My first Vrindavana parikrama

It has been an entire week since I have gotten up in time for mangala arati! Getting sick really put a damper on my will power. For quite some days I was nearly incapacitated, but once my health began to return, my sadhana wasn't showing signs of recovery. My first week here in Vrindavana it was nearly painless to get up at 3:30 in the morning, but recently its been a struggle to open my eyes before 6:30.
But, by Krishna's mercy, the mosquitos have arrived. I am convinced there is an entire colony of them taking up residence in my traveler's backpack. Since it's still rather warm, we sleep without any sheets or bankets, simply covered by the clothes on our back. The mosquitos love that. It was almost impossible to sleep last night. I was bit at least 200 times. The mosquitos here are a bit more merciful than in the states, however; their bites only itch for a few hours and then seem to disappear. Regardless, I spend the night half dreaming, half scratching. So when my alarm tried to wake me at 4, as it has been doing every day to no avail, I woke up sleepy and in mid-scratch. I tried to pull my gumcha over me for some slight protection from those tiny rascals, but I soon realized the futility of my attempts. Why am I going to even try to sleep through this?

I am suffering here in bed, and still I am trying to stay...

I jumped out of bed. Within minutes I was no longer tired at all. Mangala arati was just wonderful, as always. I spend most of my time baffled at the beauty and mood of Sri Sri Gaura Nitai. Everytime I see Krishna Balarama, and every time I see Radhe Shyam I am overwhelmed by Their unmatched beauty. But They are also completely present in the lila of Gaura Nitai. When I look at Gaura Nitai, I see Krishna and Balarama, and I see Radhe Shyam, and I see the ultimate shelter of mercy.

My Finnish friend Sana showed up next to me for Nrisimhadeva prayers. As soon as we paid our obeisances, she looked at me urgingly. "Celo, parikrama. Celo." She was going to take me on my first two-hour early morning walk around the parameter of Sri Vrindavan dhama.
We entered parikrama marg- the pilgrimage path. She paid her obeisances to the marg, and I followed. We walked at a swift pace, the ground beneath our bare feet shifting between soft, muddy and rocky. Quiet blanketed the streets. For the first time since coming here, I felt a calmness pervading the entire village. The path was specked with other pilgrims also taking their morning walk in worship of the land of Vrindavana. Many were still asleep on bamboo cots on the side of the road or inside humble structure; some were bathing at the public water taps.
The path first traverses behind the VIHE and ISKCON goshala. Then it comes up Keshi Ghat and flanks the holy Yamuna. On a clear day, one can see the sun rising over the Yamuna, casting orange hues across the Braja horizon. But today was rather cloudy; what was more noticeable was the addictive scent of smoke whispering through the morning air, the soft breeze brushing against the faces of the pilgrims, of the cows, of the deities now waking in Their temples. As the morning pressed on, bells and conch shells sounded from hidden courtyards, ashramas and tiny homes. Kirtan rang out, faintly or blaringly, depending on the mood of the devotees leading.
Mud caked my feet. Every toe has to avoid slippery mud, cow dung, sharp pebbles. But somehow, its all sacred. Every step is something special. When I step on a sharp rock, I am getting purified. When I lose my balance in some sneaky puddle, I grab tighter to my japa beads and my chanting grows louder, more sincere. I am trying to become completely dependent on Krishna. What the morning holds is up to Him, we are just trying to walk in service, to chant nicely, to remember His enternal presence here and within our hearts and in the hearts of all living beings.
I approached a beautiful Brahman cow to give her a morning hug. My hands glided across her soft face, she looked at me warily, as if to warn me. She turned her head to reveal a missing ear. How can a cow lose an ear? It was such a tragic sight, such a painful sight, probably caused by a crazed monkey. But, all I could think was that this is her last life, she has taken birth in Vrindavana dhama. She is more fortunate than most everyone on the planet. I patted her gently and moved on as an older women seemed to signal that we better move on, that the cow is in pain and so might be unpredictable. It is said that all the inhabitants whove taken birth in Vrindavana will never be born again, so they are all worshipable. All the living entities here are worthy of worship. Its an energy, a reality, that I am just beginning to feel in my heart. This place is not just any place. This is the place where the Lord Himself desires to descend to reclaim the love of the world. Vrindavana is the heart of the world, of this universe among millions of universes. There is a common saying amongst those who have experienced this place and returned to where they came from. "I lost my heart in Vrindavana."
I beg to become like them. I pray and pray at the Lord's lotus feet to lose my heart here. I want to leave and never leave, to always remember Vrindavana and reside in Vrindavan in my heart, no matter where my duties take me.
The journey took us through very rural areas. The second half of the parikrama was my favorite. The village seems quiter, more prestine, more simple. There aren't many honking horns or cars, if any. The roads are rough and the Brajbasis' are extremely simple. They live along the Yamuna plain in thatch houses stuccoed in cowdung. One of the walls of one of these homes was an enormous tree. The home was no larger than a walk-in-closet. Surrounded by open fields, the family sat outside tending to the morning fire, some kind of breakfast sending pleasant aromas toward us. The river Yamuna was in the distance. It was one of the most picturesque scenes I've ever witnessed.
As the sky grew lighter Sana and I began sharing wonderful personal experiences in our devotional lives. She told me of her previous experiences in Vrindavana, including a one-month parikrama around the entire Braja-mandala a few years back. I would just love to do that one day.

When we returned to the temple, Govindam prayers had just begun. We washed the dust from our feet and ran into the temple. Fresh tulasi leaves came flying off the altar into our hands. I was back! Sweaty and covered head to toe in Vrindavana dust, we marveled at the increasing beauty of the deities. Everyday They become more and more captivating.

Not five minutes later, Panchagoda, the temple president here who I've known in Alachua for many years, looked over at me with his huge trademark grin and a raised eyebrow and asked, "Have you been on vacation?" Krishna wasn't the only one who hadn't seen me at the morning program.

I loved that. I looked at Sri Sri Radha Shyamasundar. A smile conquered my face. In Vrindavana, there's just no getting away with anything, and no reason to try. Sometimes this place hurts, but somehow at the end of the day...and at the beginning...its always too sweet to resist.