Surrendering To Him

De Simple Silence.

My life with Meher Baba

Contents 1 Wadia Park Darshan 2 Mango Memories 3 Drink To Baba’s Health 4 Baba’s blue eyes 5 Always One Up On Us 6 MY Bottle Was Corked 7 Short And Simple 8 Fooling Baba 9 Five Minutes Over 10 Oh, Baba, How It Rained!

[modifier] Wadia Park Darshan

[This book, 122 pages, is full of charming and illuminating stories, even some that I had not heard sitting at Rhoda’s tea table in Meherabad. Highly recommended ! — Kendra]

... the [1954] Wadia Park darshan was held in Ahmednagar. When I thought of Baba consoling me with the reminder that I would see Him again very soon, my heart was filled with joy as I anticipated being with my Beloved once again. Seven of us came together — Adi and I with our two boys, Mummy [Adi’s mother], and Minoo Kharas and his wife Freny. When we arrived, Wadia Park was already filled with people, a wave of humanity that extended as far as the eye could see, but I was not interested in the crowd. I was already trying to work my way toward Baba, to catch His eye and send Him a silent message of love. Try as I might, however, I could not catch His attention. [One event that stands out in my mind] happened soon after we arrived. The darshan was already going on, and we milled around waiting until it was our turn to queue up. We were quite thirsty, so someone suggested we go around to the back of the stage, behind the dais where Baba was sifting, and look for some drinking water. We approached one of the men who was there, and he looked around, then said, « Yes, here is a bucket of water — you can have it. » Someone in our group commented that the water looked dirty, but he assured us that Ahmednagar water always looked like that, and since we were very thirsty, we drank all the water in the bucket. The minute we had finished, another man came running up, saying, « Baba wants that bucket of water which He asked us to keep behind the dais. Where is it ? » We looked at one another aghast. It seems we had done something wrong. Someone explained to the man that we had just drunk all the water from the bucket. He stared at us, clearly astonished. « Okay, » he said, « I will tell Baba, but this was the water which He had used to wash the feet of the poor. » We were dumbstruck, expecting all kinds of difficulties. But nobody said a word to us about it, nothing happened to us, and nobody even got sick.

[modifier] Mango Memories

Sometimes Baba works on us in very humorous ways, but even when He teases and treats a subject lightly, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take Him seriously. All my life I have been a very slow eater, and Baba used to poke fun at me frequently. « Poor Adi, » He would say, « I don’t know where he found such a wife. » Or He would tell everyone, « By the time Rhoda has finished just one slice of mango, the rest of us would not only have finished our lunch, but would already be fast asleep. » Sometimes Baba would even mimic my peculiar way of eating. One day Baba called me to the table where He was having lunch with the women mandali. Baba was seated at the head of the table with Mehera, Mani, Goher, Naja, Rano, Meheru and Arnavaz. One mango seed with a lot of pulp still clinging to it and a large slice of mango had already been put aside on a plate for me. Then Baba said, « Add one more slice. » That done, He said to me, « You must finish all this in five minutes. Sit at the table and eat so that we can watch you eat like a monkey. » I started on the mango, but Baba kept asking me questions, and I would eat, answer, and then eat again. Then Baba pointed at the clock on the wall opposite Him and gestured, « Four minutes left. » That was when the gravity of the situation hit me and I realized this was not something Baba was joking about, but His order, and I started attacking the mango as quickly as I could. Baba still asked me questions, but now I answered by simply nodding or shaking my head, and I continued eating. « Three minutes left, » said Baba — then « two minutes. » I started sucking the pulp from the seed. « One minute more, » reminded Baba, as my back was to the clock. At that I started stuffing everything left on the plate, including the skin — everything except the seed — into my mouth. « Five minutes over, » said Baba and clapped His hands. Baba then told me to wash my hands. I couldn’t answer because my mouth was full, my cheeks puffing out like a big balloon. Looking at my mouth, Baba said, « You had better go into the next room and finish what you have in your mouth. » It took me nearly half an hour to finish eating what I had thrust into my mouth, and by that time I was exhausted. Baba never explained this incident. But later I realized that He had not only encouraged me to eat more quickly ; He had given me a beautiful memory. Every time I eat a mango, I think of Him and the loving discipline He gave to us during those wonderful days we were privileged to spend with Him.

