Tales Of Meher Baba's Love

De Simple Silence.

Contents 1 He Enfolded Me In His Love 2 Baba Answers My Prayers 3 What Took You So long? 4 Meher Baba The All-Knowing One 5 Incredible Is The Call Of Love 6 Marvelous Darshan

[modifier] He Enfolded Me In His Love

Surendra Bhatnagar

Perhaps the most difficult relationship for a man to express is his relationship with God, and this is even more so with the God-Man, the Avatar. To do so is to define something which is indefinable, to describe something beyond human consciousness and thought. Even when God chooses to reveal Himself, He does so in terms which defy definition: "I am That" or "Soham." But what exactly is that That?

To me the concept of God was only a fantasy of the human mind. God in heaven was not to be found by anyone, anywhere, at least on earth. If you wanted to find God in heaven, you had to seek in heaven was my thought. I was therefore not seeking that type of God, but I was in search of a God before whom I could cry in grief and He would hear. I sought a personal God of whom I could make requests and on whom I could depend.

Meher Baba did not fit my concept of such a personal God, a concept which was heavily influenced by Hindu tradition. I heard about Meher Baba from my friend Prof. Amiya Kumar Hazra, who was a neighbor and life-long influence on me. Daily we discussed many things — social, political, spiritual — and on most points we differed, so at times our discussions were heated. I expected him, as he was a Bengali, to talk about Ramakrishna Paramhansa, or Aurobindo, but every time he veered the discussion to Meher Baba. He told me stories about Baba's life, stories about His Masters, stories of His miracles, His work with the masts and His extensive world tours. But none of this satisfied me because such things seemed mostly common in the lives of masters.

Those were the days of the late 1940's when the wounds created by the partition of the subcontinent into the nation states of India and Pakistan on August 15, 1947, were still raw. Hindus held Muslims responsible for the partition. In this atmosphere, when I saw photographs of Baba in which He was dressed like an Arab, or wearing Western dress, I was repulsed. This feeling was only reinforced in me by His literature, which contained many Urdu and Persian terms. I thought, "Why shouldn't we worship our own spiritual masters, who belong to our own tradition and cultural environment? Vivekananda," I reflected, "did not wear Western dress even when he went to America. Aurobindo did not wear English dress; even Gandhi refused to do so." Thoughts like this distanced me from Meher Baba.

However, it seems Baba had a different plan for me. It so happened that one day Amiya came to me and told me that Baba was giving darshan at Guru Prasad in Poona (Pune). It was the summer of 1960, during my summer vacation from college. Amiya said to me, "Surendra, look. You may not believe that Meher Baba is God in human form at the moment, but think: What if you come to believe it later on, and realize your mistake after Baba has dropped His physical body? You will repent it for the rest of your life, but there will be no way then to have His darshan." This argument appealed to me, so I agreed to accompany him for Baba's darshan.

I went to see Baba out of curiosity. You could not call me devout or faithful. I took with me nothing to offer: no garland, no prasad, not even a flower. Nor did I expect any miracle from Baba. I stood at the back of the crowd with Amiya. Baba was sitting on a sofa embracing those who filed by and distributing prasad to them, as the long queue inched forward.

I noticed a gorgeous presence in Baba. It was spiritual, but not as I expected. His head seemed large but His shoulders and body appeared very gentle. He sat very still with only His eyes and fingers moving. Although He was silent, His face was speaking volumes to me. He was wearing a pink jacket and white sadra. Eruch, who was standing half bent by His side, was translating His gestures.

As we stood at the back of the crowd, Amiya asked me if I wanted to come and have Baba's darshan and embrace. The queue, I noticed, was still quite long so I declined. Although I said to Amiya, "Feel free to join the queue yourself if you like, but leave me here." To this day I don't know what Amiya was thinking at that moment, but he decided to stay with me and not go for Baba's darshan. Just at that time, Baba waved His hands towards us. I thought He was calling Amiya, and evidently he thought so too, because he rushed towards Baba, making his way through the crowd. Hardly had he gone a few steps when Baba gestured again, and Eruch's voice rang out on the microphone, "Amiya, Baba wants your friend."

Hearing this, Amiya instantly returned to me, saying, "Surendra, Baba wants you." To me this was a pleasant shock. Baba seemed to need no introduction to me. "How could He have known I was a friend of Amiya's? Why should He pick me out of such a large crowd in such a manner? Had Amiya written Baba about me earlier?" Such questions flashed through my mind, but I had no time for them and in a moment I was standing before Baba.

Baba showed unexpected kindness and concern. He inquired about my stay and the purpose of my visit. Particularly, He wanted to know whether I had come to visit Poona or if I had come exclusively for His darshan. When He heard that I had come with the sole purpose of having His darshan, Baba seemed pleased and asked me to stay with Him during the darshan days. I readily agreed. It gave me the opportunity of a lifetime. I had read about spiritual masters in books, but now I was going to get the chance to live with one and see for myself how the Perfect Masters work.

However, while permitting me to stay, Baba did impose one restriction. He said I should observe everything that transpired, but should not ask any questions. "Be here and see," He offered. Although it would be difficult for me to not ask any questions, I agreed.

