Growing up with Meher Baba

When I think about how I came to Meher Baba all those years ago, it seems like a million years, at least. When I was young, my mother became very interested in the spiritual life, and she explored many groups at different times, and I went along, just taking an interest in what she was doing. But it wasn’t until she became interested in Sufism and also in Murshida Rabia Martin particularly, who I thought was a very sensible lady, that I became interested too.

About three years after I had become a Sufi, Mother had by then become the Murshida of the Order, and following a lead from Murshida Martin, she became interested in going to India to see Meher Baba. It just happened at that time — I was then in college — that my father, whose oil company had interests in the Middle East, suggested that we take a trip over there. He had to go on business, and Mother and I could go along. So she wrote to Baba regarding this, and I was set to go as well.

Charmian Duce Knowles in 1985.

Earlier, I had been at the house in Gramercy Park in New York where Elizabeth Patterson and Norina Matchabelli and other earlier devotees lived and gathered. They talked about Baba all the time, and I remember that after that first week I was left absolutely bubbling with enthusiasm. But when we went to Arabia I met a young man there and we became romantic. We were well chaperoned in those days. At that point I couldn’t quite see why I had to go running off to India to see some swami or yogi, or whatever this man might be, and I was very skeptical of my mother’s going. It was at the time of the Partition [between India and Pakistan], and I was very concerned about her safety. My father was even more concerned, but he couldn’t go, and it became apparent that I was the one who had to go along to take care of Mother.

So the arrangements were made and we left, finally arriving in Bombay on January 5, 1948, to be greeted at the airport by Meherjee Karkaria. He took us to our hotel and from there he planned to drive us up to see Meher Baba in Meherazad. Baba had very carefully scheduled every single minute of this trip and we were quite worried about traffic, India being what it is. In addition, Meherjee was desperately ill, but he insisted that if he could get to Baba he would be fine.

We left on the morning of January 7 and drove first to Poona where we rested for an hour per Baba’s instructions. We went into the railroad station, and I was shown into a big room that I think was a ladies’ waiting room. There were long wooden benches, and I remember sleeping on that bench for about an hour. We later pulled up to a little town and then drove out in the country with mostly farmland, with lovely waving crops in the winter sunshine, and finally we came to a big gate where Meherjee stopped the car. From there we took our bags and walked across to the compound and were shown to a lovely little room in one of the houses where we were to stay during our visit. Baba had wanted us to arrive at three o’clock. It was now exactly three.

Mother and I talked about doing a little sightseeing, perhaps on the way back, but before long Baba sent word that if we were going to do that, we must go ahead and leave the ashram and go sightseeing and then come back and spend a few days; or else we could stay there for the full week, then return straight to Arabia and go home from there in February. He gave the date to go back home to the United States. So naturally, we decided that we could forgo the sightseeing and just spend our week with Baba — which, after all, we had traveled halfway around the world to do.
Soon they came to get us again and drove us out into the field to a little whitewashed house. We went to the door and walked inside, and there was Baba, down at the end of the room sitting on a bed. Now just before we had gotten there, my mother had broken down in tears. Since I had a good English father who always believed in publicly keeping a stiff upper lip, my mother’s crying was very humiliating to me. So I was quite grumpy by the time I walked into the room and I determined that I wouldn’t be hypnotized by anybody. I flung myself on a bench with my arms crossed, with every signal of my body, I am sure, expressing sheer outrage.

Meher Baba in 1952 at Myrtle Beach. From left: Adele Wolkin, Filis Frederick. Mani Irani, Rita “Sparkie” Lukes, Charmian, Mehera, Delia de Leon and Meheru Irani. Photo by Murshida Ivy Duce.

Meher Baba called my mother forward. She sat next to Him on the couch and talked to Him about the main purpose of our visit. She knew that Sufism had to have an illumined Murshid at its helm, which it had always been led that way, and she didn’t feel she was illumined, so she wanted Meher Baba to take over the work for her. Baba said, “You are honest. That is good. That is what counts.” Later He told her, “But this was your destiny in this incarnation and this is why I have drawn you here.” He said, “Do not worry. I will help you with these matters.”

They were in the middle of conversation when suddenly He looked up across the room to me and just met my eyes, and He said “Innocent,” and I started the biggest river of tears you have ever seen in your life. I had tears pouring down my cheeks. I tried hard not to make a sound as I blubbered away.

