3:45 P.M.
Thirty-five rounds done. Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna . . . mouthing the syllables, but not in the mind, not in the heart. Left to my not-fully-occupied-by-chanting day, but as soon as there is a thread of interruption, I sense the urgency of my japa-vrata.
I sat on the chair and it collapsed. As I sat on the ground, MV came out with another chair. I have been wanting to thank his wife for her cooking—I don’t want to seem ungrateful—but I haven’t said it yet. Things I need to do slide by. Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna . . . I could go on like this, indifferent, irresponsible. Or could I?
(_Begging for the Nectar of the Holy Name_)
JAPA POEM
I sense the urgency of my japa-vrata.
My chair
collapses and my host
replaces it with
a new one. I want to thank
him for his support and generosity,
and his wife for her cooking.
“Things I need to do slide by.
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna . . .
I could go on like this, indifferent,
irresponsible. Or could I?”