Baba once declared that people should take Him as either God or as a fraud, but shouldn't belittle Him by calling Him a sadhu, saint, or fakir. I came to realize the truth behind this. The "man" I was now meeting could never be classified as a saint in any traditional sense of the word. He could only be God or a fraud. However, it did not seem to me He could be a fraud. I read some books about His life and was familiar with the rigorous honesty and integrity with which He conducted Himself and required of His mandali. So, was He God? I became serious. "If He is God, does He know me as I am?" I wondered. Subsequent events were to prove that He did.

In the afternoons, Baba used to have letters from His lovers read out. During one such session, I was told that Baba had received a letter from my father, who had complained that I was not consenting to get married. Baba wanted me to explain why I was refusing. At that moment I could not tell Baba. Hearing me Baba said, "You should obey your father and marry." My acceptance of Baba's wish made Him happy and jovial. In this light mood, He gave a long description of the girl I was to marry and asked me to write this description to my father. I told Baba I would write my father. Baba then asked me to repeat what He had just said. When I could not, all the people there, including Baba, had a good laugh. Baba then had me write the letter in His presence.

I mention this because it shows how Baba does not conform to set formulas. He has no set mantra for all, except His love. His do's and don'ts vary with each individual. For example, while Baba was acceding to the wish of my father, He was refusing the same wish of the mother of Amiya, a widow with only one male child. She came to Baba with only one request, that He permit Amiya to marry, and every time Baba refused. Those who know our two families intimately can now understand why Baba discriminated in this manner. This is exactly how masters behave; they treat each person individually.

Another incident from Guru Prasad days that I remember concerns the Hindi arti. It so happened that in those days, at the close of each darshan program, this particular arti was sung. Although it was a nice musical composition, I found that it had a large number of linguistic errors. Each time the arti was sung, I had the strong thought, "Why can't Baba have a better Hindi rendering for His arti?" I wondered why Baba should accept such a hybrid and perverse rendering, especially as the English artis seemed to be good both musically and from a literary standpoint.

One day Baba happened to ask me to sing a bhajan or prayer of my own composition. I sang "Namami hey pitah param namami nitya meheram: I constantly offer my salutations to Meher Baba, the real, ancient Father." This was later published in « Shri Meher Baba Geet Ganga ». Hearing the prayer, Baba commented that there were some mistakes in the Sanskrit and I should have them corrected by Panduranga Shastri of Deccan College in Poona, who happened to be in the audience at that moment. As requested, I gave the manuscript to him and he corrected it for me. I noticed that he made a change in the last stanza, where I had inserted Hindi lines to keep the meter and rhyme.

The next day, when I sang the prayer in the corrected form to Baba, He seemed pleased. Baba was teaching me a lesson. I was a person who sought perfection and artistry. So from me, He wanted perfection. That was why He corrected my hymn. But from His lovers, He wants love.

The arti composed by Madhusudan was a work of the heart, not a work of art. That was why Baba accepted it as it was. Not only that, Baba made it a mantra for all His darshan programs, and it is sung throughout India with great feeling and devotion.

Once at Guru Prasad, Baba came out on the lawn, because His lovers had been persistently asking if they could have their photograph taken with Him. He had said that on His own He would not like to have the photos taken, but since His lovers had such strong feelings, He would allow it. Baba gestured for all to come. This brought a rush of people to be photographed with Him. I thought it would be better to abide by Baba's wish and not go in for the photograph.

The next day, my friends asked me to accompany them to Milan Photo Studio where they were going to pick up their photographs of themselves with Baba. Since I had no photo to collect, I had no desire to go, but they told me that Milan had a large collection of other photos of Baba and that I could get one. This persuaded me, so I went with them. To my surprise, when we reached the studio, I noticed one photograph, displayed in glass, in which I was with Baba. It had been taken during a house visit program. Baba looked resplendent, sitting on a sofa in a white linen sadra bedecked with garlands. I instantly felt how much Baba knows our hidden desires and how compassionately He moves to fulfill them.

My salutations to Meher Baba, the Ancient One! I am reminded of the message He gave to His lovers who had gathered for His darshan and sahavas in Poona, from all over India and the world, for the East West Gathering, in November, 1962:

You have come from great distances not for some convention or conference, but to enjoy My company and feel afresh My love in your hearts. It is a coming together of children of East and West in the house of their Father.

All religions of the world proclaim that there is but one God, the Father of all in creation. I am that Father. ~Meher Baba

[modifier] Baba Answers My Prayers

Jay Schauer

Years ago, when I first moved to Myrtle Beach, I experienced some very difficult times. My job skills, which were geared toward working in large corporations, had limited application in what is essentially a beach town. I changed jobs four times in less than two years. My family was hurting financially as a result. It was not easy on me personally, as well. I felt I was on a roller coaster with no way to get off.

I decided to accept a job as a real estate agent selling beachfront condominiums at a resort near the Meher Spiritual Center. There was one problem; the salary was based on commission. This meant I would not be paid until 45 days after a sale was final. Therefore, I needed to start making sales quickly, as my financial situation was grave and, if it was not remedied soon, we would have to leave Myrtle Beach. None of my family wanted to do that.

Since I had previous success in sales, I felt confident that I could make what was needed in the six weeks before our money would run out. However, six weeks passed and no sales. I felt very upset and discouraged. I had dedicated all my efforts and energy to this new job. I had even written up half a dozen contracts, only to have them fall apart a few days later.

