Swamiji and His Boys Create a Sensation

Into the chaotic pageant of Tompkins Square Park, Swamiji entered with his followers and sat down to hold a kirtana.  Three or four devotees who arrived ahead of him selected an open area of the park, put out the oriental carpet Robert Nelson had donated, sat down on it, and began playing karatalas and chanting Hare Krishna.  Immediately some boys rode up on their bicycles, braked just short of the carpet and stood astride their bikes, curiously and irreverently staring.  Other passers-by gathered to listen.

Meanwhile Swamiji, accompanied by half a dozen disciples, was walking the eight blocks from the storefront.  Brahmananda carried the harmonium and the Swami’s drum.  Kirtanananda, who was now shaven-headed at Swamiji’s request and dressed in loose-flowing canary yellow robes, created an extra sensation.  Drivers pulled their cars over to have a look, their passengers leaning forward, agape at the outrageous dress and shaved head.  As the group passed a store, people inside would poke each other and indicate the spectacle.  People came to the windows of their tenements, taking in the Swami and his group as if a parade were passing.  The Puerto Rican tough guys, especially, couldn’t restrain themselves from exaggerated reactions.  “Hey, Buddha!” they taunted.  “Hey, you forgot to change your pyjamas!”  They made shrill screams as if imitating Indian war whoops they had heard in Hollywood westerns.

“Hey, A-rabs!” exclaimed one heckler, who began imitating what he thought was an Eastern dance.  No one on the street knew anything about Krishna consciousness, nor even of Hindu culture and customs.  To them, the Swami’s entourage was just a bunch of crazy hippies showing off.  But they didn’t quite know what to make of the Swami.  He was different.  Nevertheless, they were suspicious.