My first Festival of Inspiration, I'm still reeling from such a rollercoaster of adventure. I found myself reveling in every single moment and did not even note the absence of e-mail or phonecalls or... sigh... my camera. For once I didn't go nuts taking pictures. Well, except in the beginning... and at the end.
Rupa and I have formed somewhat of a dynamic duo. For our last project in Alachua before we scattered off to the world, we organized a bus of 40 people (mostly second generation) to head up to Festival of Inspiration.
A little crazy but highly successful, the bus was packed come Thursday evening. Here we are singing Sundara Arati.
One hour before I was scheduled to head to Pittsburgh airport, I realized that I had not visited the Palace of Gold. So in the soft, gray, rainy morning, I grabbed my camera and strapped on my tennis shoes. Time to do some serious dashing.
New Vrindavan in springtime.
On March 22, 1987 around Mangala Arati time, I was born in this house, which is across the road from Radha Vrindavan Chandra temple.
The Palace of Gold was my playground - when I was a kid, I used to roll down this very hill, dizzy and exhilarated.
And when I boarded my flight at Pittsburgh airport only a few hours later, the entire experience of exploring the Palace of Gold felt surreal, what to speak of the Festival of Inspiration. Now that I am thousands of miles away from Radha Vrindavan Chandra (and Radhanath Swami), I can only sigh.
 |
| A New Vrindavan Morning |
As a P.S., I would like to thank those who came up to me at the Festival and personally thanked me for writing this blog. I always find it amazing to meet people on the other side of the screen.
1 comment:
I was just there last month, and it was amazing! I love your pictures too, they bring me right back to that weekend! :)
Post a Comment