WHAT KIND OF LOVE IS THIS?Kitty Davy So we would try to be gay, not look moody or bored. And Baba, calling the group together, would tell us what a tiring day He had had with the God-mad or the men mandali, thus preparing us to feel sympathetic. "I want to relax. I want to laugh," He would begin. "You," pointing to one of the group, "sing Me a song." To another, "Tell Me a story, a funny joke." If this brought no response, "Tell Me something amusing about your school days; act something; dance." There we sat, glued to our seats, frustrated, getting redder and hotter. Says one, "I have never sung." Another, "I have never danced. I am no good at storytelling. I remember no jokes." Baba goes on hammering, "What, you tell Me you love Me and want to please Me and when I ask, you say 'no.' What kind of love is this?" Some of the group responded spontaneously. But to Rano and me these times were a trial beyond description. LOVE ALONE PREVAILS, p. 239
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