LIFE WITH GOD

 
At 8:45 or 9:00 A.M., holding Mehera's hand, Baba came out of the main house to go to mandali hall. Until 1965, Baba often walked very slowly to the hall, with Mehera on one side, Goher on the other, and Meheru following a few minutes later. Afterwards, when osteoarthritis set in, Baba used the lift-chair exclusively, both to and from the house. "For the last five years, Baba didn't even go through the garden to the mandali," Mehera recalled sadly.

"He used to hold my hand and walk, but now that too stopped. Only in the house on the smooth flooring. He couldn't lift his leg much. He walked very slowly to the dining room. Baba loved walking and has climbed the hills around Meherazad. He walked so fast and beautifully, but since his hip was broken, it became very uncomfortable for him to walk.

"We felt very sad to see Baba walk so slowly with a limp, but Baba never wanted us to put on a long face. He always wanted us to be happy, to look cheerful. That helped Baba, he said. So we always would be happy, so that he was happy, and to obey him. To love and obey him, that is what he wanted."

Mehera continued: "Baba couldn't do without walking, so can you imagine all those 12 years [since 1957], Baba did not walk as he wanted. He could not sing or talk. All this was done for each of us. Baba loves each so much. How many sanskaras Baba must have washed away, demolished. That is why we are fit to love him now. He made it possible. His love is most important. And now he wants love from us. God does not want anything from us — just love. That is most precious to Him."

Mehera quoted Kabir: "Just as water is life to a fish, so does a mother [instinctively] love a child. This is how Ram wants to be loved. To Ram, only love is precious. How fortunate it is that you love Baba."

For security, each of the women mandali had a whistle to summon help in case of an emergency. Mani kept hers, for example, beside her bed. In addition, a large whistle hung outside on the banister. Meheru blew this whistle after Baba was seated in the lift-chair and Mehera had stepped back inside. "I usually went ahead when Baba told me to blow the whistle to prepare the mandali," Meheru said. "After Baba was seated, Goher called out to Kaka, Francis, and the boys to come and lift Baba's chair."

Two garden boys and two other male servants came, and Baba smiled and patted them as he was carried to the hall. "He loved everyone and always made them feel that they were more than servants," Mehera noted. Usually, Goher followed Baba on a small, child's bicycle she had begun using to cycle between the men and women's sides of Meherazad.

Rano remained on the verandah until Baba was in the hall and then went about her work. Sometimes, she or Goher carried a kettle of warm water to the hall for Baba to wash his hands, if it were needed, which was not always. A basin of water was kept by his chair there. Baba wiped his hands with a small towel and then gave it to be washed. (He always used a fresh towel, never the same one again.)

At the back door of the hall were two brass bells, one large and one small. If the large one were rung, it meant Baba wanted Goher; if the smaller one were struck, it meant Mani. The men just shouted for Rano, who never entered the hall unless called.

"After Baba went to mandali hall", Meheru said, "Mehera and I spent some time in the garden and then came in and readied Baba's bed. I went to wash Baba's clothes also. The time factor of how long or short a time Baba spent with the men affected our pace and our time in the garden and other work." Baba returned around 11:00, so the women had a little less than two hours to do their chores. If they had to take a bath, they did it then; if there were torn sadras to stitch or missing buttons on Baba's coat to be replaced, it was done at that time.

Mehera went to the dining room, where she cleaned Baba's electric razor. Meheru emptied the basin and pail outside, and straightened Baba's chair. Baba's room had already been dusted and swept by the servant, and Meheru had hung Baba's linen to air on a line strung in his room.

Next, Mehera made Baba's bed, shook the mosquito curtain and neatly put it up. At times, when it was chilly, to avoid having a draft on Baba, a sheet was draped over his mosquito net on the head side. His pillowcase and drawsheet were changed daily. The large sheet underneath was shaken and aired in the sun, and changed if it were warm and Baba had perspired. As mentioned, because Baba perspired so much, they used a double drawsheet on his bed that reached down to the small of his back, which could be untucked and removed if it were wet with perspiration; in this way, the large sheet (and his mattress) remained dry and unsoiled.

Fresh, lukewarm drinking water was placed in Baba's bedroom; warm water to wash his hands was kept there as well. In one corner, a brass samovar on a stand and a large plastic basin under it were there for the mandali to wash their hands (with a separate soap and towel for their use). All of this had to be emptied and replenished daily, and clean towels put out. In addition, one of the servants swabbed the floor every day with a damp cloth; when the floor was dry, the carpet by Baba's bed was unrolled.

