Marriage Ceremony

 

The marriage ceremony was yet another fire sacrifice. Many guests and visitors filled the temple room, including Yamuna’s Aunt Edna from Klamath Falls, Oregon. Janaki, Yamuna’s sister, had been running around making preparations and had brought margarine instead of butter to make the ghee used in the ceremony. To make things even more precarious, wood from fruit cartons was used instead of forest twigs and branches, so that during the ceremony the fire continuously sputtered, even in Swamiji’s expert hands. His golden fingers picked just the right pieces of wood and made a tent to start the fire. He dipped each piece into the ghee first. The fire began to rise and then die down, rise and die down, but Swamiji kept it going, rising and falling, until finally it burst into flame, and a roaring, sputtering fire lit up the whole temple.


Smoke was rising to the ceiling as more guests came in. Then barley, rice, colored dyes, and bananas went into the holy fire. The Swami was singing ancient Sanskrit and Bengali songs. He said, “This marriage will be like the fire, beginning slowly and then bursting into flames. You are both good devotees; together you will be at least twice as strong.”

After the wedding ceremony, we all sat down to a huge feast of samosas, puris, rice, vegetable dishes, sweet rice, and dahl. The Swami sat on the floor, and ate and laughed with us. “Make sure everyone gets enough to eat,” he said. We were happy in the presence of our Divine father.

 

Sri Sri Radha Krishna Temple

 

Now, instead of waking up in community crash pads next to new bodies every day, I rose in the mornings with Yamuna, with the Holy Names upon my lips, feeling spiritually clean and purified. The morning shower was refreshing, and so was the walk up Ashbury Street as we headed toward the new Sri Sri Radha Krishna Temple on Frederick Street. All-night parties spilled out of the Grateful Dead house across the street as we walked by, and Jivananda and Harsarani would join us as we turned right on Frederick Street and we ambled down the hill. I felt excited by the newness of it all, but I also felt content, part of a growing family of devotees.


The Swami also had a knack for finding out our talents, dreams, and wishes and then engaging them in Lord Krishna’s service. “Everything we do,” he told us, “you can do it for Krishna; we can offer our food in thanks and, Gurudas, you can photograph beautifully, and Yamuna can write in her nice calligraphy.” He would lead kirtan and speak in the temple on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings at 7:00 a.m. and evenings at 7:00 p.m. The atmosphere felt otherworldly and ethereal. We would sing together, and then the Swami would talk for a while, then answer questions.

 

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