"passports" were stamped. As the Pavilion's floor plan had been meticulously designed so all visitors would walk by all exhibits on the main floor, Baba's Messages and books were in prime locations all summer. If some Baba followers exploring the Pavilion failed to find them, it was because our daily quota of 1,500 Messages did not last long in the presence of the 28,000 persons who filed through the building every day.*
Occasionally, special events interrupted the routine. India's President, Dr. Zakir Husain, visited Expo the last week in June when state receptions were held in the Pavilion. Fashion shows were held there sometimes, too, when the Pavilion's hostesses left their usual posts to model Indian saris and exquisite silks. And Baba's dozen books were rotated with a dozen books by other spiritual leaders so Baba's weren't always in sight. But over the Expo season, all members of the India Pavilion's staff — the tall, vivacious Mr. Dayal, who had long since returned to India, Mr. Luthra, genial Mr. Chopra who had arrived from New Delhi, Mr. Samtani, the men who worked in the storage rooms, the dozen or so men and women in the Pavilion and downtown city offices, the several hostesses, and the Canadian-French youth — invariably showed me every possible courtesy. This was true of every contact I made with them since that first phone call to Mr. Luthra in August, 1966, right through the 40 times I visited the Pavilion and asked Mr. Samtani to interrupt his work to unlock the storeroom so I could see how many Messages had been distributed since my last visit, through my countless phone calls to see if the various shipments had arrived or if the broker's invoices were correct, right to the end of Expo when the Pavilion shipped Baba's books to its downtown office for me to pick up.
Was ever help so well tailored to a project's needs?
All I did through all this period was lumber down to Expo on Montreal buses, walk through the Place d'Accueil — the Place of Welcome — down the steps to Expo buses or the Express and streak across the Cite du Havre, the breathtaking St. Lawrence, St. Helen's Island to Ile Notre Dame — all the while grinning happily to myself as I felt, with increasingly intensity, the great warmth and pleasure of Baba's presence at my right side.
Then, disembarked on Ile Notre Dame, I usually strolled toward Czechoslovakia, crossed a footbridge to Cuba, turned left at Germany, walked by the tulips, then the snapdragon, then the asters to India. After looking at Baba's counter and talking with the hostesses on duty, I went downstairs to the Pavilion's office to meet Mr. Samtani and visit the storeroom. One time, as we walked and
*Six days before Expo was closed, Mr. Samtani advised that five million people had entered the India Pavilion during the fair's previous 179 days.