Best party of my life, hands down.

Gopal Bhatta Goswami's Disappearance Day Festival: 8/1/2010

After class a group of 7 us went together to the Sri Radha Raman temple to celebrate the life of Gopal Bhatta Goswami. Knowing practically nothing about him, I was enthusiastic to go, but filled with little emotion regarding the importance of the occasion (stay posted for his life and pastimes with Radha Ramanji). We walked along the parikrama path for some time, but soon grabbed a motor-rickshaw. Needless to say the ride was quite an adventure. Our vital organs rattled endessly- twice I was sure I would fly right out to pay full dandavats in the Vrindavan mud. I could only laugh in disbelief, yes, this is transportation in Vrindavan. It looked like Jaya Sita's stomach barely made it. When we arrived I immediately got the feeling I was entering a huge party, a spiritual night club of sorts. There were Christmas lights hanging from the temple, huge crowds gathered, uproarious chanting pouring out from the courtyard. We all entered through the temple gates together- there was a two-man band sitting at the entrance playing some kind of tribal sounding drum and one of those cobra-charming instruments. It sounded like drum circle-meets-middle east, and I was reminded of Indiana Jones. After we walked into the temple room, we pretty unintentionally parted ways, swallowed whole by the Indian mob chanting and pushing super enthusiastically from all directions.
I must say one thing. These Indians know what it means to get down. They are serious about partying, they really, really are. Every age was there, every size, every disposition, every level of devotion. Some chanted as if they wanted their lungs to explode. Some were on the roof with huge cameras filming the scene. Some just stared with serious expressions. Small children were on their dancing fathers' shoulders, old ladies sat on the parameter walls, which were COVERED floor to ceiling with maha sweet offerings. I have never seen so many offerings in one place. There must have been hundreds of thousands of sweets.The curtains swung open, and there was the incredibly sweet Radha Raman- (Krishna, the One who gives pleasure to Radha), and where Radharani would be, is Her crown. I always love kirtan, and I always love darshan, but I felt a whole other level of connection with Radha Raman. He's so small but SO charming. He dances with you. He smiles at you. It's like He's at the center of the dance floor, of the universe, just inviting you to party with Him. I couldn't keep my eyes off His sweet face, until the prasadam started flying off the altar.
The moment the prasadam left the pujaris' hands and sailed through the air, a mosh pit formed. The littlest, oldest ladies and gentlemen began pushing like pro wrestlers. The looks on their faces, diverse with emotion, reminded me just how special these people are. Some were nearly crying, some were laughing, some very seriously praying, some just begging with arms wide open, everyone rushing together toward the pujaris: "GIVE ME THAT PRASADAM!!!" Their eyes said it all, they wanted all the mercy they could carry, and much more.
Jaya Sita and I were separated from the beginning. The rest of the group trickled out and the two of us were the only Westerner's left. She stood right at the edge of the altar, scrunched up at the foot of the Lord. I was directly in front of Radha Raman a few feet back. We caught glimpses of each other in our own experience with the deity and His devotees. We were both completely blown away with joy.
About an hour later, once the kirtan ended and some verse recitation began, we went outside to find Gopal Bhatta Goswami's samadhi. First, we ran into a giant vat of sweet spiced milk prasad. I filled up my water bottle. It was to die for. I was approached by a nice middle-aged Indian couple for some conversation. They asked me where I was from and how I like India. I love it here, it feels like home...
The man has family in California. He says its a nice country and everyone is fortunate to have the wealth that they do. But while comparing the two, he said Indians have spiritual and cultural values that hold them together. They take care of one another. He said,"Most people here are very, very poor." He held his hands tightly together, fingers interlocked. "But we are together. In America, people are alone. They are rich, but they are lonely."
I took this to be quite an interesting observation in the economics of happiness. The country rated happiest in the world is Bangladesh, which happens to be one of the poorest places on earth. No matter our capitalistic advantage, at the end of the day it depends on the values within us, on our mission, our life's goal. When we sacrifice spiritualism in a competitive march towards material success, there is no hope for genuine inner peace. This is the unforatunte situation in most of the world today.
The couple was from Kurukshetra (where Krishna spoke the Bhagavad-gita) and told Jaya Sita and I that their two American daughters were welcome to stay with them anytime. They invited us for dinner, but it was already after 10. We paid our respects and parted ways to find the samadhi. Such generous people.
Gopal Bhatta Goswami's samadhi is a serene enclosed structure. Surrounding his samadhi are many, many smaller one's. Kirtan players sat in front of the main altar, where a dreadlocked, aged babaji sat, serving Gopal Bhatta Goswami's murti and passing out carinamrita. We stayed for some time, circumambulating, chanting and praying for mercy from the Goswami.
I was so inspired by the evening I sought out a book about Gaudiya Vaishnava Samadhi's in Vrindavan. It's loaded with the greatest personalities and pastimes, and is such nectar! Jaya Sita bought the guide to Vrindavan's over 5,000 temples and holy places (competitively nectarean), so we're planning on going to some places from each book on our free Sundays.
Sri Radha Ramanji ki Jaya! All glories to Srila Gopal Bhatta Goswami!