on." All these things Baba had said not to me but to others. When I asked Baba for rules, He gave me a certain look, — I almost sank down into the ground. It was as if he said, "What are you asking, after eight years with me – don't you know what I expect from you?" Then he said, "I'll tell you one thing, you may eat meat, you may even drink wine, you may do as you like, but think of the eight years with me. You may also get married. You are absolutely free. But don't forget these eight years with me," — which are very binding also. You can't forget what Baba has said; all the rules and regulations. Even though sometimes it was do this today, do that tomorrow, and you never could sit on your chair like a nun and say, "Now I have promised, now I will live this way." With Baba it was today this and tomorrow that. It was always like that, you couldn't sit still and get used to anything. As soon as you got used to something, a place for instance – you were shifted. Or got used to your roommate — whom you might not have liked at first, whom you might have rubbed against and then got on with all right, then you were given another roommate! So with Baba, you should always be soft, very soft, so that you move the way the Master wants you to move. That's how I found his teachings.

But of course I was very sad to leave, because I couldn't picture living without Baba, after eight years. Baba said, "You will see me again in six months." Of course, I believed it literally, but I met him again exactly six years later. But you see the real thing is you have to have Baba here, in the heart, and if you're still attached to his form, to his beautiful figure, it's difficult. It was wonderful to see Baba, but it has to be inside , because Baba is not only his human figure, but much much more. I think those who had to leave him before he left his body got to feel Baba is with them always. For me this feeling got stronger; I never had the feeling Baba had left his body. For those who stayed longer with him and saw him leave his body it was so much harder than it was for me, because I never saw him leave his body. The more you think of him, the more he is with you . . . so he gave us a great present. For me, Baba exists all the time. Even if we do all sorts of things, here and there, that worry us, we always get over it; we get all the answers, he helps us, - you felt that too, Kitty? (Yes).

Now in 1956 Baba said he would go to the West. Also long before it happened, Baba talked of the accident.* He didn't give an exact time but he predicted his accident. Sometimes we don't pay enough attention or take it in a literal way. We should see what Baba means by this accident, what he wanted, the suffering he takes on himself. Everything Baba says is 200% true, but we take it with our human mind, our mind isn't broad enough, we don’t see beyond to the spiritual aspect. Otherwise we wouldn't be here. You could not always understand all that Baba did or what he said at that time in India. Until I die, I won't digest everything that happened, but suddenly I get a little bit of daylight .I remember how I felt then, and think, why didn't I understand it before! Even if I don't live in the ashram anymore I get little sparks, but there are still many more to come, I hope – so many to come! Suddenly you realize - so that's what Baba wanted to teach me. You feel it so strong, it doesn’t come from your mind but from your heart. You remember the exact occasion when Baba said certain things to you and sometimes it saves you from a misstep, because he gives it to you at just the right moment when you may slip and fall on your nose!

In 1956 someone wrote Baba would pass through Switzerland, He would be at the airport for a few hours, and we should obtain a room for him, which I rented at the airport. Helen Dahm, who hadn't seen Baba since she left India in '39 (the one who painted the inside of Baba's tomb at Meherabad), came to Baba and wept bitterly, she had tears running down her cheeks. Other people also came to see Baba there. Then Hedi Mertens, Max Häfliger and myself were lucky enough to get on Air India. The seat next to Baba was vacant and, flying from Zurich, Paris and to London, each of us shared that seat for some time right next to Baba.

In London a big program was planned. Baba stayed in a hotel just overlooking Regency Park. There was not room enough for everybody. I was lucky. I took Hedi to the home of my former fiancé’s father. My fiancé had married my sister in 1946. He wanted

* The motor accident in December, 1956.