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gita-136

Bhagavad Gita

Introduction

I was born in the darkest ignorance, and my spiritual master opened my eyes with the torch of knowledge. I offer my respectful obeisances unto him.
When will Srila Rupa Gosvami Prabhupada, who has established within this material world the mission to fulfill the desire of Lord Caitanya, give me shelter under his lotus feet?
I offer my respectful obeisances unto the lotus feet of my spiritual master and unto the feet of all Vaisnavas. I offer my respectful obeisances unto the lotus feet of Srila Rupa Gosvami along with his elder brother Sanatana Gosvami, as well as Raghunatha Dasa and Raghunatha Bhatta, Gopala Bhatta, and Srila Jiva Gosvami. I offer my respectful obeisances to Lord Krsna Caitanya and Lord Nityananda along with Advaita Acarya, Gadadhara, Srivasa, and other associates. I offer my respectful obeisances to Srimati Radharani and Sri Krsna along with Their associates, Sri Lalita and Visakha.
O my dear Krsna, You are the friend of the distressed and the source of creation. You are the master of the gopis and the lover of Radharani. I offer my respectful obeisances unto You.
I offer my respects to Radharani whose bodily complexion is like molten gold and who is the Queen of Vrndavana. You are the daughter of King Vrsabhanu, and You are very dear to Lord Krsna.
I offer my respectful obeisances unto all the Vaisnava devotees of the Lord who can fulfill the desires of everyone, just like desire trees, and who are full of compassion for the fallen souls.
I offer my obeisances to Sri Krsna Caitanya, Prabhu Nityananda, Sri Advaita, Gadadhara, Srivasa and all others in the line of devotion.
hare krishna hare krishna, krishna krishna hare hare
hare rama hare rama, rama rama hare hare.

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At the beginning of his comments on my previous T&T post  (https://josephpetrillo.wordpress.com/2018/10/20/this-and-that-from-re-thai-r-ment-by-3th-12-papa-joe-0007-september30-2018/), Peter reminisces on his time in India.

Back from a week in Grosse Point Woods visiting old Indian friends, probably for the last time, before they return to India. Met them at first in 1964 just after we arrived in Bhubaneswar, Orissa (now Odisha), where I was to do my city planning field research. Bhubaneswar is the post-Independence state capital, a planned town drawn up originally by a Swiss planner named Otto Koenigsberger, who Nehru asked to do a low budget version of Chandigarh. The scrub jungle site was across the Calcutta (now Kolkata)-to-Madras (now Chennai) railway line from the ancient Hindu temple pilgrimage town of Bhubaneswar. The temple is a Siva temple, visited by Hindus from all over India. We were not allowed within the precinct, had to look at the 165 Ft tall temple tower from a raised viewing platform.

We rented a small house midway between the two settlements and lived there for 18 months or so. My faculty advisor, Harvard’s Zemurray Professor of Anthropology, was Cora Du Bois, a contemporary, colleague, and friend of Margaret Meade, Franz Boaz, and other notable anthropologists. Cora was also a close friend and near neighbor in Cambridge, MA. of Julia Child; the two of them were in the OSS in Ceylon (now Sri Lanka), during WW2. Cora’s own research focused on the “confrontation of traditional and modern values,” and Bhubaneswar old and new presented a fabulous physical analog for such a study: old Brahmin temple town, filled with over a hundred superb temples (in the old days there were thousands), and newly built western-style planned government town (think New Delhi, Canberra, Washington DC). Besides her own research, Cora arranged for her Harvard anthropology phd students to do their respective thesis researches in Bhubaneswar (serially, not all at once, or they would have found a Trump surrogate to push to evict the swarm of academic immigrants). She also got three students from the local Utkal University to do likewise. Then I walked in and she added me to the mix. A unique venture!

