Long long ago, I flew into Heathrow airport from Delhi, when Heathrow was plain and bare. I had a long long layover before my flight to New York. There were no shops just a huge lounge and being naturally shy, especially in dhoti and kurta, I sat alone. I had with me, in a miniature valise, my special Gita that was wrapped in a beautifully soft red velvet cloth. I had no prasadam with me, just a long a of long flights fasting ahead. Carefully keeping the cloth between over my legs so the Gita would not touch them, I began reading.
Far from me was the only other person is this huge room with hundreds of empty seas. A middle eastern Sheik from Saudi, in full regalia, a crowned turban, flowing white robes, and I could see him studying me and what I was doing. After a long time he came over, asked permission to sit next to me and inquired where I was from and what I was reading, what was that bag my hand was in, the tilok.
I had a lot of familiarity with Islam. Pre-ISKCON I was in India and one of my best friends was head of Islamic studies at the largest Islamic University in India. We had had many delightful three day crash courses in comparing Gita, Bible, Koran, etc. Myself unknowingly was following Vaishnavism
Still I crept in slowly, asking him questions and then in reply explaining about the Gita, and trying to relate his views to my answers. Knowing more about him, I started to expand his vistas and a marvelous thing happened.
After half an hour or so he began asking me to sell him the Gita. I was, frankly, very selfish and politely refused, expressing what would I do if I did not have this book with me. I was alone, those days no mp3 players, not even prasadam. I was looking forward to another 24 hours of waiting and flight time and did not want to give up my companion, Who had been with me through years of preaching.
My new friend started pleading, begging, I again explained my dilemma, he replied that I had already had the Gita for so long, now I should share it with him.
After half an hour of this I gave in, handing him the Gita in that fine velvet cloth. He offered me a contribution, which I first refused, but his insistence broke me down. After he left I felt so alone, just remembering and chanting, but had lost my dearest friend My Gita.
Source: http://www.dandavats.com/?p=93793
Comments