At the airport, our drama group looked interesting to the staff in Visakhapatnam. Some of us are white, some brown, and some black. We’ve got the races more or less covered. The devotees from Africa, in particular, are colourful in splash-coloured lungis. Then, there’s me in my saffron. One of the staff pulled out a camera, “We’ll use the photo as promotion, if you don’t mind?”
Of course, we don’t. We look multi-cultural, and above all, somehow or another, the Krishna hint will come
