Wednesday, June 30, 2004

Small stories I’ve learned. The third.

London, East Side, October 1999.

Mrs. Janee Hiptock (born Asgrove) was returning home with her sixteen-year-old daughter, Ann-Margaret, after an ordinary shopping morning at the local market.
As they turned to the roundabout where they were supposed to take the bus home, they heard a megaphone-amplified voice screaming, “Repent! Repent! There’s only one choice for you, sinners!” and then a quite incomprehensible clamor from a heated multitude, but much probably things such as “Aye” and “Praise”, or was it “Case”? A lot of people, actually, and then they realized it was a Jesus Salvation Army gathering, distributing pamphlets, caution warnings, a few screams and some hatred too – perhaps with the hope they could clean up Great Britain of “unworthy” people with sheer lung power…
Mrs. Hiptock and her daughter crossed immediately the street to the other side, and hid behind three Hare Krishnas. White, of course, and all dolled up true to form: shaved head except for the customary ponytail, the orange curtain covering their bodies, the sandals on thick-socked feet, the little praying drums, the burning incense, a few tuppence (“or threeepence, please!”) books with the movement’s history and main beliefs. Two of them bespectacled.
Two meters further down this side of the street, a young punk couple, also in full regalia (Mohawk and worn leather jacket), had the same dull look as the Hare Krishnas, as they all looked across the street to the JSA’s commotion.

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