The Dance of Love

De Simple Silence.

Contents 1 Tiger On The Porch 2 The Second Way 3 The Queen, The Cardinal And The Grand Duchess 4 The Dark Night 5 One Who Left Baba 6 One Never Won 7 Judas Iscariot And Hitler 8 Journey To Quetta — 1940 9 The Mad Dog Story 10 Dreams 11 Irene's Dog 12 God Is Love 13 Tiger On A Par With Buffalo

[modifier] Tiger On The Porch

Late at night, during one of the Indian bus tours, we stopped at a dak bungalow, got our bedding rolls from the top of the bus, and started looking round for places to sleep.

It was not a large building, and by the time I had rescued my night kit, I found that the rooms were crowded and decided in spite of the sound of tigers in the offing — there were always night watchmen — to sleep on the porch.

I spread out my mattress and was just about to get ready to crawl into it when the door on my right side opened. Out came Eruch and I found that this was the entrance to Baba’s room. Eruch then informed me that no one was allowed to sleep outside Baba’s door and that I should move away at once.

I rolled up my mattress and was just moving away when Eruch, who had in the meantime returned to Baba, came out again with a message from Him that for this once I might sleep near His door. So on Baba’s doorstep, with a lullaby from distant tigers, I almost at once fell into a sleep of deep exhaustion, which sometime during the night brought me a strange dream.

It was as if I were lying awake when the door of Baba’s room opened and out came Baba. He was no longer the Baba that I knew, but was a large tiger walking on His hind legs. But the face was Baba’s face.

He proceeded to walk round my bed, opening His mouth and waving His front paws at me, and in the dream this seemed perfectly natural and not frightening. After a short time, He went back through the open door which closed after Him.

The next day I told Baba of this dream. He seemed delighted and indicated that the next time it happened He would eat me. It never happened again and I am still uneaten.

[modifier] The Second Way

It seems that every personal ego has to come up to the surface and function, before it can be destroyed, so the national ego, the religious ego, etc., must undergo, in the same way, the same process of destruction. Love can then flow in to replace them. After the war, Baba told us this cleansing had by no means been fully accomplished, and that there was a choice of two ways to accomplish the rest.

One would be a third and devastating world war, and the other way would be through small wars, earthquakes, general physical upheaval, starvation for some groups, and religious groups vying with each other, their adherents killing each other to prove that their way was the only way to God.

Baba then looked around the group, and asked which we thought was the better way. For once unanimous, we said, « The second way. » He made no indication as to the direction in which humanity would be swept, but certainly most of the things that he mentioned as the second way have already happened and are still, in many parts of the world, continuing to cause a general upheaval.

[modifier] The Queen, The Cardinal And The Grand Duchess

It was understandable that Norina, because of the ordinary middle-class positions of most of Baba's close disciples, did not feel that they could possibly be of any use to Baba, and she told them so.

In her mind, the best way to publicize Baba's work would be for Baba to be in a situation somewhat like that of Rasputin and the Czarina. So out of her great love for Him she pulled social strings, resulting at last in a cable received in Portofino from the Queen of Roumania, one of the few royalties at that time left with a country.

The cable said: "The Queen of Roumania is prepared to receive Meher Baba." Baba replied: "Meher Baba is prepared to receive the Queen of Roumania."

Soon after this, Baba left Portofino to spend a few days in Rome, where Norina's husband had held an important diplomatic position and where it was easy for her to bring important persons to meet Baba. The most important, a well-known Cardinal, was one hour late for his appointment. Baba refused to see him.

Some years later, in India, a Russian Grand Duchess came to meet Baba and stay in the ashram. The visit was not a success. When this unprepared lady found that she had to sleep on the floor on a bedding roll, share a bathroom with several other people, and experience other discomforts, she after a short time departed to the more congenial home of a Maharajah friend.

Years later, just before she died, Norina told me that the people she loved most and had come to really care for were Baba's ordinary disciples and that she had no more interest in royalty as a means of spreading the love of Baba.

Through His love, Baba had marvelously wiped Norina free from this sanskara. Along the way, He had seemingly wiped Europe free from most of its royal families as well.

[modifier] The Dark Night

One summer in the early 1930's Baba did not come to the West, so Delia, Quentin, Mabel and I went for a short holiday to Portofino, a place that held for us so many loving memories of being there with Baba. One early sunlit morning, Delia and I were having an early breakfast outside a small restaurant in the square, when for some unknown reason we started up an argument about the dark night of the soul, about which neither of us knew a great deal. As usual in such cases, the argument became quite heated. Suddenly a most delightful-looking woman appeared at our table, laughing and saying, "Do you mind if I join you? I have never heard anyone argue about the dark night of the soul at breakfast!" Well, the upshot of this was that she joined our small group at swimming and at walking over the hills and, of course, she heard a great deal about Baba. We did consign the dark night to its proper place.

This woman, whose name I have completely forgotten, turned out to be a member of one of the famous English shipping families, and she was writing a book about her impressions of this Italian holiday. We parted at the end of the summer, having enjoyed the short friendship.

