We don’t be very fancy dressers
And we don’t wear fine pressed clothes.
No silken saris in our asrama
The puckawalla could never appear this way.
Now our gang’s gone across the Ganga
Where viddhi marg yields to Mahaprabhu’s mercy
The aparadha bhanjana phat washes each and every one of us clean
The puckawalla could never think this way
What we lack in sugar and ghee
Is more than made up for by the association of a pure devotee
That might encapsulate the difference between the puckawalla and our gang.
Off and running after folding my palms to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and meeting the gecko at the bridge over the first highway. Spinning along the frontage road to the bear. Next we go through the parking lot where one old brother talks awhile. Now sprinting along the road of the whalers and the reviewing stand. We go through the market of the day where some pracar is going on. Some folks make offerings to Mahaprabhu and then the gecko and I turn to spin back on to the shop where the gecko takes his leave. I go on through the treacherous triangle sprinting more to the southland. I go around that circle before taking the long and winding back for the sandhya where the horn is blowing and everyone enters as the ceremony begins.
They got dressed early had their dinner in bed, it was another night when the natak thespian kumar was the evening chef. He wore a shirt saying “if this guy is on time call the Vatican at once for a miracle has occurred.” Needless to say there were no calls placed this evening. As a result OPT and I had them dressed and ready for rest before their dinner was ready.