Because I felt strongly that Baba wanted me to stay in Myrtle Beach, my wife and I discussed our situation and I prayed to Baba about it. I received a very clear intuitive feeling that Baba wanted me to keep trying. I seemed to hear Him say, "What, start digging another well? Keep digging the one you started."

I decided to give myself fifteen more days to close a sale. During this time it seemed as though I repeated Baba's name constantly, begging Him for help. I had never before begged more for Baba's assistance. I had staked everything on this throw of the dice.

Fifteen days passed without a sale. Not even a nibble. At the end of the fifteenth day I returned home exhausted, anxious, and upset. Like many men, trouble in my work life affected me badly. I felt worthless. I could barely hold my head up in front of my family.

I felt terrible just sitting in my house, so my wife suggested I call the Meher Center and get permission to come there, even though the official visiting hours had ended. I walked along the deserted paths deep in the woods of the Center, and I swore at Baba with all my might. I was so angry and hurt, I wanted to let Him know. I wandered aimlessly — hot, tired, angry, upset, and depressed — until I finally emerged near the Lagoon Cabin.

I removed my shoes, went inside, and threw myself prostrate before Baba's chair. "What do You want from me?" I asked Baba. "I work hard. I deserve to get paid! I need to feed my family!" I felt angry tears flowing. "Why are You making my life so hard?" I felt nothing — just deafening silence. "You need to take the heat off!" I yelled out loud. "I can't take anymore!"

It is hard to describe what I felt. I was breathing hard, but I felt Baba in every breath. I didn't want Him there. I wanted Him outside of me. I wanted Him to comfort me. I wanted Him to be somewhere so I could scream at Him. But it was as if He were inside of me and absolutely silent. This was not at all what I wanted. I went home from the Center very upset.

The next day I went to work more from habit than desire. I'd made up my mind to tell my boss I was quitting, but she wasn't there. When a pair of married couples walked into the office together, I took them on a tour of the resort. Usually it is a disaster taking two couples on a sales tour. If one couple likes something, the other couple hates it. You can never get a rhythm going, and neither couple ends up buying the property.

Not these folks. Both couples loved the place. They couldn't find enough nice things to say. I showed them the first condo and one of the couple's completely fell in love with it. They wanted a beachfront condo to vacation in and decided to buy it. The other couple looked a little depressed... they wanted it too. I took them next door and showed them an identical condo. The other couple decided to buy it as well!

When we were driving back through the resort, the first couple asked if we sold investment condos, as well. As it happened, we did! When they saw the model I showed them, they wanted to buy it too! The second couple inquired, jokingly, whether the investment condo next door was for sale. I said, "Yes," and they decided to buy that one, also. I had just sold four condos in one hour.

Now came the hard part: acting calm while I prepared four sets of contracts for them to sign, looking nonchalant while they worried over each of the clauses and paragraphs they were about to sign, and staying relaxed knowing the whole deal could blow-up in my face. I prepared the papers and passed them around the table. As they were signing, they asked how long it would take to close. "Thirty to forty-five days," I told them.

"Couldn't you do it faster than that?" they asked. "Like in a couple of weeks?"

I couldn't believe my luck. Just as the last man was about to sign, he put the pen down and looked at me very oddly. Everyone had been laughing just the moment before. But now the man seemed very serious. "Well," he said to me, "this should take some heat off, won't it?"

I think my mouth must have fallen open. He repeated, "I said, this will take the heat off." He looked at me quite intensely. The man's wife seemed uncomfortable and told him to lighten up. He shook her off.

"No! He works hard! He deserves to get paid." He again looked at me. "Isn't that right?"

I nodded.

"He deserves to feed his family."

I again nodded. Everyone at the table was silent now, disturbed by what was being said. The man's wife in particular seemed very embarrassed.

"Look, he just sold four condos. How often does that happen? I'm just observing that this sale will take the heat off for a while. Okay?" He looked at me, then at his wife. There was a stunned silence at the table. The man seemed to collect himself. He shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry," he said to me. "I don't know what came over me. I'm not sure why I said that." He smiled sheepishly at me and signed the contract.

As it so happened, three of the four contracts did not work out and the one that survived did not close for ninety days. Two others that I sold a day later did close the very day our bank account reached zero! But by that point, I had given up feeling as if I had control over my life. I found out for certain that Baba is the real Boss, that He is the Boss of everything, the Boss of Bosses, and that there is nothing that is beyond His concern or power.

[modifier] What Took You So long?

Sue Chapman

Only Baba knows when my story really began, but the events I shall describe took place in December, 1983. Though I had not consciously been seeking a spiritual path, it was in my nature to search and question. I had traveled a lot outside England — to the United States and North Africa — and seemed to be constantly changing jobs and directions. After a period of crisis and loss in my work and personal affairs, I was floating like a cork in the stream of life. Then a friend wrote to me and asked if I would like to go with her and her husband to India to study textiles. I was teaching textile arts at that time and jumped at the chance of leaving England for a while and creating some new space for my chaos.

To backtrack a little, I had a friend who was a Baba lover. I had always assumed his "Baba" was just another guru and felt no special attraction to Him. My friend, on the other hand, was convinced I was "ripe for the picking" and had been trying to feed Baba to me for years. He had lent me books that I barely glanced at and returned. He had also given me an album with the Parvardigar prayer sung by Pete Townshend of The Who. I thought it was terrible and passed it on to another Baba lover friend, who had shown me a film he had made about the life of Fred Marks, which I watched just like a TV documentary. In other words, none of it had meant anything to me at the time!

