Growing up with Meher Baba (Page 8 of 10)

When we arrived in Los Angeles a lot of people came to see us. We gave them Baba’s love and told them about the accident. They all wanted news about how Baba was, how Mehera was, how Meheru was—all the details. We went from around eight o’clock in the morning every day until two o’clock in the morning, talking to people. We then went up to San Francisco and did the same exact thing. Finally we wended our way back to New York, and after a very short respite there, Baba asked me to come down to Myrtle Beach. I was to bring some things to Him there, which I did. I went down by train and was picked up and taken to Youpon Dunes, which was Elizabeth Patterson’s home in Myrtle Beach. I was introduced to my roommate, a lady by the name of Baroness Ruano Bogislav, a very patrician, beautiful woman. I think of her in tweed suits and sensible brown shoes with a delightful sense of humour. Our bedroom was right under Baba’s. One night while I was there, I was so affected. By then I had my conviction and I was sure that I wasn’t worthy of any of it. I remember lying there with my heart so full, and crying, crying, crying. Somehow you would do these things, but then it was like Baba just lifted them from you; any weight that you carried. Then all I felt was joy!

On August 10, 1952, Meher Baba and his disciples stopped for lunch at the Hotel Schweizerhaus in Maloja, Switzerland..

My first day for lunch at Youpon Dunes, we were all seated around the table and were chatting about different things, and towards the end of lunch, Ruano got up and walked away from the table, excusing herself. I paid no attention except to wave her goodbye. A few minutes went by and suddenly I noticed a little buzz around the table. Someone said, “How could she do that with Baba upstairs? For heaven’s sake, what is she doing? Isn’t it terrible! Baba is sleeping right upstairs!” I turned around in my chair to take a look and realized that Ruano was sitting in an easy chair in the living room, about twenty feet from the dining room table, looking very patrician, smoking a large black cigar.

In those days, ladies did not smoke cigars except in some areas of South America. So people were quite startled, and as this little buzz of criticism was going on, suddenly from upstairs we heard Mani’s feet flying down the staircase. She had a black box in her hand, and she came straight across the living room to Ruano. She stood in front of her and asked, “Ruano, Baba wants to know if you remember your promise.” Ruano said, “Yes, Mani.” “What was it?” Mani asked. “That I was only to smoke six a day,” she replied. Then Mani said, “Very good, Ruano. Baba said if you remembered your promise, He is sending you this present.” She handed her the box, and Ruano opened it, and it was full of big black cigars. Where Baba got this cigar box full of big black cigars, I have no idea. I don’t know who gave it to Him. And as far as I am concerned He may have just materialized it out of thin air, because He was transported to Myrtle Beach in an ambulance and, as far as I know, nobody had given Him a present of black cigars. Perhaps they came to Him when I was not looking. Anyway, He gave the cigars to Ruano, and that was the end of the criticism. Ruano had a delightful sense of humour. Baba used to call her His “Eagle.” You know, Baba always played with us. Sometimes He would say, “All right, Ruano. Will you make your eagle imitation?” Then Ruano would flap her wings and let out a cry just like an eagle soaring.

Mani, Mehera and Goher in front of the Hotel Schweizerhaus in Maloja, Switzerland.

He also had nicknames for all of us. He called me “G. G.” Believe it or not, it used to stand for “Good Girl.” Delia was always “Oh Lord,” because she said that a lot, particularly on airplanes. So we each had a pet name that He would call us.