Rest in Peace my brother, Ashram

Ashram (left) with Ajit Praimsingh

ASHRAM MAHARAJ
From Ariti Jankie, Miami

Two years ago, my brother Teekaram died of a heart attack. He was the same age as Ashram and so much alike that after his passing, Ashram became my Teekaram.
I watched him smoking cigarettes with love in my heart and saw his brown eyes light up each time we met. He had a spot on the floor where he used to lie down to watch television, had a most impressive collection of music, made the best tea and coffee and cooked delicious and elaborate meals to serve his guests just like my beloved Teekaram.
Waking up late on Monday ( November 7) morning after a sinus attack, I read the first email from Phoolo Danny.
“Ashram Maharaj passed.”
It could have been a mistake, I thought.
The second email from Loaknath Dubey, a friend of both Ashram and myself stated, “I already went down on my knees and said a prayer for this brother.”
Rajnie Ramlakhan’s email account showed up and was signed by Ramdath Jagessar. He wanted to know more.
Ajit Praimsingh was comprehensive as he always is and there was no doubt that Ashram Maharaj whom I said goodbye to just three weeks ago at the door to Mario’s Pizza at Mid Centre Mall, Chaguanas was no more.
Alone at home in Miami, I could feel the scream fighting to surface; so deep was the grief and like every other time when I lost someone dear, I lit the deeya and calmed down to speak in spirit to Ashram.
I saw him smile and the questions disappeared. My heart was filled with a treasure chest of memories he had given to me especially in the last year following the release of his book, “Green Card Doolahin”.
We had travelled to Cedros for Balki Pooja, spent the day at Nu-Image Simplex Complex in New Grant for Chokka Fest, met at Brothers Road Recreation Ground on Indian Arrival Day (May 30) and after the formalities rushed to Mid Centre Mall Car Park, Chaguanas for Mere Desh celebrations. Ashram also hosted a dinner for visiting professor Frank Birbalsingh and afterwards I sat with him and Rajnie Ramlakhan who passed away recently for a confidential chat. We were members of the India Alumni Association of Trinidad and Tobago and on Independence Day joined an equally precious friend Doolarchan Hanoomansingh and Jairaj Singh for a concert at Williamsville Secondary School.
With Ashram the distribution of my novel “Hush, Don’t Cry” ran parallel with “Green Card Doolahin”. He dropped off books for me and collected cheques and I contacted sales.
In Ashram, I had my brother Teekaram who loved to drive as much as I hated to.
Ashram introduced me to a group of writers who met for a second volume of “The Contributors,” a Chaguanas Borough Corporation project and though he opted out of writing profiles having written more than 40 pieces in the first volume, took me to interview the Sri Kishen Chowtal Group in Felicity. We spent many hours with the all-male group at the mandir. He was also with me when I visited the families of the late Noor Mohammed and Mahadeo Vyas both of Charlieville. We went to the home of Veera Bhajan where Ashram found that Veera’s mother was from his village and at the Vyas residence, introduced himself to Mahadeo’s widow as the son of one of her childhood friends.
We interviewed real estate guru, Vishnu Tikasingh who had found a house for Ashram at New Settlement, off the Caroni Savannah Road, Charlieville. Vishnu made an offer to repurchase Ashram’s home. We found Dr Vishnu Jeelal and spent hours talking about our days in India. Ashram spent seven years at Hyderabad while Vishnu was at Delhi and Kashmir. I lived in New Delhi for fourteen years.
Ashram went to look for coconut water to buy while my son Arjan and I fixed a tyre. He bought chocolate tea at Mario’s and urged me to drink it instead of coffee to keep him company as he had his breakfast.
There are mango shoots growing around my house at Realize Junction Road, Princes Town from the seeds of luscious mangoes he filled in bags for me during the last mango season. And the last time I visited his home three weeks ago, he gave me one of the avocados he had purchased at the market. We both had won two pineapples each at the Chokka Fest in a competition where we had to name the singer and the movie of songs that were played. There wasn’t an Indian song, Ashram did not know. He told me the answers and like excited children we went up to collect the pineapple prize and have our photograph clicked by Hanooman.
And while travelling home, Ashram exchanged the big pineapples I had gotten for his smaller ones but then I went to his home as I had been doing almost every week and ate most of the pineapple that was served by his girlfriend Nalini.
As we drove about, Ashram related the short stories he planned to write. One was on cricket and another on funerals.
He was full of humor and had a cute way of telling his stories. One day when he was out jogging, he saw a heap of long play CDs thrown out by the roadside.
“I got so excited. I gone easy, easy and pick them up and walked slowly home,” he said with that twinkle in his eyes.
He was an idealist and perfectionist. He had housework to do every weekend. He was precise and punctual. He drove his friends crazy at times. He also had the biggest heart was so proud of his nephews and nieces who had scored at Mastana Bahar. He went to Yagnas where his brother officiated and together we visited his niece in Princes Town who was married to Pundit Mukesh.
All night long, I thought of the times I had spent with Ashram and this morning as I sit down to share some of my precious moments with this friend/brother, I realize how close we had become and how I am now left to lose Teekaram all over again.
Ashram, go with God and don’t forget your friends as we will never forget you. In spirit you will be among us and your contribution will not be lost. I wanted to be there as they take your body to your home in Charlieville and later to Penal before going to Mosquito Creek. I have been spared this sorrow. Go my friend and we shall meet in the next life once again.