However, in a last final attempt to introduce me to Baba, he had given me the address of the Meher Baba Trust Office in India, with the request that if I should travel anywhere near there, to remember him to Adi K. Irani, Baba's secretary. My friend had attended the '1969 Darshan,' but had not returned to India since then. He did not know that Adi had already passed away. I never gave this address another thought, but stuffed it in my wallet as I packed my things for my intended three-month stay in India.

We arrived in India in mid-November, and for six weeks meandered from Delhi through Ajmer, Agra, Jaipur, the Kutch, Jodhpur, and so on, arriving on December 22 in Aurangabad. We spent two days visiting the caves at Ajanta and Ellora. On December 24, my friends planned to visit a textile workshop in a village nearby. We had seen so many already that I decided to do my own thing for the day. I was standing in the hotel lobby when my eye was attracted to a map of Maharashtra, and I noticed the name Ahmednagar, seemingly close to where we were. Wasn't that the name of the town my friend had given me? I inquired and was told it was just a few hours ride on the bus. I thought, "What the hell? It would please my friend and I have nothing better to do." I packed up my rucksack and left a note for my friends that, in case I didn't make it back that evening, I would meet them the following day.

I didn't think I had made myself understood at the bus station when I inquired about an Ahmednagar bus. There was some shaking of heads, so I sat down and started to peel an apple and wonder how I might spend the day. But a moment or two later, someone came over and led me to a bus and escorted me on board. At odd moments during the course of the quite long and hot journey, when I would wonder why ever was I doing this, simultaneously would come the thought: "Don't worry, it will be okay."

When we finally reached Ahmednagar, my heart sank. I had imagined a small town as my friend had described from his 1969 experience. I hadn't bargained for the busy place I found on arriving at the bus station. How would I ever find the address? Again I had the thought: "Don't worry." I started walking. I thought I would get my bearings first and I studied the address more carefully. I crossed the street, and as I looked up, I noticed a sign that said "Meher Colony." Seeing the word "Meher," I thought it might have something to do with the address I was looking for, so I went in and asked.

I was led to the bedroom of a disabled, English-speaking woman named Dhun. In my confused state, as fast as I tried to explain what I was doing there, she assumed I was a new pilgrim and she kept saying, "You must hurry, it starts at three!" while at the same time talking to her servant in Marathi and gesticulating that I must follow her.

The next thing I knew, I was bundled into a rickshaw and the servant gave the driver instructions in Marathi. "Oh my God," I thought, "what have I done? I don't know where I am or where I am going, and this guy doesn't even speak English." Again, the thought came to me: "Don't worry."

The rickshaw wound its way out of Ahmednagar, and I resigned myself to the journey. As we got nearer to Meherabad, the rickshaw driver pointed to a rather insignificant-looking tower at the top of a hill. "Oh, great," I thought, "another sightseeing trip to some ruins."

We crossed a railroad track, and in no time the rickshaw parked beside the building called Meher Retreat. No sooner had I stepped down, than a crowd of people appeared, coming from the right and heading down the slope to what appeared to be an outdoor theater.

What a shock! I could clearly see a group of Indian women at the front under umbrellas, and there were fifty or more Westerners — more than I had seen in my previous six weeks traveling in India. I watched for a moment as they settled themselves in the little theater, and tried to appraise what was going on. I thought, "Well, I'll slip in at the back and look for an opportunity to ask someone what is going on, or at least find out if Adi K. Irani is here."

As fast as I tried to make some sense of it all, more fantastic sights occurred. The strains of the "Blue Danube" floated across the sultry air, and from nowhere appeared a ballerina in classical costume. Now I really thought I was dreaming.

Meanwhile, a person sitting close by began to ask me questions: When did I get in? Was this my first visit? How long would I be staying? Slowly, it dawned on him, especially after I dropped in the bit about having a message for Adi K. Irani, that I did not know where I was or what was going on. I did notice the mounting look of amazement and amusement on his face. I had, as it turned out, just dropped in on Mehera's birthday party!

This pilgrim was anxious that I should stay and meet certain people, then come down the hill and have tea after the performance. As I explained that I had to get back to Aurangabad by the evening, a look of anguish flashed across his face. "Why?" I wondered. His wife had joined us and with some brief exchanges, they persuaded me to go up the slope towards what appeared to be a little shrine. I remember them introducing me to Don Stevens, who was in a rush to catch a plane to Bombay (Mumbai). Then they tried to introduce me to Eruch, who asked them to wait a few minutes.

Out of sheer desperation, I suppose on their part not wanting me to slip through Baba's net, they escorted me to Meher Baba's Tomb-Shrine. By now, my mind was doing somersaults. They seemed so sweet and kind and welcoming that I did not want to hurt their feelings, but equally, I did not want to meet a lot of strangers, and I certainly didn't want to do any praying in their shrine. Help! Again, the thought came: "Don't worry. You can just go in out of politeness (true British upbringing!), make your excuses, get in the rickshaw, and ride back to town."

So I watched what other people were doing and thought, "Well, what shall I do?" I could see a photograph inside the Tomb, which struck me as pretty bizarre, but I thought, "Okay, I'll just say a few words." So I stepped in, looked at the photo and thought: "I am here because of my friend Dudley back in England. I suppose he sends You his love." I cannot describe what transpired in that moment. All I know is that I lost all sense of myself and of time. I felt quite joyful and found myself stumbling out, and I think I was crying. I remember someone trying to shove a sweet into my hand, which seemed rather peculiar, in view of the fact that I couldn't even stand up properly.

