Finally, one by one, Paul, John, and Ringo each stick their head out of one of the doors and then bolt for the exit, not pausing to speak to anyone. A few minutes later, George pokes his head out too, and those famous, intense, dark eyes scan the room and alight on me. Before anyone can react, George shoots out the door, crosses the room, and comes straight at me, grinning. “Hare Krishna! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting to meet you!” I love his accent. George is dressed in a loose, flowered shirt with ruffled neckline, and I’m in my dark-blue Nehru jacket, too tight at the collar, with drops of indigo dye running in the sweat down my back. George sits down and we start yakking a mile a minute, as if we’re old friends meeting after a long time. Most people in the room are stunned, and some come over to gawk silently while we shoot the breeze. Others continue to mill around, drinks in hand, trying to look cool. Rather than nervous, I feel marvelously fluent, chosen, and wonderfully happy.

June 25, 2016

Meeting George

Finally, one by one, Paul, John, and Ringo each stick their head out of one of the doors and then bolt for the exit, not pausing […]
June 25, 2016

Jagganath Appears

Whenever you came to the Swami’s door, your heart was in your throat. (This feeling never left me, even after a thousand trips to that door.) […]
June 25, 2016

God is one

Motioning me to scoot over and sit beside him behind the low table – his grace, his fragrance, which I later learn is sandalwood – he […]
June 25, 2016

Moo-koonda?

Then Mike Grant, at twenty-four, not much expression on his face, says he has a spiritual master. “Yeah, I got initiated by the Swami, big ceremony […]