When Baba and the women had first moved into the new house in 1948, a thick, Persian-style carpet was beside Baba's bed, about the same size as the pink one that is there now. Baba has used this pink carpet also, which Katie had sent from Bombay. "Baba stood on it for a few days," said Mehera "but one night, when he stood up, his foot slipped, as the carpet was a bit too light. The next morning, Bhau told Goher, and Baba himself told us to remove it. So we rolled it up and put it away, and always used the Persian one."

While Baba was with the men, Mehera mashed grated coconut, cardamom, clove, and betal nut in a mortar and pestle, and sent it to the hall with Goher. "All the time, when your mouth is shut," Mehera explained, "you feel stale and want it to be clean. Baba chewed on a little of this mixture, while he was with the mandali." Sometimes, he chewed aniseeds also, and Mehera sent coconut water as well: "We used to give Baba coconut water from the Meherazad coconut tree. Someone once sent green coconuts from Bombay, and I extracted the sweet water from these and sent it to Baba. Baba was not keen on eating the soft part of the coconut; we put some on his plate, but he didn't like it much."

If Baba were in mandali hall, and Mehera was busy washing her hair and dying it, before returning to the women's side, Baba asked, "Has Mehera finished what she's doing, washing and bathing?" He knew that Mehera would want to be ready and present when he came to the house. Mehera never wanted to be absent when Baba was with them, for any reason.

"Go and see whether Mehera is finished," Baba instructed Goher, "then I'll come."

The order about having one person with Mehera at all times had been gradually eased, "but Baba always wanted us to be aware of Mehera's whereabouts," Meheru stated, "to be within calling [distance] if she needed anything or anyone, especially in the evening at dusk and definitely to be close by at night. Someone always had to be near her then."

At 10:45 A.M., the mandali rang a bell, signaling that Baba was about to return. The women assembled. At 11:00 or 11:30, the garden boys, Francis, Bhau, and Kaka carried Baba in the lift-chair from the hall to the verandah of the main house.

Once, when Roda Mistry (Arnavaz's sister) was visiting, Baba asked Kaka to name the men who had just carried the chair. Due to illness, Kaka had a type of aphasia and spoke odd words, which would amuse Baba. Baba turned to Roda, whose mind tended to go blank in Baba's presence, and asked her to repeat the "names" Kaka had just said. Roda's fumbling attempts to comply provided Baba with another laugh — much needed breaks from the intense pressure of his work.

Baba had instructed Francis to shout, "Jai Baba!" as Francis was leaving. If he did not do it, Baba called him back to say it.

When the men left, Mehera stepped outside. "We girls waited inside, just around the corner from the door onto the verandah," she said, "peeping out to see if Baba is coming. Peeking through the window, we saw him from afar. Baba wouldn't like us to be on the verandah, staring at him in front of the garden boys. They put down his chair and left. Baba clapped or sometimes snapped his fingers for us to come out. Sometimes, Goher or Rano was with him. (Most of the time Mani was not inside; she was busy writing [in a makeshift office near the house] and came after Baba came.) Baba, holding my hand, went slowly into his room. At night now, when I think deeply, I can see Baba slowly walking, holding my hand."

Baba chatted with the women for a few minutes before getting out of the lift-chair. He asked whether it was early or late. "Did you finish your work?" he inquired. They said they had.

Sometimes, Mehera said, "You're looking a bit tired today, Baba.

"Yes, there was a lot of correspondence," he might reply.

Said Mehera regretfully, "Speaking would have been so much easier for Baba to convey what he had to say, [especially when] he was uncomfortable in mandali hall, having to sit for hours with a troublesome hip."

Mehera helped Baba from the chair to his room, where Baba rested for half an hour before lunch. Baba always held Mehera's hand when going into the bedroom; often, Baba kissed Mehera's hand. "I would also feel so much love and kiss Baba's hand," she said.

In his bedroom, Baba stood on the carpet by his bed, as he unbuttoned his coat. Mehera stood behind him and pulled the sleeves to helped him take it off. Rano took the coat from her and hung it on the wall peg, behind the inner door.

Baba sat on his bed, in a relaxed mood. "I'll leave on the sadra," he would say, if it were cool. Otherwise, he liked to take it off and lie down in his boxer shorts. Sometimes, he also took a thin, fine material to cover himself from the waist down. Baba was told to rest for a little while after being with the mandali. Besides, he was not usually very hungry; he was not exercising much, and his appetite had diminished.

Sometimes, Baba told the women to massage his hands, feet, toes, and legs. Baba turned over so that Mani could massage his back. After a few minutes, turning over again, he said that he felt better and for them to continue their work. Naja left to finish cooking; Mani to type. Rano read something to Baba, as Mehera or Meheru continued massaging his feet, toes, back, and hip.

Once, when Mani was leaning against Baba's back on the bed, supporting him (her back to his), Rano gestured to her, "You have your typing to do. You go ahead. I'll do it [lean against Baba] for you." Mani declined, although she did have typing to do; she knew that Rano wanted a turn to have her back against Baba's. Baba looked up. He too knew what was happening.

