The Bowery Bum Offers Service

Suddenly a Bowery derelict enters, whistling and drunkenly shouting.  The audience remains seated, not knowing what to make of it.

Drunk:  How are ya?  I’ll be right back.  I brought another thing.

Prabhupada:  Don’t disturb.  Sit down.  We are talking seriously.

Drunk:  I’ll put it up there.  In a church?  All right.  I’ll be right back.

The man is white-haired, with a short, grizzly beard and frowsy clothing.  His odor reeks through the temple.  But then he suddenly careens out the door and is gone.  Prabhupada chuckles softly and returns immediately to his lecture.

Several minutes later, the old derelict suddenly returns, announcing his entrance: “How are ya?”  He is carrying something.  He maneuvers his way through the group, straight to the back of the temple, where the Swami is sitting.  He opens the toilet room door, puts two rolls of bathroom tissue inside, closes the door, and then turns to the sink, sits some paper towels on top of it and puts two more rolls of bathroom tissue and some more paper towels under the sink.  He then stands and turns around toward the Swami and the audience.  The Swami is looking at him and asks, “What is this?”  The bum is silent now; he has done his work.  Prabhupada begins to laugh, thanking his visitor, who is now moving toward the door: “Thank you.  Thank you very much.”  The bum exits.  “Just see,” Prabhupada now addresses his congregation.  “It is a natural tendency to give some service.  Just see, he is not in order, but he thought that, ‘Here is something.  Let me give some service.’  Just see how automatically it comes.  This is natural.”

The young men in the audience look at one another.  This is really far out – first the chanting with the brass cymbals, the Swami looking like Buddha and talking about Krishna and chanting, and now this crazy stuff with the bum.  But the Swami stays cool; he’s really cool, just sitting on the floor like he’s not afraid of anything, just talking his philosophy about the soul and us becoming saints and even the old drunk becoming a saint!

After almost an hour, the dog still barks, and the kids still squeal.