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Wednesday, April 1st, 2026 Chatsworth, South Africa Here is a revised version of a poetical narrative from the script, “Shiva and Sati:” SHIVA AND SATI OPENING NARRATIVE It was in the Puranic era Some brahmin s began to prepare A sacrifice with ghee, grains, fire Seeing to the flames getting higher Attendees were sages, progenitors, gods from above And a special bull, Nandi, who gave a lot of love To Shiva, master of cosmic dissolution One who dissolves worldly confusion At t

Tuesday, March 31st, 2026 Chatsworth, South Africa I have to say that it is not only rewarding to be of service in the thespian field but I’ve seen, in a positive way, here in South Africa, community theatre has really taken off. I first arrived in South Africa to help with the Festival of Chariots to provide drama in the year 2000. There was one young chap, Gopal, who was a natural. He went on to be an actor in Johannesburg and now an acting teacher in Ireland. Another loca

Wednesday, March 30th, 2026 Durban, South Africa I was sent to sleep by the sound of bull frogs. They are pleasantly (and not terribly) loud. I suspect they are very happy. With a late washroom break I still hear them. Africa is known for its many species. When I take a walk and a bench break like I do with 17 year old, Prahlad, we encounter hungry ants, and we are the food. Hadeda birds soar through the sky. Here at the Durban ISKCON temple, which is actually in Chatsworth,

Sunday, March 29th, 2026 Johannesburg/Durban When flying I don’t always communicate too often. It is my down time from people. Besides, most passengers are just too tired to dialogue. Everyone’s tired. I do get interesting remarks sometimes. “Why that colour?” asked a young American at the Atlanta Airport. “This is the colour reserved for the renounced order in our tradition. It is a welcoming, happy and liberating colour. It stands out.” “I agree,” he said. When I was on my

Saturday, March 28th, 2026 Atlanta/Johannesburg In my reflection of first seeing Prabhupada,which was in Atlanta, I whipped up this poem: Oh, how we all loved him His message was not born from a whim What enticed was not age or looks More so the deep content in his books He was hale and hearty, not frail When we walked with him on the trail In the green called Piedmont Park Winter morning and not dark I tried to catch a word he’d say But distance kept the sound at bay I turne

Friday, March 27th, 2026 Atlanta, Georgia Vedasara, yoga teacher and friend, resident of Atlanta, suggested we walk along the Freedom Park Trail and visit the memorial of Martin Luther King. As everyone knows, King, was a peace fighter against the prejudice and racism that pervaded the psychological landscape of America and worldwide. He had a dream and like his idol, Gandhi, was proactive at getting out that message. In 1968 he was assassinated and so now, in his memory, th