The friends we just visited were a South Indian couple, he a senior IAS officer (Indian administrative Service), posted to Orissa and at the time head of the Orissa Mining Corp., a public corporation. His big things during our sojourn were developing manganese mines in the interior and overseeing development of the new port of Daitari, where they would export the ore to Japan to earn foreign exchange. He just finished writing his memoirs; his daughter just edited it for him. I’ll be very interested to read that. His wife looked after their two very young children, played the veena (south Indian cousin of the sitar), learned to fly a plane, and later took up sculpture, which she still does a bit of. The Ramchandrans are now in their early 90s; their children are grown, married with families, and live in Houston and Detroit area.

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Beatles And Maharishi

The Beatles and their wives at the Rishikesh in India with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, March 1968. The group includes Ringo Starr, Maureen Starkey, Jane Asher, Paul McCartney, George Harrison (1943 – 2001), Patti Boyd, Cynthia Lennon, John Lennon (1940 – 1980), Beatles roadie Mal Evans and Beach Boy Mike Love. (Photo by Hulton Archive/Getty Images)

One day in the late 70’s or early 80’s while sitting around with a friend drinking wine, smoking some dope and discussing the doings of mystics, rinpoches, gurus and yogis we had known — which is what we aging hippies often did in the late seventies or eighties — my friend, who I shall call Peter, told me the following tale:

During the Sixties, Peter worked for an American NGO in India. At that time, many of the young American groupies who frequented the sub-continent searching earnestly for the guru of the month traveled throughout the country like locusts. They were usually stoned, broke, homeless, diseased and smelly. Now and then, some of them would end up camping out for a while in one of the rooms in Peter’s home, where they would bathe, eat some food get a little healthier and move on.

After his stay in India, Peter settled down in San Francisco, which, at that time, was also often the disembarkation point for those returning from their Indian adventures. One day one of Peter’s previous boarders showed up at his house in not much better shape than when Peter had last seen him.  After a few days, he moved on. During his stay the often reminisced about the other sojourners that had camped out in Peter’s home and wondered what became of many of them.

Now it came to pass, as they say, that about a decade later Peter had the occasion to visit Boston for a few days. His friends, with whom he was staying while in Boston, invited him to a party in the prestigious Beacon Hill neighborhood. It was being thrown, they explained, in honor of a spiritual teacher and mystic that was all the rage in the city at the time.

When he arrived at the party Peter discovered the guest of honor, dressed now all in white linen, with long clean hair in a ponytail and a well-trimmed beard was at one time his guest at the squat in Orissa and later at his home in San Francisco. The Guru, recognizing Peter, grasped him in a warm embrace. Peter could only utter the obvious “What happened?”

The Maharishi as he was now referred to took Peter aside and told him the following:

After leaving SF and crossing the country by begging on the street corners of many of the nation’s best cities, he found himself broke, hungry, homeless, desperate and in Boston with winter coming on. So, he came up with a plan to better his circumstances.

First, he went to the supermarket and with the little money, he cadged that day, bought some rice. Next, he scoured some of the empty lots in Boston for a rock of just the right size and shape. When he located one, he took it and the rice to a local park and found a suitably imposing tree. Between the roots of the tree, he dug a hole. In the hole, he first placed the rice and then on top of the rice he stood up the columnar-shaped rock, narrower pointed end up, and covered it all with dirt that he carefully patted down so the ground looked natural and undisturbed.

Later that day he went around to as many people that he could, both those that he knew and those that he did not and announced that as a result of his stay in India and years of meditation, he had gained the ability to make the sacred lingam rise from the earth and that at a certain time the next day at the park he would demonstrate his power.

That next day he went into the park. At the appointed time, he fell to his knees by his chosen tree and began chanting and repeatedly bowing until his head touched the ground. He chanted and chanted, and bowed and bowed. Each time he bowed he sprinkled a little water. After a while, some of the onlookers became impatient and began to leave. Other passers-by, noticing the small crowd stopped to see what was going on.

Suddenly cracks appeared in the ground between the roots of the tree. He continued to chant, bow and sprinkle. Soon the pointed tip of the lingam appeared pushing through the earth. It continued to rise majestically until it stood fully tumescent in the sunlight.

“And that,” concluded the swami, “was how it all began.”

Peter could not help himself but to ask, “And what do you make of all that?”

The master thought for a moment and replied, “If you do not use the proper rice your lingam won’t rise.”

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