The sun was hitting the rooftops, and people too, and it was beckoning people to come out of hiding. Yes, people like me. At 9°C who wouldn’t go for a stroll with Friday night optimism in the air. I set out for Bloor Street.
At Hot Docs movie house the curved art deco. awning shelters a homeless crew. How many? I don’t know. They do seem to hoard a lot of paraphernalia. It’s a bit unsightly with it sprawled out, including a half dozen comforters or so.
One of the blanket proprietors did see me as I passed by, giving more attention to the “stuff” than the people there. He shouted, “Haribol!” and it compelled me to turn around to see its source.
“Oh, yay, I know you!” I remarked, seeing a fellow who turned 40 last summer. He was a troubled fellow, one who frequented our temple in the past. Later on I received another “Haribol” from one of the Sharma’s just outside their Indian boutique called “Priya’s.”
It was a full “Hare Krishna” that greeted me at the corner of Bloor and Bathurst. There at the corner on a chair with his bongo drums was a Nigerian who sat there with all smiles. “I used to hang out with the Krishna’s in New York. I even had a shikha (tuft of hair at the back).” He said.
“That’s remarkable,” I replied. He was happy and then began chanting the full maha mantra to the beat of the drum. Pedestrians got to hear the sacred sound. That’s fortunate for them. The person’s name is Prince.
Source: http://thewalkingmonk.blogspot.com/2020/12/friday-december-11-2020.html
Comments