Growing up with Meher Baba (Page 3 of 10)

Eventually they knocked again, and I went out to the porch and watched as Kaka walked across the flower garden with a tray in his hand. It was such a beautiful arrangement of fruit, and next to it was a small bowl of flowers. Kaka put down the tray, and I noticed that in the bowl were two raw eggs. They had not even been boiled. Now, I had always hated eggs. It did not matter how they were cooked, or if they were disguised in cheese or something, I just couldn’t eat eggs (unless, of course, they were cooked in a cake or cookies). So I stared at the raw eggs and finally asked Kaka if he had any vinegar, hoping to drown the taste of the eggs. Kaka brought me vinegar, and I poured it on the eggs and then wished that I hadn’t. It just made more to swallow. I couldn’t figure a way out of this, even adding salt and pepper, so I simply picked up the bowl and drank the eggs with one great gulp.
When lunchtime came, I saw someone walking towards us down the porch, and they asked what we would like for lunch. Mother told them what she wanted and then they asked me. I was talking to someone else, but in the middle of the sentence I said, “I don’t know, maybe a couple of scrambled eggs,” and went on with my conversation. Mother looked at me as if to ask whether I really knew what I was saying. So time went by, evening came, and I was asked if there was anything special they could fix me for dinner. And I replied, “How about a couple of poached eggs?” Mother actually shook me by the shoulders trying to figure out if I had lost my mind. “Do you have any idea what you are saying?” I said, “Well, I think so, Mother.” “But you hate eggs,” she replied. “Well, for some reason, now they taste good,” I said. Baba always took our fixations and turned them around 180 degrees. It was wonderful, and He did it so sweetly.

Meher Baba in a hammock at Meherazad in 1948. Photo by Charmian Duce.

One day Meher Baba suggested that we take a walk up Seclusion Hill. Mother had broken both of her feet, so when this walk was planned it was arranged that I would go up escorted and Mother would not go. Later we were in the garden and dear Norina came up to us. You know, she was so wonderfully expressive, just so dramatic. I recall her saying, “Why, Ivy, do you mean you aren’t going up Baba’s Seclusion Hill?” She was insisting that Mother should go on this walk. I don’t think two minutes went by when Dr. Goher came up to us with a message from Baba saying that Ivy was not to go on the trip up Seclusion Hill. That was the end of that discussion.

I walked up this beautiful, lovely hill to the top where Baba had done so much work. I found it very peaceful up there and also out in the fields, so from time to time I wanted to sneak out of the compound to go walk in the fields. I would get up to the edge of the garden thinking I would sneak out just for a minute, and always without a hat, even though one of the rules there was that we had to wear a hat at all times. (I didn’t know it then, but that area in India had some of the highest ultraviolet light in the world.) Anyway, I would get up to the edge of the compound to head out, and every time I did this, Baba would pop out of nowhere. I mean, He materialized in front of me! I couldn’t have been more startled. He said, “Where is your hat?” and I would tell Him, “Oh, Baba, I was just going for a minute!” I would then run off and get the hat and then never go out of the compound anyway. It was really funny. He had a knack for being there the instant you did something you weren’t supposed to do.

Charmian Duce in a sari on the grounds of Meherazad in January 1948.

At that time in my life I had a terrible hang-up about asking questions. When I was young, the principal of our school and my seventh-grade teacher dragged me out and sat me down on the horsehair sofa, one on either side, and lectured me on the evils of asking questions ahead of the class, and what did I think I was doing? After all, if I would just keep quiet and wait, the answers would come. I shouldn’t take up class time for things that the others weren’t ready for yet. They were adamant about this. Well, I was a stubborn kid and I decided that I would never ask another question as long as I lived. I complimented myself on this and didn’t ask questions again, but by the time I got to Baba, I was no longer even able to ask questions. I might have asked questions in my head, but not out loud. But one day I was sitting there in the garden at Meherazad with Mother, and Mani was telling a story. A few minutes went by and it occurred to me, I wish I could ask Baba about so and so. I would love to know about this. And then, gee, I had another question I would like to ask Him. Anyway, it came to three questions, so I turned to Mani and told her, “I have some questions I would love to ask Baba, but there is probably no time for that just now.” Mani said, “Well, I’ll go see.” She disappeared and soon came back saying charmingly that Baba said I could go see Him now and ask my questions. So I went inside, took one look at Baba, and couldn’t remember one single question! Nothing. Baba was sitting there, so I sat down in a chair and was very still. Baba said, “All right, Charmian, now think hard and then it will come back. See if you can remember.” Well, He worked with me, and finally, with much effort, one question came out. He answered me, and eventually we got to the next one. At the end of the session, Baba asked, “Well, any more?” I told Him, “No, not today. Maybe tomorrow there will be some more questions.” He said, “If you have any more questions tomorrow, you may come and I will answer them. Just let me know.” What an invitation! Anyway, every day we were there I thought up three questions that I absolutely had to ask Baba right then. And every day Baba would have me in to ask Him those three questions. And every day I would forget all three when I walked in the room, and we would go through the scene of His encouraging me to remember the three questions again. I felt that this prepared me well for life later on because if this had not happened I would have had an impossible time being a programme evaluator. Practically my whole job was asking questions, and I did that for twelve years or so. Baba was always so sweet about it. I wish I could remember what I asked Him and what He answered, but it seems that the process of asking the questions was more important.

I do remember that He answered one of them by saying that Mother and I had been sisters in China in another incarnation. It had something to do with my being the older sister, and this is why I was always trying to bring up Mother instead of the other way around. In any event, He was so sweet about it all.