From Russia with Love

This morning I woke up for tea and Hari-katha in Kiev. Asutosh Krishna and I had a long talk about establishing reading circles based on Bhagavad-gita and he explained Kievans already have a kind of Nama Hatta program.

Asutosh Krishna is a deep thinker: we had some good talks

 I also had the chance to hang out with Kanu Das, the rock of the Ukrainian movement. People come and go, but Kanu is always there to help with organizing programs, cooking prasadam, enlivening the truth-seekers and doing all he can to keep the local mission alive.

Borispol Airport in Kiev

Alas it was time to say goodbye to Kiev. The great Kanu drove us through the birch tree forests where the sunshine doesn't penetrate enough to melt the snow about one hour out of Kiev to Borispol Airport. We said our goodbyes and promised to meet again soon, perhaps in the summertime when the weather is fine.

Once again I did the dance through security, customs, and immigration, and was approved for takeoff by the Ukrainian authorities and the good people at S7 airlines. 

Finally we were herded like sheep to slaughter onto the trusty airbus and found a seat. I thought of my good fortune and all the friends I had made, all the while missing my lovely wife Aurora. And while the Russians made the sign of the cross, I began telling the holy name of Krishna on my tulsi beads. We took off and the plane ride went as uneventfully as the morning bus to Dolores Hidalgo. an hour and a half later we arrived on Russian soil in the megacity of Moscow.

Local time was 6:30 but it was already dark. I was overjoyed to see the happy crew that had seen me off only a few days before. There were Prithu Das, the master of all trades, Muralishwara the poetic translator, and our trusty tilak-wagon driver, the ever-smiling Taruni.

It was hard to believe I had ever left.

We trudged through the snow to the parking lot and hurried through the night back to the Vedic Yoga Center across the street from the KGB. Of course they are no longer KGB, but they never really were, were they? Secret police means it's a secret. The local truth-seekers tell me it's the safest place in Moscow. Well-watched and well-protected.  But more to the point, long ago, perhaps in 1971,

Prabhupada himself walked close by where the temple is now and said, "Here is good place for our temple, close to Red Square."

The deep and humble Muralishwar carrying my bag through the snow.

They asked me all about the Ukrainian program and I did my best to recap. We spent a long time discussing educational models and how they differ from one place to the next: the importance of tailoring the appropriate educational model to suit the needs of the Russian and Ukrainian people.

Quick stop for gas

and groceries

And it was off to Red Square. 

Red Square at night

That's all for now. Tomorrow I go back to the airport again and from Moscow I'll take the red-eye express all the way to Bangkok, where I begin the real work, making preparations for our expedition to Angkor Wat.

Aurora in Bangkok last year.