The puckawalla with the crease so sharp in his dhoti you could cut your hand his shaved head so shinny it’ll blind you everybody knows
Our gang calls it well dressed if our clothes aren’t full of holes
He quotes a sloka and tells a joke making his classes the best
Our gang speaks from the heart hoping by the vaisnavas to be blest
His puja is encrusted with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds
Our gang counts opulence within no matter how simply they are dressed
Flowers from all over with exotic fragrance
Our gang makes leis from flowers of the land where symmetry is beauty
Simple elegance
To the cyber highway and the friends there are talking about all kinds of ends. Pedalers are in winter gear once again. Murka and I are a little early to beat the dark. Back for the vaikalika and off again for a joytish gulla. Speaking with more friends along the way. the pedalers are in more winter gear. One looks to Murka and ask if he’s hunting and he replies “you look like you’re part of desert storm.” Through the stream of tourists along the treacherous triangle I take leave and Murka goes on a tear to make the sandhya. the ratha-bhojana-vrksa silently accepts the folded palms and the kalarupa takes turn to chasing Murka to the asrama where vijaya is splitting wood again.
Om Paramahamsa Thakura says “I’m having entirely too much fun this evening.” Helping Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari into their lotus nails nightdress. It takes a few tries to get the veil to sit right and for the crowns to stay put but in the end they take rest if even only for the moment. When the door closes only they know what pastimes come to life.
Bhakta blade came and asked me
If there weren’t shirts for Mahaprabhu and Giridhari
We looked through their pictures while drinking a cup of tea
Stopped when we saw the dragonflies
The one outfit with the watercolor silk had shirts to try
Flowers on the veil and chodders on the effulgence in the sky
Roses make the leis of the day
Puspa abhisekha a pool of flowers in which to play
Another day when the mind takes over and pedaling can go anywhere up the acres to where wild roses perfume the air and cattle are lowing on a distant farm. Pedalers are shedding their winter gear in the sun. another year begins and the pedals go round and round till the lumberjack welcomes Murka back in time for the sandhya.
It’s a miracle mom, the nightdress that was made in such short order to be offered the day after Janmastami they take their rest before the clock strikes the hour.
Coming in for darsana
Bowing before the Deities reporting for service
Incense tickling our nose
Taking in the wonder of their stunning clothes
Do you still remember that now long ago Gaura Purnima?
When the arati started late at the request of a teacher
All his students were impressed by Saint Patrick’s day
And so told them this is day we celebrate
One religious friend found it easy to see
His own tradition flowing in Giridhari’s cape
The mental pedaling keeps going on through the valley of the Bhagavad-gita where the trees have sages under them to draw new light form colors of the verses from scriptures no one know the names of. Tales of the glories of pedalres who have once again shed winter gear for the sun is returning to the evening sky ever so slowly but surely. Revelers from the night before are finding their way to the village where the tourists go they remind it’s all a state of mind. The wood splitter is once again the welcoming committee as the sandhya waits
Deep within the far off jungle the chill has the Deities in chodders that are good for the night but are a bit much when the fire is kindled in the morning by the early worshipers
Havirbhu is this outfit’s name
They don’t have one quite the same
Orange and beige can’t you see
How the color is like the foam on ghee?
Tiny rusty orange and avocado flowers printed ‘round
Both right side up and upside down
This darsana will chase away all misery
May Giridhari’s flute cast it’s spell on me!
Orange rose and mum leis gracefully rule
Takes beauty back to school
Any more manasa pedaling might just cause Murka and I to wonder
Up via govinda by the wigwam looking through the orchard where the deer have gotten beyond the fence. All the trees bowing with fruit in respect to the Deities to whom they hope to be offered. Pedalers appear in the eucalyptus grove without a care in the world. They urge and encourage Murka and I to never give up! On and on to the top of the ridge to see the bay below, the deer are active here their hoof prints and the eaten grass can see it.
The nightdress is deep within the far off jungle; white with red and olive ribbons with the angora chodders keeping them warm during their evening pastimes. They are ready quickly a shaking while they dress is an unanswered question but they go on enjoying like anything.
The peacocks back on Thirteenth Street
Swooned out of ecstasy
at Krsna’s lotus feet
yesterday’s backdrop is now the chest of Mahaprabhu’s kirta
oldest of all, but in a new dress
spider mums along with roses and lavender make today’s leis
picking to economize but still had to buy
friends come in their relation to the center pray that they always will
Murka and I go out to pedal around the southland through the hilly main street to the house that taught choc-o-lot to talk-a-lot. The house is closed to recover from the jolly season just past. Around the post office to find a way to sneak through the treacherous triangle which is still a little empty at the shop I take leave and let Murka go on down to the redone road passing the harbor left to keep the tennis park on the right to the toad road at the navapatra stop for patram for the morning and parama anna. The pitch is empty as even though the days are stretching out, the sun is disappearing. The wharf road takes Murka to the main street and the long and winding where the ratha-bhojana-vrksa awaits his bow. The kalarupa is helping to chase him up to the sandhya where Bhakta Blade is the welcomer today.
After the program it’s in the ninth as the nightdress. Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari dress at a leisurely pace and enjoy their pastimes all night long.
In the forests of Vraja, Prabhu,
Krsna and the cowboys play too
In the forests of Vraja, Prabhu,
Mahaprabhu is searching for Krsna
Gurudeva is asking all to come along
walk in his footsteps and not go wrong
come along and he’ll take us all home
roses, babies breath and sumanas flower leis
by the bay on this Monday
Murka and I sprint all the way down to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa across main street and around the southland back to wharf road to the beach where the joggers are. Some electric pedalers are there too. Around to navapatra to contact Cyrus Space with some phalam and kadhigullas the pitch is empty again under the first highway to the long and winding the kalarupa takes Murka to the sandhya Vijaya has moved to his usual space yogidhari is there speaking like a sage, “the supersoul is everywhere”
In the East Bengal the Ganges doesn’t flow. Sri Guru-Gauranga Gandharvika-Giridhari are in their baby blue nightdress each with a different color chodder because of the cool evening air.