HAZRAT BABAJAN, THE EMPEROR (One of Avatar Meher Baba's Five Perfect Masters)

""It is I who have created all! I am the source of everything in creation."

Upon hearing these ecstatic declarations, an angry mob of fanatic Baluchi soldiers buried alive the old woman who proclaimed them. Over ten years later, when some of these same soldiers happened to be in Poona, to their utter amazement they saw the same woman, Hazrat Babajan, giving her blessing to a group of devotees. Realizing their terrible mistake, the soldiers approached Babajan and begged her forgiveness, placing their heads at her feet in reverence.

Babajan had a regal bearing. It angered her if anyone addressed her as "Mother." The old woman would vehemently protest, "Do not call me that, you fool. I am not a woman; I am a man!" For after attaining the highest possible spiritual state of a Qutub (Perfect Master), her consciousness reflected the ascendency of Purush (the masculine principle of the self) over Prakruti (the feminine principle of Nature or maya). Thus she became a true man a Perfect Man.

Hazrat Babajan was born to a royal Muslim family of Baluchistan in northern India on 28 January between 1790 and 1800. Her given name was Gool Rukh, which means like a rose or with cheeks like roses. The child's name truly befitted her, and she retained this delicate beauty throughout her life, attracting people to her wherever she went.

Gool Rukh's father was a minister in Kabul for the Amir (King). She was raised as a princess, and no expense was spared in giving her the training and education appropriate to her royal position. The girl was bright and intelligent. As a child, she became known as a Hafiz-e-Koran, having learned the entire Koran by heart. She also became fluent in several languages, including Arabic, Persian, Pashtu, Dari, Urdu and even English.

Spiritually inclined from childhood, Gool Rukh spent much of her time in solitude reciting the prayers she learned from the Koran or meditating silently. When her childhood companions came to her house to play, they were disappointed to find that she preferred a quiet room to their games. They sorely missed her. As the girl grew into a young woman, her spiritual inclinations increased. She spent more and more of her time alone. Her physical beauty also increased, and people remarked that Gool Rukh's husband would be a lucky man indeed.

When Gool Rukh matured to the then marriageable age of fifteen, her parents broached the topic. They were astonished at their daughter's staunch refusal to marry. For a Pathan princess to remain single was unheard of especially one as lovely as Gool Rukh. Her parents then tried to force her into wedlock, not knowing that she had already chosen her Beloved. The maiden had fallen in love with One who had captured her heart long, long ago. No prince or handsome groom could take His place. Gool Rukh's heart was intoxicated in divine rapture, and she wept in longing to unite with her Beloved.

As the months passed, Gool Rukh's parents became even more insistent and made plans to celebrate her wedding on a certain date to a certain prince. Gool Rukh was informed that she had no choice; all arrangements had been finalized. Although she loved her parents, their plans were unbearable to her. Her eagerness to find her true Beloved overcame all obstacles and hardships, and she escaped from home and Baluchistan never to return to her parents.

Gool Rukh journeyed to the northeast, first to Peshawar, and then to Rawalpindi. At the time, for a young maiden to run away from home and travel alone across the mountainous regions of India was an incredible undertaking. But Beloved God was watching over her, so on the rough mountain roads she was neither recognized nor captured.

While traveling, Gool Rukh wore the traditional Muslim veil. But for how long would her Beloved keep his loved one veiled? The Beloved was preparing to remove the veil of duality and transform this worthy bride into the All-existing One.

Gool Rukh's heart was burning with the fire of divine love, suffering the terrible pangs of separation from God. Her state of restlessness made her oblivious to hunger, thirst and sleep. Day and night, she roamed the streets of Rawalpindi absorbed in divine madness for her Beloved. The former princess was a wayfarer now, and this constant restlessness was her only rest. Who knows how many lifetimes of severe penance and austerities had created this spiritual longing in her? Her only wish was to gaze upon the Beloved's face, and her heart cried out, "Come, my Beloved, to meet me! Come soon or I shall die!"

