BABA AT THE HASTY TASTY

 
In June of 1968, I moved from New York City, where I first heard of Meher Baba, to Seattle on the northwest coast of the United States. For over half a year there, I didn't meet a single Baba-lover, although I spoke quite openly about Baba. Seattle, it seemed to me then, was on the remote frontier of the Baba World.

Some time around the latter part of December, however, by Baba's grace, I ran into someone devoted to Baba, a girl named Marion. Through her, I heard about the darshan in India to which Baba was inviting His lovers in the spring in March and April. During this period, I didn't have a job or any savings, and so the prospect of earning money for the fare to India in such a short time seemed hopeless.

Marion was very poor, she lived in an extremely rundown apartment, and because she was not well enough to hold a full-time job, we were both in the same boat — it looked like going to see Baba would be impossible. However, we didn't give up hope. Whenever we ran into each other, invariably the subject would turn to discussing possible ways to get to India, from borrowing money to working our way over on a ship. We usually ended up feeling discouraged.

A month later, on the 31st of January, we received the news that Baba had dropped His body. We were profoundly affected by this and hoped somehow we could make it to the "Last Darshan."

There was a small cafe in the university district I used to go to in those days called the Hasty Tasty. It was a greasy sort of place, open all night, where all manner of people congregated — students, bums, hippies, drug-users, even heavy drinkers who would come in to sober up. Most, like myself, were practically broke and were lured in by a special feature offered at the Hasty Tasty. For only ten cents, one could drink all the coffee one wanted. Often my friends and I would sit and talk for hours, sometimes consuming ten cups apiece in the course of an evening.

One afternoon, three or four days after Baba dropped His body, three of us stopped by the Hasty Tasty and were sitting at a small table having our usual coffees: Marion, myself, and a fellow named Rusty who had heard of Baba from us and seemed open to Him. A few other people were seated at nearby tables in the very cramped dining area.

For about half an hour, the three of us had been talking about this and that, nothing in particular. Marion was sitting at the end of our table, and Rusty was across from me. Suddenly, Marion with a look of utter astonishment on her face, stared awestruck at the empty chair next to me and exclaimed, "Baba is sitting in that chair!"

I started to turn my head towards the chair but there was such an overwhelming brilliance that my eyes could only bear to see the outer fringes of this great brilliance! Baba was like the light of a thousand suns put together! Tears poured from my eyes. Streams of golden light flowed out from the fringes of the great sun of Baba's effulgence. Try as I might, I was not able to look directly into the light itself.

An eternity of time seemed to pass, though it was probably no more than a few minutes. Suddenly, Baba vanished as quickly as He had appeared. The three of us were utterly speechless. Instinctively we reached out and held hands and remained like this for a long time, in silence. Then as if by an unspoken consent, we stood up, paid for our coffees and left the cafe. Outside there was a great roof of grey clouds overhead which made everything seem deeply quiet and subdued. We walked up University Avenue, still without speaking a word, and then one by one each of us turned down our own street along the avenue and headed home.

How deeply touched the three of us were, beyond words! Baba, in His infinite compassion, remembered us in this remote corner of the world. There was no way, as it turned out, that Marion and I could have gone to the "Last Darshan," but Baba had said He would give His lovers His darshan again, "Sometime, somewhere, somehow!" and that moment had unexpectedly and overwhelmingly come for us!