My "caretakers" encouraged me to come down the hill for a cup of tea, and by then I had totally lost my boundaries anyhow. I found myself agreeing to spend the night in Ahmednagar with a group of Baba lovers in the Sablok Hotel. I didn't even try to understand what was going on at that point. I just went with it.

I remember that I was never left alone, and over the course of the evening meal I heard the story of Baba's life and basis of His teachings. I found myself unconditionally accepting it all. They persuaded me to go with them to Meherazad the next morning — Christmas Day — before joining my friends again in Aurangabad. Having arrived at Meherazad in a light, English type drizzle, I listened to Christmas carols being sung on the porch and then was ushered into Baba's room, "for a few moments on your own." As I knelt in front of the picture on His bed, He seemed to say to me so sweetly: "What took you so long?" I thought of all the miles I had traveled, all the places I had visited, all the searching I had done, and I knew in that moment that here, in a room so like my own grandfather's bedroom, I was finally home. There would be no more journeys to take. The floodgates opened and I could not stop the dam-burst of tears. I did return to Aurangabad that night, and explained to my bewildered friends that I would not be going any further with them.

They still think to this day that I am crazy. I returned to Meherabad and stayed as long as I could until my visa expired and I flew home to resume my new life with Baba. My dear friend Dudley Edwards was rewarded for his persistence in opening the doors to Baba for me, and to him I am eternally grateful.

It was truly the most amazing gift a person could ever receive, to find the real Christ at Christmas time. There is nothing more to ask for than to remain forever His.

Jai Beloved Meher Baba!

[modifier] Meher Baba The All-Knowing One

Shivendra Sahai

I first heard Meher Baba's name along with His claim to be the incarnation of God, from my wife Saroja after our marriage. Being an agnostic, I was not particularly interested, and my wife never said much about Baba, even though she and her family worshipped Him as God ever since they had met Him.

So, when she mentioned that Baba was giving darshan at Guru Prasad in Poona (Pune), and if I wished I could avail myself of this opportunity, I was not very enthusiastic. In fact, I didn't even reply. But somehow this news proved to be a catalyst for me, and I started toying with the idea of visiting Poona and seeing this man who made such a tall claim. I knew nothing about Him; I didn't even know what He looked like, as I had not ever seen His photograph. Obviously, Baba did not know me either. So I thought there would be no harm in having a look at Him from a distance and visiting some nice places in Poona.

Strangely enough, as the day of departure approached, I found myself thinking more and more about Meher Baba. On the 4th of June, 1960, I reached Poona and went to Guru Prasad. A number of people were sitting in the hall, although I didn't know anyone. I entered and sat at the back. After a short while, I saw an old Parsi gentleman with an unusual glow and charm on His face coming out of a side room. He was accompanied by Shri Babu Jagjivan Ram, a minister in the central cabinet of India, who bowed down before Him and touched His feet. Seeing this, I knew the gentleman must be Meher Baba, and at that instant, the gathering shouted "Jai" as if in confirmation.

Baba walked gracefully to His chair, and the darshan and introductions began. I was an unknown stranger, so there was no question of anybody introducing me to Him, but I was quite contented to have seen Baba. A serene calm and peace pervaded the atmosphere. His entire personality and gestures were so attractive and enchanting that I felt rooted to the place until the end of the program.

After everyone else had met Baba, He suddenly looked at Keshav Nigam, who had been making the introductions. In turn, Keshav looked straight at me and called out my name, while beckoning me to come to Baba. As I went to Him, He stretched out His hands and I embraced Him, as I had seen others do. I bowed down to Baba's feet, faintly listening to Keshav state the name of my father-in-law and wife and details of our family. I was already stunned by the embrace, and while bowing down to His feet, I lost all sense and perception. I was not prepared for all this, and I have no rational explanation as to how I found myself sitting in the side room and crying unabashedly.

Someone showed me a water container and asked me to wash my face and cool down. After a while, I went back into the hall and sat to the left in front of Baba. I was still dazed and bewildered by what had happened to me. Suddenly the thought occurred to me, "Baba, look at me." He was talking to a lady sitting on His right side, but at that instant, He immediately turned and looked at me with an arched brow. Simultaneously, a thought wave came to me, "What is it? Why do you disturb Me?" I was flabbergasted.

After the function was over, I anxiously inquired from Keshavji as to how he recognized me. In a very matter-of-fact way, he said that at the moment Baba looked at him to inquire if he had finished with the introductions, everything about me just occurred to him, and he said it out. He further explained that it was one of Baba's ways of guiding His dear ones to convey whatever is necessary.

I left Guru Prasad with the permanent impression that Baba knows me and that He is my most near and dear one. He knows whatever I think or feel, and He is the most loving person I have ever met. I felt an irresistible attraction towards Him. From that day forward, I was sure that Baba is what He Himself claims to be.

I had gone to Guru Prasad as an agnostic and returned as a believer in God and in His manifestation as the Avatar in the form of Meher Baba. After that I always took advantage of every opportunity I could to have Baba's darshan.

