LIKE A DREAM

 
From 3 May until the end of June [1925], Baba moved into a room in the abandoned water reservoir on Meherabad Hill, across the railroad tracks. This was another stone structure built by the British Army, massive and fort-like. But the area where the water had been stored did not have a door; to enter it, Baba had to climb an iron ladder to a window high up.

After the first seven days spent in seclusion, Baba wrote the Book in the morning, made his usual rounds of inspection at lower Meherabad in the afternoon, & went back to the tank in the evening to work on the Book again.

When he was at lower Meherabad, "we would peek at Baba through the tatta while cooking," said Naja. "We would try to look at him all the time."

When Baba crossed the railway line to walk up the hill, the women could not see him from inside their compound. Sometimes, however, Gustadji (who slept on the Post Office verandah as a watchman while Baba was up the hill) would pass word through Daulatmai: "Girls, Baba is going up the hill!"

Then they would gather in the compound at a spot facing the railroad tracks where there was a slight mound of dirt, enough to peer over the bamboo matting. What a commotion, as they jostled for positions to see him.

Excitedly they would call to each other, and their voices would carry to Baba, who would turn around. He would see their heads peeping over the tattas and wave. They would become even more excited and wave back. Then Baba would turn and continue walking up the hill in his white sadra.

"It was about 4:30 P.M.," said Mehera. "The sun was not quite setting, and it shone through his open hair. It looked bright and beautiful, like a halo around him. He wore no hat or shawl, and carried no umbrella." (1)

Naja observed: "When Baba was going up the hill, it was as if Christ was walking again. He seemed almost to float in the air."

Wistfully, Small Khorshed too recalled those days: "When he was leaving lower Meherabad, we were all standing around and waving to him. Baba turned back and also waved. He looked like a fairy in his sadra. A very beautiful scene."

After Baba climbed a little ways, he would turn around and see that the women were still there, their heads peeking over the barricade. Again they would wave to him and he would wave back. He would walk further up and again turn and wave. There was no wall then around the reservoir on the hill, and they could see Baba climb the iron ladder to enter his room.

"He looked so tiny," Mehera recalled, "and we must have looked equally tiny to him. Right from the top of the ladder, Baba waved to us, signaling and motioning that it was enough now. Then he climbed through the biggish window-like opening into the huge, bare, dark room, where he spent the night."

Khorshed added nostalgically, "When I remember the days we spent in Meherabad with Baba, it is like a dream to me. It was such a happy time. Such peace of mind. What enthusiasm for doing everything we had! Now it seems like some good dream."

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(1) When out in the sun, Baba sometimes folded a towel three or four times and tied it around his head.