many times during the hours from 9:30 a.m. to 6 p.m., Baba made this movement with just a few breaks in between when the multitude got out of hand. Some say, there were 25,000 some say 60,000. It suffices to say that the crowd was immense. All kinds of people came, millhands from the cotton and silk mills, farmers, business people and lot of others, rich and poor alike, all so eager, their hearts filled with love and with humility, touching Baba's hands, feet or clothing. He wanted to leave. As He stood up, His eyes searched all the faces and finally rested on me. He walked toward me, slapped me twice heartily on my back, touched my face with both hands and made motions, as if to indicate that He would see us Westerners on Tuesday and everyday there after. Baba then walked over, into the open field, where the sun was bright and hot. There He fed about 4,000 poor people. The food was not handed by Baba to the poor, but served on large leaves on the ground. Baba sat down with them and ate also. We all somehow felt guilty, that He sent us to eat our wonderful lunch while He shared His food with the poor. Baba then returned to His seat and continued giving out prasad.
To go back to the time He started, Baba used His right hand, until 3:20 p.m. changed over to the left hand. Flashbulbs, cameras, shouts of 'Hail Baba!' Two bands playing, the loudspeaker going constantly making announcements and giving directions to the crowd. Several times the pushing and shoving of the people became so bad, that the police had to put up boards. While the people rushed past Baba, a woman was pushed ahead, almost losing the chance of getting prasad; but she was held back by Baba's hand, and the flow had to stop, to give Baba time to hand her the prasad. Not even babies in their mother's arms were overlooked. Some sadhus and a priest came to bow down to Baba, to pay their homage and take Baba's darshan. The platform broke through next to Baba's chair, due to the shoving and pushing of the crowd. Finally it was 6 p.m., and Baba was ready to leave. He passed me, reached for my hand and I kissed His hand. I tasted the sweetness of the prasad, which still clung to His hands. Tired and happy, Baba left, sitting on top of His car, which was jammed amidst the roaring crowd, and could not move. Baba raised His beautiful Hands against the sky with its setting sun, and through signs, He gave all to understand that He wished to move on. Reluctantly the crowd moved back and the way was cleared for Him and a tremendous roar rose from the crowd. We boarded our station-wagon and went home to the "Retreat on the Hill". We too, were tired and happy, but in a different way, we received and HE GAVE!
Up at 5:20 a.m.; the sun is not up yet. My sleep was deep and untroubled. I shaved, bathed, with bucket and cup, dressed and went up to the tower to hold my meditation. Everybody was still asleep. The sun had gone behind clouds and the day was pleasantly cool. Unobserved, Alexander Markey left with pillow and briefcase under his arm walking with a boy, who carried his luggage down the hill to the road. As he arrived there, a jeep drove up from the lower buildings and picked him up and went to Poona. I waved to him, but I am not sure if he saw me, because the distance was too great. 8 o'clock, so off to breakfast; afterwards I went again to my tower, for meditation on Baba. Our hearts were so full with warmth and happiness and the peace of this lovely place enveloped us all with His Love. This retreat here had been closed until it gave shelter to us. With His usual lightening-like decision, Baba cancelled the previous order to have us stay at Sarosh's house, and that is why we were here. After meditation and deep-felt prayer to Him, I took a long walk around Meher Hill. I spoke to a Moslem farmer and his family; humble, peaceful people and honest followers of Baba too. I selected some pebbles with love, to bring them home. We had dinner and after, we all, Purdom, John Bass, Philippe, Darwin, Frank Eaton, Frey, Harb and myself went to see Ali Shah, or so-called 'Babaji', a mast who always smokes two cigarettes at one time. Thus we found him smoking, after Dr. Donkin sent us to see him in his bare ugly room. He was sitting on his bed, swathed in towels. He had a long beard and inward-turned eyes. After an introduction which he hardly acknowledged, he gave us now and then a quick glance. I offered him a cigarette, which I carried for just such an