One time, in the summer of 1965, as we were excitedly planning to visit Baba at Guru Prasad, my leave from work was unexpectedly canceled. The shock of missing Baba's darshan, which had been compassionately granted after a lapse of two years, was too much to bear.

I wanted to communicate my predicament, as well as my love, to Baba and beseech Him to call me sometime, somehow. As it so happens, I had a knack of molding clay into models, so I decided to make a small bust of Him with clay and send it to Him as a vessel of my prayers.

A few days before the departure of my wife and children to Poona, the bust was dried and ready. I decided to paint it. But as I was looking for the paint, my four year old son played with the bust and broke its nose.

I had used up all the clay and there was hardly any time left in which to do anything about the nose. Therefore, I scratched some material from the back of the head of the bust and used it to mend the nose. I set the bust in a small wooden box covered on all sides except the front, which was covered with a transparent plastic sheet. I also pasted a pink satin cloth all around to improve the look. This camouflaging effectively hid the depression in the back of the head.

My wife, along with Keshav Nigam, presented the bust to Baba upon arriving at Guru Prasad. Baba accepted the bust and handed it over to His sister Mani.

A month later, I received a telegram calling me to Guru Prasad on a specified date. I went alone, and as I entered the room, I found Baba sitting in all His splendor. After the usual inquiries about my travel and the well being of my family, Baba asked me where I learned to make clay models. I explained that I acquired this ability in answer to my prayer to Him to give me a means of remembering Him in my leisure hours. I began to feel that I could make a three-dimensional clay figure from any photograph of Baba. I tried, and that was the result.

With a surprised look, Baba glanced at Francis Brabazon, who was there, as if to say, "See what a wonder!" Then looking at me, He put His finger on His chin, cheeks, nose, and forehead, respectively, in appreciation of these prominent features, bearing near likeness in the bust. Then with a twinkle in His eyes, He pointed to the exact spot at the back of His head and gestured, "Very well done."

This was the spot in the bust from where I had taken the material and left a depression. Being covered from all sides, it was not at all visible to the human eye. The Omniscient One alone knows our drawbacks, faults, and weaknesses, yet in His infinite compassion, He purifies and converts them into a goblet for His wine of love.

Some twenty-five years later, I was thunder-struck to find the bust still kept on the rack in the back of the Blue Bus at Meherazad. Even a small, feeble, and half-hearted expression of love for Him is noticed, encouraged, and preserved. What an Ocean of Love He is!

[modifier] Incredible Is The Call Of Love

Clarice Adams

In 1956 I had the great good fortune to have a personal audience with Avatar Meher Baba in Bombay (Mumbai). How Baba orchestrated all the events leading to that profound meeting, deeply touched my heart. One of my good friends, Ena Lemmon, used to correspond with Mani, Baba's sister. And in one letter Ena had casually mentioned that I was greatly interested in Baba and that the two of us were saving money in hopes that one day we could travel to India to see Him. To Ena's surprise, a reply came from Mani asking when I would be arriving in India and saying that if I were in India by a certain date, I would be able to see Baba in Bombay. This appeared to be a misunderstanding, since in the letter Ena had written only that we were saving in hopes of coming. Neither of us had the money for a trip to India at that time. In addition, Ena felt shattered, because Mani had made no mention of a time for Ena to see Baba. She cabled Mani and asked if she could also come with me on the specified date to see Baba, and a reply came that Baba had granted the request.

Ena somehow managed to get enough money to book passage on the last ship going to Bombay that month, but I was not able to accompany her. Receiving Baba's message through Ena that He would be pleased to see me increased my longing to go at all costs, but I did not have enough money, nor could I take the time off work to travel by sea. My only alternative was to fly, but how? There was no ready money available, although my husband Stan and I were both working — Stan as a teacher and I as a public accountant.

One evening after Ena had already sailed for India, I bought some fish and chips on the way home from work for a quick family meal. The fish was wrapped in newspaper and I happened to notice a Pan American airline advertisement: "Fly Now, Pay Later." I immediately went to the airline office and, though there was a policy against dealing directly with married women, the desk clerk booked me a seat. I was to pay monthly installments to cover the fare. I could not believe my good fortune as I started making plans for the upcoming flight.

I went to the Health Department to get my compulsory vaccinations, which normally would have required weeks of waiting and I would have missed meeting Baba on the date specified by Him. Even though my vaccinations were not given in time, amazingly, they were passed and stamped by the Commonwealth Medical Officer. I mistakenly had stood in the venereal disease queue, and the officer was laughing so much over seeing a dignified and matronly woman in the V.D. queue that he stamped my health card without looking at the date or examining my vaccination. The airline people caught the mistake, but because of the valid stamp, they could not take any action. So off I flew with a festering arm and a fever.

On the plane I was thinking about obedience — pondering whether I would be willing to jump out the window if Baba asked me. I opened a small book of Hafiz and read:

Knowing love's ocean is a shoreless sea, what help is there? Abandon life and founder.

When you give your heart to love you make the moment lucky: no need of auguries to perform good deeds.

I decided I would obey Baba.

When I arrived in Bombay, Ena and Meherjee met me at the airport. Meherjee gave us the details of our planned meeting with Meher Baba on the 6th of February. On that special day, Meherjee drove us to Arnavaz and Nariman Dadachanji's home, Ashiana, and Ena and I were ushered in together into Baba's presence. Baba was smiling, and indicated for us to sit down next to Irene Conybeare from England.

