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Krishna Kids
An article about Krishna Kids that appeared in The Arbutis Times, October 25th, 1989 (though written 8 years ago it still applies today)
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama Rama Rama Hare Hare
Before the classroom door fully opens, a half-dozen children pop to their feet. Hands clasped together with the fingertips just below the pale yellow tilak markings that vertically bisect each little forehead. "Hare Krishna," says a smiling little girl with sparkling eyes and a long braid. The visitor's hands, clutching material world trappings of a purse and a notebook, are unable to return the greeting gesture. "Hare Krishna'' repeat the others, waiting for a response to their welcome. Praise God.
With its abundant art supplies and diminutive table and chairs, the room at first resembles-most any other kindergarten one might find in Catonsville, but all its colorful posters have Krishna themes and the blonde teacher is robed in a sari. It is storytime, but the unexpected guest -- who still has her shoes on, their guileless glances comment without a word- has diverted attentions.
"Who can best imitate a sage?" coaches the headmistress, Mahendrani. The little ones scramble back to a crimson blanket and sit cross-legged like tiny yogis in front of Rupa Manjari, who opens a picture book about animals. "Hare Krishna,'' calls a tiny voice as the door closes.
Chant God's name
Chanting the maha-mantra (supreme mind-freeing sound) is saying God's name 16 times. Hare translates from Sanskrit as "energy of the Lord," Krishna means "all attractive," Rama is "supreme pleasure." Overly simplified, the 5,000 year-old Krishna philosophy is based on Vedic principles and teachers that man is destined to be born to grow old and die, over and over, until he breaks the reincarnation cycle by enlightenment through acceptance of and absolute devotion to God. What occupies the final thought of the dying man dictates his next life -- if that thought is of Krishna, the soul is freed from the material world and lives in eternal bliss with Him. Consequently, Krishna followers try to create a lifestyle in which they can concentrate upon God. The tenents are simple and direct: chant God's name, do not eat animals, do not engage in illicit sex, do not partake in intoxicants and do not gamble.
Devotees refrain from association with the material world as much as possible, to help keep thoughts pure and their minds undistracted by a desire to gratify the senses or possess worldly things. They live simply, eat and sleep on the floor, and only watch nature programs on television. Worship is a joyful celebration, not somber ritual. The initiate chants rounds of mantras daily using rosary-like japa meditation beads, repeating the mantra for each of 108 beads, marking off the rounds on a string of 16 counter beads.
Among the main religious texts is the "Bhagavad gita (Song- of the Lord) As It Is," a 700-verse Sanskrit poem recounting a dialogue between Krishna and Prince Ajuna held in the middle of a battlefield. "Gita'' was translated and explained in English by Srila Prabhupada, the swami who also founded the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON) in the United States in 1966. Before Prabhupada died in 1977, he wrote 7O-some volumes, including treatises on the establishment of self-sufficient ISKCON communities (asramas) and methodology for educating Krishna children in gurukulas (spirit master schools). The movement met with astounding success in the western world, largely due to his adroit adaptations of ancient Hindu precepts into 20th century Western language.
Transcending time
Established about three years ago, the gurukula on Bloomsburg Avenue was to be a temporary stopover, according to Mahendrani. Plans to build a school for 70 children at an asrama in Port Royal, Pa. fell through, and the group, originally relocating from upstate New York, had to split up. One came to Catonsville, where a Krishna temple had been established in 1975. Today, the gurukula has 13 students, eight of whom are boys boarding with the teachers. Next door is the temple, housing a small group of devotees. With beliefs based on the spiraling of time and soul transmigration, it should not come as a surprise how much the clock regulates asrama life. In addition to the real thing in most every room, there are time-teaching toys in the boys' two bedrooms. A clock is used to instruct penmanship: to write the letter "c," one starts at two on the clock and goes back around to the four, "d" is a complete clock with a vertical line touching it at 3 o'clock.
A typical day starts at 4 a.m. Hanging on the wall in one of the peacock-blue bedrooms is a list of 10 morning duties. "As soon as you wake up, offer obeisances and chant the names of the deities," reads the sign. The boys also must put away their bedrolls, and wash the area on the floor where they slept; take a shower, then apply the tilak by anointing 13 spots on their bodies with the yellow mud from the sacred Indian River Ganges while reciting various names for Krishna; and dress in the saffron dhoti of the brahmacari, the celibate male.
A half an hour later, they gather with the adults for the first service in the temple, where they dance and chant the mantra until about 5:15. This is followed by a snack of water, fruit and burfi, a fudge-like milk sweet. At 6 a.m., they share housekeeping chores, then are free to play. They may read comic books based on Vedic stories or Power Tales which emphasize desirable qualities through famous characters. Toy cars, horses and Casio keyboards are neatly stored on shelves under pictures of Prabhupada and various depictions of the blueskinned girlishly pretty Krishna, some ornately decorated with tiny gems, pearls and glitter.
The next service begins at 7:15, with more dancing and chanting, accompanied by kartals (hand cymbals) and mdranga (Indian drums), followed by a religion lecture until 8. Mahendrani reads a story while they eat their first prasadam, a spiritualized meal which has been offered first to the Lord for enjoyment. After washing their plates, they are free to play until 9:30, when academic classes begin. Children are instructed in language arts, mathematics, ''Bhagavad-Gita," slokas (Vedic mantras), geography, history, and natural science, which are taught from Christian, "God-conscious" textbooks. Even the arithmetic problems reflect Krishna consciousness. A list of proper conduct: raise your hand, pay attention, follow instructions the first time -- reminds the children that obedience to the teacher is also a duty to Krishna.
