morning and in the evenings, when we all sat with him in the garden, he would ask us to tell him the current world events. We also had to tell him jokes and funny stories. At last, Pimpalgaon was ready and we moved to this lovely new center, called Meher Azad (Meher Free). The villa rather resembled a Swiss chalet; facing it was a four-room bungalow which Norina, Elizabeth, Jean and I occupied. We had western cooking. Our meals were sent over from the men's quarters. Baba and the other women ate Indian food which was cooked in the villa. Rano and Dr. Goher acted as links with the outside world. There was an attractive garden supervised by Mehera.

The day arrived for the official opening of the ashram and it was very efficiently organized by Kaka. The women from Meherabad, Ahmednagar and other parts arrived and we had our meal sitting on cushions in the garden, and our food served on banana leaves. Kaka made a speech, relayed from the men's quarters, calling on all to love and serve Baba more and more. Baba then opened the main door with a silver key. He sat on the couch and was garlanded. Gulmai performed arti with Mehera standing on the other side of Baba.

After this started a period of intense activity; meetings and disagreements over the Discourses and other matters; Baba sitting quietly and not commenting until we had exhausted ourselves, in the end always getting the decision he wished. Jean and I alternately were ill, much to Baba's disappointment, as he said he had planned several excursions we must both be well and not miss them. We did rally for the most important and there was one delightful walk to Happy Valley, where Baba said Rama and Sita had wandered in their flight. As we came back, two rainbows appeared in the sky and he said this was a good augury for us.

Every evening we gathered in the sitting room. Often I read stanzas from Hafiz, Baba's favorite poet. One evening I read "The Hound of Heaven" by Francis Thompson. Sometime after, Baba said: "If I can stand Delia's reading 'The Hound of Heaven,' I can stand anything!" When not reading poetry, Baba insisted on the four of us telling jokes. Luckily someone from America had sent out a large book of jokes and in the morning the book was passed around and we each selected three or four and wrote them out ready for the evenings. Norina used to say hers with great aplomb. While we were talking, we often noticed Baba's faraway expression and the movement on the air of his fingers. Yet he always knew