Some years later, in 1946 after my return from India, this woman came up to me in Piccadilly Circus. After exchanging greetings, she said that she was sure I would be interested in what she was going to tell me.

Apparently, shortly after her Italian holiday, she was at a dinner party and to make some amusing small talk, she brought out the story of the strange people she had met in Portofino and of their devotion to and belief in Meher Baba. To her surprise, a Cabinet Minister who was present seemed to know about Baba. He said that owing to some complaints made about Baba to Scotland Yard (by Meredith Starr and another disciple who had left Baba and wanted to be nasty) searching inquiries had been made, but that nothing whatsoever had been found against Baba, and in fact the reports about His work had been excellent.

After at least ten years and a war between this and our last meeting, to take the trouble to assure me that Baba stood well with the government was an amazing piece of thoughtfulness. I feel that it did bring her a little closer to Him. I hope so.

[modifier] One Who Left Baba

One man disciple, who loved Baba deeply, after a year or two left Him. He had been unable to change his predetermined attitude about what was right and what was wrong, and even tried to apply to Baba some rather straightlaced standards. I imagine that up to the time of meeting Baba his highest ideal might have been a bishop.

He was a young man who had given up a great deal for other persons and had lived his life as far as possible in a true Christian spirit, so much so that it had caused a certain spiritual rigidity.

In the summer of 1932, Baba met His close English disciples in Santa Margherita, where everything for us was like an enchanted dream. Sitting on the sands with Baba, wandering over the wooded hills with Him, plus the crystal beauty of the blue Mediterranean — it was like a dream, filled with the sweetness of Baba.

One afternoon we took a walk along the Coastal Road as far as Rapallo. To our surprise, Baba, who was never extravagant, stopped in front of a most elegant tea shop and indicated that the party should go in and drink tea. He supplied a further surprise by ordering a most lavish meal: tea, coffee, iced tea, iced coffee, ice cream cakes, etc., and although we had eaten a good Italian spaghetti-type luncheon, everyone joined in the fun with Baba. Except this one disciple. His face grew longer, and he became withdrawn and unhappy looking.

You may remember the Biblical incident when Mary of Bethany, out of her love for Jesus, anointed His feet with a valuable spice and ointment. When reprimanded by Judas to the effect that the money should have gone to the poor, Christ in answer said, "The poor ye have always with you, but me ye have not always with you." It may not seem possible, but 2000 years later the same incident repeated itself in a slightly different way. Unable to hold his disapproval in check any longer, Baba's disciple leaned forward over the table and said, "Baba, there are poor in the world." Baba smiled but spelt out no verbal reply. He answered, however, by handing the bill to this disciple to pay!

A few days later, we went down on the beach and were strolling happily along when Baba brought another matter to a head for this same disciple.

There was on the beach a most elegant tent. It looked as if it were made of real satin but was, of course, nothing of the kind. Baba looked at it, turned to face us, indicating its charm, then went towards it, opened the flap and peered inside. It contained cushions and a certain number of beach chairs, a most comfortable place to sit and rest. Baba then opened the flap more fully, went inside and called us to go in and sit down — which we did, all except this rigid disciple, who looked shocked and said accusingly, "No English gentleman would do this."

He then turned and left the tent and went to sit on a rock by the sea. A short time after this, the owners of the tent put in an appearance. They behaved beautifully. I think Baba must have thrown out a special wave of love, because they treated the group as welcome guests and said that we could use the tent at any time. I do not think that "the English gentlemen" was pleased about this reception. It seemed as if he felt that those charming persons should have reprimanded us, instead of behaving with such graciousness.

A year or two later, finding that he could neither accept Baba's simplicity and freedom nor give up his own ideas of right and wrong, he left Baba and up to the present time has not returned.

[modifier] One Never Won

Long ago in the early days with Baba, I suppose to make it easier for us to be natural with Him, He said to us, "Since you cannot come to my level, I have to come to yours." All the same, however daring one became, one never got the better of Him in fun and wit.

A small group of us were travelling with Him by train to Southampton from where He was sailing to India. On the train journey, He called me over to sit by Him and He then proceeded to explain to me on His alphabet board the difference between Purusha and Prakriti. It was very remiss of me, but my mind was not fully on what He was telling me.

My eyes kept creeping up to His face, instead of completely focussing on what He was telling me. His face was so full of loving beauty that my lack of concentration can easily be understood, and perhaps excused. When He had finished He sat back and said, "Now repeat what I have been telling you." Much abashed, I made a stupendous effort and managed to stumble through the explanation that He had just given me.

It was such a relief to me that I had managed this that I said gaily, "Now you are my first disciple," and quick as lightning He came back with, "And the last."

One never won.

Another story about not winning also started in a train.

In 1931, several persons were travelling with Baba from Devonshire to London, and I was fortunate enough to be sitting on His right side. Suddenly a look of intense interest came over His face and He looked past me and out of the window. Naturally, I turned to see what was interesting Him so much. There was absolutely nothing of any particular interest, some grass, some trees, but nothing else, and as I turned back to Baba, He lightly smacked the side of my face.

