mud. Then, suddenly, we came across a flowing river with fertile green fields, valleys and orchards of mangos, papayas and lush vegetation. This was Baba country! The very same places that Baba had traversed so many times in His years of ministry to suffering humanity. I had read of these very places in The God-Man, and here we were traveling and looking at them. It was incredible, and, yet, hauntingly familiar, as though I had been there before. This is how it must have looked at the time of Christ, Buddha and Krishna. There were the villages, sometimes built on the foundations of ancient Indian cities. There were the women still gathering at the well, as in ancient times, to fetch water and laugh and exchange news and gossip. It was lovely to see these Indian women, in bright flowing saris, walking gracefully, stacks of shiny brass waterpots balanced on their heads. And then the children were everywhere, laughing, crying, playing. The men, in turbans of vivid pinks, reds, burnt orange, walked along the road or sat on bullock carts pulled by oxen and water buffaloes garlanded with bright beads and with horns gaily painted and sometimes tipped in brass. This was India, land of prophets and the God-Men from time immemorial, closest to the Om Point of God's creation.

A feeling of timelessness crept over me as we traveled on and on, winding our way through rocky and barren hill country. At last, we crossed railroad tracks. In a few minutes, we were told that we were nearing Meherabad, and as I looked to my right, I saw a dome-shaped white building and some other structures in the distance. We turned to the right and started up the hill, past the village of Arangaon. Children ran out to shout their welcome of: "Jai Baba!" At the hill, we were greeted by the sound of drums and cymbals and men dancing in wild abandon and joy. We excitedly got off the bus and watched them dance, it was a thrilling sight. To the left of the tomb, men and women sat on carpets under brightly colored canopies. As soon as the dancing stopped and the announcement was made that we should stand in line to enter the tomb, the singing of Bhajans (songs of praise) began. We bought garlands of flowers and listened to the music and to Adi Irani's discourses. We were in the tomb for only a few minutes, but it was enough to lay flowers and bow down at Baba's feet. I was filled with a great wave of love and peace. As I went outside, I heard Adi say that he felt Baba had completed His work and had broken His silence; however, Adi said that he could be 100% wrong or 100% right. It was just his personal opinion. He said that just as it took time for the arrow to reach its mark after it was released, so it would take time for the effect of Baba's Word to manifest. Just how much time, only Baba knew. By then, all that mattered to me was that Baba was the Christ, and that He loved me, in spite of all my faults and shortcomings, and that He could help me change my life.

After visiting the building that held Baba's coat and other things, we sat down in the shade and ate our lunch. By now, the sun was beating down mercilessly on the dry landscape and any bit of shade was sought and welcomed. After lunch, I walked toward the tomb area once more. The dancing had started again and a few of my friends had joined the dancers. I was about to dance also when I decided to return to the tomb. A few people were seated inside. I sat at Baba's feet for a few moments. Again this wave of love swept over me. I could not think, only feel. I picked up a little dirt from under the blanket of flowers and ran it through my fingers. Even the dirt was alive and I got this sensation of touching Baba's feet. I must have sat there for ten minutes or longer, completely absorbed in this feeling, when I heard shouts of "Time to go! Board the buses!" I picked up a handful of flower petals and kept a little dirt, then I reluctantly tore myself away.

Down the hill, at Lower Meherabad, Padri, the mandali in charge, took us around to see the different buildings and to visit Mohammed, the Mast. We heard that when they wanted to bring Mohammed to Baba a few days before Baba dropped the body, he had refused to go, saying Baba was coming to him. Mohammed told us: "Baba is not dead. Baba is everywhere. He gives you His blessing through me." On the way to Meherazad, we passed