Of course, when Baba looked at you like that, it was as if for the first time you looked at your own real self. But when you go to Him, you have these preconceived ideas about yourself, like feelings of guilt, things that you have done wrong. You think, what is He going to see when He looks inside me? I mean, you are scared. In fact, one has to be very careful to not get scared off. I felt very lucky that I was dragged to Him. Most people’s egos get involved, and before you know it your ego is pulling every trick in the book to keep you away. You think of every excuse possible, such as fear of losing your job. I know that on more than one trip I gave up my job and just went along. It seemed to me by then, having achieved some conviction in the matter, that first things had to come first, and if I had the chance to go traveling with Baba I would rather do that.

In any event, I remember Him talking to Murshida, telling her that indeed He was going to personally supervise her work in the Order and really do it for her and protect her students. After that He always took a very intimate interest in everything she did. He wrote the Charter for us. He did so many things, constantly revamping little pieces for Sufism, and He always said He loved Sufism — loved it with all His heart.

So, the trip for her was a very rich reward indeed; and as for me, for three years after that I was constantly looking inside myself. I mean here I was, in college, taking psychology. I would say to myself, “God is in human form here? Now? I mean who is kidding who?” And all the while there was a little quiet voice inside saying, “Yep, that’s the way it is.” Finally the little voice became irresistible, and I remember one night having a dream about Baba. It was as if I was on the hill in India, walking along, and I saw Him sitting there with all His Mandali. I started to walk up to them, because obviously He was working with them and I was drawn to be there. But suddenly Baba stood up and walked down the hill towards me and told me not to come any closer, and for the first time I felt like I saw the awesome side of Him, a side that really made me know He was God. I don’t remember the rest of the dream, but I know that my total conviction started then, and I absolutely believed that was who He was.

Meher Baba photographed by Charmian Duce in 1948 at Meherazad.

In India every morning while we were at the ashram, we would get up about six o’clock and have breakfast at a little table in the garden. Meher Baba had sweetly invited Dr. Abdul Ghani Munsiff to join us, as he was head of one of the Sufi groups in India. He was a delightful man, one of Baba’s early disciples who had been with Him in Manzil-e-Meem; so we enjoyed talking to him for hours, dawdling over breakfast. Kaka was the cook for us there, and he made beautiful dishes. One morning, I was awakened by somebody knocking on the door. I was very, very tired. In Egypt I had been ill and somewhat unconscious for about three days. Actually I don’t remember being ill. I had just gone to sleep, and when I woke up, it was three days later. We had traveled hard since we left America, and I think we were on five continents and forty-three countries in just three months. I was so tired I called out to Murshida, “Mommy, is there any way that I could just sleep in?” Norina overheard me and she said she would ask Baba, and she went off looking for Him. A few minutes later a message came back that Baba said I could sleep until nine o’clock if I would eat the breakfast that He sent to me. I said that I could do that and then went to sleep again.

Meher Baba with (Standing) Goher, Mehera, Elizabeth Patterson, Murshida Ivy Duce and Princess Norina Matchabelli. (Seated) Mani, Charmian and Meheru.

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.

The gardens at Meherazad were quite beautiful even though they were really just beginning. Mehera was working on them, and the girls [women Mandali] were putting in all the new plants. (They didn’t look like they do now; now they are dynamite!) I also remember we had a place to take a shower that was a little fold-up kind of tub made out of rubberized canvas, and it folded flat. You put the sides up and sat cross-legged in it and they gave you big buckets of hot water with a scoop, and you would pour the water over your head. Well, I was in the middle of my first bath there when all of a sudden someone came to the door and said, “Baba wants you to come right away and take some pictures.” Here I was with soap all over me — it was the fastest dousing and jumping into my clothes you ever saw.

Meher Baba at Meherazad in 1948 with (from left) Murshida Ivy Duce, Mehera, Goher, Mani and Charmian.

I need to backtrack a little to tell the rest of this story. When we left the United States, Mother had looked for something that she could bring to Baba and the girls. She thought that would be a nice thing to do. So she had ordered silk scarves, sight unseen, because they were small and folded flat, but when they came they were really gaudy. She was very displeased about it, but they were actually all right — all except one of them: she didn’t like that scarf at all. It had very flashy bright colours, and she was hoping to replace it before we got to see Baba. But at the last minute she couldn’t find any other silk scarves, so she decided to go ahead and give it to Him. I mean, you always brought everything to Baba Himself; then He would distribute it to the others. Since there wasn’t time to get a new scarf, she brought this one to Him thinking that people’s tastes vary and maybe someone will like it.