Now this trick went on for quite a long time, and I was always caught.

After some months He dropped it, but strange to relate, years later He again revived it, and I was just as dumb as before. He always caught me.

In 1956 while we were in San Francisco with a large group of people who loved Him and who had come to be with Him, He called me and all the dancers who loved Him to go and sit with Him without the rest of the party. It was a high point moment. He gave us no spiritual talk but sat quietly and lovingly with us. Moments of stillness with Him were always my favorites. So warm and so charged with love.

I was sitting at his feet and suddenly He pointed to the back of the room. I turned, thinking He meant to indicate some special dancer, but saw nothing particularly of interest, turned my head back to Him and, lo and behold, He gave my face the same kind of smack that it had not had since the early days with Him. We sat on with Him for some little time longer, when suddenly He again pointed, apparently at someone at the other end of the room. I thought that at last my turn to win had come and I said, "Oh no, Baba, not again. You will not be able to catch me again like that for 700 years." Referring, of course, to His next incarnation. He sighed, looked sad and made out that He was disappointed.

Some three hours later, He sent for me. He stood in the doorway of His room with a worried look on His face and started at once to make signs about something He wished me to do. I stood facing Him, trying to make out what He was telling me. Suddenly He looked up over my left shoulder, and a look of loving welcome dawned on His face. I, of course, wondering who was looking over my shoulder, turned my head, saw no one there, and on turning my face back to Baba received a good hard smack. As I say, one could not win. Strangely enough, that was the last time He ever did this to me.

[modifier] Judas Iscariot And Hitler

Two short stories in which Baba showed us the spiritual meaning of certain events to which we had shown the ordinary worldly attitudes.

Judas Iscariot

Sometimes in the evenings at Meherabad, Baba would sit on his gardee and the women of the ashram, plus the servants, would bring their personal straw mat and sit cross-legged on the ground around Him. A few sat on chairs. Mehera always had a chair on Baba's right side, and one or two of the older disciples, whose knees were no longer supple enough for the floor position, would use chairs.

The gatherings were usually quite informal and Baba encouraged us to bring up subjects, give opinions, and then sometimes would show us that, although we might be thinking along the right lines from a worldly point of view, from the spiritual angle we were quite wrong.

One evening the subject of Judas Iscariot's betrayal of Jesus came up for discussion and, looking at beloved Baba, our minds at once made the connection between Him and Jesus, and a certain amount of hostility was shown towards Judas, whose very name has come to mean "traitor." After a short time, Baba stopped this and explained that Judas was of Jesus's circle, and since the betrayal was a necessary prelude to the crucifixion, someone had to do it. Judas had been chosen and, blindfolded, he had served his Master.

After we had digested this, Baba added that Judas was again in incarnation and working in the Circle; and then, seeing our eyes shift uneasily from one to another, hoping not to be the one, He smilingly reassured the group that the reincarnated Judas was not present with us on this occasion.

Although we did realize the amazing service that Judas had done for Jesus, it was a relief to feel that one of us in an earlier life had not been called upon to serve our Master in this manner.

Hitler

Baba was the first of the Avatars to travel around the world, unhampered by the lack of speedy travel facilities which had confined Krishna, Buddha and Jesus to small portions of the globe, from where the knowledge of them and their teachings had spread slowly outwards. Before World War II, Baba had already traveled to many countries and continents, and He called these many contacts, both personal and geographic, "laying cables." Later, when necessary, He would recontact these spots — perhaps by a seemingly accidental visit by a disciple, or perhaps giving a direct order that someone should go to a certain place. Even a letter or cable would sometimes do the job.

Although Baba Himself never went into Germany, He did send certain disciples who had social or business connections into the country to talk of Him. Just a few days before Hitler's big coup in Munich, a close disciple had been in the city.

It seems that since every personal ego has to come up to the surface and function before it can be destroyed, so the national ego, the religious ego, etc., must undergo in the same way the same process of destruction. Love can then flow in to replace them. After the war Baba told us this cleansing had by no means been fully accomplished, and that there was a choice of two ways to accomplish the rest.

One would be a third and devastating world war, and the other way would be through small wars, earthquakes, general physical upheaval, starvation for some groups, and religious groups vying with each other, their adherents killing each other to prove that their way was the only way to God.

Baba then looked around the group and asked which we thought was the better way. For once unanimous, we said, "The second way." He made no indications as to the direction in which humanity would be swept, but certainly most of the things that He mentioned as the second way have already happened and are still, in many parts of the world, continuing to cause a general upheaval.

Baba told us when our tongues were making an outraged attack on Hitler and his cruelties that again we did not understand, but that when He, the Avatar, comes into incarnation He needs opposition in order to function fully.

[modifier] Journey To Quetta — 1940

The bus trip through central India had not been a comfortable one. The heat was intense. New tires were needed. Several times the drivers had had to turn us out on the road — sometimes where there were trees and sometimes not — while they blew up the tires or changed them. And it was an exhausted crowd that arrived in Multan in northern India, where we stayed for a short time before crossing the mountains to go to Quetta. We found Multan was cold, and out of our bedding rolls we produced whatever warm clothes we had brought.

