Summer 1973. It’s 8am, and already Washington, DC is bustling with activity, as everyone hurries to work. A group of ISKCON devotees also leave their temple, crossing Q Street and heading towards Connecticut Avenue, a heavily populated business district. But their job is different: as they walk, they sing kirtan, an ancient Vedic call-and-response style of chanting God’s Holy Names.
Suddenly, a young fellow appears out of nowhere, a flute tucked under his arm and long red hair streaming out behin