Symbols of the world's religions



Mani S. Irani

Each morning when the sun has risen not far above the hill next to Baba's, we stand by the gate and wave at the sparkling green car streaking across the countryside, carrying the Beloved to the hundreds of His lovers awaiting His arrival at Meherabad.

Each evening He returns, looking beautiful in the pink coat and the single plain garland of roses in deeper pink; and though physically tired out after the long full day, we can still feel the radiance of the Sahavas — like the overflow of a fountain even after it's turned off.

It is 'spring' for His eastern lovers, a feast for their Baba-hungry hearts. It is spring too for Meherabad (the place He has blessed with His name and activities of past years), which is like a tree that has blossomed in glorious profusion after a long sleep of winter, looking like a veritable town of temporary structures for housing and feeding nearly 800, buzzing with His life from early dawn to late at night.

Although we only get glimpses from the short accounts each evening, it is as though we are participants not in love alone but in person. Baba said, "Sahavas is the intimacy of give and take of love," and it is indeed a Sahavas in its true sense.

Eruch's description of the love feast raises a familiar picture in our minds when he tells us, "Baba has once again turned the faucet on full," for how often we have seen these precious tears overflow from a lover's heart in Baba's presence, when He lifts the divine curtain just the littlest bit.



LETTERS FROM THE MANDALI, Vol 1, pp. 15-16, ed Jim Mistry
1981 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust


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