As it happened, one of the only really nice garments I managed to bring to India was a lavender-blue woolen coat. The evening of our arrival, Baba called us to tell us His plans for crossing the mountain pass leading to Quetta. As I came into the room, He looked at my coat and made signs of approval, then turned to Norina, whose clothes almost invariably came from the name dressmakers of the day — Worth, Chanel, etc. — and spelt on the board, "Why do you not dress as well as Margaret does?"

There was quite a silence in the room. Everyone knew the difference between clothes off a peg and the other kind; in fact at intervals we had heard all this from Norina, who was shocked into silence by this subtle twisting of values.

The passes through the mountains after the winter season were only just open and were still dangerous. Not from the weather, but parties of brigands had been descending from the hills and killing the season's first travelers. Baba was adamant about our going that way. He had new tires put on the bus and arranged for most of the men to go to Quetta by train! The women were to go in the bus, while the girls would travel in the car with Him.

The first place at which we stopped for a short time was a large village by the name of Dehra Duzi Khan. The villagers seemed amazed, and stood round the bus staring and pressing their faces on the windows to get a look at the busload of women. I am sure that messages were sent straight off to their cousins, the brigands, about such strange travelers.

After some hours of driving we came to the river Jumna. It looked about a quarter of a mile wide and had to be crossed by the most unsafe-looking pontoon bridge. Not a nice firm structure, such as an army might have built, but a very wobbly affair, seemingly of planks run across boats.

Baba's car crossed easily enough, but the bus... ! A poor little man, evidently some kind of bridgemaster, pointed to a notice saying that nothing weighing over one ton would be allowed to cross. The bus, with all the bedding rolls on top, which in any case gave it a top-heavy look, and all the women inside, certainly exceeded that. Donkin, who was driving, became all British officer and ordered the man to let us pass. So, leaving the man wringing his hands, we went down a sloping river bank and onto the bridge.

The boats rocked from side to side, and inside the bus all the older women got out their prayer beads, and the name of Baba rang through the bus. Halfway across, a rain and windstorm came down the river. Not too bad, but enough to add to the rocking of the bus. The worst of it was that we knew that if the bus rocked side-ways into the water there was no hope for any of us.

We could not get out. There were only small entrance doors which could not have been opened. It was the greatest relief to reach the other bank.

After some more bumpy driving through a forest, the bus arrived at a small building on the side of the road, which turned out to be a British Army outpost.

A red-faced colonel came to look at the bus and, at the sight of its cargo of women, looked as if he might at any moment be seized with a fit of apoplexy.

On the hillside near at hand was a dak bungalow where we slept that night and the next. All the time we were there the colonel, I suppose fearing danger for us, kept his men working and digging very close to the house.

The next day the weather changed to a kind of drizzle, and there was nothing to occupy the time. I was sitting gloomily on the edge of a low wall when Baba came along and sat beside me. He sat there for a minute or two and then, to my surprise, spelt on His board:

"If I asked you to, would you die for Me?"

This shook me up. After a pause I said, "I should like to answer that question truthfully and not just emotionally. Will you give me half an hour to settle it in my mind?"

Baba went away and at the end of half an hour He returned, sat down and stretched out His hands questioningly. I was thankful to be able to say "yes" and to have no doubts in my mind.

Early the next morning, we climbed into the bus and jogged along until we came to a wide plain surrounded by mountains and filled with small huts. We stopped there for some little time. The villagers welcomed Baba vociferously. I think He must have visited them on the previous day. They crowded round Him, telling Him they would like to show Him their treasured racehorses. Baba, absolutely shining with loving interest and acting as if it were the one thing He would wish to do, had them bring out the animals and, urged on by His vitality and interest, they raced the horses along a length of railed-off ground. They were a pathetic set of animals, but the happiness that Baba gave these poor people, and the way they were drawn to Him was a kind of miracle. It was a contact with Divine Love. They felt it but did not know it.

The village itself consisted of small huts, out of which the women, with the lower part of their faces covered with a yashmak, practically crawled to carry food to their menfolk, who were obviously their masters. I do not think that women's lib would have approved such behavior.

Then, across the plain from out of the entrance to the mountain pass tore a car which turned out to be the British mail. On the roof, cross-legged, sat a soldier in a white tunic with a red fez on his head and with the longest rifle I had ever seen stretched across his knees. It turned out that on its return journey we were to join this outfit, and it would escort us through the danger zone.

Another soldier of the same type appeared from somewhere and got onto the front of our bus. Baba and the girls squeezed into the bus with us, and at a sign from the mail van, both vehicles took off to cross the plain towards the pass. Somehow I don't think anyone took the danger seriously. It was too much like something from the early cinema days, when incidents like this were usually accompanied by a gallop on the piano. I could almost hear it.