Now, when I came out of the tub, there was Baba and all the girls, all dressed up with these silk scarves on their heads. Each one had a scarf wrapped in a different Indian style, but Baba had wrapped two around His head in a style they used in Arabia. And when He removed the first scarf we could see clearly that underneath He was wearing the scarf that Mother just hated. She thought this was absolutely incredible! Then, of course, Baba removed the scarf and gave it to Mother to keep. She used to say that Baba made this scarf beautiful for her. He made it so that she would want it, and she kept the scarf with her always. In fact it hung on the wall of our Center for many years. I saw it just the other day. It is a beautiful scarf, just beautiful, because Baba touched it.

In the middle of this gathering, Norina told Baba that Ivy had some beautiful hats and He should see them. So she sent Mother to get the hats, and she came back with all of them, and they tried some on and they were spectacular. They also brought out a couple of my hats, such as a very sweet white one that had a little rose on it. I had also brought a white one with a bow, and Baba put it on His head and said I could keep this with me but not wear it. I liked that hat, and they both stayed with me in my closet and are still with me today.

Inayat Khan brought the Sufi message to the western world. He was a skilled veena player and toured the United States attracting spiritual students.

I should go back and talk about what we saw as the reason for going to India to meet Meher Baba in the first place. Murshida Rabia Martin had been Inayat Khan’s successor. Inayat Khan had brought the Sufi message to the Western world from India in 1910 and died in 1927. Fifteen years later, in 1942, Norina Matchabelli and Elizabeth Patterson came to San Francisco looking at sites for an American centre for Baba and Norina gave a public lecture. Murshida attended that lecture and it was here she first heard about Meher Baba. She spent the next three years gathering as much information as she could about Baba and began corresponding with Him. She was deeply affected by her internal experience of Baba and in 1945 she traveled to the East where she spent several months with Norina and Elizabeth in New York and Myrtle Beach. She became convinced that at the very least, Meher Baba was a Perfect Master and the Qutub-e-Irshad, the hub of the wheel, the central figure among the Perfect Masters, charged with carrying out God’s plan for creation. She also believed that Meher Baba might be the Avatar.

Once Murshida Martin had that conviction, she wanted to meet Baba and place the Sufi Order in His hands. She contacted Baron Von Frankenberg in Australia who had a small Sufi group there, and she suggested, since she was in her mid-seventies and not as strong as she used to be, that perhaps he would like to send a representative, one of his young men, to help her with her voyage to meet Meher Baba. So he sent Francis Brabazon (refer to August 2002 issue of Glow International for a detailed account on Francis Brabazon).

Francis arrived in the United States, in San Francisco, in 1946. But about this time Murshida Martin became ill, subsequently passing away. Before she died she asked Murshida Duce to take over the Sufi Order and we went to see Meher Baba to carry out her mission. Francis and I became very close friends and he returned to Australia several months after we got back from meeting Baba.

Francis’ own first meeting with Meher Baba was in Myrtle Beach at the time when Baba arrived for that Sahavas. Francis had been waiting all this time, for years, just to meet Baba — waiting with bated breath. You never saw anybody more thrilled than he was when he went to meet Him. Francis had bought all new clothes to meet Him, and he was so excited. He went in and Baba said, “Now I have two Francises — Francis of Assisi and Francis Brabazon.” It was very sweet.

I recall that when Francis first went in, he sat down on the couch with Baba in front of him. He couldn’t get enough of Him. He was drinking Him in with his eyes. Francis was so nervous. Baba said, “Francis, sit back, relax! If you want to sneeze, I want to sneeze. If you want to cough, I want to cough.” And, of course, that is true, because God is in you and therefore God feels what you feel. So Francis began to settle back and relax and then, of course, Baba dropped His bombshell on him. Baba asked Francis, would he do what He told him? And Francis said, “Yes, Baba.” And Baba said, “I want you to take the fastest means you can, right away, and go back to Australia.” Francis hadn’t been in His presence for more than a few minutes. Almost as Baba said it, Francis leapt up to go out of the room, and Baba said, “Not yet Francis.”

Francis got a reprieve of a few days, and then he took off on a bus and train headed to New Orleans and the only ship that could get back to Australia by July 10, the date Baba had specified for Francis and which was the beginning of Baba’s “Full Free Life.” Francis got back to Australia in time and thus fulfilled his Master’s wish.