[modifier] Drink To Baba’s Health

One time when I was having lunch with Baba and the women, Baba asked me if Adi drank liquor. « Yes, Baba, » I said. I had to tell the truth, but I was thinking : Oh dear, that’s finished — Adi’s going to get an order. Then I continued, « But not regularly, Baba. Only when he’s very tired, or when we are at a Parsi gathering, a wedding or other celebration where ‘hot’ drinks are served [in Gujarati ‘hot’ drinks are ones with alcohol]. And when we are given a drink, Adi and I always search the party until we have found one another, and we drink a toast to Your health. » At these words Baba smiled from ear to ear, and the matter was finished — so now we are bound to drink to Baba’s health.

[modifier] Baba’s blue eyes

The thing that specially struck me about it is Rhoda’s vision of Baba’s blue eyes. It reminds me of the many remarks I have read dismissively referring to the artistic depiction of Jesus with blue eyes — as if this could only and obviously be a reflection of the « racism » of the artist, since clearly a Palestinian Jew of Jesus’ time would not have had blue eyes. Rhoda’s story makes me stop and wonder whether at least some of Jesus’ portraitists might have « seen » Him with blue eyes for another, mysterious reason.

[On July 1, 1965, at Guruprasad] Baba said, « Today is your wedding anniversary day, isn’t it ? » « Yes, Baba, » I answered. « Have you sent a cable to Adi ? » « Yes, Baba. » « What did you say ? » After I told Baba, His fingers started moving, and He looked straight into my eyes and said, « Hold fast to My daaman to the very end. » While the Beloved was giving me this very important message, I was thinking I’d never noticed before that Baba’s eyes were blue. (Although Baba’s eyes were brown, at that moment they appeared to me to be blue.) Baba kept me there for a minute or two, and then asked me to go. I returned to the balcony and waited for Him to leave. As Baba’s car started to pull away, we all stood there waving and shouting Avatar Meher Baba ki Jai until we could no longer see the car. All of us now needed to leave. People started saying good-bye to one another, laughing and hugging, but I just left the crowd and ran into Baba’s room, which was open. There on the bed was the impression of His body, and it was still warm. I threw my head onto the bed and cried. Tears don’t come easily to me, but that day I cried hard. A premonition, maybe, that this was the last time I would see Baba. But whatever it was, I stayed a few minutes in the room. Then we all left. And, as it turned out, this was indeed the last time I was to be in the living presence of the Divine Beloved.

[modifier] Always One Up On Us

In August of 1954 Meher Baba was in Satara, and I was visiting Panchgani, a hill station a few miles away, with my two sons. On 30^th August, Rusi Billimoria, the cousin whom I was visiting, and another friend from Panchgani were going by car to Satara for some work. I decided I couldn’t pass up this opportunity, so I asked my cousin to let me accompany them to Satara and drop me at Grafton Villa, where Baba was staying.

As we approached Satara, I was suddenly filled with misgivings. What would Baba say about me dropping in unannounced ? What was I thinking of ? But then I assured myself that I needed to see Baba and tell Him what I had wanted to tell Him at the airport in Karachi two years earlier. In any case, it was too late to turn back. As we approached Grafton Villa, I asked Rusi to stop the car a short distance from the gate of the villa.

I got out of the car and told Rusi to come back for me in the evening. By that time I knew something of Baba’s ways, and I thought if the car waited for me, He would see me for only a few minutes and then send me packing. But without a car, I would be helpless, and Baba would have to take me in. « Everything is fair in love and war, » I concluded, and when the car was only a tiny speck in the distance, I walked to the gate.

Rano Gayley, one of the mandali, appeared and asked me what I wanted.

« I’ve come to see Meher Baba, » I said.

« He doesn’t see anyone, » answered Rano.

