Symbols of the world's religions



Judith Garbett

Mehera always looked so nice. She was of medium height, had a neat figure, graceful hands and small slim feet. Her skin was fair and she wore her dark softly-waving hair in a very simple style which suited her, the length finishing low on her neck and lightly caught back with a pin or two. Her eyes were beautiful, so alive and very expressive of all moods. For special occasions she always wore bright saris, but her regular dress at Meherazad was an ankle-length skirt and fitted over-blouse with sleeves to the elbow, usually made of attractive cotton fabrics in prints and toning plain colours.

Green, she once mentioned, was her favourite colour, but she also looked sweet in varying shades of mauves, blues or pinks. Generally she wore flat easy to slip into footwear, some made of a dark red crushed-velvet material which went well with her long skins when she was in the house or on the porch.

Mehera walked quickly with lithe and graceful movements, whether she was inside or outside, and one had to be alert to keep pace with her. When going from the main house to Mandali Hall through the garden she always used a small black cotton umbrella as protection from the sun, but at Meherabad when she was carrying garlands to offer to Baba in the Samadhi, one of the Western women residents walked close behind to hold the umbrella over her.

Over the years Mehera's changes with mood could be discerned now and then by those with her on the porch. During the early '70s when it was still so soon after Baba had left His physical form, sometimes Mehera would not seem to be in very good health, looking so drawn and remote and some even wondered whether they would see her again. But of course she always rallied. And naturally there were occasions when she appeared more tired than usual and then chatted only about 'everyday' things with not so many Baba stories. But in the late '70s and the early '80s there were many, many occasions when she seemed very bright, very relaxed, talked easily, told delightful stories, and laughed quite a lot.

Yet, underlying it all in her last years, it was also apparent that she was gradually, gently, almost imperceptibly, becoming more quietly withdrawn, more and more absorbed in thoughts of her Beloved, constantly longing for His call to join Him forever.


LIVES OF LOVE, Mehera, Part 1, p. 2
1998 © Avatar Meher Baba Perpetual Public Charitable Trust


 Mehera J. Irani | Mandali | Anthology | Main Page Norway | AvatarMeherBaba USA | HeartMind | Search