Now I’ll finish my tale of first meeting Meher Baba in 1948 in India. During our stay, one day we went to breakfast, and while we were sitting there a message came from Baba. He said that day we were not allowed to talk about serious subjects. No politics, no religion, no Sufism, no nothing. Just fun and play — that was it. So we sat down to breakfast, and around the end of the meal our brains slipped a cog and we got off on some worldly subject. I remember that we had barely opened our mouths when again Dr. Goher came flying around the corner and said, “Baba says you have forgotten your promises!” It blew my mind because there was nothing in my thoughts and actions that He didn’t know. Finally we were called in to see Him and we told jokes that day. It was awful telling a joke because you always had the feeling He knew the ending before you got there. So we found ourselves stumbling faster and faster, trying to get the words out, to beat Him to the punch line, so to speak; and He laughed very quietly and seemed to enjoy our jokes. He always asked for more jokes. It was great fun.

Murshida Ada Martin was Inayat Khan’s first American student. He renamed her Rabia and later appointed her his successor. She became convinced that Meher Baba was a true spiritual master. Later her successor Murshida Ivy Duce brought the Sufi Order under Meher Baba’s direction. He reoriented Sufism.

On the last night, I remember Him asking us to sing. I sang “Summertime” for Him, and then He asked Mother and me to sing a duet. We stared at each other. Mother had studied singing and sang beautifully, but I had never had any training and we had never sung duets before, so we didn’t know what to sing. There was only one song that we had sung while riding in the car, and that was called “I Got Spurs That Jingle, Jangle, Jingle.” So the two of us with much trepidation stood there and sang “I got spurs that jingle, jangle, jingle, as I go ridin’ merrily along...” After that, He said good night to us and we said goodbye, and we didn’t see Him the next morning when we left.

Inayat Khan brought the Sufi message to the western world. He was a skilled veena player and toured the United States attracting spiritual students.

So much happened during that visit; it was such a wonderful time of the year and it was so wonderful to be there. We went the next day to Bombay. Baba had said we had to be out of India by the sixteenth of January. This wasn’t very easy. It was a bad time in India then as the Partition had taken place. Hindus and Muslims were at each other’s throats. Meherjee’s wife was in downtown Bombay one day and they took her Muslim driver out of the car and killed him in front of her.

It was a very dangerous and exciting time. You couldn’t wire out or confirm reservations, but eventually we managed to get our flight arranged on BOAC up to Karachi, which would get us in around dinnertime. And, if we caught the midnight flight out of Karachi going over to Bahrain, we would be on Baba’s timetable for leaving India.

But when we arrived in Karachi, the man at the ticket counter said there were no tickets in our name. Mother and I were frightened because when we had arrived in Karachi on the way into India, we went to the hotel and they said they had no reservations for us, even though we had confirmed reservations. They did not want to give us a room for the night, and they wouldn’t give anyone flying with us rooms either. I remember that we called a friend to come to dinner and she brought her husband to the hotel. We had not seen her since her marriage, and we didn’t know the gentleman. When we all got up to leave the table, the manager came rushing up to announce that he had taken care of everybody — all had hotel rooms and everything was set. He took us to our rooms and then it dawned on us that they had seen this woman’s husband eating with us. He was Lord Grafftey-Smith, who was, at that time, the High Commissioner of Pakistan for the British. Seeing him go into the dining room with us, the hotel decided they had better take care of us, or else. So things were arranged in strange ways.

When we arrived in Karachi, I had some flowers that Baba lovers in Bombay had given to me as we departed, and I was holding these two big bouquets as I stood at the ticket window of the man who distributed the BOAC tickets. Sometime during the conversation I remember him saying that he loved these flowers and how beautiful they were. So I said, “My goodness, would you like to have them?” He said, “I couldn’t do that,” and I told him they wouldn’t last all the way to Bahrain and it would give me pleasure if he took them. So, the next thing I knew, I had two tickets on the flight out of Karachi.

You would think, given all of our time with Meher Baba, that there would have been an enormous amount of communications between Him and us. But the fact was that Baba, when Mother and I saw Him, was in seclusion before we got there, and starting right after we left He went back into seclusion. He interrupted His seclusion for our visit, so we did not have a lot of communication with Him right away. You must remember also that there was a period where Baba asked us not to write to Him at all and He actually asked us if we would be willing to not write any more letters, anywhere.

I was in college and I didn’t write to Mother and she didn’t write to me, although we spoke on the phone once in a while. I believe Mother wrote to Him now and then concerning business and questions about the Sufi Order, but I was away in college and I was someone who would normally not have written to Baba anyway.

