"Whenever you come, the earth moves," one of our Bhakti Lounge members in Wellington, New Zealand told me. No, he wasn't simply flattering me.
Though I change global locations rapidly, somehow I managed to be in Wellington each time in the past four weeks when a major earthquake struck.
The first time, a chilly (for New Zealand) Sunday, July 21, I was staying on the third floor of an apartment building. While amid the most vulnerable bathroom situation you can imagine, suddenly I felt and saw the building totter and sway, as if it had roller balls underneath the foundation.
What to do?
What kind of world is this . . . I thought.
You can't even relieve yourself in peace!
Clad in only a thin cloth around the waist, should I run out of the flat, downstairs and outside in the cold?
Chanting Hare Krishna, as the initial major shockwaves seemed to subside, I decided that if indeed I was to give up my body at that time, the cadaver might as well be clean. So completing my bathroom rituals, I showered while wondering what comes next—one never knows when earthquakes are truly over, when the worst has actually passed.
The tremors continued for the next 24 hours. The Sunday festival programme at the Bhakti Lounge went ahead as usual, and Krishna's guests showed up as normal.
Now that I am earthquake experienced, I deeply sympathise with anyone who has shaken through one. But another?
After traveling overseas, a month later I arrived back in Wellington just in time to catch a repeat performance, August 16—this one stronger than before.
Though both hit the upper 6 range on the quake scale, Wellington, unlike Christchurch in 2011, incurred no human fatalities, injuries, or collapsed buildings. Tremors continued through the day and night, two exceeding 5 on the scale.
Srimad-bhagavatam (10.14.58) reminds us: "For those who have accepted the boat of the lotus feet of the Lord, who is the shelter of the cosmic manifestation and is famous as Murari, the enemy of the Mura demon, the ocean of the material world is like the water contained in a calf's hoof-print. Their goal is param padam, Vaikuntha, the place where there are no material miseries, not the place where there is danger at every step."
Where is safety in this world—maybe off the ground, in the air?
Consider this news reported a few months ago in the Times of India:
During an Air India flight over the ocean from Bangkok to Delhi, with 166 passengers on board, the first officer (co-pilot), excusing himself from the cockpit for a bathroom break, decided to let a flight attendant (cabin crew member) occupy his seat at the controls.
A few minutes later the Captain also left the cockpit, after giving the now two flight attendants in the cockpit instant lessons on how to fly.
Leaving the flight attendants at the controls by themselves, the pilot and co-pilot retreated to the business class section of the cabin, reclined back, and went to sleep.
Forty minutes into their snooze, one of the flight attendants at the controls shut off the autopilot by mistake, thereby plunging the aircraft into danger. Forced out of their slumber, the pilots rushed back to the cockpit.
All four perpetrators—pilot, co-pilot, and the two flight attendants—were de-rostered and later suspended.
Welcome to the enjoyable, secure material world.