What a day; how to give it humour. Hours and hours at the long building,a very long building, spending hours learning the bureaucratic idiosyncracies of West Bengal Iskcon. Luckily I had two fiesty and capable highly trained Russians to smooth my way in the vaguely humiliting task of learning the ropes in efficcient book keeping. From wool spinning breeder who dreamt of bush dwelling only, to a third world dwelling religious advocate pusruing validation in things that I often cannot really reconcile with my perspective of a logically peacful existence. I am thinking that this whole record keeping set up is simply work for the sake of work. It all seems like arduous tasks merely filling time while waiting to die. I really can think of better things to do. Training kids on how to train kids to keep books on how to train kids to keep books on training. Blahhhhhhg ugh.

Maybe I am merely a lazy hippy at heart. At least I question the futility of over endevour but given the over population i guess it gives them all something to do. Like rats on a wheel. I can't help it, maybe I am merely an enjoyer and filling forms with numbers doesn't strike me as enjoyable.

I am presently torn between the class room and the office. I fear that I will miss the class room and yet the planning involved in schems of work has me utterly intimidated. So many mental hurdles that can only be jumped by application and experience. I am riddled with fear, apprehansion and a deep feeling of inadequacy. These feelings make me realise that education of children is about empowering them to fulfill their greatest potential. This is about self esteem, confidence and determination. Faith in the self to achieve anything if desired. Of course i am assuming the desires are pious and rightous, excuse the antiquated terms.

My girls are really learning so much about human interaction with each other. There is so much involved with compromising with each other and all along they are watching thier parents negotiate their own relations within the community.

I went to my room this afternoon and low and behold I was met with the stench of an animal. Perplexed i looked around thinking what can this be, do i stink that much? My flat seems to be the haven of random dogs in the area. What is that? I can only thank God he did not settel on my bed but he made a home on Kalki's clothes and kalki insisted they all be thrown in the wash. Sparing the maid of such a burden I had him wash then himself. The relatively sweet stench of a bald and very sad and meek dog; it is too cruel. As a kid I would have adopted him but it is not considered appropriate here so off he goes to fend for himself. He was so desperate, only picking him up and removing him would work. I had shaka do it as it was too revolting for me. A bald dog is just too scary, what disease does that dog have to make him bald. When he looked me in the eye I felt I was looking at a person. I hate all this conflict of obligation.

Jayaptaka Maharaja was subjected to 4 hours of school political trivia. He was so exhausted and then to patientely hear the nonsense. Faucault had a point when stating that rleativity in perception was pretty much irreconcilable. Varnasaram..... Is that about figuring out how to reconcile different approaches to reality or is there genuinly insidious intent. I think it has more to do with profound ignorance. Not to say i am not ignorant but I concede that another view is valid and true foe them. But at the end of the day pragmatics rule and decisions have to be made even if painful. I wonder if all this management stuff is merely implicating me in more karmic implication. I only hope this trascendence thing works and I can become free from the reactions of cousing disturbance to others. It is not with malice but merely driven by pragmatics.

Guilt at having caused trauma for premananda but there is nothing I can do as he chose it not me.
I am r if his heart is broken but he refused to cooperate in a genuine spirit. What to do as the cliche goes.

So no humour here eh?

We re-arranged the house again. It seems a form of Psychic cleansing for us, pathetic eh?


The first kirtan I ever went to i cried feeling I had finally come home. A sceptic would pick the experience to pieces as merely superficial but for me it was real and profound so why reject it. I am an imaginitve girl seeking more than the mundane to sustain my mirage of an existence.

Vrnda sits behind me while reading the abridged Bhagavatam to kalki.

Getting sentimental but what can I do, it's all pretty good. I whine just to temper the obscenely fortunate situation.


Days later.
Well aside from the mind bogglingly borring appreciation of my life I have as yet neglected to inform you of the true status of things. It is so mind numbing that I may just delete the happy happy lest some one think it's just a little too much. There.......gone ......with the push of a couple of buttons.

So I get a beautiful front loader to clean my clothes as the maid simply wont and low and behold the power fails me for weeks and then .......the bloody water cuts out. I mean what the hell is that?

Things on the political front are looking very Dynasty like and my solace is I actually have a country to go to or even an laternative job here. South Africa is no alternative so I pity the feelings there. I hear walking the streets there is risking ones life. Gee......what a dream. And then the race thing.......blahhhhhhrg.

If the urban village wives with small minded propensities are edging to rule, heavens what will it be like if they get their way? These gals and guys are real visionaries. While the world gets bigger their heads get smaller. Fear, ignorance and a drop of malice but what would a good day alive be without it?

Looking at alternatives lest this rabble achieve their aims. We have options ut I doubt it is true for all.

Off to sit in the temple and chant whie a bunch of others attempt the same. Lovely atmosphere but i do tend to wonder what drives us to it if the goal seems to perpetually evade us.

Who knows, our darling Govardhandari may yet have us back but ohhh how poor Ajita will feel about that.