Eventually came the question from Baba through gestures, "Will you obey Me?"

"Yes," I answered.

"Will you go back to Melbourne and kill your three children?"

I simply cried — I had not even imagined that question. Not having a handkerchief, I wiped my streaming eyes with my sleeve. After a few moments of agony, a comforting warmth flowed in and sustained me. I felt I was being rocked like a baby as Baba conveyed, "I would not ask you to do that, but I had to show you that you couldn't obey me." In His Omniscience, Baba was aware of my resolve to obey Him after reading Hafiz.

Then Baba explained, "First of all there is no value in trying to follow Me unless it is what you want to do, and you are willing to obey Me. It does not matter at all if you do not want to — far better to live an ordinary life, forget about following Baba, and see God in others and in everyday life. But if it is your real desire to love Baba and serve Him, how would you do it? It is very difficult to do and difficult to explain. A man does not ask how will I love my wife? He simply does or He does not...." At that moment there was a loud banging outside, and Baba asked, "Can you hear that noise?"

"Yes," I replied.

Baba continued, "Well, if you loved Me, you would not hear it while you were with Me." Then some of His Indian followers were called in, and Baba asked them to explain how to love Baba. One said, "By perfect devotion."

Baba asked the person, "Can you do that?"

Another said, "By thinking of Baba continually."

Baba smiled, made the sign of perfection, then leaned forward a little and asked, "Do you?" of the one who had given that answer.

After all had explained that they would do their best, Baba gestured, "Well now, I will try to explain. Divine love is the Real love, but you don't have that. So thinking of Me continually is the next best, but you can't do that. So if you just naturally say My Name — while you are working or while you are quiet, as often as you can without effort, that is good. But perhaps you can't do that — so do this: Repeat Baba's Name audibly for a fixed time of half an hour or an hour each day. Now there may be no love in that, no value at all in repetition. But in this case it will bring love, because I tell you to do it. But if you don't want to do even that, don't do it. It doesn't matter. Do what you want to do, but try to remember that I am in every one, in every man, woman, and child. Be happy, live naturally, but serve Me in others as much as you can."

Baba asked me, "Why did you come? I am in Australia, in every man, woman, and child."

"I just wanted to." I replied.

Baba shook His head and gestured, "No, I wanted you to come. You are here to carry My love to all. Do you know what I mean by all?"

As I said, "Yes," I felt clearly that Baba knew all about the division within the Australian group, but He was concerned only with their love.

"Carry My Love to all, and particularly to My dear Stan and the children." I posted that simple message to Stan, and when I returned to Melbourne, the entire group came to our house to hear Ena and I talk about our visit to Baba. All were now friends and everyone brought extra food and chairs — we could have eaten for a week.

At one stage, Baba asked me about my health. I told Him about my feverishness caused by the vaccination. He gave me a rose petal to eat and told me that I would be alright. That evening at the hotel, Ena decided to re-bandage my badly festering arm, but she found that not a mark remained. My fever had also gone, but that seemed unimportant after being in Baba's presence. Still, Ena said, "I don't care what He says — it's a miracle."

Baba mentioned at one point that Peter was a favorite disciple of Jesus. He had been allowed to share Christ's suffering by denying Him. Earlier Baba had told us that the unforgivable sin was hypocrisy. Even God can't forgive it, though Baba Himself is willing to.

Then I was asked by Baba, "How could you afford to come this time?"

"I am working," I replied, and I told Him about the "Fly Now, Pay Later" ad. (On my return to Melbourne my firm's senior partner surprised the junior partner by demanding that I be given an immediate salary increase. This totally covered my monthly commitments to the airline. The partners also arranged for me to give a talk about Baba at the Business Men's Club luncheon, which I did.)

As Baba was in seclusion, I had been warned beforehand not to ask Him anything. But Baba said He was in an expansive mood and I could ask Him for whatever I wished. I promptly asked whether He would accept a letter I had with me from Joan O'Brien, who had helped me very much when I was first learning about Meher Baba. Baba said He would accept it and reply, and would also help.

Then He asked, "Do you want anything for yourself?"

"No," I said, relieved that I had been able to deliver the letter without breaking the seclusion rules.

Someone behind me said, "She's very nice, isn't she?" and again the lovely flow of a warm current passed through every part of my being.

As I sat in the room with Baba, He mentioned that beings on all planes of consciousness were listening as He talked with us. Baba said that if we had seen Him earlier, we would have experienced His loving mood, but now He was in His working mood. Still, I was so blissfully happy I couldn't imagine anything more satisfying. I remember being surprised when Baba said that for me the Australian group and its activities were to be secondary. He wished me to look after Stan and the children and to put them first. He added that I could cooperate with Francis Brabazon, if I wished. At the time I couldn't imagine Stan needing or allowing anyone to look after him, but fifteen years later he was in need of my constant attention. As a war correspondent, Stan had filmed the mustard gas trials and his protective suit had leaked. Towards the end of his life, he had to sit with an oxygen machine, even when in bed at night.

Stan once commented about this, "Baba did a wonderful thing for me. He shut me up."

The following is the message Baba gave me to take back to Australia, as I recorded it from memory later:

1. Be happy in any conditions and don't worry about anything. If the whole world rocks, don't rock with it. And particularly, don't worry about thoughts. If you want to alter anything, start with actions. Why? Because thoughts belong to the mental world, and you have no control over them unless you are established in the mental plane. For example, Clarice, you are married and you may love another man. Don't worry about it at all, but don't act on love except with your husband.

