The last time Miro Kopčalić came to Motovun, which was a couple of weeks ago, he brought with him a thick, hardbound volume of The Bhagavad Gita. And in Croatian. It is five-to-six times thicker than the English translation I love and cherish. He got it from some Hare Krishna followers, who passed by his house in Tar a week or two earlier. The volume is crammed with commentary, which Miro finds most useful. “It has the best table of contents you can imagine,” he exclaims. Whatever ails you, you can find in a jiffy. “Money, family, love—you name it,” he explains. Indeed, the book offers quick advice on all and sundry. Thus I was not surprised when he appeared this morning with The Bhagavad Gita under his arm once again. But this time he went a step further: he copied a long quote from it for his friends and acquaintances. Printed on green paper, it came in large lettering, as well. Although he could not be sure any longer where the quote was from, it did not take me more than a few minutes to figure out it came from Chapter Twelve on surrender. Or renunciation, Miro’s most recent foible. I can already imagine him visiting Motovun with other Hare Krishna followers in a few short months. His head shaven clean, chanting along to the rhythm of cymbals and drums, he would still clutch onto the well-thumbed volume of newfound wisdom. It would take us a while to recognize him, too.