There was one period when He asked us to keep silence for an entire month if we could do so. So we did, and it was really very interesting, especially if you were not accustomed to people being in silence. Imagine living in New York City, wandering around, taking taxicabs and subways, and shopping in stores, and so on, carrying little pieces of paper with addresses on them to show the taxi drivers. There was the challenge of talking to the girls at the department store and communicating what we wanted to buy. We would say we were having a problem speaking, and therefore they assumed we had laryngitis. And they usually hollered at us because they thought that if you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t hear. It was sometimes a very funny scene. But we did try to keep silence for an entire month, living in the city.

Other times Baba asked us to fast. One time He asked us to repeat the name of God, I think it was a thousand times a day for a long period of time. I remember getting hand-clickers to click off repetitions because it was the only way to keep track. Sometimes you would have a chance to get together with other Baba people but you have to remember that there weren’t very many of us then. A lot of people had come to see Baba, but there weren’t very many who were in constant contact with Him or close to each other; not like it is now.

It was also about that time that Baba entered the New Life phase of His work. He went off with his caravan traveling through India, virtually with nothing. So it is not surprising that there was very little communication then. Later on, the Family Letters began to catch us up with some of the hardships they had gone through and some wonderful stories as well. But at the time we sat there knowing nothing of what was going on, just knowing that we loved them and loved Him. And also, I guess, gradually getting our own convictions sorted out and getting our lives in as much order as we could, carrying out the worldly business that we had to do.

I graduated from college in 1950 and Meher Baba came back to the United States in 1952. He had been here earlier, but I hadn’t met Him then. He came into New York and proceeded from there straight to Myrtle Beach. We were all planning our trip to the Center to be with Baba for a period of time. We were so excited about it! A whole gang of us from New York planned to go to the Center, and there were some difficult stories people had from that trip. You have to remember that, at that time, the prejudice against blacks was very strong, and we were going to Myrtle Beach with some black members from our group. I remember saying that I could drive so and so down, and someone said, “No you can’t. You don’t want to get them in trouble.” It wasn’t so much that I would get into trouble, but I being a white girl could get them killed. We had to think of those things then.

Murshida Ivy Duce loved hats, shown here wearing one.

Gradually we got there and once again we were busy with the details of Sahavas with Meher Baba. The Center was so beautiful. I remember a rose bush blooming as one went on to the Center, and there was also a lovely yucca plant across the bridge. We had a glorious week there, enjoying being with Him.

One day some of our companions decided to go for a swim in the ocean, and by doing this they learned a lesson. They went to the beach and found out later that was the day Baba called everyone in to have a nice talk. Of course, those who went to the beach missed it. By then we were learning our manners and we realized that if you wanted to see Him, you had better hang around. If you strayed, nobody was going to chase you down, and you usually missed something that you would have loved to see.

Learning to have the right attitude toward the Master was always a personal challenge. For example, on a later trip, a man friend said on the plane on the way to Myrtle Beach, “Well, this time I am not going to do anything but sit at the Master’s feet and soak it up. I’ve done all I am going to do on the other trips.” Well, guess who Baba picked to sort out the luggage and see that it was all delivered to some two hundred people? Two days later my friend arrived grey and bearded at the Center having had to do all that. Baba rarely had someone just sit at His feet. He always wanted everybody operating on all eight cylinders. In any event, that trip was a delight.

Mani, Mehera, Goher and Filis Frederick in 1952 at Myrtle Beach. Photo by Charmian Duce.

So much happened during that visit; it was such a wonderful time of the year and it was so wonderful to be there. We went the next day to Bombay. Baba had said we had to be out of India by the sixteenth of January. This wasn’t very easy. It was a bad time in India then as the Partition had taken place. Hindus and Muslims were at each other’s throats. Meherjee’s wife was in downtown Bombay one day and they took her Muslim driver out of the car and killed him in front of her.

It was a very dangerous and exciting time. You couldn’t wire out or confirm reservations, but eventually we managed to get our flight arranged on BOAC up to Karachi, which would get us in around dinnertime. And, if we caught the midnight flight out of Karachi going over to Bahrain, we would be on Baba’s timetable for leaving India.

