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Our last day in Hiroshima – filled with an odd but fitting mixture of emotions. First, we received a sober reminder of war. After hearing a survivor’s first-hand account, we toured the Hiroshima museum, which offered a fascinating and well-crafted history of the city and its infamous bombing.
scale model of Hiroshima before the bomb was dropped
scale model of Hiroshima after the bomb was dropped
Walking through the museum’s many stark exhibits, I thought of the famous Bhagavad-gita verses – purportedly cited by Robert Oppenheimer at the first testing of the atomic bomb which would eventually decimate Hiroshima – "If the splendor of thousands of suns were to blaze forth all at once in the sky, even that would not resemble the splendor of that exalted being... Now, I am become Death [Time] the destroyer of worlds." (Bg. 11.12, 11.32) I have 11.32 tattooed on my arm -- I got it when I was 17 and thought the idea of Krishna being all-devouring death was cool -- but realizing what it actually means made me shudder.
tricycle remains from the bombing
Seeing the devastating effects of war only reinforced the need to work towards peace. And in that spirit of hope and optimism, we celebrated our last night in Hiroshima with a cultural evening hosted by the Japanese. The program included traditional Japanese music, dance (the Sikh brothers, of course, turned it into a bhangra party within moments), and a silly game where we were made to wear cardboard octopuses (yes, cardboard octopuses) on our heads and do a Macarena-esque line dance. Not quite sure how this help us to build peace, but I trust that it was part of my job description. Actually, I think our Japanese hosts made it up to amuse themselves at the dumb foreigners with octopuses on their heads. Perhaps behind their turbo-charged-politeness lies a wicked sense of humor. Whatever the case, I danced with the rest of them, although I declined to keep my cardboard octopus as a souvenir. I have some standard, after all.
The next day, we boarded busses and embarked on a many-hours-journey to Kyoto, where we would conclude the Youth Assembly pre-conference and then attend the World Assembly. The bus ride proved treacherous, as the generic boxed lunches provided did not seem to include a vegetarian option. Actually, the whole thing reminded me, in a strange way, of being part of the South India Yatra organized by the Radha-Gopinath temple community and hosted by my spiritual master, H.H. Radhanath Swami. I admit that I spent most of those bus rides – hours coasting along the bumpy Tamil roads in non-A/C coaches – mentally complaining about the rough conditions, while patting myself on the back for performing some austerity. Now, seated in this Japanese bus (with A/C), I longed to be on that primitive Indian bus again, pined to be heading off to Sri Rangam or Ramesvaram, lamented that I didn’t savor each moment when I had the chance. I remembered the boxed lunches that the prasadam committee gave us, and how I declined the mushy upma (“I’d rather fast than eat that,” I had thought). Where was that upma now? If only I could have that mushy messy funky wonderful offered sanctified mercy now! Appreciation is a thing that often manifests much too late.
Perhaps Krishna was pleased with my penitent thoughts, because He arranged for one of my colleagues to offer me a parantha that she had packed up from a dinner at an Indian restaurant the previous night. Accepting it, I placed the soggy flat-bread in its tin foil covering on my lap, mentally placed a big beautiful tulsi leaf on it, offered it silently, and – after a short period of respectful inactivity – ripped into the parantha with the enthusiasm of a starving man. I relished each bite of the plain and simple grain as if it were mahaprasadam taken directly off of the offering plates. Even when it became too dry and caused me to gag a bit, I reprimanded my throat to be more grateful and quit complaining.
I felt no hunger for the rest of the journey, and we arrived in Kyoto without incident.
1 comment:
i think u should have kept the octopus.
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