“I know you’re tired, Dr., but we can’t keep them waiting.”
He was becoming conscious. Some one was standing over him. She was looking at his wallet.
“Are you Dr. Hawk?”
She said.
“Yes, but you’re not Nancy. Where’s Nancy?”
“Who? My name is Yashoda. Look, sir, I... we’re late for the lecture. You were sleeping.”
Hawk looked around. He was on the floor in some kind of makeshift concert hall.
“The Conference?”
“Yes, the Swami will speak any minute. Get up.”
She handed him back his wallet.
“I’m sorry, but we didn’t know who you were. You followed us home from the Hari-nam. You had some tea and prasadam and passed out. It happens. We covered you with a blanket, but now you have to go. Unless you want to stay for the conference.
“But where’s Nancy?” Looking down, he noticed he was barefoot. “Where’s my shoes?”
“Just a moment.” The young women was exasperated. She caught the eye of a tall man sweeping up in the back. “Ram Das?” Looking back at the disoriented Dr.: “He’ll take care of you. I’ve got to go.”
Ram Das was tall and powerfully built. He leaned the broom against the wall and came over to where Hawk was still slumped in a heap. Grabbing him under the arm he pulled him to a standing position. “Let’s go.”
“Where’s my shoes?”
Hawk was on his feet. He was being led to the door.
“Shoes are outside, son. This is holy ground.”
“Wait a second. Is the Swami going to speak?”
“That’s right.”
“Can I stay for the talk? I think I’d like to hear that.”
“As long as you don’t make any trouble. Are you on drugs?”
“No, of course not. But this is Eastern Philosophy, right?”
“That’s right,” said Ram Das.
“I think I’d like to stay for the conference. How much are the tickets.”
Ram Das smiled, “It’s free. But you can help clean up after the feast.”
“Where are the chairs?”
“We sit on the floor. It’s like yoga.”
“I see. Well, at least let me help you. Have you another broom?”
“Sure. Stay here.”
Ram Das returned with an extra broom and they began sweeping the large hall.
“What is this place?” said Hawk.
“We call it the Radha Krishna Temple,” said Ram Das, proudly. “You take that corner over there,” he said, “indicating where to sweep.
They worked hard, getting up all the dust, until it was time to mop. When they were satisfied with their work, Ram Das told him where to put the brooms and mops.
The room was odd. There was a giant chair off to one side, a kind of throne. And in the front of the room was a kind of stage where pillared arches held huge curtains. Perhaps it was an altar of some sort. Hawk was disoriented. Nothing made any sense to him since the time he had sat in the chair at Daigaku University. Perhaps he had time traveled. But how? He felt woozy. People started coming in for the program. There was a tall black guy with a big afro dressed in a colorful dashiki. He kicked his sandals off at the front door and said, “Hari bol.”
“I’m going to get some air,” Hawk said to no one in particular. He needed to clear his head.
San Francisco, 1969. Hawk hadn’t been dreaming. It was as if he had entered a time machine. Outside the Frederick Street temple there was an endless parade of circus freaks, hippies, and love children with their earth mothers. Hawk heard thunder. He turned and saw a parade of choppers with the dreaded leather jackets of muscular Hells Angels riding double file in the long line of Harley-Davidson motorcycles, accompanied by Gypsy Queen Madonna motorcycle mamas. Across the street,tourists in Hawaiian shirts snapped photos of the hippies. A bearded Jesus figure wearing a long white blanket slapped his Bible and quoted from the book of John chapter 14 verse 6 ""I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.," And as Hawk watched, dazed and amazed, he saw the saffron robed, shaven headed Hare Krishna devotees performing nam-sankitan pounding their drums and chanting in ecstasy. They smiled at him as they entered the temple.
As they entered the temple, he got his bearings. North Beach in San Francisco. He wasn’t far from Chinatown. In the future, Hawk had lived not far from these very streets. But this was different from the 2017 version of San Francisco. On a given friday morning you would see chinese practicing tai chi, and cafe bars where lesbians wearing berets write poetry.
But the neighborhood had a different feel. The 1960s. The summer of love. Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s City Lights Bookstore, where poets would howl their dope fiend mantras and growl against the coming storm of industrial military madness and macho fascist bullshit.
The Jefferson Airplane lived over on Fulton Street and the Grateful Dead were crashing over on Ashbury Street. Hawk felt a transcendental energy wash over him. There was an amazing energy of exploration of human consciousness, spritual energy, cosmic vibrations.
Hawk was still barefoot. He looked for his shoes in front of the temple. There were dozens of shoes, sandals, and various kinds of footwear deposited there. He thought of going back in. Just as he was about the cross the threshold, he saw a couple of hippie girls in granny dresses. They looked like they might be into yoga.
“Excuse me,” he said, “But, what kind of place is this?”
The older of the two girls said, “What? Oh. You should check it out, it's really fun."
"Yeah, like how?"
The blond chimed in, "Well, it's the Hare Krishna temple and they're all peace and love and free vegetarian food. The food is really good. You have to do some chanting"
“Yeah,” said the older one. “The chanting is kind of corny. But the food is authentic Indian curry. Besides, the Swami’s here today. He’s pretty groovy.”
"Any way,” said the blond, “you have to sing their songs too and listen to their rap, but it's not all boring like the Anchor Mission."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, it's really cool and they have stuff from India like that oriental philosophy, like from Siddhartha or something.”
“Yeah and they have and incense and stuff. Anyway, I’m going in. If you’re coming you should bring a flower.”
Hawk paused. “A flower?”
The older girl said, "OK, well, Krishna says in the Bhagavad-gita you have to bring him a leaf or a fruit or a flower."
"That's it?"
"Yeah seriously they're really mellow about it."
Hawk went down the street to find some flowers.
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