But when we arrived in Karachi, the man at the ticket counter said there were no tickets in our name. Mother and I were frightened because when we had arrived in Karachi on the way into India, we went to the hotel and they said they had no reservations for us, even though we had confirmed reservations. They did not want to give us a room for the night, and they wouldn’t give anyone flying with us rooms either. I remember that we called a friend to come to dinner and she brought her husband to the hotel. We had not seen her since her marriage, and we didn’t know the gentleman. When we all got up to leave the table, the manager came rushing up to announce that he had taken care of everybody — all had hotel rooms and everything was set. He took us to our rooms and then it dawned on us that they had seen this woman’s husband eating with us. He was Lord Grafftey-Smith, who was, at that time, the High Commissioner of Pakistan for the British. Seeing him go into the dining room with us, the hotel decided they had better take care of us, or else. So things were arranged in strange ways.

When we arrived in Karachi, I had some flowers that Baba lovers in Bombay had given to me as we departed, and I was holding these two big bouquets as I stood at the ticket window of the man who distributed the BOAC tickets. Sometime during the conversation I remember him saying that he loved these flowers and how beautiful they were. So I said, “My goodness, would you like to have them?” He said, “I couldn’t do that,” and I told him they wouldn’t last all the way to Bahrain and it would give me pleasure if he took them. So, the next thing I knew, I had two tickets on the flight out of Karachi.

You would think, given all of our time with Meher Baba, that there would have been an enormous amount of communications between Him and us. But the fact was that Baba, when Mother and I saw Him, was in seclusion before we got there, and starting right after we left He went back into seclusion. He interrupted His seclusion for our visit, so we did not have a lot of communication with Him right away. You must remember also that there was a period where Baba asked us not to write to Him at all and He actually asked us if we would be willing to not write any more letters, anywhere.

I was in college and I didn’t write to Mother and she didn’t write to me, although we spoke on the phone once in a while. I believe Mother wrote to Him now and then concerning business and questions about the Sufi Order, but I was away in college and I was someone who would normally not have written to Baba anyway.

There was one period when He asked us to keep silence for an entire month if we could do so. So we did, and it was really very interesting, especially if you were not accustomed to people being in silence. Imagine living in New York City, wandering around, taking taxicabs and subways, and shopping in stores, and so on, carrying little pieces of paper with addresses on them to show the taxi drivers. There was the challenge of talking to the girls at the department store and communicating what we wanted to buy. We would say we were having a problem speaking, and therefore they assumed we had laryngitis. And they usually hollered at us because they thought that if you couldn’t talk, you couldn’t hear. It was sometimes a very funny scene. But we did try to keep silence for an entire month, living in the city.

Other times Baba asked us to fast. One time He asked us to repeat the name of God, I think it was a thousand times a day for a long period of time. I remember getting hand-clickers to click off repetitions because it was the only way to keep track. Sometimes you would have a chance to get together with other Baba people but you have to remember that there weren’t very many of us then. A lot of people had come to see Baba, but there weren’t very many who were in constant contact with Him or close to each other; not like it is now.

It was also about that time that Baba entered the New Life phase of His work. He went off with his caravan traveling through India, virtually with nothing. So it is not surprising that there was very little communication then. Later on, the Family Letters began to catch us up with some of the hardships they had gone through and some wonderful stories as well. But at the time we sat there knowing nothing of what was going on, just knowing that we loved them and loved Him. And also, I guess, gradually getting our own convictions sorted out and getting our lives in as much order as we could, carrying out the worldly business that we had to do.

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.

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.

We stayed in Myrtle Beach for some time, and finally everybody was well enough to travel on up to New York where they were to see more doctors and receive further treatment. We went to New York by train. When we came into Pennsylvania Station, I was to go with the girls in a special room, because, you have to remember, the men Mandali were not allowed to communicate with or see Mehera. She had been in seclusion for many years. So we went on this very circuitous route, and we were then finally shown onto an elevator that was going to take us up to another level, where we were then going to find the cars to go to Scarsdale. The elevator went up one floor, the doors opened, and there, facing into the elevator, were the Mandali. The plans, as usual, had gone awry. The doors shut and everybody, in shock, rode up to the next floor. I couldn’t believe it! We finally got ourselves loaded into cars and then got the girls out to the house in Scarsdale where they were staying.

While we were in New York I got to drive Baba to some of the doctors’ appointments and other appointments. Marion Florsheim, “Energy” as Baba called her, did the other half of the driving. We had a continuous route that went back and forth from Scarsdale to New York, to various doctors, and to the apartment that we lived in, where Baba later held His Sahavas.