« That’s all right. Just give Him a message. Tell Him that a lover of His has come from Karachi to dedicate her life at His feet. »

Rano’s hand shot out over the gate, and we shook hands. « Wait a minute, » said Rano. She went into the house. A few minutes later she returned and said, « I’ve given your message to Baba. He is very happy and He wants you to come to Rosewood Cottage at 2 :00 this afternoon. »

I was overjoyed. « Could you tell me where Rosewood Cottage is ? »

« Why ? Don’t you have anyone to take you there ? » asked Rano.

I was all innocence. « No, I’m sorry, but I’m absolutely alone here. »

« Wait a minute. » Rano went inside again.

I waited, certain that Baba would call me in. But a few minutes later Dr. Goher appeared with her bicycle and said, « Baba has asked me to take you to Kohiyar Satarawala’s house and to give him Baba’s instructions to bring you to Rosewood Cottage at 2 :00. »

« Well, » I thought, « you can’t say I didn’t try. » But what could I really have expected ? Baba is the Avatar and He is always one up on us.

Kohiyar, another follower of Baba’s, was overjoyed to see me, as this would give him a chance to have Baba’s darshan too. Soon we sat down to eat lunch, but I couldn’t wait for it to be over, as I was so eager to get started. « Come on, let’s go, » I said repeatedly. So Kohiyar and I set out on foot, tracking through the fields until we reached the main road. Suddenly we saw a car approaching at full speed, honking. Kohiyar stopped abruptly. « It’s Baba ! » he said. « That’s His car. »

The car drew up to where we were standing, and Eruch leaned out the window on the driver’s side. He smiled at me. « Couldn’t you wait until 2 :00 ? » he laughed. « Well, in any case, Baba has sent His car. He told me it was too hot for you to be out walking, and He said to take the car and bring you. »

« Where does Baba sit in the car ? » I asked.

« The front seat, » Eruch replied.

I jumped into the front seat and rode in silence toward Rosewood Cottage, deeply touched by Baba’s thoughtfulness and His concern for my welfare.

As we drew up at Rosewood, Eruch said, « Go in. Baba is waiting for you. »

We entered the main room, and for a moment I couldn’t see Baba, as my eyes hadn’t adjusted from the bright light outside. And then I saw Him, sitting in an armchair on one side of the room. Love radiated from His whole being. As I approached Him hesitantly, He opened His arms, and the next moment I felt His embrace. There are some moments in life when one cannot find adequate words. For me this was one of those moments. Suffice it to say that time stood still for me in the embrace of my Beloved. Love, beauty and peace flooded me. I had come home.

Baba gestured for me to be seated at His feet. He said, « Your love makes Me very happy. »

[modifier] MY Bottle Was Corked

One afternoon a small group was sitting around Baba when Adi Arjani, another Pakistani, came into the room with his family after having eaten lunch. As was Baba’s practice, He asked Adi whether they had eaten well, then asked him what they had for lunch. Among other dishes, Adi mentioned chicken curry. At this time in India, particularly, chicken was not an everyday dish, but something served on special occasions.

« So you had chicken, » Baba said. Then asked others what they had eaten, but He didn’t comment further.

The next afternoon Baba again asked the Arjanis the same question, and again they had eaten chicken.

« Again ? » Baba asked.

And the third afternoon the scene was repeated. Baba asked the Arjanis what they had eaten, and once more, chicken had been a part of the meal.

« Chicken again ? Do you like it so much that you have it every day ? » Baba asked.

Adi Arjani explained that since they were on vacation, they were having chicken as a special treat.

This discussion of chicken went on for a few more days. Then one day Baba said, « You Pakistanis, you’re gluttons. Are you crazy, eating chicken every day ? » And he told the Arjanis that they shouldn’t eat chicken any more. But that was not the end of it. One by one, Baba asked everyone in the small group sitting in Mandali Hall at that time if they ate chicken, and if they did, He told them to stop. When it was Adi Dubash’s turn, Baba said, « No chicken for you. » Every time Baba gestured no, He also made a gesture of corking a bottle.

