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around which chairs had been arranged for Baba and His party.


Baba followed their movements with close interest as the tiny ones danced demurely with the older girls setting the rhythm and pattern, and the large crowd assembled in the open space below could see Him quite clearly. Women massed in gay colors, shoulder to shoulder with their little ones, stood motionless on a raised section of the broad way in front of Baba, the whole of which was packed with people as He gave ladhus again to the scores streaming up from below.


Finally, Baba visited the family quarters of one of His Mandali, temporarily occupied by three women members who normally live on the Hill, and it was a moving sight to witness their homage and surrender symbolized by a cocoanut broken at His feet.


He then drove off in His car to the isolated tuberculosis sanatorium half a mile away, to respond to a request for darshan there, but He would not allow the Westerners to accompany Him, directing them to the hall where, with His accustomed forethought, He had provided soft drinks. On His return, He shook hands with each of us individually, thus closing an afternoon unique in our experience.



3 stars


From Francis Brabazon:


October, 1954



I awoke in the dark of the morning―


The night had almost passed without remembrance of my Love.


Across the dark waters, a light from the shore of His country sharply admonished me.


Thinking of Baba and His bright companions,


It was no time before the dawn broke,


And the sun rose again in the blue expanse of my Love.




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