stand alone; someone had to hold Him. And all the time, He remained standing with hands folded and joined like this (Eruch demonstrates). The time did come when each day He gestured "Read it faster." So I read the prayer faster and more rapidly each day.

Then a time came when two people had to hold Him, and He looked as if He wasn't there with us — far away, somewhere else...but He continued to participate solemnly as ever before. Then He'd say, snap-snapping His fingers, "Hurry up, hurry up, read it faster!" Later on, at the very end of this period, I'd read it very, very rapidly, skipping periods, commas, and so on. One day it came to such a pitch, when He gestured "Do it — snap! — fast!! I can't stand up longer!"

I rattled off the prayer at such high speed that it echoed in my mind as if I were an express train, going through a station without any stops! I'm in the midst of reading like this and all of a sudden I burst out laughing, because it was so ridiculous to me to pray like that! I could hear my own voice echoing as if I were rattling through all the stations. The picture came to me of a speeding express train, and I laughed loudly, half way through the prayer. Then I controlled myself and resumed my reading of the prayer.

Baba didn't say anything, He just stood there; everyone around me was serious. After the prayer ended, He sat down in His chair. Everything was done as usual. He bowed down to each one of us. Everything was finished and we settled down.

After a while, He asked "What made you laugh? What made you do that in that Prayer?" So I said, "It happened uncontrollably, because I could hear my own voice rushing through the whole prayer. It appeared to me I'm a railroad train rattling through all the stations without stopping, without caring for passengers. Something happened in my mind and gave me that picture; the situation was so ridiculous that I burst out laughing."

He gestured, "You're mad! You have no idea what is happening here. To you it seems ridiculous. For me it is no joke, in this state of My health, to participate in this prayer. I have given it to humanity, to posterity, to say it. And, whenever anyone recites it after I pass away, because of My participation now, it will help the one who repeats this prayer. So that's why I want the prayer said; it has nothing to do with your speed or how you read it out, or anything of this sort. All that matters is My having participated in the prayer. So every time anybody repeats the prayer, I am there with him, My presence is there."

Baba used to come over from the women's side to Mandali Hall here, to be with the men. He would come on that lift chair, carried by four, or sometimes two, men or boys. It was in the morning and sometimes there was a wind blowing. Baba would have His shawl over His nose, so that you just saw a little of His face. With their springing steps the men would be very quick in carrying Him across. They had to pass that oval where the flower beds and lawns are. Now along the edge new seeds had been planted and the little sprouts had come up; we could just see a little edge of green. I was standing here watching as Baba went by at that speed and with that scarf on His nose, and He just turned around and said, "Nice flower!" in transit, fast-fast-fast, and went on. I was struck by Baba saying "Nice flower." I looked and saw no flower. I went over and looked — no flower! Then I bent down and looked, and sure enough, there was one little flower — the first in that little row of seedlings. And it hadn't even fully come out, it was between the leaves. That's why I couldn't see it. I was amazed that Baba had noticed it. It made me realize There is nothing too little for Baba's attention, for Baba's love, for Baba to see. And if He could notice and not neglect a little flower, would He neglect things like His lovers? Or whatever was happening in each lover's life? If He's aware of that flower, He is aware of each one of us, of each little thing that's happening to us, of what we're going through, or doing. He is totally aware . . . He sees the littlest detail.