I was sitting with the women, and I was afraid Baba’s eyes would be on me next. I was most relieved when He changed the subject to something else, as I loved chicken and knew I would be very sorry if I couldn’t have it. But after some time, He turned to me and asked, « Is it all right » — He knew how I loved chicken, and He asked the question with such compassion — « if you also don’t eat chicken ? » The Beloved always knows what is going on in our hearts and minds.

« It’s all right, Baba, » I said.

« Good. Then I would like you not to eat chicken. » Now my bottle was corked, too. Merwan was now the only one in the room who had not been given this order. Baba asked us if he ate chicken, and we told Him that Merwan ate it only on special occasions.

« All right, never mind, » Baba said, and the conversation turned to something else. Merwan thought he had been spared. But in a few minutes Baba again turned to us and asked if it would be all right if Merwan didn’t eat chicken either. Of course, we agreed, but then Baba Himself said, « Never mind, he’s only a child. » This time Merwan was certain that he wouldn’t be given the order. But in a few minutes, Baba once again told us it would be best if Merwan didn’t eat chicken. So that was the end of chicken for all of us.

Since that time I have not intentionally eaten chicken. In the beginning we blundered a few times, but no chicken means no chicken. Once someone served us soup, and we ate it without thinking. Afterwards, when dinner arrived, it was chicken pillao, and I instantly became suspicious and asked the hostess what was in the soup. She knew that we had Baba’s order not to eat chicken.

« Oh, Rhoda, » she said with concern, « that soup had chicken in it. » Then, with great compassion in her voice, she asked, « What now ? »

I said, « Nothing you or I can do now — I’ve already eaten it. But it’s all right. » And silently I asked Baba’s forgiveness for breaking the order.

Another time someone offered us sandwiches, but the moment I put that first morsel in my mouth, I realized what it was. Without swallowing I asked what was in the sandwich. When the answer came, I went outside and took it out of my mouth. Perhaps three or four times I have inadvertently broken Baba’s simple order, but I have never done so knowingly. Now Adi and I have become veterans where chicken is concerned. Most of our friends know about our order not to eat it, and they tell us before the food is put on the table. But even a simple thing like this teaches us to be alert and also to remember Baba.

[modifier] Short And Simple

Another lesson for me came that summer at Guruprasad when several of Baba’s close ones were sitting with Him, reminding me of a father talking to his children. Somehow the subject turned to a disagreement that Adi and I had just had with the relatives with whom we were staying in Pune. A misunderstanding had taken place between our uncle and the two of us, and our aunt had been very upset because she loved us very much and tried to do everything she could to make us comfortable. So she complained to Baba about her husband’s behaviour.

Baba listened and then told us exactly how to handle the problem. « Try to settle this situation amicably. Do it in such a way that you do not hurt the feelings of your aunt, and at the same time do not hurt the feelings of your uncle. I am in every heart, and if you hurt the feelings of any person, you are hurting me. » Baba explained this all casually. But then He turned directly to me and said, « Rhoda, never hurt the feelings of anyone. » With these last words His direction became an order for me — and it was more difficult than the order not to eat chicken which Baba had already given us.

In fact, I have found throughout the rest of my life that this order has been one of the most difficult to keep. All of a sudden I get angry with someone, and words begin flying before I can think. This happened once between a very close friend and me in Meherabad after we moved there from Karachi. Some problem occurred, and the woman and I ended up shouting angrily at one another. When I reached home, I began to think about how much I must have hurt this woman’s feelings, as I really loved her dearly. The next morning we had to pick her up in our car, as we were going somewhere together. As soon as she came out of her house, I stepped out of the car and held my arms open wide to greet her. « Forgive me, » I said. « I was so rude, and I hurt your feelings so badly. »

« No, no, » she answered. « I’ve been thinking that you were right, but I kept insisting, even though I was wrong. »

We hugged one another and that was the end of it. For maybe fifteen years now we have been so close, so loving with one another. Baba took away that anger from my heart which otherwise would have stayed there and come up again and again.

« Never hurt the feelings of anyone. » Short and simple.