As we drove through the pass, Baba kept pointing out rocky paths where the brigands had, the week before or two days before, descended and demolished a few travelers. This went on for quite some time. Then suddenly it was discovered that we had lost the mail car! No one knew where it had disappeared. We did not see it again, so were really on our own, except for the man with the rifle.

Soon after we had arrived at the end of the pass and were jogging along quite comfortably, we came to a riverbed. It was wide and had no water in it, but was not firm enough to take the bus; therefore, about halfway across we stopped suddenly, having sunk into the sand.

We all got out to lighten the weight. Our guard stood with his rifle ready to fire at the first sign of any attackers. After a time, some planks were brought and the bus was released to start again on its journey.

We arrived in the late afternoon at our scheduled night stop, and as we drove into the village a British Army sergeant cycled up to us and said casually that we were late and that they had been thinking of sending out a search party to look for us.

We arrived at a dak bungalow. It then turned out that our food was running short and that supper was to be omitted. Baba came round with a box of Frear's cream biscuits and gave us each one.

The next thing that happened shows, I believe, why we had not been attacked. Baba had communicated with the head of the village where we spent the morning, offering to take his son to Ahmednagar and have him trained as a film operator in the local cinema. The man accepted, and this fine-looking boy had traveled with us, sitting in front with the driver. I imagine that the father had sent a stern message to the hills saying that we were not to be attacked.

Although one biscuit had constituted our supper, a more substantial meal was produced for the boy. One of the Western women must have taken it to him because he refused it angrily, saying, "I will not be fed by white-faced pigs," and demanded that he should be sent back home. Having served his purpose, he was sent back the next day.

The following morning the bus went on to Quetta, and this time the roads were civilized and safe.

[modifier] The Mad Dog Story

After a good hot summer in Meherabad, Baba announced that He was going to move all of us to Lahore. Since we were, on the whole, quite ignorant about where or when it was hottest in India, it seemed if we were going north that it might be cooler. Our mistake. We arrived for the beginning of the Lahore summer with temperatures sometimes 115° day and night!

Baba, by this time, had stopped coddling His Western disciples. We seemed to have come to the state that one reads about in relation to following a spiritual teacher. Not quite as far down as we went later on, but certainly very difficult. For instance, about half the disciples were housed separately in a place quite near to where Baba was living and were told that for the two months in Lahore they would not see Baba. Not even once. Kitty, Rano and I were in the same house with Baba and the girls.

The two houses were quite isolated from the neighboring village and were situated about seven miles from Lahore.

They were also close to a large field where dozens of repulsive-looking vultures waited on trees and fences for the peasants to bring and abandon their dying cattle, and as soon as, but not before, the animals died these unpleasant birds flapped down from their perches for a good meal.

In most of the places where we had spent time with Baba, we had been allowed to feed the half-starved pariah dogs. They were usually animals abandoned by soldiers when their regiment moved on to another place. When we arrived in Lahore, Baba announced that in Lahore He did not wish us to do this. There was, however, a large black dog already hanging about the place and, to everyone's surprise, Mehera who rarely asked for things asked if this particular animal might be fed. Since Baba did not refuse any request made by Mehera, He spelt out on the board that the dog might be fed but that Margaret must first give the animal a bath. I felt a little apprehensive about bathing a half-starved dog and asked if I might first of all give him a meal or two just to let him know I was a friend. Well, this all went through successfully and the next move in this affair was Baba calling me into His room and telling me He was going off on a mast hunt and would I do something for Him. This was unusual. He always said do this or do that. Of course I said that I would do what He asked. Then, He said that while He was away He would like me to obey Mehera in anything she might ask me to do. We all, of course, did what we could to please Mehera, but the idea of obedience was not there. I was puzzled but happy to do what Baba wished.

A few days after Baba's departure, Mehera sent for me and asked me to bathe another dog which had come prowling around hoping for a few tidbits of food. This was a small brown dog. I bathed him and at the side of his neck found a strange gouged-out hole into which I put some ointment. The dog was given a meal and then went back to the neighboring village.

One morning after Baba's return, we were all gathered on the front porch with Him when the brown dog made a return visit. This time he was a different animal. His eyes seemed crossed, his knees almost knocked together and he moved slowly. At once, Baba said, "That dog is mad. One of you must put a rope on him and take him to the gate. Give him to Dr. Nilu who will take him to a veterinarian." No one offered to do this.

Baba then said, "If no one will, then Margaret must."

As you can imagine, I did not feel elated about this; but since obedience had become more or less a habit, I covered my arms, borrowed some gloves, put a rope round the dog's neck and took him to the gate where Nilu, who had been sent for, was waiting. A vet to whom he was taken refused to accept him. I believe he was taken to the river and drowned.

Now no one had noticed that the original black dog who had remained with us had been behaving peculiarly. He had been hiding behind things, trying to get into the shade, his knees had dropped together, his eyes seemed strange and, mainly because we knew so little about hydrophobia, no one took any notice.

Sometimes just before going to bed, Baba would sit with us on the front porch. One peaceful evening when the party broke up He came towards me, gave me an embrace and said, "Now I am going to make you happy."

