Paradise Hotel Continuation

Krishna John's Story

As they walked together toward the entrance of the park, Krishna John told his story. He had been a helicopter pilot in Vietnam who had watched his gunner mow down screaming children and water buffalo with machine gun fire from the fiery skies over Khe San.

Upon his return, in 1965, he had renounced violence. Krishna John had been the king of the hippies before he joined the Swami. He knew all the lost and lonely hustlers who lived on the street and they respected him. He used to make his living playing a bamboo flute for nickels and dimes in the Tenderloin district in front of the strip shows that advertised live co-eds dancing on a glass table in front of your very eyes. He had walked the earth in white robes preaching the message of Jesus and giving tarot readings predicting the end of the world, before he found Krishna. But he was disgusted with the hypocrisy and lies of organized religion and the Vietnam war and found his guru in the Swami when he preached the maha-mantra at the Morning Star Ranch .

Krishna John beamed an angelic smile and said, “Hare Krishna, Prabhu. Walk with me.” They strolled past a derelict Chevy with the wheels on blocks parked on the street, and turned the corner into Buena Vista Park.

Krishna John fell silent as they entered the Park. An owl descended from the branches of a live oak and swooped past them, landing atop a clump of elm trees. The cool San Francisco mist shrouded the path in fog as they were shadowed by the majestic pines. Krishna John removed a small bag from his flowing robes. He reached inside and withdrew the loop of wooden rosary. Adjusting its length he returned it to the pouch which he held around his neck with a strap. He began muttering:

Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare...

Here, smothered by huge trees, the din of the city was remote and it was easy to forget the madness outside. The path led to a moss-covered stairway. Krishna John led the way.

They past a tangle of orange and purple flowers and wild nasturtiums. Hawk found the roses growing in the hollow of a live oak that he had seen the night before. The winding trail through the hilltop forest opened a bit and the fog lifted, allowing a ray of sunshine through the canopy. A pair of mourning doves flitted by noisily flapping their wings. Krishna John stopped, as if sensing something.

Ahead on the path, underneath a huge redwood, stood a robed figure dressed in saffron. The clouds shifted again, illuminating the Swami. He was strolling through the wooded grove, taking the holy name. We could hear him:

Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare.

Krishna John approached him. It was an impressive sight to see this gentle giant fall on his knees before his gurudeva and then prostrate himself completely, stretching himself full length in the dust of the path. Hawk followed his example. A curious hummingbird stopped in midair.

Krishna John said,

नम ओं विष्णु-पादाय कृष्ण-प्रेष्ठाय भू-तले श्रीमते भक्तिवेदान्त स्वामिन् इति नामिने

नमस् ते सारस्वते देवे गौर-वाणी-प्रचारिणे निर्विशेष-शून्यवादि-पाश्चात्य-देश-तारिणे

nama oṁ viṣṇu-pādāya kṛṣṇa-preṣṭhāya bhū-tale śrīmate bhaktivedānta svāmin iti nāmine

namas te sārasvate deve gaura-vāṇī-pracāriṇe nirviśeṣa-śūnyavādi-pāścātya-deśa-tāriṇe

“I offer my respectful obeisances unto His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada, who is very dear to Lord Krishna, having taken shelter at His lotus feet. Our respectful obeisances are unto you, O spiritual master, servant of Bhaktisiddhanta Saraswati Goswami. You are kindly preaching the message of Lord Chaitanyadeva and delivering the Western countries, which are filled with impersonalism and voidism.”

The Swāmi looked up and noticed Krishna John. He smiled in acknowledgment and signaled for them to come near. Hawk and Krishna John walked to where he stood.

“Krishna John,” he said, “Why are you not back at the temple? And who is this boy?”

“This is Hawk, Swamiji. He was at the program this morning, a friend of Allen’s.”

“Ah yes.”

“I was taking him for japa walk. We’re trying to remember Krishna before going to the event. It’s really crazy on the street.”

“Yes, it is Kali-yuga.”

Hawk said, “I see many young people are coming.”

The Swami began walking up the path. “These young people are lost. But they are sympathetic. Wherever we preach our message we will find young people who are sympathetic. They are naturally attracted. Krishna is naturally attractive, just like a magnet.”

As they turned up the trail, a view of the City of San Francisco appeared, framed through the branches of cypress trees. The setting sun shined at the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“This Hare Krsna mantra is so easy to utter, that any man can utter. That we have experienced. Any part of the world, we chant Hare Krsna, and they can very easily imitate and chant. Even child, they also. So by chanting, he gradually becomes Krsna conscious. His heart becomes cleansed and he can understand what is science of Krsna, what is science of God. ”

They began winding back up the trail to the city.

Hawk said, “And what about these Hippies, Swamiji.”

As they reached the entrance to the park, they came upon a group of flower children with hippie beads smoking marijuana with some bikers. The Swami flashed an engaging smile: “I have come to make all the hippies into happies,” he said as a Volkswagen minibus pulled up to the entrance of the park. It was Atmaram. “Do your best to remember Krishna and always chant the holy name,” said the Swami as he rounded the car. The door swung open and The VW took off.

Krishna John said, “Come on we have work to to.”

Back at the temple, it was time for action.