[modifier] Fooling Baba

The lesson of obedience is one we humans apparently have to learn over and over. And if one sincerely wants to obey Baba, absolute honesty is necessary. It may be possible to fool the world, but it is not possible to fool Him. I learned this lesson through an incident having to do with keeping a fast.

From time to time we used to receive circulars from Baba giving specific orders for His lovers all over the world. There was a time when He wanted us all to keep silence for a month. Another time a circular came saying that husbands and wives should live together as brothers and sisters for three months ; then He extended the time to six months, then to a year. And during these periods other circulars would come with orders for fasting, sometimes just for twenty-four hours. But once a request came that men should fast for twenty-one days and women for five. Of course, the five days were not compulsory — but that was Baba’s wish. It was for us to decide whether or not to obey, and in this case He had left the choice to us. We could fast for one day or for five.

When the circular arrived, I decided I would fast for all five days. I got through the first day successfully, and the second day as well, continuing to perform my job. At that time I was teaching private English lessons to foreign diplomats. On the third day one of my students, not knowing that I was fasting, offered me a plate of delicious-looking cakes. It was two days after Christmas, and she had made them herself. « Please, Mrs. Dubash, try these cakes, » she said, excusing herself and leaving the room for a few minutes.

So there I was, all alone in the room, with the plate of cakes in front of me, tempting me. They made my mouth water, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. « How delicious they look, » I said to myself. « I must have one — no one will know that I have eaten it. There is no one here to witness this act, so I can still say that I fasted for five days. » I reached out and picked up a cake — and immediately dropped it back on the plate. « Who is it I am trying to fool ? » I thought, « Meher Baba ? God Almighty ? » And with that thought, the crucial moment passed and, with it, the temptation. What had stopped me from falling prey to temptation ? I had felt Baba’s presence, and I remembered that the fasting I had undertaken was to please Him. I had to teach my class for an hour in that room with the cakes still there, but they no longer held any attraction for me.

Nothing, however, escapes the All-knowing. One year later at Christmas, the same student brought to the same room a tray of cakes she had made, and they looked just as tempting as the cakes had looked the year before. She put the tray on my desk and said, « Please help yourself, Mrs. Dubash. » Now this time I was not fasting, so I happily stretched out my hand, selected one, and took a big bite. It was the worst cake I had ever tasted ! I had a whole mouthful. I couldn’t swallow it, and I couldn’t spit it out. Again I felt Baba’s presence. « Okay, Baba, » I thought, « I’ve learned my lesson. Now please give me an out so that I can spit this cake somewhere. » But Baba just left me to my own resources, as I tried to gulp it down. He wouldn’t let me off lightly for having even thought of trying to fool Him.

[modifier] Five Minutes Over

Sometimes Baba works on us in very humorous ways, but even when He teases and treats a subject lightly, that doesn't mean we shouldn't take Him seriously. All my life I have been a very slow eater, and Baba used to poke fun at me frequently.

"Poor Adi," He would say, "I don't know where he found such a wife." Or He would tell everyone, "By the time Rhoda has finished just one slice of mango, the rest of us would not only have finished our lunch, but would already be fast asleep." Sometimes Baba would even mimic my peculiar way of eating.

One day Baba called me to the table where He was having lunch with the women mandali. Baba was seated at the head of the table with Mehera, Mani, Goher, Naja, Rano, Meheru and Arnavaz. One mango seed with a lot of pulp still clinging to it, and a large slice of mango had already been put aside on a plate for me. Then Baba said, "Add one more slice." That done, He said to me, "You must finish all this in five minutes. Sit at the table and eat so that we can watch you eat like a monkey."

I started on the mango, but Baba kept asking me questions, and I would eat, answer, and then eat again. Then Baba pointed at the clock on the wall opposite Him and gestured, "four minutes left." That was when the gravity of the situation hit me and I realized this was not something Baba was joking about, but His order, and I started attacking the mango as quickly as I could.

