Member-only story
SELMA SPEAKS! When I Found Out that One of My Mother’s Friends Was a Student of Prem Rawat
Out of the mouths of Jewish grandmothers…
My mother, Sylvia, was a Jewish mother. She played canasta. She ate bagels. She got her hair done once a week. And, knock on wood and spit three times, she thought I could do no wrong.
That is, until 1971, when I received Knowledge from that “boy Guru,” Maharaji, (now known as “Prem Rawat”).
Bottom line, my mother had no way to relate to the whole thing. First of all, he wasn’t Jewish. Second of all, he was from India. And third of all, see reasons #1 and #2.
Of course, my over-the-top proclamations about Self-Knowledge and my young teacher’s perfection didn’t help matters in the least. Nor did my sudden habit of lighting incense in my parent’s home.
It wasn’t enough that my girlfriend wasn’t Jewish (a shiksa!) — now I had an Indian Guru. As they say in the old country, “Oy Vey.”
All of which led my mother, one fine Spring day, to forbid me — for all time — from ever speaking about “the Guru” in her home.
