Tuesday night at the mandir it must have been Gaura Purnima
Devotees chanting, others dancing a man calling asking if arati can wait
Tuesday night at the mandir some said it is our Saint Patrick’s Day
Students hearing of Gaura Purnima higher than Easter stoles
Leis of roses, full fragrant roses contrasting nicely
Gecko and I are off to the cyber highway again over the first highway to the hospital curve and around to the harbor the natasala is waiting tomorrow’s show. At the shop leave is taken and I round the corner passing the reviewing stand. The cruisers mock me as I go on by the house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot. The redone road takes me to the tennis park. The campa hatti points me to the right over the first highway one more time. Sprinting along to the long and winding where the ratha-bhojana-vrksa welcomes my bowed head and sends me on the hammer to the sandhya.
White with red and olive ribbons make the deep within the far off jungle nightdress. A night when Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari are ready for their evening pastimes after lying down for a moment
SGM asked for a white dress for his vyasa puja day and that one rattled in the seamstress’ mind like words dancing in the mailbox. The tiaras coming in from north of the boarder break the light in colors no one knows the names of. Dancing in steps to be seen with eyes you’ve not used yet and offerings coming in from all across the universe.
Leis of roses and small red flowers with smaller white ones inside following their curves like lava down the golden volcano
Gecko and I are in search of the lost cord through the village. Along the spacey highway the thread is there some people having conversations. The point of the hook sees a fixed gear freak charging by thinking I’m just another washed up roadie. Between the lakes a threesome spins along the opposite side and waves a smile my way. The tennis park is on the right as I pedal along without so much care. Back to the bear where I meet the wharf road on the way to the long and winding. Ratha-bhojana-vrksa watches me fold my palms and sprint to the sandhya.
In their “Hiranyakasipu” nightdress Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari dance all night after a game of hide and seek.
Born in Gauradesa in the middle of one Kartik night
Brother on guard for spirits using the bodies of cats to take flight
Chant the name chant the name of sri Gaurangadeva
Blessed by connection with gurudeva
Alll the shades of purple in the store make this dress
with vest, sash and layered skirt
chant the name chant the name of Sri Gaurangadeva
leis of tulips, roses and assorted flowers and leaves.
Gecko and I are off again bowing to the ratha bhojana vrksa
as we pass. Sprinting on to the main street the passing peddlers remind that this is aids ride day. All manors of jerseys, helmets, shoes and bikes.
Though many here are of one kind the mixture heads to the south raising money along the way. Gecko and I are part of the action for a while with the helmets with animals and bikes with flags and names who have passed on. Around the village leave is taken and on to the natasala where once again leave is taken back through the harbor and between the lakes past the windmill where a few have gathered for fun. The wharf road takes me back. There is a peddler there who looks pretty strange and who talks to himself and gives it to those on beasts. As one passes squeals he mocks them and chastises them too. Along the way I see many peddlers who took a small part in the money raising.
The creamy red and white are the touch that kills all desire for activities in the material world. They dance and sing all night long.