Krishna Bus Tour

Part 13-Winnepeg

Bus tour kids joked and laughed, chasing each other around the washing machines.

The laundromat owner watched our group carefully as he changed dollars and handed me the key to the bathroom.

"Hey, Dad." 

It was Gaura Narayana.

"Good morning, Narayan." It was one p.m., but I'd just woken up.

"Good morning, Dad."

"I'm heading over to the temple. It's at 108 Pleasant Street."

"Wow! How did they get that address?"

"I don't know. It's almost as good as ours. But nothing can beat Krishna Road."

"We'll join you later."

*** 

I asked locals where Pleasant Street was just to hear them talk.

"Oh gosh, ya' know I think it's that way, eh?"

"OK, thank you."

"Yoo betcha!"

An ice cream truck drove slowly; kids jumped out of wading pools and ran to line up in their swimsuits and towels.

The two-story brick house at 108 Pleasant Street was neatly landscaped. I knocked on the solid oak door, admiring the woodwork. A young couple greeted me by getting on their hands and knees and bowing their heads to the hardwood floor. "Welcome Prabhu, it's so good to have you."

"Wow! That's quite a reception."

They smiled innocently. "Please let us know if we can get you anything, if there's anything we can do for you."

They escorted me to the dining room. The table was set with linen, elegant plates, and flowers in vases; even the restroom had flowers and neatly folded towels. Everything was in perfect order.

"This place looks like it's for sale," I said. "I mean that in a good way."

My hosts smiled.

I'd spent months preparing our house in North Carolina for selling. It would never look this pristine.

A woman at the dining table smiled and waved, silently apologizing as she and Bhakti Marg Swami were in a phone conference with another Canadian temple. I gathered she was the temple president.

Ms. President and Swami didn't mind if I listened in. The hosts silently set a plate before me on the spotless tablecloth and poured a tumbler of water. After a week of eating in parking lots, waiting in line for a glop of oatmeal from a stainless steel pot, I found myself sitting at a dining table with china plates and flower arrangements.

The voice on the phone described an overbearing person trying to take control. Bhakti Marg Swami calmly advised, "He'll be an asset for a while, then people will catch on. He wants to help, so we should let him. When he becomes a problem, it will be apparent, and people will stop listening to him. He'll have to learn this lesson himself—we can't step in and fix everything."

It's easy to forget the scope of Swami's responsibilities. He's calm but he gets a lot done.

I was still eating when the meeting ended. "I'm so sorry," Ms. President said. "I had to stay in the meeting."

"Oh, it's fine. It was entertaining to see you both in action, like watching a magic show or a basketball game."

Swami excused himself and went upstairs.

"Did you get enough to eat?" Ms. President asked me. "There's plenty."

"I'm fine, thank you. This place is beautiful." I gestured to the vases on the windowsill with lace curtains. "You've decorated tastefully."

"But it's a mess right now."

"I don't see a single thing out of place."

"No, it's a mess, I haven't had a chance to clean today ..."

"You and my wife would get along. She says that all the time."

We heard a knock on the door, and a tall guy my age walked in with a parrot on his shoulder. Everyone was glad to see him. The parrot didn't mind when the conversation grew loud and jovial, "He's used to crowds," the owner said.

A plate was set on the linen for him to share with his parrot. The rest of the group excused themselves. They had to prepare for the evening event. I asked the Parrot man for his story.

He'd seen several temples come and go in Winnipeg. He assisted Bhakti Marg Swami on his cross-Canada walks, driving a support van and lining up speaking engagements.

"I'd go to radio and TV stations—people always listen to a guy with a parrot on his shoulder."

"That's something I haven't tried yet," I said.

***

Our venue that night was a beautiful old church built of stone. The sign out front announced a Bhakti Yoga Music and Dance Performance.

The maintenance man gave me a tour. He used special Canadian words, "We had a _%_-ing leak up there." He pointed to the high ceiling. "You wouldn't believe how _#_-ing hot it is working up there ..."

The chapel had a stage, just big enough for our show. It was a beautiful room with a pipe organ.

I helped set up the reception room so the maintenance man could watch the show. We set tables with samosas, cut fruit, and flowers in vases. We heard the final kirtan in the chapel followed by applause. "Here they come."

The maintenance man made his way through the crowd to tell me, "I've seen a lot of shows here. This was powerful. They really liked that song—they sang along and got all the words right. It was #___-ing special."

The bus kids packed up the sound system, costumes, and props and loaded them onto the bus while I made Canadian friends. A conversation followed me out to the bus after everyone had snacked and packed; the bus engines were idling—the notice we're about to go.

The maintenance man appeared at my side, "I _*_-ing hope you guys come back next year ..."

"Yes!" I hugged him. "Keep the church in good shape for us."

With a full stomach, clean clothes, and cheeks tired from smiling, I was the last to board the bus.

***

Mali joined me late that night on my driving shift. "Mali, good morning. How was your day? How did you like Winnipeg?"

"It was wonderful, my best day on the tour."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Well, my mum used to live there. That's where she first met devotees."

"I wish I'd known. Should I turn around and go back?"

"Also, my grandfather is buried there."

"We should visit his grave—take a picture with all of us doing a kirtan there."

"All around, it was a great place. And the audience at the show, that was the best ever."

"We should get a small crew together, get a van and visit all these places at our own pace, stay as long as we want. What do you think?"

"I'd love it."

"We would need to bring someone responsible, someone like Nitya Lila. Have you noticed how she's always helping?"

"Yes, I've seen that."

"She won't eat until she's served everyone else. Did you notice that day when we stopped to dump the dirty water tank on the boys' bus? You guys were discussing whose turn it was when Nitya Lila came up with her rubber gloves, "OK guys, show me where it is."

"Yes, I was awake for that one."

"Our mini bus tour would need someone like that, someone that thinks ahead."

"Someone to pour the milk on our cereal."

"Exactly."