Swami-ji's Gift

It hardly appears to be much of anything, really - a handful of dessicated flowers virtually unrecognizable as such, it actually looks more like excelsior. It is kept in a little porcelain cup with a lid, the kind in which one might place the day's jewelry for the night.

In the summer of 1984, I accompanied Maxine Bernstein to London and Jersey, Channel Islands where the main object was to reconnect with family, no small matter. This particular family included Sidney Bernstein (later Baron Bernstein), the founder with his brother Cecil of the Granada Group, or the antecedents thereof. If I remember correctly, there had originally been about 8 siblings altogether, including a younger brother Max (Maxine's father), who had previously passed away, and a very much alive sister Beryl. When I met Beryl, she referred several times in conversation to "Yehuda" by which she meant Yehudi Menuhin, with whom she had been close friends over the years. I did get to meet Uncle Sidney at a breaking-the-fast supper buffet, as well as dozens more, and although we interacted only briefly, I was pleased that he had been so charming and polite to me.

In her earlier days in London, before moving to NYC, Maxine had been friends with a group of devotees of Swami Ambikananda (1934-1997), a Hindu monk originally from Mauritius (original name Meekaparsad Rambhajun).
http://www.mooncowhq.ch/Swamiji/index.htm

In a sense, Maxine considered Swami-ji to be family, and we motored to his home/ashram in the English countryside one afternoon to meet with him and share a dinner with a group of devotees present. Swami-ji's name for Maxine was "Maxim". I had no idea what to expect, but what I found was a most warm embrace into this world. I remember thinking how ironic that a spiritual leader and guru should be obliged to earn a living as a short-order cook. But this was his home.

The dinner we were served was delicious and plentiful, although I couldn't begin to say what we ate. There was a particular note of sanctity regarding one devotee who had lost her life tragically a short time earlier, having been struck by a vehicle as she stepped off a bus. Her photograph was prominently on display. I remember not a bit of the conversation we had at dinner, but I do recall there was a lot of generalized talk of spirituality. As a non-observant Jew who had been trained into the religion in my earlier years, I was a bit of a fish out of water in a Hindu ashram, but I could at least blow a few bubbles. Swami-ji was entirely solicitous of my modest conversational contributions.

As a parting gesture, Swami-ji presented me a small handful of dried flowers that had been part of the funeral lei of his own guru. Unfortunately, I cannot now recall which specific personage that was, if I ever knew. Clearly, however, it was meant as a gift of significance. It was something that meant something dear to him; and in accepting it, I was taking a little bit of him along with me.

I never did meet Swami-ji again. Some time later, and to my great surprise, I received a message out of the blue on my home answering machine saying "I am Swami Ambikananda, Hindu monk from Mauritius...". I think I must have returned his call at the time, but I don't remember now what it was about. Perhaps he was looking for "Maxim". I kept that message on the tape for quite a while. After all, how often does THAT happen!

I only learned of his passing about a year ago. There continues to be an ashram in England perpetuating his teachings, as one may discern from the internet. I still treasure that little bundle of dried flowers from the lei of the guru of Swami Ambikananda.