2. Don't pose. For example, when you return and someone asks you about Baba, if you think I am the Avatar, say it. If you do not think I am the Avatar, say it. And if you vacillate, thinking perhaps Baba could be, but you are not sure — one day you think so, one day you do not — then say that. Apply this principle to everything. Just don't pose.

3. Repeat Baba's Name audibly everyday for no less than half an hour and no more than one hour.

When I was leaving Ashiana on the final day, I was called back and Eruch said, "Clarice! Baba says, 'Be happy!'" Immediately I experienced a happiness that depended on nothing and required no special environment, although the intensity gradually faded. However, I now know for sure that such happiness is possible. It took me twenty-one years to realize that "Be happy" was also an instruction and that I am disobeying Baba when I allow pain, sadness, and even trivial things to make me unhappy.

Before going to India, I frequently had what I called "black moods" and fits of jealousy. It was months after my return that I realized that these were not occurring anymore and have not ever returned. I wholeheartedly thank Baba for this and for the incredible call of His love.

From a letter Clarice Adams wrote to Bal Natu, and from excerpts from « Practical Spirituality with Meher Baba » by John A. Grant.

[modifier] Marvelous Darshan

W.D. Kain

The month of August, 1942, is of immense significance to me. My wife Prabha and I were sitting one day on the porch of our cottage in Gulmarg, Kashmir, watching the clouds coming down from the snowcapped hills, trailing over the daisy fields in front of us, and almost entering our apartment. This cottage of ours was perched right on the top of the highest point of Gulmarg Hill Station and was not near any thoroughfare. The marvelous beauty of the environment held us spellbound. This reverie was only broken when we heard the rustle of leaves on the pebbled path leading to our place from the main road. This was something unusual because our government-deputed servant seldom used that path. We thought it might be a bear, attracted by the corn growing in the vegetable garden. I sent Prabha inside, and from a distance it appeared that some living creature was coming through the thick mist. I was surprised and then relieved to recognize the face of a postman bringing the mail.

As I inspected the registered parcel, I found that it was addressed to me by my full name (which is usually given only on my passport) and that the address was original and not redirected. The sender was Adi K. Irani, Meher Baba's secretary, with whom I had been in contact to find out more about Meher Baba. The wonder of wonders was that we had not informed anyone outside our official circle about our address at Gulmarg. I had arranged to have our mail brought to us from Srinagar in a sealed bag by a special messenger. No one was supposed to know our address! The contents of the parcel revealed and solved the mystery. For contained therein was the book entitled « Discourses » by Meher Baba. Subsequent events and an in-depth study of a portion of the book, as well as a look at dear Baba's picture, reassured us that this was a gift from the Perfect Master of the Age, who is the omniscient Highest of the High. As we had only recently been married, His gift of love was a blessing for us. In that bouquet of flowers — « Discourses » — Baba had sent us the following message of love:

Life and love are inseparable from each other. Where there is life there is love. The law of gravitation, to which all the planets and stars are subject, in its own way is a dim reflection of the love which prevails in every part of the universe. Human love is tethered by these limiting conditions of anger and jealousy so that the spontaneous appearance of pure love within becomes impossible. So when pure love arises in the aspirant, it is always a gift. Pure love arises in the heart of the aspirant in response to the descent of grace from the Master. When pure love is first received as a gift, it becomes lodged in the consciousness of the aspirant like a seed in favorable soil, and in the course of time the seed develops into a full-grown tree.

This love gift created a metamorphosis in our lives. It was not just the gift that came, for it seemed as if Baba Himself had come and embraced us. For my wife and I, it was love at first sight with the Master.

Immediately, I wrote a letter to brother Adi asking him how, when, and where I could see Baba. In his reply, Adi wrote: "Baba has His Nazar on you. In regards to His darshan, a day will surely come when you will have His darshan. Baba sends His love and blessings to you."

On the occasion of Guru Poornima (Full Moon Night) in the month of July, Perfect Masters are worshipped all over India by their devotees. At that time my regret was that while others would be blessed on that day by their gurus and able to offer them flowers and sweets, my Perfect Master was not available even for darshan, leave aside the sweets. I lay down on my bed almost weeping. I was all alone in the house; nobody to console this child of Baba's. I had practically no sleep that night. At about 3:30 a.m. it seems I dozed off. Around 4:00 a.m. I saw a light in the adjoining prayer room. I was startled out of my bed, for I knew I had switched off the light earlier in the night. I rushed into my prayer room to find Baba sitting on my prayer seat, all smiles! Remembering that it was Guru Poornima and that Baba had graciously come to bless me, I prostrated myself at His feet, and made a verbal offering of Rs. 101 as Guru dakshina. Baba touched my head, and as I got up to have a look at Him, He disappeared as mysteriously as He had appeared.

As day dawned, I wrote out a money order form for the same amount and under this I wrote to Brother Adi: "Baba appeared to me this morning in my prayer room and accepted this sum as Guru dakshina. If this is a fact and not a hallucination, the money be accepted. Otherwise it may be returned."

The money order was accepted.

Several years later, I came to know that this "physical" appearance of Baba in Kashmir was not a solitary case. There have been several instances like this in many different places.

Compiled by Bal Natu. © 2001 Bal Natu, Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust