Growing up with Meher Baba (Page 7 of 10)

In 1958, a friend of ours who was into classical music, who played the piano beautifully and taught piano at one of the universities, came down to the Center thinking how wonderful it would be to play classical music for Baba, to really give Him a treat. And of course what he ended up doing was playing in the six-man jazz band that was hastily put together. It was mostly modern jazz and swing, the kind of music that we were into at that time — music my friend would have looked down upon. But Baba always enjoyed any music that seemed to come from the heart, music that had feeling. It had to be alive and fresh. So our friend adapted.

Back again in 1952, Baba wanted to see my father, who had not arrived. Mother was worried about whether Daddy was going to make it. Was he going to get there to see Baba? He said he would come, but maybe he might not. And one day Baba pointed to her and asked, “Ivy, are you still worried about Terry coming?” She replied, “Why yes, Baba, I am,” He looked at her and said, “If you only knew how many husbands and wives you have had down through the ages, you wouldn’t worry so over this one.” Mother was floored but, of course, Baba was right. And eventually Daddy came.

Mani and Mehera in 1952 at Myrtle Beach.

I remember Baba asking Daddy to plan two routes for a trip out to the West Coast for Him. Some people on the West Coast had not had a chance to see Him, so Baba was planning to go there again. When he announced that He wanted to go by car, everyone immediately said, “But Baba, it would be so much quicker if you flew; then you would be there in one day, and you wouldn’t have so much of a trip!” Baba said, “Yes, but I have all of these people to take with me.” So everyone reluctantly agreed that he should go by car. But I had the funniest feeling when He said that. He said he would have Elizabeth drive, and for some reason this also bothered me. Elizabeth had driven for Baba for many years, so it had nothing to do with her driving. It was just a funny feeling I had that something would go wrong. I actually asked Baba if I could drive him to the West Coast, but He said “No.” As I’ve said, I was a stubborn brat in those days, so the next chance I had, I asked Baba, “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive the car on the way to the West Coast?” “No!” Nothing daunted, I tried again a third time and got an even sharper “NO!”

Daddy drew up the maps and, at Baba’s request, he put two different routes on them. One was a fast, straight nonstop route down south through Oklahoma, and the other was a very scenic route that would take a day or two longer. Baba with His party was to take the scenic route. The men Mandali, whom Baba wanted to meet Him in Los Angeles, were to take the straight-through fast route. But at the last minute, Baba sent the Mandali on the scenic route and He took the straight-through fast route. The trip was fine until they reached Oklahoma. As they drove over a low hill outside the small town of Prague, another driver ran into Baba’s car almost head-on. Baba was thrown out of the car with major injuries. Years earlier, he had said He would have to shed His blood on American soil. Now here he was, bleeding profusely on the soft moist earth of Oklahoma..

James Terry Duce was Murshida Duce’s husband and Charmian’s father. Terry met Meher Baba in Myrtle Beach on May 16, 1952. Baba told him “I love you dearly.”

Sarosh called us in New York and said that Baba wanted us to come to Oklahoma right away, so we flew all night and arrived at the small Prague Clinic in the early morning. We learned that Baba’s left arm had been broken and so had His left leg. His beautiful aquiline nose was broken too, and He had severe injuries in His mouth. Mehera had a concussion and a fractured skull. Later, I saw the X-rays of her whole head. It looked like a shattered eggshell. But all that we heard from her day and night was, “Arrey Baba, Arrey Baba. (Oh Baba, Oh Baba.)” One of Meheru’s wrists was fractured and the other was badly sprained. She literally couldn’t pick up or handle anything. Elizabeth had broken both her arms, many ribs, and her collarbone. Right after the accident, she wouldn’t let the medical people touch her without them first attending to Baba and the girls. She said, “I’ve already waited two hours, so don’t be in a hurry about this!”

Baba had been put on a cot in the doctor’s private study and we went in to see Him. Out of delicacy for our feelings, He placed a kerchief over His face and only showed us His eyes. Mother and I both felt they really were the eyes of the Christ. Baba took Mother’s hand and He wrote on His board, “America has been after my blood for a long time.” Then he added, “You must understand that this was God’s will, and it will result in benefit to the whole world.”

One day, Baba asked me if I would do the laundry for them. I said, “Oh, yes! I would be happy to.” Out on the sidewalk I found this huge stack of blood-stained clothes. It was just a mountain of them. I took them down to the local laundromat and fortunately it had big tubs in which I was able to put all the clothes to soak. I knew it was going to take about an hour, so I decided to leave them soaking and dash back to the hospital to spoon-feed Meheru her lunch. I told the lady who ran the place that I had to get back to the patients at the hospital (everyone in Prague now referred to them as “the accident”) and she said it was fine for me to leave the clothes soaking. When I returned to the laundromat, I found that the women in town had taken all these clothes and washed and dried and folded them most beautifully for the accident victims. It was so sweet. I had not asked for that at all. But it seemed like everybody in this little town really wanted to help.

At one point, I began to notice that different people in our group were coming to me repeating the same message from Baba: “Charmian, Baba wants me to tell you to be sure not to worry.” “I’m not worried,” I said. Then someone else came declaring, “Baba says you shouldn’t worry about Him.” My answer was again, “I’m not worried.” Then another arrived saying, “Charmian, Baba says to tell you not to worry about the group.” I couldn’t figure what this was all about. I wasn’t worrying. It seemed to me the patients were in the best of hands. The doctors were competent and doing everything they could. Things were going quite well. And over all, God was obviously in charge, so why should I worry? When I saw Murshida again I said, “Mother, it’s the strangest thing. Baba has been sending me one person after another telling me not to worry. But I’m not worrying. I don’t understand this.” Then all of a sudden it hit me. Baba knew I wasn’t worried and neither was Murshida, but He was sending people to us who were worried. By having to tell us not to worry, it was making them mindful that they shouldn’t worry.

The days rolled by in Oklahoma and then Baba called us in and said, “Now for you two I have this important mission.” He wanted us both to go immediately to the West Coast and meet with His lovers there and “tell them about this accident which was purely God’s and Baba’s will.” On His alphabet board, He dictated a message that He wanted us to take to them. I often read for Baba and I was able to follow His fingers as they spelled out these messages at lightning speed. Yet this particular time I kept reading it as: “You tell my West Coast lovers that their patient waiting will bear bitter fruit.” I asked, “’Bitter fruit’, Baba?” He spelled it again. Again I asked, “Bitter fruit?’ That was all I was getting. We tried several more times and then He slowed it down. Finally I exclaimed, “’Better fruit,’ Baba! ‘Their patient waiting will bear better fruit.’” I had blown it completely! I couldn’t believe that I couldn’t get that word until the end.