“Swami’s Flock Chants in Park to Find Ecstasy”

In my travels as a sannyasi, people would often ask, “Could you tell us more what is was like when Prabhupada went to sing in the park in New York City?  Did he bring a carpet?  Were you there?  What was it like?

That was always a nice set-up.  I would say something like, “You mentioned a carpet?  Yes, there was a carpet.  We had an old carpet that someone had given us.  We started out about ten or twelve devotees along with Prabhupada, and we walked to the park.  I told how we went through the streets and people hooted and jeered.  Prabhupada was sober and transcendental to it.  After all, Prabhupada had said that he was a “Calcutta boy.”  In his boyhood, he had seen hoodlums stabbing people, prostitutes on the street corners, and had even run away from a man who tried to kill him during a Hindu-Muslim riot.  He was not fazed by a few hoots.

I said that once we got to the park, we were a little shy.  I thought that some of my old friends might come to see me, and I was embarrassed.  But when Prabhupada began to sing the names of the previous acaryas, and then Hare Krishna – we sat close to him.  He was like a mother and father.  Just as little children stay close to their parents when they are afraid, we stayed close to our spiritual parent.  We sat with him on the rug, inside his world, which he had created within the “big” world of Tompkins Square Park.  I told about the Ukrainians, Polish, old people, and younger Puerto Ricans who lived in that neighborhood, and middle class American hippies who had come from different parts of the country to live there.  The hippies came around with flutes and drums and guitars.  Prabhupada sang strongly for an hour and a half, gave a little speech, and then sang again.  Then we walked back to the storefront.  Many guests came with us and we distributed cups of sweet rice to them.  Then Prabhupada went up to his room and talked some more.  I told everyone how the Swami encouraged us to get up and dance.  Brahmananda and Acyutananda used to do it regularly.  One time Prabhupada looked at me and gestured that I should get up and dance.  At first I wasn’t sure that he meant me and so I turned around and looked behind me.  I looked at him again.  Yes, he meant me.

I was hesitant to dance because I had seen one of my old college friends in the crowd in the park and they would see me with my arms up and dancing with the Swami.  What would they think?  What would they talk about among themselves?  There I was, dancing in the park to this religious Hindu chant.  But then I thought, “I don’t care what they think.  I am Swami’s boy, Swami’s man, and I am going to get up and dance.  It is blissful and I will show my bliss.  I will do it.”