Growing Up with Maharishi Mahesh Yogi (by Mallika Chopra) I learned
transcendental meditation when I was 9. I think I met Maharishi Mahesh Yogi for
the first time when I was 13, and for the next decade he was a major influence
in my life. I remember sitting for endless hours with Maharishi sometimes
crowds of thousands of people, others times just with my parents and brother.
Because of my fathers (Deepak Chopra) relationship with him, Maharishi was
someone we knew, rather than someone we idolized.
When you were with Maharishi, it truly was like time did not exist. There was
a sense of connection to something deeper. Maharishi was a visionary. He always
spoke in grand, universal, mythic terms. Numbers were always infinite,
possibilities endless, nothing too difficult to accomplish. He would talk about
changing the world in sweeping terms, and then suddenly, focus on some minute
detail. Since people from so many walks of life came to Maharishi, those
endless hours were full of individuals who did different things, who came from
every corner of the earth. Maharishi spoke a universal language that resonated
with all of them. His language touched peoples souls. You could tune in and
out of what he said, and still feel like you were experiencing something truly
monumental.
As a young girl, I did not understand most of what was talked about, but I
wanted to be there. I felt inspired, energetic, motivated and at peace. When we
left him, I would run and shyly give him a rose, and he would give me a smile
that always made me laugh.
Maharishi would talk with his sweet voice and then giggle a giggle that
then erupted into a wave of laughter that tickled those in his presence at
their very souls. I will always remember the laughter around Maharishi. Around
him, I felt happy and free and timeless. Even though I was shy, I could laugh
with abandon a laughter that was so uplifting.
I remember very clearly the evening my mother called me to tell me that she
and my father had left Maharishi for good. I was a senior at Brown
University, and to me it was quite devastating because his presence had, in
many ways, formed my identity. But, upon reflection, it was the natural step in
a mythical relationship between a guru (Maharishi) and his disciple (my
father). The comic books that my brother and I had read growing up had the same
theme over and over again. At some time, the guru says good-bye, and the
disciple moves on.
That evening, I went and got a red rose and headed to the local TM Center in
Providence. The people there had always welcomed me as a daughter, and it had
proved to be a quiet haven for me throughout college. I sat in the meditation
room, the rose in my hand, and meditated for over an hour. When I came out of
my meditation, I felt a tremendous sense of strength and peace.
I realized in that moment the wonderful gift that Maharishi had given me
the ability to connect to myself, to love myself, to laugh and feel connected
to something universal.
Yesterday, when my father called to say that Maharishi had left, I felt that
peace again. It has been more than 10 years since I last saw him, but his gift
is still with me. When my father taught my elder daughter to meditate last
summer, Maharishis gift was passed on to her.
Today, I plan to spread rose petals around my house with my two little girls.
To honor Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, we will meditate and cuddle and play. And, most
importantly, we will smile and laugh and celebrate.
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