Krishna Bus Tour

Part 10-Centre Island

At the lakefront, a man in uniform welcomed the big silver bus with folded hands, "Namaste."

Manu returned the gesture. "Hare Krishna." and followed the official into his office returning with a stack of papers. "They like us," he said. "We're bringing them a lot of business. Forty thousand people are coming to the festival, riding their ferry boat." He pointed. "And that's our boat over there."

"That little thing? For the bus?"

"Yup." Manu put the bus in gear and rolled toward it.

"Is that ramp wide enough?"

He looked straight ahead. "We did it last year."

I looked for an open window and imagined swimming out of the bus. "I'm glad you're driving." I held my breath, the boat rocked then settled.

Manu stacked the papers on the bus dashboard.

"What kind of paperwork is that? It looks like a lot."

"It's a release of responsibility." Manu smiled. "If the bus goes overboard, it's not their fault."

"That's reassuring."

The little boat pulled away from the dock into open water. When we reached Centre Island, Manu drove across another narrow ramp. He enjoyed maneuvering the oversized bus over the one-lane road, avoiding bicycles and joggers until we reached our festival site where he snuggled the bus between trees and festival tents.

The Festival of India crew greeted us, curious to see who was onboard.

"Everyone's at the parade," I told them. "You'll see them in a couple hours."

The festival crew are volunteers who travel all summer, setting up stages and tents for Krishna festivals, the low budget bus tour for young men.

Two hours later, passenger ferry boats brought loads of Krishna festival people to fill the tents and stage. Kitchen volunteers juggled pots and plates,moving people quickly through the line at the free feast booth.

Bus tour kids dressed for the drama they'd been working on. Some dressed as demons with black around their eyes and ugly costumes.

With two stages, there was constant tuning and rehearsing in the background as forty thousand guests watched the final product. Radha Vinode took the microphone, "Wasn't that wonderful?! Let's give them one more massive round of applause!" He then described our international group of Krishna youth traveling across North America in two buses as a cultural tour, performing music and dramas. "Put your hands together for our next act ..."

I had an appointment with Madhava near a duck pond. We worked out the melody for the final kirtan of the day. He wanted it to be special. "How about this tune? Tell me what you think."

A couple of ten-year-olds found us and asked for Madhava's autograph. While signing their notebooks he asked about their lives, if they like to sing kirtans. "Next time I come to Toronto," he said, "I want to hear you lead a kirtan."

***

A man was brought onstage for the final kirtan. "He played flute in the movie Life of Pi. He's really good. Give him a microphone!"

Madhava welcomed him. Everything was in place, Madhava began the invocation, the sound system broadcast peace across Centre Island. The flute replied tastefully.

The kirtan started slowly, like a heavy plane on a long runway. Once we were airborne, I saw tears in the flute player's red eyes, smelled alcohol on his breath, but pretended not to notice. It was too late. He was on our team.