True Tales

Guru Ram Das Ashram, 1973

I cook for Yogiji everyday, starting from after morning sadhana, until around 6:00 PM. I make his breakfast, lunch, dinner, and snacks, and serve him his meals, teas, herbs and remedies. Whatever guests, staff or family members are here, I prepare their meals too. Mine is a life of “C’s: chanting, chopping, cooking, and cleaning.

I first started cooking for Yogiji in 1971 when he lived on Phyllis Avenue in West Hollywood. Six months later he moved to his new residence on Preuss Road behind Guru Ram Das Ashram. He told me he wanted me to serve him everyday, sunrise to sunset, and now that’s what I do. A few others have joined his staff and also his family has come from India: Papaji (his father), his wife Bibiji, and their three children.

Bibiji has been giving me Indian cooking lessons each day. She explains, as I help her prepare the vegetables, that I should chant Sat Nam with each chop of my knife. It’s kind of like Food Sat Kriya in my head. I feel the Nam going into the food. I am amazed at how she flips over paranthas sizzling in hot ghee with her fingers without a single spatter or a burn. The food she prepares is always delicious, and I feel it nurturing my body and my spirit.

Today, someone from the telephone company is coming to meet with Yogiji and Shakti Parwha Kaur to talk about some new telephones.

I’m making saag for lunch, which is mustard greens, cooked, blended and mixed with a spicy onion masala (mixture). This is my first batch without Bibiji’s help and I think it has come out pretty good. Hopefully there is enough for everybody. Yogiji and Shakti and a few others are in the living room and I serve up plates for all, with saag, a scoop of cottage cheese, rice and salad (we always have unexpected guests and I’ve discovered rice and cottage cheese help to make a meal stretch a lot further). They are all in the living room, chatting and eating, when Shakti comments, “This saag is so delicious! It’s spiced just right.”

The next thing I know, Yogiji appears in the kitchen. Joining me at the stove, he has some additions to make to the saag (he frequently comes to the stove to cook a dish or improve upon what I have made). He adds about 1/4 cup of cayenne pepper and a lot of ghee, stirs it for a few moments, and then tells me to cook it some more and to keep stirring it. Then he is gone.

The kitchen’s back door swings open and Premka arrives, sees lunch is ready, and asks me to serve her a plate. She is followed by the lady from the telephone company who has finally arrived for the meeting, and they both join Yogiji and the others in the living room. After one bite of saag, Premka’s eyes open wide and her first words are, “Oh my God, this is soooo spicy!” Shakti replies, “Really? I didn’t think it was too spicy at all,” seeming a bit pleased with herself that she is tolerating so well food that seems so spicy to Premka. She even asks for seconds! Yogiji and I share a knowing glance. No one else knows what took place in the kitchen and I understand from his wink that he is enjoying this play. Always a gracious host, Yogiji invites the telephone lady to join them for lunch and then asks me to serve her. I give Shakti a refill and serve the telephone company lady a nice dish of Yogi-improved saag, cottage cheese, and other trimmings.

Needless to say, they each take a mouthful, with confident expectation of its sublime taste, and instantly nearly drop to the floor as the fire of the cayenne pepper delivers its full report to their taste buds! The truth is revealed. Now everyone wants seconds!