Previous Page
Table Of Contents
Next Page

 

34

 

Then He asked Ali Akbar to recite a Persian couplet, which He translated:

 

"Millions of men of God stand in a queue to gain entrance (to the God-Man), and only one comes through the threshold. Out of millions who come through the threshold, only one knows Me as I really am."

 

Baba introduced me to Francis and asked him to read a recent poem of His which had reference to LSD:

 

"Don't try to hold me up by offering me a 'trip' on LSD.

 

I always travel unencumbered, guided along by love — see!"

 

At Baba's indication Francis pulled another paper out of the shelf he had with him and read a ghazal which he had written — an exquisite ghazal which made Baba beam and snap His fingers as certain lines of finely tuned words came to a climax.

 

"Pay no attention whatsoever to the Path," Baba gestured after the ghazal, to the planes, or to spiritual experiences — these are all as toys for children and they are nothing but illusion. You must strive to see Me as I really am"

 

"What is most important for you is to hold tight to My Daaman. And what does 'holding the daaman' mean? To do exactly what I say, to obey me completely. My Time (of speaking the Word) is coming nearer and nearer. I am God. I am Truth."

 

Baba called me to embrace Him once again, and I left the hall with Eruch. He showed me around some of the rooms and the Blue Bus, and I looked at Meherazad Hill with a lust for climbing it — a vain lust, since time was so short. I was hardly able to listen to Eruch as he told me about the rooms, heart still in Baba's hand, mind hiccoughing like a drunkard. But listening and talking was not much necessary — a meeting of eyes and, as Francis has said, you felt as though both came from the same Place."

 

Francis came out, and Nariman, and Adi, and we talked and were silent and talked Francis and I talked about Stay with God — I told him I had read some of the passages in coffee houses in the States, and he said, "Coffee houses?" I explained that a lot of stuff and some poetry is read in coffee houses, where students and ex-students hang out and rap about all and everything, but usually nothing. He read some parts of the book and I read the part that begins:

 

"Wouldn't it be a wonderful thing to have a friend who wouldn't want one to beguile time ..."

 

Previous Page
Table Of Contents
Next Page