After a few more minutes of massaging his feet, Baba might ask what food had been cooked. When he was told, he might make a face and say that he wanted bhujias or, occasionally, an omelette instead. Naja quickly made it. Baba told Mehera to prepare food for Mastan, saying, "I'm coming soon [to the dining room]." After Baba ate, he wanted to feed Mastan, so the dog's food had to be ready.

"Finished?" Baba asked Mehera, when she returned. She said she was.

Baba sat up in bed, turned his legs around, and rested his feet on the cushion. "I feel nice now," he said. "I feel hungry. What's the time? It's very late now. We must go quickly." (Baba pointed to an imaginary watch on his left wrist for time and then brought his forefinger straight back into the air, in a gesture that meant it's late.) Meheru or Rano, whoever was nearby, removed the cushion underneath his feet and placed his slippers there.

Raising himself from the bed was a particular strain on Baba's damaged hip joint. To help him, Mehera placed one hand underneath Baba's shoulder, the other arm extended in front so that he could hold her arm, while she gave him a small lift. Still, it was visibly painful whenever Baba stood up.

Hand in hand, Baba and Mehera walked to the dining room, the others trailing behind. Baba sat at the head of the table by the window, and Meheru or Rano pulled his chair out. Baba let go of Mehera's hand and held the table, before being seated. Mehera turned Baba's plate right side up and served his food on it.

Baba's daily fare usually consisted of plain daal and rice, especially in these later years. As Mehera served him, he signaled when it was enough rice, curry, or daal. Naja tried to get Baba to take something more substantial, but he would say, "Look, Mehera, I eat so much, still she is saying this. I don't like all I this keet, keet, keet [nagging]."

Naja, however, would not give up easily. "You don't eat this, Baba, you don't eat that," she fretted. "You don't eat enough."

"Why do you say that," Mehera replied, taking Baba's side. "Let him be."

"What has he eaten?" Naja demanded. "Only that much. Like a bird."

Red-chili chutney was always kept on the table with their meals. Although Mani loved it, she could not eat it, as Baba had once given her the order not to have red chilis. One day, Mehera asked Baba, "Many years ago, you told Mani not to eat red chutney. Is she still to keep that order? Should she still eat only green-chili chutney?" Much to Mani's delight, Baba said that she could now have the red chutney.

Others, however, had been given certain food restrictions, which were never rescinded. One person was told not to eat potatoes; Arnavaz could not have peas; someone else could not have chicken. It was not a matter of health: Meher Baba's order served as a reminder of him — whenever the person saw chicken (or peas or potatoes), they thought of the Beloved and his order.

While seated at the dining table, sometimes Baba's fingers began to move rapidly, and the women knew he was engaged in his Universal work. "We always felt that we should be quiet and not disturb Baba, while he was working," Meheru clarified. "Baba's finger movements were not like ordinary tapping; they had a rhythm all their own, like horses galloping. Even when we were reading to Baba in the afternoon, and Baba was lying in his bed, he would be making circles with his fingers."

Mani related that the particular rhythm Baba used was unique: "It was like Baba's special knock at our bedroom door at Upper Meherabad: knock, knock . . . knock, knock, knock. Two short knocks and then a longer one. He did something similar when seated, drumming his fingers to the same tune. Two drums and then three drums. It was a tune Baba always gave, even with the electric bell by his bed at Meherazad. We couldn't go in in the mornings till Baba rang the bell, signaling that the men had gone out. Tring, tring . . . tring, tring, tring. When he was seated at the dining-room table for breakfast by himself — we were bringing the cups, I was seated beside him with the radio — he would tap his fingers in this manner — two shorts, then a longer one [three times]."

Once, while Baba was seated quietly, his fingers moving, Naja walked into the dining room in a huff, preoccupied with her own work in the kitchen, instead of being conscious and attentive to Baba. She began griping loudly about one of the servants. Baba looked at her with a puzzled expression and asked, "What are you talking about? Don't you realize I am working." And Naja realized her mistake.

Another day, when the women were already seated at the table for lunch, Mehera had just served food on Baba's plate. He began eating and so did the others, when Naja came in. She usually came late, after finishing everything in the kitchen. That day, she looked tired. Baba imitated her, saying, "Every day Naja comes into the dining room like this," squinting his eyes and opening his mouth. Baba loved to mimic and tease someone, and Naja made a convenient target. He had an excuse to make fun of her, and everyone laughed at his comical expression.

"What were you doing so late? Why didn't you come earlier? Every day, Naja does this. [He squinted again.] Look how she's coming."

From then on, Naja was careful to open her eyes widely before entering the dining room.