Lacto-vegetarian lunchtime
School ends at 1:45, followed by the day's main prasadam. Normally a bell would summon the children, but today it seems to be hiding from the housemother-headmistress . Inspecting the name painted on each stainless steel plate, Mahendrani scoops rice, dal (a spicy bean soup ladled over the rice), sabji (a vegetable dish, today curried cauliflower and carrots), and whole-wheat flatbread capatis, trying to match portions with the appetites and preferences of the plates' owners.
As they sit in a semicircle on the spotless kitchen floor, she queries individually if any wish less of something they've been served, bartering with those not so fond of certain dishes to eat at least a little. Sweet camomile-lemongrass tea is poured into initialed cups or bowls. They chant a song-like prayer in Hindu, apologizing for succumbing to sense gratification, particularly. the sense of taste, offering the good food as a sacrifice to Krishna, who mercifully turns the sin into a blessing. After bowing their heads to the floor, they sit up and eat with gusto. Most eat with fingers of one hand. It is expected that every grain will be consumed once it has been accepted. Many ask for seconds, but on the occasion a child does not finish, he, or she is instructed to place what is left in plastic wrap -- once sanctified, it cannot be touched by another -- and it is later fed to the birds.
Eleven days before and after the full moon is ekadasi, when it is customary to refrain from eating grains and beans. Some devotees fast entirely, not ingesting even water for 24 hours. Some stay awake the entire time, too. By fasting from grains and beans two days a month, Mahendrani explains, there should be enough food to feed the whole world. Devotees believe that by fasting they accrue benefits, both spiritual and material, which also may be shared with others.
Madan Mohan had drifted off to sleep towards the end of the school day, his teacher (and mother) Padma Malini explains, because he is voluntarily practicing adult austerities. Such self-denial is difficult, Madan admits a little later, especially when the cooks, artful at using substitutes for beans and grains, make an especially delicious pasadam. During the meal, several boys talk excitedly about the upcoming marathon, when the children give out spiritual books and ask for contributions to help support the school. They want to challenge a larger gurukula. As a lesson in humility, Krishna students traditionally beg on behalf of their spiritual masters, but Pradhupada, recognizing that modern western culture frowns on begging, modified the requirement. When devotees chant in public, offer literature and ask for contributions, they consider it as the highest form of welfare work, helping the soul. "The money we get from that," explains Mahendrani, "is as much for them as it is for us" because giving is a blessing. Obviously, the prospect of the upcoming season of spice cake sales and book distributions is seen by these children as a glorious game.
Growing up Krishna
While the children eat, Lalita, Mahendrani's 15 year-old daughter, sits on a swing outside, taking a break from her ninth-grade home study program. She wears a red and black ski sweater over her sari. On her feet are white, metal-studded ankle-high boots. Would-be trespassers into Lalita's deep pink room on the second floor are warned, "Don't even knock!" The door is ajar, revealing a Krishna calendar, a bed and a Young Guns movie poster. Having once attended a gurukula (which are for up to age 10 or 12), she observes how they've changed, "mostly the boy-girl thing." She laughs about the former requirement of modest but clumsy swimming outfits for girls and not being allowed to go places together. The bed was a birthday present, she says, "but the floor is more comfortable. Sometimes when I can't sleep, I just get my blanket." At present, the only young people she knows live far away and they only see each other at festivals.
"I guess I have all the regular problems teenagers have. I wonder if I should stay Krishna. Ancient tradition would have Lalita's mate selected by age 13 and she would be married at 16. That idea doesn't seem to appeal much. She thinks she'd enjoy modeling or interior designing, "but I'd also like to do like my mother, teach younger children."
Only severe weather will keep the children indoors after 2:30 p.m. Or homework. Harilila did not complete her math lesson and must now return to the empty room. No one has to remind or stand over her. She does it because it must be done. Her attentions drift momentarily as the sounds of laughter and bicycles spewing through mud puddles filter through the window.
Having washed and stacked their dishes, the boys change into colorful shorts and T-shirts, root through the rows of sneakers by the front door and race out the front door. Despite the austere lifestyle, these are typical American kids. They are far less aware of the tilaks, strands of tulasi beads around their necks and the heads shorn but for the sikha than are outside observers. 'Their play is exuberant on the sprawling grounds next to the old Catonsville Middle School. One boy, an obvious leader, supervises a group constructing a fort under a tree. Some race around the cars in the driveway, bikes soaring off a make shift jump ramp. Others join a trio of cherubic pre-schoolers toddling to a screened gazebo in the gardens, where ceremonial flowers bloom:
Around 4, the boys come in for a second shower and prepare for bed. Now in pajamas, most crowd on a sleeping bag to hear a tape-recorded story about Abraham Lincoln when he was their age. One day a week, the boys attend a karate lesson. Summers, they swim. The schedule is modified on Saturdays to include arts and- crafts, watch an educational video, or go on a field trip. Most of these children were born in the Krishna movement. Some parents live nearby, others as far away as New York and Miami. Sundays and during breaks, the boys can spend time at home. Parents, whose work ranges from music to computers, are responsible for the $250 monthly tuition ($200 for those who live at home), which Manhendrani says, "by the Lord's grace just exactly covers our rent, electricity, food and books." Independent research on other gurukulas showed students scored significantly higher than the majority of their public school contemporaries in academics, and demonstrated superior social skills. Though the oldest are just third-graders, the Catonsville students display astounding vocabularies, in Sanskrit as well as English. But scholarly excellence is not the goal of a gurukula.
"The aim of real education," Prabhupada wrote, "should be self-realization, realization of the spiritual values of the soul. " He directed that training children in the saintly qualities of cleanliness, truthfulness and self-control should begin at age 5. Ideally, he wrote, it is the training ground for future Krishna preachers; at the least, it sets children off on the right direction to live a last life in the material sphere before meeting God.
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