A group of us were walking along a canal extended from the Bow River by a road crossing when a motorist shouted out a redneck remark, “Go home!”
My companions are of Indian origin, except for my first student (disciple) from Italy. And I am in orange cloth with beige skin. The remark was hate-based and it is not surprising these days when biased comments and thoughts are on the rise, however, we laughed it off, though we were the targets.
The reasoning behind our ability to brush it off (which is what we discussed) is that we define “home” as the spiritual world, the place of our origin, and with our devotional endeavours through bhakti-yoga practices we are anticipating to reach there after we perish. In other words, the curse we perceived as a blessing. Thank you, motorist for your two syllables.
I had the pleasure to lunch later with Dhruva, a student whom I met years ago in Halifax and who became a good devotee. While his good wife, Kamala, was working from home upstairs, we ate salad and his home-made pizza. Delicious!
Dhruva and Kamala came to visit our sangha at the home of my hosts, Radha Madhava and Swasti, for dinner, kirtan and Prabhupada-katha. I also shared some of the music videos I co-produced. The new house of this couple in Chestermere can accommodate many people. We had an uproarious chanting session.
Chanting melts hearts and tends to bring out love instead of hatred. If the world could simply grasp a truth about ourselves, racism and bigotry would be subdued, but likely never demolished.
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