Baba still asked me questions, but now I answered by simply nodding or shaking my head, and I continued eating. "Three minutes left," said Baba — then "two minutes." I started sucking the pulp from the seed. "One minute more," reminded Baba, as my back was to the clock. At that I started stuffing everything left on the plate, including the skin — everything except the seed — into my mouth. "Five minutes over," said Baba and clapped His hands.

Baba then told me to wash my hands. I couldn't answer because my mouth was full, my cheeks puffing out like a big balloon. Looking at my mouth, Baba said, "You had better go into the next room and finish what you have in your mouth." It took me nearly half an hour to finish eating what I had thrust into my mouth, and by that time I was exhausted.

Baba never explained this incident. But later I realized that He had not only encouraged me to eat more quickly; He had given me a beautiful memory. Every time I eat a mango, I think of Him and the loving discipline He gave to us during those wonderful days we were privileged to spend with Him.

[modifier] Oh, Baba, How It Rained!

During the months between our stay in Bombay and the wedding, I naturally spent a great deal of time with Adi's family, and whenever Mummy, Minoo Kharas (who was almost family) and I were together, they cleverly steered the conversation to talk of Meher Baba.

I didn't really want to hear what they were saying, but etiquette demanded that I sit and listen. I couldn't very well get up and walk out of the room. And as I listened to them, the thought came to me that here were people who had met Meher Baba, and they were giving me quite a different version of Him than the one I had heard as a child. But even so, I wasn't interested in Baba, and I didn't give Him much thought.

Then, just two days before the wedding, I was all alone in our new flat, arranging things, when suddenly I stopped. I remembered that ever since I was a schoolgirl I had wished that on the day of my wedding God would bless my marriage by sending a few drops of rain.

Spontaneously I sent a silent challenge to Meher Baba, who was then in Ahmednagar. If You are who they say You are, You'll send me heaven's blessings on my wedding day. And as soon as I had sent my silent challenge, I forgot all about it.

Two days later our wedding day dawned, bright and clear, just as we expected. Karachi is in a desert, and in those days what little rain it had during the year usually came in the winter. The wedding was to be a grand event with a thousand guests invited, as Adi was the first son in his family to marry. Back then we didn't have big hotels in which to hold weddings and receptions, so ours was to take place in the gardens of our Parsi Club, on the beautiful green lawn, surrounded by flowers. The invitations were for 6:00 in the evening, with the ceremony to start at 6:30. At about 5:30 dark clouds began to roll across the sky from every direction. I was, at this time, being given a holy bath, part of the preparation for a traditional Parsi wedding, so I didn't see the clouds arrive. But Adi later told me it seemed as though someone were literally rolling the clouds across the sky until they were directly over us, and the rain poured down.

Karachi is never prepared for heavy rain, and in half an hour all the streets were flooded. Traffic came to a standstill in places. One of the only ways to get through the deep puddles was to take a horse buggy, but few of these were available. The rain caused such havoc that of the thousand invited guests, only about one hundred and fifty were able to be there. The head priest, who was to perform the ceremony, literally had to be carried through knee-deep water from his flooded house to the car that was bringing him to the wedding. Of course, all the decorations in the garden were drenched except for the two wedding chairs where the couple sit while the ceremony is performed. Someone rescued these and brought them inside.

As my family and I were being driven to the ceremony in my dad's car, my mother burst into tears. A close family friend who was accompanying us asked her, "Why are you crying? God has come to your daughter's wedding!" Hearing that, I was startled, suddenly remembering my silent challenge to Meher Baba. Is it possible? Could this be His doing? But I pushed the thought aside, concerned with the water that was pouring into the car through the sun roof, which was not properly closed. By the time we arrived at the Parsi Club, my beautiful white bridal sari was streaked with yellow, green and red from the colored paper used to decorate the car. I didn't have time to fret over my appearance, though, as the ceremony was about to start. And when it was finished, the rain had stopped, and the wet garden looked beautiful. The next day and all the days that followed for several months were bright and sunny. And I didn't think again of God having blessed my wedding for a long time to come.