On one of the trips to Scarsdale I was going to pick up Baba to bring Him to an appointment in the city. As I was driving out there, I saw a little bird fluttering in the middle of the highway. It was obvious that a car had struck the little bird, so I pulled my car over to the side of the road to see if I could pick it up and help it in any way. And as I touched it, it died. So I got back in the car and went ahead to pick up Baba. As we came to the same place, going back into the city, I asked Him, “Baba, when you hit a little creature with a car and kill it, who is it that gets the sanskaras from this? Do they go to the person? Does that person pick up that little bird’s sanskaras as karmic obligation?” Baba said, “Yes, unless I am in the car. If I am in the car, then I assume the results of the karma.”

Anyway, there was much going back and forth between New York City and Scarsdale because, among other things at that point, Murshida was once again with Baba sorting out the future of the Sufi Order.

Meher Baba at the East-West Gathering in Poona in 1962. Photo by Aneece Hassen.

I drove Murshida up to Scarsdale and I remember sitting in the room as Meher Baba was talking carefully and in detail to Murshida about the Sufi charter which He drafted. They went over every single bit of it, how this was to be, what kind of things could be done. We had, for instance, the Universal Worship Service, and Baba said, “No, there is no such thing.” So that was wiped out. They had, in the old days, lots of Sufi practices which we were bound to observe, and He got rid of all those — no practices. Baba gave us only two practices: one was the repetition of His name, and the other a meditation on Him that he expected us to do each day. He put attention on the charter down to the most minor detail and said that the Sufi Order should last until He comes again. Murshida asked Baba about the illumination the Murshid should have to guide his mureeds. Baba said, “Now, the Murshid has not necessarily to be one with God, but must necessarily have the highest illumination: vision of God. All this will be in the charter. The sixth plane is the plane of illumination, when one sees God everywhere, within and without.”

Someone asked Him, “When Murshida does have to give up the body, can’t you see to it that we have an illumined Murshid?” Baba answered, “You don’t know what you are asking. But God and I will fight it out and I promise you that you will have an illumined Murshid for the next 700 years until I come again.” So with this He ensured the future of the Order.

Meher Baba took the charter with Him back to India and later on mailed it to Murshida with His signature, and it has been our charter ever since. He said that He wanted the principles of the Order to spread, and since they are very beautiful, perhaps they will. In any event, He took meticulous care tending to it, saying, “I love Sufism with all my heart.”

Meher Baba held Sahavas at our apartment in New York City. I remember people coming in from all over to see Baba and the phone ringing madly. I also remember running backwards and forwards, sometimes taking the girls places while the Sahavas was going on. I also took a memorable trip to Scarsdale when Murshida went out with me. Baba had told her that she had done a good job; that He was very pleased. Murshida looked at Him and said, “Baba, you don’t need to give me a pat on the shoulder every time I manage to accomplish something for you.” You don’t need to make me feel good, was the implication. And Baba drew Himself up and said, “If I feel like patting you, I will pat you. If I feel like slapping you, I will slap you. That is how I work.” And from there on out, that whole trip, He used to jibe at her. He would suddenly turn around and say, for instance, “Ivy has done the flowers beautifully today. And that is no pat on the shoulder!” It just went on all the time. And Mother said she would never again question a pat or a slap. It was all one. And I think that was true for everybody. Although I can’t really remember any slaps!

Also during that trip, I took Baba one day to the doctor. Baba said, “Will the doctor be there? Is he going to be on time?” Of course I assured Baba and said, “Oh yes! We even called ahead.” When we got there, the doctor didn’t show up. Finally, after more than an hour he came in and said it was too late to see the patient because the x-ray room was shut. He dismissed us saying, “I guess you better come back tomorrow.” I remember saying, “Doctor, don’t you know who this man is?” Then Baba told me to ask him this question: “Doctor, where is your humanity?” And the doctor suddenly took a second look at Baba and he just turned on his heel and escorted Baba down to x-ray and tended to the whole thing without another word. In any event, these various visits to doctors did not seem to cure anything. Baba still had the cast on His leg. And Mehera still had a big flap of skin loose on her forehead that had not healed after the terrible crash.

