whispered in my ear, “When you become mine, I will be yours.”

Mani

There was a time we were in Guruprasad. It was darshan time, and the enormous hall of the palace was packed with Baba lovers. If you looked from the entrance you'd see nothing else, because it was just filled. You could see Baba sitting there. Everybody was talking, expressing their joy, moving around. He sat there silently with His white robe on, and the focus was on Him, He was the Light, the Source of the Light. He overpowered all in that room, all the Baba lovers. They were spilling over from the hall into the side rooms, the veranda; they were sitting on the banisters. All this, yet the whole center was Baba's. Anyway, there was music and ghazals (you can't describe that atmosphere of Baba's presence there when this was happening). Women would be sitting on one side of the hall, men on the other, and, of course, Eruch by Baba's side, removing the garlands when they were up to His ears, mopping His brow, interpreting for Him for those who were coming. Other mandali were stationed here and there, helping, volunteering how they should direct people amidst the music when Baba said, all right, let them start coming for darshan. Twenty of the men would be asked to stand up and come in a line to Baba. After them, 15 or 20 minutes later, fifty of the women would be asked to stand up and so on.

So, this man's story begins when the men were asked to stand up, a batch of them, and start going to Baba. They would all stand in a line and one by one they would draw nearer to Baba. As soon as one finished taking darshan, the next one would come, so step by step they would get to Baba. When they reached Baba, they would offer a love offering, either a garland or a box of sweets, something that Baba would  touch and give back. Sometimes He would let it be and they would bow down, put their head on His feet and Baba would either caress them or ask, How's your health? To another, Baba might say, How's your child? Or your mother? or some relative. Or another would get a tap on the back. All this slowed things. But there was a certain rhythm and a speed. One by one.

This man was way in the back of the line and his whole heart and focus was on his turn. When would he come to God? That's how he said it. What will Baba give me? Will it be a caress on the cheek? Will He ask me about my health? Will He ask me about my family? Will He give me a pat on the shoulder? Which will it be? For him, nobody else was there. Nothing existed but Baba. So, step by step, he got nearer to God, nearer to Baba, and his whole heart was in that moment with Him. At last, when his turn came and he bowed down, Baba turned His head away and started talking to Eruch. The man just looked on, but there were others behind him, so he took darshan. He bowed, he looked up; Baba's head was still turned away. Baba was asking Eruch something like, "Do you think Aramasaon Saegal will catch his train on time? Will the ticket be there?" Something very trivial, on and on.

The poor man tried to stretch his moment as long as he could. But there came a point when he couldn't — there were men behind him who were impatient, and it couldn't be done. So, still very reluctantly, he thought, "Maybe as I'm getting up, Baba will look a me." No. At last, with a heavy heart, he turned away to file to the back. As soon as he turned his back, Baba looked back. The next one got His attention. Baba would sometimes bend down when somebody couldn't reach to put