The next afternoon, Kitty called me and asked me to take the newspaper to the other house where half the party was staying. She also asked me to give a bowl of milk and water to the black dog who was lying just outside our front gate.

Directly the animal's eyes fell on the liquid, his lethargy disappeared. He jumped up in the air, then made straight for me, bit me on the right wrist and on the right knee. I fought him off with the newspaper, and when the paroxysm was over he lay down as if exhausted.

I turned and went back up to the house where I met Baba and the girls. They were sympathetic but not unduly so. Nilu was sent for but to my surprise and horror did not mention injections; and even though all agreed that the dog was certainly mad, nothing was done except by Mehera who gave me some ointment to stop the bleeding.

This next part of the story still seems almost unbelievable to me, but it happened. That evening after I had gone to bed Baba, Nilu and, I think, Ramjoo came and sat on the windowsill of my room while Nilu read aloud from a medical book all that it said about hydrophobia! After they had gone, I was so exhausted and unbelieving of these strange happenings that, thank goodness, I went to sleep.

The next morning I awoke to find that the glands in my neck, in the armpits and the groin were considerably swollen and there was a burning sensation in the esophagus.

Baba sent for me, looked at me lovingly and searchingly and said, "I hear that you are not feeling very well." In reply I murmured that I did not feel very well.

He then smiled lovingly and said, "I have arranged for you to have some jam for breakfast." Not having had any jam for a year or two, I ought to have felt delighted. I was, however, unmoved by the idea of jam and barely muttered a polite "thank you."

"And to help you get better, before going to bed you must take two Carter's Little Liver Pills!"

By this time, a kind of unbelief that this was happening had put me into something like a mental coma. No help anywhere. Later on, Nilu came to see me. I told him, as my doctor, about the swollen glands and he said I was a hypochondriac! He came to see me several times during the day, each time repeating the hypochondriac theme.

This ghastly situation came to an end the next day when Baba announced that Nilu would take me to the Lahore hospital where I should receive the appropriate injections.

Nilu, Kitty and I bumped in a tonga the seven miles to Lahore, where an irate pathologist made a few cutting remarks about my not coming for the injections at once.

He had with him four of Baba's men disciples who had just told him all about Baba and who gathered round to watch me get the first of a series of fourteen injections. These were given in the abdomen.

He then announced that, since he lived in our neighborhood, he would come to the house every morning to give me the other thirteen. He came every morning. The injections were given on the porch and everyone who had nothing to do came to watch!

He met Baba, fell for Him and afterwards became a close devotee.

This, of course, was the time that Baba chose for me to teach Mehera and Mani to swim.

We went to a Mohammedan girls' boarding school which had an adequate pool. The students were in purdah and therefore it was possible for Mehera to go and swim and not be seen by any men.

I was not too happy about going into the water. It is that element that sometimes brings on attacks of madness, and since I had not received the injections at once, the danger period for me was supposed to last six months.

One day Baba announced that He had arranged for a bus to take us to the Lahore Zoo and the Parsi burial ground.

I was feeling ill and thought longingly of an afternoon on my bed. The very idea of that kind of trip in the Lahore temperature was not appealing, and these places were some distance apart. I pondered. Had I the courage to ask Baba if I might stay in the house? I found I had and went to Him with the request. He looked at me as if I had hurt Him and said, "And I have arranged a treat for you." Well, there was nothing to do but go. By the time we reached the burial ground, I was convinced that I should probably stay there.

In spite of all these miseries, this dog bite in the end turned out to be a blessing. Baba announced firmly that since I should be in danger for six months I must go with Him and the girls wherever they went. So, instead of being left behind at Meherabad with the group when Baba and the girls went off somewhere, I went too. Blessings on the black dog.

After Lahore, the whole group went back to Meherabad and, after a short stay there, Baba said that He was going to Aurangabad to stay for a time. The girls were to go with Him and, because of the dog bite, I was to go with them.

We stayed in a small Moslem-type house built round a courtyard. Owing to a shortage of water, everything in the small garden in front of the house was dying or dead.

My job was to sit on the verandah and see that no one came into the garden who should not do so. Baba's uncle, a dear old man who cried whenever he looked at Baba, guarded the gate on the outside. Someone gave me a packet of zinnia seeds. I planted them in a flower pot and shared my drinking water with them. They were growing up nicely when one day Baba's uncle fell asleep and some goats, seeing a chance, came into the garden and ate my zinnias! The only flowers for miles around. I cried, Baba's uncle cried and Baba came along and comforted both of us. He made us laugh at our silliness.

One day Baba took us to the famous Ellora Caves. It was a happy expedition, for as well as seeing these famous and wonderful caves with Baba, a touching incident occurred.

An old thin man acted as our guide through one of the caves where there were statues and reliefs of the Hindu incarnations and gods.

This man loved his gods so much that at moments there were tears in his eyes as he explained them to us.

After he had taken us round the cave, Baba signed to Mani to tell him that He, Baba, was one of the incarnations. Mani did so and the man took one look at Baba, accepted Him as such, fell on his knees and sobbed as if all his dreams of the great gods were being fulfilled, which of course they were.