There is a sequel to the story of the rain that fell on my wedding day, and to tell it I have to jump forward many years. But I want to make it very clear that it was not because of the rain at my wedding that I accepted Meher Baba as God. No, far from it. For some time I continued to have doubts about who He was.

Many years later, after I had accepted Baba completely, He said to me, "You are for Me now, 100 percent." By this time I had long quit wondering whether He had sent that rain; I knew it was definitely Baba's doing, though I had never asked Him about it I actually felt a little ashamed to have thrown such a challenge at Baba. But because I didn't ask, one time when we were in Pune (formerly known as Poona) to visit Him at Guruprasad, Baba let me know how it had happened in a most vivid way.

It was 1963, eighteen years after Adi and I were married. This time it was the bridegroom, not the bride, who was asking for Baba's blessing on his wedding day, again in a town which has very little rain. And as with my wedding, a very large number of guests had been invited and the wedding was to be held outdoors in a garden. Sarosh and Viloo Irani's son Merwan had just come from Germany with Anita, his Swiss fiancee, to be married in his home town of Ahmednagar. On their way to Ahmednagar from the airport in Bombay, Merwan expressed a wish to stop in Pune to see Baba. Normally it was not that easy simply to arrive without making prior arrangements, but Sarosh was one of Baba's earliest and closest disciples, and he was very happy that his son was showing such an interest in Baba.

A few of us were sitting with Baba at Guruprasad when someone came to inform Baba that Sarosh and Merwan had arrived and wished to see Him. Baba nodded, and they entered and greeted Him. After the greetings had taken place, Baba, as though He didn't already know, gestured to Merwan, asking why he had come. Baba always behaved like an ordinary man, not wanting to overpower people with His presence and knowledge; otherwise, people would have behaved unnaturally with Him.

Merwan said, "Baba, I'm being married in a few days, and I am asking for Your blessings at my wedding."

Baba gestured, indicating "Blessings granted." He gave instructions to Sarosh to go to Ahmednagar and have the wedding. Then, on the morning following the wedding, Sarosh, Viloo, Merwan, and Anita, were to return to Guruprasad to see Him.

Two days later we were with Baba when He gestured to Eruch to phone Sarosh and find out how the preparations for the wedding were getting on. When Eruch returned to the room, he told us that Sarosh had shouted into the phone, "Tell Baba it's raining cats and dogs here. Everything is all soggy, and now all arrangements for the wedding have to be changed. It will be held in a hall instead of in the garden, as we had planned." Eruch reported this information to Baba, but neither by facial expression nor by gesture did Baba reveal what He was up to. He just nodded. I sat there, listening to Eruch and enjoying the conversation in Baba's presence. The similarity between this wedding and my own still didn't occur to me.

On the morning after the wedding, we were again seated with Baba when in came Sarosh, Viloo, Merwan, and Anita. After they had greeted Baba, He asked them, "How did the wedding go?"

Viloo said, "Oh, Baba, how it rained!"

Baba gestured, "Well, your son asked for My blessing on his wedding, so I gave it."

I was sitting just to the left of Baba's chair. He turned around in the chair, looked directly at me, pointed, and indicated that Viloo should ask me what had happened on my wedding day.

I was taken completely by surprise and simply gaped at Baba. I had never mentioned my challenge to Him to anyone. Now, after eighteen years, God Almighty was telling me, "It was I who gave you that blessing." The Beloved was enjoying His divine humour, smiling at me with great warmth as I sat there with my mouth open.

Finally, Eruch said, "Well, Rhoda, we are all waiting to hear what happened on your wedding day." His words brought me back to earth and, stammering and stuttering, I told everyone there about the silent challenge I had made to Baba, telling Him I wanted heaven's blessing on my wedding. I said that Baba had nearly drowned us, flooding all of Karachi and preventing all but one hundred and fifty of the thousand invited guests from attending the wedding. As I finished, Baba gestured, "But you didn't tell them that after throwing out that challenge to Me, you completely forgot about it until you were on your way to the wedding." Even that small, insignificant detail had not escaped our all knowing Beloved.

Rhoda Adi Dubash. © AMBPPCT, 2002