problem with religion. "I was born in a Muslim family but I looked around at other religions. I know about them all but none are mine!" Muhammad pauses while he looks back down at the books in his hands. I stay quiet. What can I say to a statement like that? When Muhammad looks back up at me he simply says, "But this intrigues me." Somehow he is attracted to Krsna and bags three books. I swear I see wings come out of his truck.
We undertake four shows in Florida followed by another four in Texas. Many books are distributed but in all the fun I kind of neglect writing down our experiences. So the following is a little sparse due to a few hastily scribbled notes and my even more hastily scribbled memory. Anyway, the first of these shows is in Jacksonville, Florida. For anyone who knows the tattoo scene Rob's tattoo will not come as a surprise. He's just an average guy running a tattoo booth at the show. In return for an Isopanisad I get a T-shirt and darsan of Durgadevi on his arm.
Alan's best friend, April, died in a car crash recently. It has affected him so much that he has come to this show to release his anger in the mosh pit (this 'mosh pit' is the place in front of the stage where dancing resembles a medieval battle scene complete with broken bones, etc). He takes a 'Journey of Self Discovery' and I try to ease his pain with a few carefully chosen words. The philosophy enters the heart very smoothly when a person is in distress and is in search for answers. Alan thanks me and lets me know that I've really helped him.
Down in the swamps of Orlando, Heidi & Luke stop by to check out the books. But there is a problem — the Hare Krsna's and the women thing. How Srila Prabhupada followed the previous Acaryas by adjusting Vedic culture according to time, place, and circumstance comes to my mind. My brahmacari ra-ra days are long gone thank God and I find it so much more rewarding to relate to everyone on a real spiritually equal level. Heidi and I communicate our way out of the swamp of bodily consciousness and the reward goes to her in the form of another of Srila Prabhupada's books.
Three gents are reaching in their pockets to give donations for the books they have just decided to keep. I ask the first for his name and he answers, "Brian". The second is also a Brian. Guess what number three's name is? Brian happens to be my father's name too so I think I finally paid my debt to him via namesake.
At Panama City Beach, on the panhandle of Florida, I meet Devon. When I show him a book he tells me that he and his friends got a book between them at the Jacksonville show. Now they are fighting over who reads it first. If there is a problem with one of the group then the others will tell the problem man that he better read that book. In the beginning there was sraddha.
Just for the record, a few of the band members have got books from us. Above and beyond that there's Dan who plays guitar for a well-known band called 'The Suicide Machines' from Detroit. Dan stayed in Gitanagari and visits temples whenever he can. He and the band's singer, Jay, are prasadam lovers. Dan's blue hair says it all…. why else would he choose monsoon-cloud blue?!
At Dallas, Parama turns around to find an empty space replacing the bag of books he had left on the ground beside him. A quick scan reveals the culprit. Turns out that one boy who took some books from me has found the unattended bag of goodies and is looking to give it back to the "English monk". He hasn't realized that there are three of us out here. On top of this devotional sentiment our friend also looks in Parama's bag to find some new titles that I hadn't shown him. He adds these to his now well-furnished library.
In San Antonio, Parama gives some of Mother Duhsala's famous cinnamon cookies to a vendor who had become a little agitated by us at the last show in Dallas. Our man is in ecstasy; "I like food!" He adds that Cinnamon cookies are his favorite. All glories to the stomach and the tongue.
I meet one lady and her man while walking about. Our man asks his lady what she's doing as she pays for a 'Light of the Bhagavata'. She declares, "I'm about to meditate baby" and off she goes with the book balanced on her head.
Sometimes in movies something appears out of the bottom of the screen that surprises the audience. In my movie I'm talking to a couple of big Texan boys, one of whom is wearing a 'Rancid' T-shirt, when all of a sudden out of the bottom of my screen comes a humongous dark brown chicken leg that resembles something big out of hell. For some reason I had missed it when I had approached them otherwise I would not have been here. The unholy thing careers up, barely missing me, and sticks to Rancid-priya's face. As Neanderthal man is ferociously gorging himself on his freshly killed dinosaur chicken leg I brace myself to somehow or other keep his concentration focused on the main task at hand. To add to the torture his friend now reveals the poor creature's other galactic limb and they both engage in ravening the kill. But somehow or other, even though their oral cavities are fully engaged, their eyes remain focused on me and while still banqueting they manage to eventually pass over donations. Later on Rancid-priya happens on by and enthusiastically thanks me for that book. At that time I am engaging one hesitant lady and Rancid-priya gloriously becomes the missing link that helps her decide to also take a book. Progressive!
I used to have so much fun in Utah with the Mormons so when I meet one of my old friends here we get down and boogie. First he tells me that he is a Mormon and doesn't need the book! But when I mention that I received the 'Book of Mormon' (several actually), that the Church of the Latter Day Saints is helping us to build a temple in Spanish Fork, and that I appreciate the Mormon folk's love of knowledge, he changes his mind and happily adds a book of Krsna to his collection.
That's all folks.
Regarding my attempt at performing some semblance of devotional service, I should add that regardless of all the bodily austerity I have just undergone I'd like to repeat the wise words of Mr.Ted Patrick; "I'm hook!" We all need some kind of container to take the remnants of Sri Krsna's prasada. I know I do! And this container is service to the Lord. I am just beginning to get a glimpse that the relatively tiny price we have to pay to acquire this rare jewel of devotional service is extremely worthwhile.
I hope that these reports were of some use to you. I definitely had fun writing them and they distinctly helped me to reflect on and absorb the all important Krsna factor that I generally have the tendency to overlook.
Hoping this meets you all well and in Krsna consciousness,
I beg to become Your Servant,
Aisvarya Dasa
