everything pious, singing, everyone and everything in devotion. The Arti-song for Baba begins; an "uncle"-like fellow, swimming in impersonal happiness, burns wax pieces upon a tablet. Baba is garlanded, greeted, hugged; elegant Parsi families with imposing women in imposing clothes arrive. The "Darshana" begins, the passing before of the hundreds. Each bends to kiss Baba's feet or to hug Him, or even just to touch Him. The women bend forward with the little children, each child is touched by Baba, to each He gives a ball of spiced rice. Many small children want to bow by themselves, hands raised in greeting, kissing His feet. Baba's Mandali urge everyone on, press forward one after another, everything goes like clock-work. Baba keeps getting many flower garlands, or some small thing from a poor woman. Some of the former antagonists receive from Baba an encouraging slap, others whisper sweet nothings in His ear during their hug, everything is so serious and real, so full of devotion and belief in the God-Man - How our churches are just white-washed walls! My eyes, my heart have drunk in so much, - I can hold no more!
I wake up at two o'clock in the middle of the night. My inner being is clear, calm, of shining energy. I know, Baba is the Truth . And He is the Truth in me. In this truth I can live a wonderful, creative life. And work for His work. For about two hours I am in this pure happiness, freed of all the give and take of polarities.
Nov. 27, Visit to the Mad Ashram. Baba is hugged, He jokes, takes into His arms these ones who are separated from reality and know only God. Everyone begins to glow. His radiant Mahomet hugs even me, and another tries to kiss my feet. I hug these good brothers. Baba gets to work, cutting hair and beards, assisted by the Mandali, everything goes efficiently and snappy, by the numbers. Then the bath. Baba soaps each one all over, washes him, pours lots of bowls of water over him, and the next one is ready to go. Then the emptying of the chamber pots by Baba. Gloves, emptying the pots, carrying to the trench, cleaning, etc., at the end Himself washing His arms and legs. "This is what being God means . . . this continuous work," says Baba. Who would contradict Him!
In the afternoon Baba has a serious and long talk with Hedi and me. I bring up all my concerns. Everything is handled in a very detailed and most thorough way. To my statement that I don't want to become an Eastern holy man or a monk, but am a European and believe in a spirituality which can express itself anywhere and in any activity, Baba answers: "I stand over East and West, I am no yogi and no saint, but a God-Man as Christ was. You, Hedi, and I are one. You two will have great tasks and were always with me." Hedi and I are supposed to travel for five days to Panchgani, where Baba has a cave. He wants us to be happy together. I walk back down the hill. Am filled with a sense of the extremely precise truth which lies in all that is happening. Now I know that Baba is the Truth, will never forget it again, even if He tests me with the game of temptations.
Nov. 28, Am reading today with Hedi the Meher Baba Journal and translate. And then comes Baba with an itinerary He has worked out for me personally: Pleader, His favorite disciple, the one tested to the utmost (lived 6 years only on milk, 2½ years in a dark room without reading and talking, 8 months in Baba's cave, 1½ years traveling through India without means, poverty, sickness, then caring for possessed people, getting to know well the play of the world, now living in Baba's cave in Panchgani in Tiger Valley) is supposed to come with Hedi and me, show us everything, we to sleep in a hotel, he in the cave. Then we are supposed to return to Meherabad for a few days, then travel to the south . . . Hedi with the women and Baba, I with the Mandali. Then Pleader is supposed to go with me alone! to Benares, Agra, Delhi, then for a few days to the south again, then to Bombay and on Jan. 7 return trip to Europe. I can hardly comprehend this richness, everything is arranged on a grand scale.
Here the crickets sing the whole night, at home is perhaps frost and snow. The new moon is a reclining bowl, at home a sickle. And I have my own servant, who sits in front of my hut full of willingness to serve. For the simplest work he in turn has a small boy. And my own bathroom with sitzbath, mirror-sink, watercloset, little towel hooks, water jug, etc. - My heart, what more do you want!
Nov. 29, Today with Adi, Baba's cousin and excellent worker in Ahmednagar. Visit the Sarosh-factory, his female cousin offers us lemon squash and sweets, we walk through the city, towers of silence are here also, some vultures are flying in front of us over the street with heavy wings. Then