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Again the doctor called me to explain and I said, "Doctor, today I will make it so there are no complaints." So again I went to the bazaar and brought a carpenter and some planks, etc., and I made an artificial commode in Mohammed's room. I told him, "Now the common latrine is being repaired and you have to use this." I also kept the door locked, so in this way Mohammed was always inside.
After some time I changed Mohammed's room to another building nearby. One day Mohammed told me he wanted to go to Ratnagiri, an ocean port about 200 miles from Bombay, because some of the residents in the building were from there. The first few times I didn't pay attention but when he repeatedly said this, I wrote to Baba. Immediately I received a reply from Baba, saying "Send Mohammed to Ratnagiri." So I arranged it; it was very difficult — it was during the war and all the ships were being used by the government for supplies. They kept a few vessels for the public; it was very hard to get tickets. They were sold at twice the price on the black market. At 2 a.m. in the morning people queued up; at 9 or 10 o'clock they opened up and there was such a rush. They sold a few and then said all were sold out. Finally, after two, three failures one man I sent got two tickets for Ratnagiri. Alright, now I called a taxi for Mohammed to be taken to the docks but he started weeping! "I don't want to go to Ratnagiri!"
I said, "Last week you want to go, with great difficulty I got tickets for you and now you say you don't want to go -- what is this?" Masts change their minds at any moment. What was to be done! With great difficulty I took him to the docks, he started weeping and the taxi man says, "Where are you taking him, he doesn't want to go!" I said, he's the one that insisted he wants to go and now he acts like this. Anyhow Baba had written to me, "You don't go to Ratnagiri, send Mohammed with someone from that place." So I found a man, gave him my money and I sent Mohammed there with him. After 6-months, a letter came from Baba, "Now you call Mohammed from Ratnagiri."
Now, unfortunately I had not taken a photo of Mohammed. I was wondering what to do? Then I realized in the book The Perfect Master there was a photo of Mohammed, so I cut it out and gave it to someone from Ratnagiri to look for him. He did find him and bring him back to Bombay.
Then Baba said, "When he comes, you bring him to Me." So I took him to Baba. Handling Mohammed was very difficult. No one can do it. It is absolutely so difficult, it brings tears to your eyes. If I called a taxi Mohammed would stand there a long time, he would not move. Anyhow, I managed to bring him to Baba. Baba gave him a bath, a new kafni, and fed him, and then at that point Mohammed said, "Baba, I want to go Ratnagiri again."
I was exhausted and fed up with this mast business. I didn't like it at all, but the thing was, Baba was involved. If I said, "Baba, I can't do it." it means I am not worthy of being Baba's disciple. You know, to be a disciple means one is prepared to obey the Master in any way that He tells you -- to go begging, anything, you must do it. If you are not prepared to do that, then you can't say, I am Your disciple, You are my guru. It's like that.
So, I did not tell Baba anything, but I was burning inside. I was hating all these things, so I said, All right! From Meherabad we came to the railroad station in a tonga, and we boarded the train. It started moving and it reached Poona about 11-12 o'clock. It was a passenger train stopping at all the stations, but 5 minutes before stopping at Poona, Mohammed told me he wants to piddle. Now our boogie was a long boogie with room for 60 passengers, and two doors at each end. Poona is a big crowded station. So I opened the latrine door and called Mohammed and he stood just outside the door. Now when he stood outside, naturally, the compartment door should be closed. If you open it, it hits the person who stands behind. Just then, the train halted, at Poona Station, and the passengers wanted to get down, but the way was blocked. They started shouting, looking at me, at Mohammed, "Who is that man! Take him aside!" they cried.
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