For us, the disciples, it was wonderfully moving, and our sympathetic tears welled up to the surface. So much sudden love did Baba sometimes release when someone was ready for this experience.

From Aurangabad, Baba took us on another expedition. This time we went to Daulatabad, which was to be the scene of a Moslem religious ceremony. We motored through a sandy desert covered with enormous ant hills and arrived at a place in the hills where there were two mosques, a dak bungalow and not much else. The bungalow was being used by some British official, but when he heard it was needed by Baba's party, he politely went away, giving Baba the bungalow.

It seemed the most unlikely place in the world for a ceremony. No people in sight, no hotel, no houses.

The next day, however, was a different matter. In the night some hundreds of covered carts had arrived and had been lined up to form streets. Some serving food and selling other necessities. The hillsides were covered with men and women. Such a change was almost unbelievable.

The two mosques were about a mile apart, and the ceremony was to consist of the bones of some Moslem saint being carried from one mosque and established in the other.

The interesting thing was that the persons in charge seemed to know about Baba, and with Him, we were all allowed to enter the mosques where the saint's bones were. I suppose I was the only English person in the neighborhood. I pulled my hat down over my ears and got behind the girls when we entered the mosque. One hears about white persons having their ears chopped off or other choice things done to them if they enter a mosque uninvited. I was, however, unnoticed.

These people made a fuss about Baba. He looked happy and elated, as He often did when working on something special.

For the ceremony itself, Baba managed these people so wonderfully that we were allowed to sit in one of the alcoves on the outside of the mosque into which the bones would be carried. The alcove was just above the doorway, so that we should see the casket carried into its new home. Also we could see up the sloping road as far as the other mosque.

The ceremony was unbelievable.

First the colors. In each costume for women there were at least three colors. Usually bright green, vivid red and a darkish bright blue. Multiply this by hundreds of people milling around. In such colors, the intensity and wildness of these people pushing, screaming and trying to get near enough to the casket to touch it as it was carried down the hill has given me some idea of things that go on in the Middle East in the name of Allah. These people did not seem to be human beings, but just fanatics. The British government had sensibly sent soldiers to line each side of the route between the two mosques, and at intervals they fired their rifles into the air. This, although it gave the bones more safety, certainly added to the noisy, colorful confusion.

Finally a few really wild persons broke through the cordon and nearly upset the casket containing the bones. It was rescued, however, and finally was safely carried into the mosque through the door that lay just below our feet. In the meantime, Baba had left us alone. He had apparently spotted a mast in the crowd. After a time He returned, but we still had to wait quite a long time before leaving. The crowds seemed unable to come out of this unnatural state of emotion.

If I had not seen it, I could never have imagined that so much red-hot religious fanaticism could pour out from the core of human beings.

In the evening we went to a performance given by the traveling circus that had arrived for the festivities.

Baba was beautiful, entering into the spirit of these poor people's enjoyment. They were rather mangy lions, not very good acrobats, and the lighting was bad, but Baba sat and beamed at the whole thing. I am sure His radiant personality helped these men and women to enjoy the performance.

There was one unforgettable performance. After the regular show, as we went out of the tent into the moonlight, we found an elephant all by himself once more going through his performance. He was charming and most professional. Baba was delighted and amused by him, and stayed watching until he had finished his act.

The next day everything broke up. The covered carts departed and Baba took us back to Aurangabad.

[modifier] Dreams

A few of the disciples in Nasik had a strong belief that their dreams indicated some special spiritual progress and were most anxious to recount them to anyone who would listen.

Baba lovingly agreed to listen to these dreams and discuss them and arranged for everyone to meet each morning at 5:30 in the sitting room. Delia and I, who confessed to having no dreams of any kind that we remembered, were told that instead of entering the discussion we were to brush Baba's hair and massage His scalp. For us this was wonderful. What were dreams compared with the pleasure of brushing Baba's beautiful hair and, with our fingertips, massaging His scalp.

His head was an amazing shape. Even now my hands can remember how it was formed.

Every now and then while the dream session was going on, He would place His first finger on some spot that He felt had been neglected and it was immediately given extra treatment. Delia and I were so occupied with our job that we did not always hear all the dreams, but I do remember one morning an anguished voice saying, "Last night, Baba, I dreamt that I came to the edge of the great void, but I was afraid to jump in. Next time, Baba, push me in, push me in." Baba, looking suitably impressed, agreed to do so. Another one announced that she had dreamed that her head was a glass ball, and dear old Will Backett said meekly that in a dream he had looked at his own arm and knew that it was Baba's arm.

Delia and I certainly had no reason to bemoan our dreamless condition.

These sessions did not go on for more than two or three weeks, but they certainly brought certain facets of the ego up to the surface for all of us. This, explained Baba, must happen before the ego-facets can be destroyed.

[modifier] Irene's Dog

While I was nursing Irene during her bouts of catatonia, the group stayed for a few weeks in a house where Irene and I slept and lived at one side of the house in a verandah room, which had three walls and one side open to the outside air. Here we were joined by a stray dog.

