program for the 17th was cancelled, and that my meeting had been moved up to Monday the 15th, nine o'clock in the Meherazad morning. "Oh, oh," said my triple-jigging mind, "here goes Baba, changing plans like He always does. I'll probably get word tomorrow that He's changed the meeting to yesterday, and Baba wondering why I wasn't there " And I wondered (with awe) at the mettle-temperance and the seasoning of the heart that a life of following planless Master-plans would lead one to.
On the night of the 14th I attended the Bombay Center meeting before having dinner and boarding the night passenger train for Poona. Literally up to the eleventh hour, when the train left Victoria Station, there was no further change of plan, and I was actually en route to the Wine Itself.
The train reached Poona at 5:30 in the morning, and I found Adi and Bhawsar, a Poona lover, searching the platform for me. Immediately taken to Adi's car, and the beginning of the two-hour drive to Ahmednagar: Adi talking, me talking, us talking of the Silent One.
Arrival in Ahmednagar with the sun now entirely out of bed, a glimpse at Adi's office, and he hurried us to his cousin's house — Sarosh Irani — where I washed and ate breakfast with His Name popping out of my mouth and into my cars between mouthfuls.
"Baba is very particular about time," Adi said as he settled in for a second helping. "Don't worry", he said. "He'll blame me, not you, if we're late for your nine o'clock meeting time." I was much less concerned about where the blame would go than about being in time to savor the timelessness of this age-old first-time this-time appointment with the Ageless One, and I finished breakfast in a hurry.
We drove the nine miles from Ahmednagar to Meherazad quickly — eastern Kansas miles with the exception of mud villages and bullocks and villagers on the road and God Incarnate at the end of it. The car took a private off the main one which led to Ezad azad, namely the earthly abode of the Freeing One Who Alone is worthy of worship. Here was Meherazad. A few stone buildings of the one story with a dusty court (ing) yard between them. When we first arrived I saw no one: A couple of chickens and a dog — now there's a dog's life — looked up as a trailing cloud of dust caught up with the stopped car.
And then Eruch appeared with a big smile ... my God, he oughta smile, sittin' alla time at His Feet — and we embraced very heartily and began to walk along, saying how fine it was that I could be there. I was thinking that it would be a few minutes before Baba called me to see Him, and I added my shoes to the ring of chappals" at the threshold of one of the buildings and walked in.