PLEASING BABA

 
Sometimes when people hear about our life with Meher Baba, they express amazement that we could have put up with all the hardships. But it is only now, looking back at it, that we can say, "Yes, that was a hardship," for at the time it did not seem that way to us. We were too busy simply living our lives to be aware of whether it was a hardship or not. We didn't think in those terms.

Of course, I can't speak for everyone. There were some who came to Baba, no doubt, wanting God-realization, or powers or such, and invariably they found the life with Baba to be a hardship. It was not to their liking and so, sooner or later, they left. But you see, those of us whom Baba permitted to stay with him, we didn't come for anything, we only came for Baba.

When Baba told us to do something, we didn't stop to figure out what we were going to get out of it, we simply did it. We weren't there to get anything, but simply to try to please Baba. That was the key for us. We tried to see to Baba's pleasure. This meant not only doing whatever he told us, but more importantly, trying to anticipate his needs.

And invariably when talking about this, someone will ask me, "Well, did you ever please Baba?" And that reminds me of a funny story. One time there were four or five of us traveling with Baba, it must have been a mast tour, and we arrived at a dak bungalow late one afternoon to discover that it was completely full. The manager, however, knew us as we had often stayed there and so he said to me, "I can't give you any rooms, but you can give me all your luggage and I'll lock it up for you so it will be safe and you can sleep here in the courtyard."

We had all slept out in the open often enough that that was no hardship, and I went and explained to Baba what the manager had suggested. Baba thought it was a good idea so I spread Baba's bedding roll out in the compound and put mine next to it so I could be near Baba in case he wanted anything during the night. The other mandali put their bedding some distance away so their snores would not disturb Baba.

It was dark now and, as usual during our travels, we were all exhausted and everyone soon settled down to sleep while I sat on my bedding keeping watch. As I sat there, I saw a comet in the sky. It had a long tail and was moving very slowly across the sky.

I was fascinated by it and my first thought was, "Oh, Baba would love to see this." But Baba was sound asleep. I sat there and watched the comet and thought how much Baba would enjoy it. Finally I said softly, "Baba, Baba, Baba."

Baba sat up and gestured, "What is it?"

"There's a comet, Baba," I said excitedly, and pointed it out in the sky.

Baba turned his head, looked at the comet for a fraction of a second and then lay down immediately and pulled the covers over his head with a decisive gesture as if to say, "What's there to see in that?" I still remember the way Baba pulled the covers up as he went back to sleep — as if only an idiot would have wakened him to look at the comet.

But we did occasionally please Baba. I remember one time, some years later, when Baba had given me some work to do. There was a Baba family who lived around two hours from where we were staying with Baba. There had been a family dispute and Baba sent me to try and effect a reconciliation and, at the same time, get the various family members to agree to certain conditions he had laid out. Baba wanted me, in fact, to get them to sign their names to an agreement he had drawn up.

I knew this would be a difficult thing and would take a long time as family disputes are always complicated and take a great deal of patience to resolve. So I left around six in the morning on a bicycle. As I left, Baba repeated to me several times that I should be sure to return by six that evening.

I got to the family's house at eight in the morning and called everyone together and immediately began trying to thrash things out. As I had expected, progress was very slow. As it neared four o'clock that evening, I knew I would have to be leaving soon if I were to make it back to Baba by six. But, on the other hand, I knew that this particular work was very important to Baba and I felt that matters were slowly but surely resolving themselves. I decided to stay on.

And sure enough, although it took another two hours, a little before six I got the family members to agree to everything and to sign the agreements Baba wanted. As I was cycling back I was very happy. I knew that Baba would be pleased with the outcome of the day's work.

Of course, I also knew that I was going to be late, but I felt that compared to getting the signatures that Baba wanted, it wasn't so important. Better to arrive late with the work accomplished to Baba's satisfaction than return on time with nothing to show for it. So, as I said, as I cycled back I was sure that Baba would be very happy and I was happy that I had accomplished this.

But when I got back I found that Baba had already retired for the night and one of the mandali told me very brusquely that Baba was furious with me. "Don't you know Baba said to return at six? What do you mean by coming back so late? If you aren't going to obey Baba, you aren't good for anything. You might as well go eat shit."

Hearing this, I went to my room and took off my sweaty clothes and then, wearing only my shorts, walked across the compound to where our latrine was. In those days, our latrine consisted of a raised platform with a hole in it. Under the hole was a small open metal box which collected our deposits. The box had a handle on it and the sweeper would bend down and grab the handle and slide the box out from under the latrine so he could empty it, clean it and then return it.

I now went into the latrine and began to bend over to reach down through the hole to the box. After all, if Baba had left word that I should eat shit, it behooved me to obey, and so I was bending over to scoop some out with my finger when another one of the mandali called out, "Eruch, Baba wants to see you immediately."

"Just a moment," I said, "I have something I have to do first."

"No, now," the other replied. "Baba said you were to drop whatever you're doing and come at once."

And so I went to see Baba who immediately began taking me to task for returning so late. As Baba reprimanded me, all the feeling I had had cycling back that I deserved praise for accomplishing something was washed away. And there was nothing I could say, for I had broken Baba's orders. He had reminded me himself to come back by six and I hadn't done it.

Baba seemed very angry with me, but after a while as I stood there without saying anything, Baba asked me why I was so late and then I explained how difficult the negotiations had been but how I had finally gotten all to agree and to sign the papers Baba had given me.

Baba's face lit up. "You did?" he gestured. And when I gave him the completed forms, Baba clapped me on the back and then embraced me and I knew at that moment, I had truly pleased Baba.

But see how compassionate Baba is. If he had complimented me on a job well done when I had first returned, I would have accepted it merely as my due, as something I deserved, something I had earned. Not only would this have been reinforcing a lurking egoism, but by feeling I merited Baba's praise, it would have been tarnished when received. Whenever Baba expressed his pleasure, it was always clear that it was coming as a gift from him, that it wasn't something our behavior had forced.

You see, sometimes our love for Baba could be a burden to him. We wanted to help him, to serve him, so he permitted us to do so. But think how awkward it must have been for him to have us help him wash his hands, for example. Someone holding the soap, someone holding a towel, as if Baba were not perfectly capable of washing his hands by himself. He was capable, but he let himself be inconvenienced so we could have the opportunity of thinking we served him. This was one of the ways our love was a burden to him.

People would sometimes sing for Baba who had no musical talent, no voice, no ear, only the desire to please Baba. And Baba would listen to this screeching with a rapt smile on his face, swaying to the music as if it were the most delightful sound in creation. Baba was responding not to the singer's voice, but to the love which prompted the song. Being the slave of the love of his lovers (you know that Baba often stressed that he is not the slave of his lovers; he is the Lord of his lovers, but he is the slave of the love of his lovers), Baba would respond with great love by expressing his delight and enjoyment.

Every day it seems I am made aware of some new way in which our love for Baba forced him to suffer. In the ordinary course of events, knowing this, some of us might have begun to suspect that when Baba expressed his pleasure with us, that then too he was only doing so in response to our wish to please him. And this would have been a weight on our hearts. But Baba's pleasure was always a pure gift when he gave it. We always felt that Baba was indeed genuinely pleased, and he always saw to it that we knew it wasn't in response to our needs that he was expressing that pleasure.