The dog affected Irene very happily. When he was on the verandah, she felt more alive and the catatonia attacks were much less frequent. He had a special mat. We were not, however, allowed to feed him; his food was given him in the kitchen, but otherwise he was perfectly happy to spend much time sleeping on the mat.

Then came one of those unpleasant incidents. A certain woman — not a regular resident of the ashram — who did not like Westerners, lured the dog away to the other side of the house by giving him extra food, and was slightly difficult when, giving her the reason, I asked her not to.

It was not good to see my patient, at the defection of her dog friend, going back to more frequent collapses. Then fortunately, from my detective story education, I remembered learning that dog stealers would put anise powder into cuffs on their trouser legs and were then followed by dogs fascinated by this, to them, delicious smell.

I waited for an empty kitchen, raided the stores, found some anise, helped myself and covered the dog's mat with this tempting smell. The dog returned and nothing could afterwards tempt him to leave this delectable spot.

[modifier] God Is Love

Towards the end of my stay in India, for those under Baba's loving but severe discipline everything went down to a very low living level.

One summer at Meherabad, Baba having disappeared — most probably to visit some newly discovered mast — it seemed that we had come close to experiencing life at a poor Indian peasant level. The servants would collect cow dung, water it down to a very liquid consistency and joyfully, since it was like home, spread it thickly over the compound floor, including that of our eating quarters. It was supposed to keep the dust from being blown into everything. This was probably true, but there was something worse than dust.

On hearing of the cow-dung fiesta, every fly in the neighborhood sent out messages to friends all over the country to come at once. "Come and have a lavish time." The result was horrendous. I can remember some of us trying to eat the midday meal under a large towel which covered our heads and plates.

As soon as Baba returned, the cow dung spreading came to an end. But there was a worse trial in store.

Every afternoon Baba would come up the hill from the men's quarters, join the "girls" in their room and refuse to see the rest of the group; even going as far as to arrange that none of us should even catch a glimpse of Him. As Baba left the men's quarters a bell was sounded, we crossed the compound, went into a large room and remained there until the sound of the bell again released us — usually after about two hours.

There was nothing much to do. Rano tried to get on with some painting, others mended their clothes, and a few wrote letters.

One afternoon, I put an enormous navy blue patch into the seat of my only pair of slacks, which were already covered with patches of various colors. I gazed admiringly at the result of my work. The sun was beating down on the corrugated iron roof, and somehow I felt that I should make an effort to show that I felt no ill-will towards this boring and seemingly endless situation.

Extracting some green embroidery silk from my sewing bag, I embroidered the words "God is Love" onto the patch, put on the slacks and paraded around, giving everyone the only laugh of the afternoon.

Baba, hearing about this the next afternoon, sent for me, made me stand with my back to Him, and seemed to be amused by the patch. After all, it expressed the whole truth of the universe, even if appearing in a slightly unconventional spot.

[modifier] Tiger On A Par With Buffalo

Although moderately intelligent human beings, Baba's early Western disciples found that, in spite of the love for Him that He had awakened in their hearts, there were certain difficulties in talking easily and naturally to Him.

Baba's wish was for us to feel no self-conscious barrier, and He broke a great deal of this nonsense by telling us, "You cannot come to my level, so I have to come to yours."

This certainly made matters easier, and we were able to react to His Love in a less difficult manner. We were no longer afraid to say or do the wrong thing.

One day while we were happily sitting round Him, He told us that one day He would call us to India, and that we should stay with Him for the rest of our lives.

As were digesting this statement, someone chirped up, "Baba what shall we do if we meet a tiger?" About on a par with asking what to do if we should meet a buffalo in America.

But Baba took the question seriously, and spelt out the following on His alphabet board: "If you ever meet a tiger, stand perfectly still and inwardly repeat my name."

Years later, Baba had his whole group of by this time rather battered disciples staying with Him in Mahableshwar. The house was on a slight elevation from where one could look down onto a forest which stretched for miles across the country.

The British, mostly army officers, used the forest for tiger shooting expeditions.

With the group at this time were some boys whom Baba was training to serve Him, either out in the world or in a closer ashram life. They seemed quite wonderful boys, learning early to follow the path of Love and Obedience.

One of their main jobs was at night to patrol the house where the women might be sleeping.

In the early morning in some districts, as many as seven or eight dead snakes could be found stretched out near the entrance to the house where the women slept.

One night, two of the boys on duty felt that something was wrong. They turned on their flashlights, and there prowling at no great distance from them was a fierce-looking tiger.

They were so well trained that even the terror of seeing this frightening apparition did not make them forget Baba's order about dealing with this particular situation.

They turned off their lights, became frozen into immobility, and immediately started to repeat inwardly, "Baba, Baba, Baba."

After some time the fear began to abate and they felt safer. At this point one of them turned on his flashlight, just in time to see the animal leaping over the wall and going back into the forest.

Margaret Craske. © 1980 Sheriar Press, Inc.