At darsan time I go and wait before the altar's picket gate to be seen by Giridhari whose amazing Technicolor chodder bends the light in colors the no one knows the names of.
Mahaprahu' heavenly cloud and orange/red along with Gandharvika's heavenly cloud sari flank Giridhari's orange/red dhoti. The garlands are of a mixture of petals and whole roses and mums shorter than some days and not too big around. Gandharvika's veil is attached to the sari in a unique way today and her belt is extra wide.
“Welcome to the bay” the voice says “now relax and get ready to pedal” Starting through half lit afternoon even though he's chained to a tree there's a big dog at the door of the first house I pass who howls in sadness. Along the way I'm flying the color of Monday, red. A couple loaded down is touring from Washington State to Los Angeles stopping at Nisenemarks for the night as the sun is going down. The gecko brings out his guitar and strums a few bars of “I don't want to be a candidate for Vietnam or Watergate all I want to do is bicycle.” The school is there looking on in holiday clothing, since Veteran's day came one day too soon. In the clear white circles of the on coming car lights I could realize it was time to turn back to the evening service and share this tale with those who have no time for such frivolous pedaling as this. As I walk up to the asrama an Australian visitor says “Ah it's the swankee Yankee”
Learn to dress the Deities and do just as they feel, let them drink saffron banana khir all night long, and get off samsara's wheel, there's a name for the tirthas of the world, this dress has a name too. They call east Bengal the Radhadesa call this baby blue.