Avatar Meher Baba Ki Jai

Eruch Jessawala

It so happened one day, in the North of India, that Meher Baba was seated on the verandah of the house where he was staying, with only myself by his side. It was dusk, and the rest of the mandali were inside for supper. Baba had kept me by him, I was standing, Baba was sitting, it was unusual. Suddenly into the compound, comes a lady, and she hesitantly approaches Baba, falls at his feet and says, 'Oh Baba! I have come to you with a request. I implore you to help me.'

Baba replies, 'What is it? What is it you want from me?'

And she tells Baba her story. She is the Rani of a certain state in North India, and her daughter had married a prince in Punjab. The daughter was beautiful and greatly liked by the in-laws with whom she lived. She conceived, and as was customary among Indians, just before the delivery of her first child she was brought home to her mother's house. But at the time of delivery, the daughter died. The mother was greatly distressed with the loss of her daughter.

At this time, Baba asks a question: 'When did your daughter die?'

'Baba, is it now six months ago.'

'Six months?'

'Yes.'

'Well, go on with your story.'

And the mother continues: the in-laws loved the daughter so much that they blamed the mother for her death. They said that she had been very careless at the time of delivery. 'But Baba,' says the mother, 'it is not possible that I was careless — she was my own daughter, and I loved her very much. Oh Baba! I miss her sorely. I cannot live without her. The thought, the memory of her haunts me.'

Baba asks, 'What do you want?'

'I want my daughter back. You are the Ancient One, God in human form, Parameshwar. Nothing is impossible for you. You can give me my daughter back, can't you, Baba?'

'Yes, I can give you back your daughter.'

'Will she come back in the same form? Will you revive her?'

'Of course.'

'In the same form that I have loved? Will she be the same daughter that I long for?'

'Yes,' assures Baba.

She was stunned at Baba saying this, but I was much more stunned. I thought, what has happened here, what has happened to Baba! You see, Baba never encouraged miracles or anything of the sort. He said that his miracle would not be to raise the dead, but to make people dead to illusion: he had not come to give sight to the blind, but to make people blind to illusion. I was stupefied at all this. How could the Baba I had known all my life say such things?

Then Baba says to the mother, 'Yes, I will give you back your daughter. All you have to do is to remember me and love me. Constantly remember me, and love me as much as you can, more and more. Will you do that?'

She says, 'Yes, Baba.'

'Promise me,' says Baba. And she promised, and Baba again reminded her to simply love him and to remember him more and more.

She was so happy, so absolutely happy. In an instant she became a changed woman. She was light-hearted and gay: she had complete faith in Baba's words. She then asked Baba: 'Will I receive a sign of my daughter returning?'

Baba says: 'Yes, you will. You will see her in a dream, and that will be the sign for her return.' Then she was satisfied, and she took Baba's darshan, prostrated herself in intense gratitude and left.

Well, time went by. Whenever Baba would allow people to come to him, this mother would come, and every time Baba would remind her about her love for Baba, about her remembrance of Baba, and all that. And Baba would say: 'Remember, I have promised you will get back your daughter. Have you seen her in your dreams?'

'No, Baba.'

'Remember, when you see her in a dream, you will get her back. Once I have said it, it will be so.'

Years passed by. Then on one meeting with Baba, she says: 'I have seen my daughter in a dream.'

Baba answers: 'That is the sure sign that your daughter will be back.' Again she leaves, and again I wonder what will happen next.

Now, around this time, something happened to her, some experience that made her love Baba more intensely than ever. You might say she really fell in love with Baba. But of course we, the mandali, didn't know anything about it.

After a year, another opportunity occurred and she came to Baba. We were all at Guruprasad, in Poona, and after she bows down to Baba, Baba asks: 'How are you?'

She answers: 'Baba, I am very happy.'

Baba looks radiant and suddenly he says: 'You know, I am in the mood at this moment to give whatever anybody asks for.' And he turns to her: 'Quick now, answer me — do you want your daughter back? Or do you want me?'

And she puts out her hand and places it gently on Baba's knee and says: 'I want you.'

Baba is pleased and answers: 'Now you have your daughter. In me you have the whole world, including your daughter.'

Then I suddenly knew that Baba had known from the beginning what would happen. I realized afresh what a master psychologist he is. Her remembrance of Baba and her love for Baba would go on increasing in the thought of receiving back her daughter. Then it would become so intensified that her daughter would fade into the background and she would eventually forget her. That is what Meher Baba meant when he promised the daughter's return — she would return when she was no longer missed.

The mother continued to come and often Baba would tease her and she would say: 'Don't play with me. I don't miss my daughter. I have Baba. No more do I sigh for her, because I have my Baba with me.'