SILENCE

 
On 26 June, Baba declared that he would observe silence from 10 July 1925, and a sign about his statement was painted and erected at the entrance to Meherabad. Notices were also printed and mailed, announcing that Meher Baba would not speak with anyone for a year.

On Thursday 9 July, in a meeting with the mandali, Baba gave final instructions for the supervision of the various activities at Meherabad and placed five of the men in charge. They were only allowed to communicate with Baba about their assigned duties at a specified time each day. The rest of the mandali could speak to him only when Baba wished it.

That afternoon, around four or five o'clock, Baba came to the Post Office, where he told the women: "From tomorrow, I will observe silence, but I will break my silence when I finish my work. I won't be coming to you. You must not be sad about it. Keep happy and do your duties. Adhere to the orders I have given you.(1) This will please me."

He added very seriously, "Cook food for the children with love and care. Don't think they are villagers, so it doesn't matter how you cook. Do it with all your heart. You must feel that they are like our own children."

Mehera commented: "How Baba must have felt when he left our quarters to rest on the evening of 9 July. From the next morning, he was not going to talk but keep silence. He knew that he was not going to speak for the rest of his life. We thought his work would be done in a month, or maybe 15 days, and he would resume talking, so we were not worried. Baba told us that when his work was finished, he would talk. 'How long will his work take?' we wondered. Then it went on.

"At first, we thought Baba would keep silence only for a week. 'Baba can't keep silence for so long,' we thought. Then, after a week had passed, we thought he might keep it up for a month. How can one keep silence for so long? One month passed, then two. Seven is a good number, we reasoned. He might keep silence for seven months.

"Once or twice, we did ask Baba; but it didn't help him to ask when is he going to talk. We were shy to ask, so we wrote it down [despite his orders]. 'Baba, we must hear your lovely voice. How beautifully you used to sing. When will we hear you again?'

"Baba read our note and said, 'I will speak later on. When my work is finished [gesturing k for kam (work)]. It will be in my own time.'

"He said it to appease us, to keep us quiet. It was for his work, so we couldn't say [complain] much. We didn't ask again and again. When he had come on the afternoon of 9 July, he had said, very confidently, that when his work was finished, he would talk. So we didn't think much about it.

"The first few days, it was very difficult. Baba felt to laugh and would quickly cover his mouth with a kerchief to muffle the sound. He held his lips tight, so he couldn't really enjoy the laughter. No sound was allowed to escape. He kept guard on himself at all times. To enjoy the laugh — that too he had to deny himself all those years. To sing a lovely song also. How he must have wanted to sing when he heard stirring qawaali songs.

"No one's voice is as beautiful as Baba's. He sang with so much feeling. He had a love for singing. To deny himself, to sacrifice all this — and not to hum either — is very difficult. Baba was so outgoing. He would want to tease someone. He was so talkative and full of fun; he would wink at one person and then go on talking seriously to another, so you knew he was having a joke with that person. His ways were like that when many were around. He couldn't be as spontaneous with gestures to say what he wished. For one who loves to talk, keeping silent was very difficult and a great sacrifice."

Naja observed: "No one believed it when Baba first announced his plans to keep silence, because he was always so talkative, singing and joking. Before this time, Baba would sometimes say, 'I am talking too much, no? I talk the whole day long.'"

Those at Meherabad simply could not imagine Baba — who used to chat incessantly like Mani — keeping silence for an extended period.

After beginning his silence, the women noticed that Baba had the habit of rubbing the thumb of his left hand and his left forefinger together. A callus formed. "Perhaps he was restless," Mehera speculated. "As he was so outgoing, he needed some outlet to distract himself" Later, a band-aid was put over his thumb, so he would remember not to do this and also to prevent the callus from becoming infected.

Sometimes, Baba would lightly snap the fingers of his left hand, producing a slight sound of the thumb and index fingers rubbing together.

Mehera did notice that Baba had been in a jalali mood more often before keeping silence, and that after keeping silence, he was milder.

He began to use a slate to communicate his thoughts, which he would quickly wipe clean with his hand. After some time, when he discarded one slate and began using another, the women took a nail and carved out his handwriting in the discarded slate to preserve it.(2)

One day, Baba called Mehera & wrote in English on the slate: "I love you." "I was surprised and happy," said Mehera. "I didn't know what to say." Mehera concluded: "Baba loved us. He loved us very dearly. We must also love him to make him happy. We are Baba lovers, so we must have that staunch, true love for Baba, to live by his Word. For us, he has suffered all those years. What he went through, only Baba himself knows. We cannot. But we love him and that makes him happy. So we must love him more and more and make him happy always."

(1) Their orders were that when it was cold, they must wear warm clothing in the evening; when they work, they must keep cheerful and happy, and so on. Moreover, they were to continue not to read or write, and not to speak to men.
(2) Either Gulmai or Small Khorshed kept the slate.