potatoes, brown dumplings, and some
sort of yellow lentil sauce. “It is prasadam,”
the young man, named Nitai-ram Dasa,
says. “Karma-free diet.”

After each introduction, the Krishnas
place the palms of their hands together,
bow to me with a smile, and say “Hari
bo.”

The salt-and-pepper haired woman is
Mother Padyavali Dasi, the longest-serv-
ing member of the church. She has been
a Krishna_for. 31 years, has traveled to
India 13 times, and is a throwback to the
original disciples of AC Prabhupada—
Padyavali got on board with The Beatles.
She takes a keen interest in me, explaining
the nine gates of the human body and
how chanting is the only way to free the
soul. Every morning, Nitai, Padyavali, and
the other Krishnas arise at 4:30 to chant
songs and discuss philosophy until break-
fast at 8:30. “The mind is like a flame in a
place without wind,” she says, waving her
hand over the old picnic table.

She offers a brief history of Krishna
and his brother, Balaram, whose descen-
dants Caitanya and Nityananda furthered
the cause by “flooding the world with
love” some 500 years ago. There are 108
temples worldwide, this being the only
one in BC. Every year, Padyavali tells me,
the temple sends new disciples to India
for spiritual training—‘a perk,’ if I am
interested. “Though you would have to

  
 

     
    
 
 

june 8/2005

 

spend your time with other Krishnas at
Krishna temples,’ she qualifies with a
chuckle. “No bars or clubs.”

It has been four years since Padyavali
last saw India, her longest absence in
three decades.

While Padyavali explains the four prin-
ciples of Krishna—austerity (no
intoxicants); mercy (no meat, fish or
eggs); cleanliness (no “illicit” sex); truth-
fulness (no gambling)—Nitai watches me.
As I wonder whether “illicit” describes
anything I’ve done, she elaborates: “We
do not care where you have come from,
but once you are here, we expect you to
be pure.”

“We are all riding the wheel of life,”

she says, introducing the Hindu concept
of reincarnation that televangelist Pat
Robertson claimed has its “origins in the
devil.” “I hope to get off the wheel at the
end,” she says, and then with a wink, “I
think this has been my favourite life so
far.”
With lunch long over, Nitai excuses
himself to finish cleaning out the camper
before preparing dinner. “Hari bo,’ he
says, exiting with a bow and a jingle of the
door’s bells. “Every step is a dance, every
word is a song,” Mother Padyavali whis-
pers to me.

Though it’s not the sound of angels
getting their wings, it’s the closest to God
this well-fed atheist has gotten all day.

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