One day Baba said to Murshida that He thought He would take me to Europe, and was she jealous? Mother said, “Of course not, Baba.” So plans were made for me to go off to Europe with Baba. This was a pretty exciting adventure for a young lady of my age. And I was to help drive the car for the girls when we were going around. Finally, the day dawned when we were to leave and, as always, Baba wanted to get out to the airport at least two to three hours early. We arrived at the airport and Baba spent a long time there. He loved the airport, it seemed. If you can think of how Masters work with people, what a lovely place an airport must be; people coming in and out from every part of the world. They are very concentrated on what they are doing, and it is a wonderful place for God to turn them around or reorient them in some way. So we spent a lot of time in different cities sitting in airports before takeoffs.

We got on the plane, and Baba had to have special seating because He had to be able to put His foot up; He was still in a cast. All of the accident victims needed special care. It used to take around thirteen hours to get over to London, and it might have been a bit longer. In those days, it took thirteen hours just to go from New York to San Francisco! I think London is a bit farther, and I know it was a long trip by the time we got there.

Charmian with her daughter Mary in Hawaii.

After spending time in London, we flew down to Geneva and were met by Irene Billo. I can’t remember who all came to the airport, but I do remember Irene and I remember riding up over these beautiful Alps heading into Locarno, which was our final destination. As we were driving along, Goher said, “Oh, Switzerland must be a wonderful place to live. They have such marvelous hospitals here. Every place that we’ve been, they are the biggest buildings in town.” Then we realized she was seeing these big buildings in the middle of each town and seeing this flag flying from them with a red cross on a white background. She thought these were the hospitals, not realizing that this was the national flag of Switzerland!

We then pulled into Locarno to this sweet little house. As we walked to the house we saw a big pink wall and then a little gate into a beautiful garden. Baba’s room was down on the ground floor with its own entrance off the gardens. The rest of us were on the second floor. We had a balcony that overlooked Baba’s room. At night Baba always had a watchman with Him, and I would sometimes wake up at night and slip out onto the balcony and take a peek down below to see what was happening. It was obvious that no matter what hour of the night I went out, He was awake. He would be talking to people and you could just see His hand moving.

Until I traveled abroad, I hadn’t realized how here in the West you grow up with a certain sense of privacy. People make a big thing out of having their own room, of having space and privacy in what you are doing. In the Middle East that is not the case. It is almost bad manners in many countries to leave a guest alone in a house. So the result is that they always leave a family member with you. It wouldn’t matter if you were sitting reading a book or something like that. They would have someone there in case you may want somebody to cook something. If you were a girl, one of the girl children in the family would stay in your room, at whatever age. There is always someone with you. To a Westerner, sometimes, this was somewhat startling.

And it just happened that there in Locarno, Delia and I shared a room and we had a bathroom off our room. None of the girls wanted to use the bathroom that was off Mehera’s room down at the other end of the house because her room was over Baba’s. They didn’t want any noise from the bathroom to disturb Him. So everybody used our bathroom and came through our room. Meheru was so cute. She would come through, and every time she would say, “Ah! You are reading a book.” “Ah! You are taking a nap.” “Ah! You are doing something. . . .” And this would go on every time she walked through. At one time I thought she was going to walk in and say, “Ah! You are breathing!” It was so funny! But after a little bit I not only got used to it, I welcomed it. It was fun. And it was always fun having someone to talk to and chatter with or be with — just companionship.

Charmian and Duncan Knowles at Meherazad.

Once Anita brought some big scarves to Locarno. I had a couple of scarves too that I had taken on the trip with me and Anita showed Mehera, Mani and me a dozen ways to wrap these scarves so that we looked elegant in them, and we had fun! We were taught how to make them into boleros and how to make them into little sashes tied in the back, like Japanese obis. There were infinite varieties of ways to do this. And the girls and I had lots of fun with it.

I had always thought of Switzerland as being cold — the Alps and so on. Yet down in Locarno, even in Geneva and some of the other towns there, the cities grow palm trees. They are common on all the streets. One of the things I had never thought of was insects. I used to run around in my bare feet all the time in the garden and down to Baba’s room. One day I saw Dr. Donkin come out of Baba’s room with a big dustpan and there was something in it. I looked down and asked, “Dr. Donkin, what have you found?” There was an enormous scorpion in the dustpan. He had found it right under the doormat to Baba’s room. I suspect even scorpions try to get as close to the Avatar as they can. But it just gave me the willies. I am sure Baba was protecting all of us; we were walking over this mat in our bare feet all the time! And here was this great big creature under the doormat. Well, this scorpion disappeared into the dustpan, but that was the last time I went barefoot in Switzerland.

Our gratitude to Duncan Knowles and Farhad Shafa for assisting us with this feature. All photographs are the copyright of Sufism Reoriented.