Years passed like this, but Gool Rukh's tears of longing never ceased. Only after her tears had "emptied" her bodily container did she meet a Hindu Sadguru. Under his perfect guidance, Gool Rukh climbed a mountain in the wilderness in a region of what is now Pakistan and lived in a secluded cave.

For a year and a half, she remained there, undergoing rigorous spiritual austerity.

Next she journeyed into the Punjab of India and stayed for some months in Multan. The flames of separation were now consuming her, and she pleaded, "Come, O Beloved, come! I am going. I am gone! I cannot wait!" Twenty years had passed. Gool Rukh was 37 years old when she was completely ready "to go" to die the final death. Not even a sanskaric speck of worldly attachment was left to prevent her from finally departing. The Beloved, too, was anxiously waiting to embrace her.

In Multan, she met a Mohammedan Qutub, known as Maula Shah, whose divine grace made Gool Rukh disappear, allowing her to merge in the Beloved forever. Gool Rukh died the final spiritual death; she became God-realized. The illusion of the universe faded away before her eyes as she became the Creator. Her soul cried out in all-consuming bliss, "I alone am. There is no one besides me. Anal Haq [I am God]!"

Time, too, disappeared. In her state of majzoobiyat, Gool Rukh was aware of being God-conscious, but she was unconscious of creation, of her body and mind. She was God-conscious but not illusion-conscious. In her perfect bliss, she alone existed in a state of divine absorption. Gool Rukh had become perfect, One with God, but had no consciousness of the illusory existence of Prakruti in Infinite Existence. In this state of majzoobiyat, there is no existence of duality or manyness; the divine I or Ego alone is. Gool Rukh had become a perfect majzoob of the seventh plane God unto himself. She had no awareness that all of creation was hidden like a shadow in the light of her Godhood.

But Gool Rukh was not destined to escape Prakruti, although she had temporarily lost all consciousness of it. Prakruti knew that this God-conscious woman could not remain indifferent toward her responsibilities indefinitely. This soul, now spiritually Perfect, had to know and control illusion as illusion in order to play the magnificent role for which she alone was destined. She had to summon the Awakener to earth, and then to unveil him.

From India, in her God-realized state, Gool Rukh, journeyed back to the northern regions, drawn again to Rawalpindi and to her previous Hindu Master. The Hindus called her a Brahmi-bhoot. She had achieved the Goal, but the consciousness to lead others to It was not perfected in her.

After several years, with the help of her Hindu Master, Gool Rukh regained consciousness of the universe of duality, and was transformed into a Perfect Master. Along with her divine consciousness of the Unlimited Ocean of Reality, she began seeing every drop as a drop and was empowered to turn each drop into the Ocean Itself.

Upon becoming one of the five Perfect Masters on earth, Gool Rukh left Rawalpindi and embarked on several long journeys through the Middle East to Syria, Lebanon, Iraq and other countries. It is said that she traveled to Mecca disguised as a man, by way of Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey and Arabia. At the Kaaba in Mecca, she offered the customary Mohammedan prayers five times a day, always sitting at one selected spot. While in Mecca, she often fed the poor, and personally nursed pilgrims who had fallen ill. She also spent long hours gathering fodder for abandoned cattle.

From Mecca, Gool Rukh journeyed to the tomb of Prophet Muhammad at Medina, where she again adopted the same routine, offering prayers and caring for her fellow pilgrims. Leaving Arabia, she wandered overland to Baghdad, and from Iraq back to the Punjab. In India, she traveled south to Nasik and established herself in Panchvati, an area sanctified by Lord Ram. To the local people, her spiritual "manliness" was apparent. The power of her glance overshadowed her female body and attire. From Nasik, Gool Rukh went further south to Bombay, where she stayed for several months. After finishing her spiritual work there, she returned to the Punjab and spent several years wandering throughout northern India.

In Rawalpindi during this period, Gool Rukh, in a glorious intoxicated state of ecstasy, proclaimed her divine authority. "It is I who created the universe," she informed a group of Mohammedans gathered before her. "It is I who have created all! I am the source of everything in creation."

The listeners had no idea that she whom they considered insane was actually conscious of being God. As related earlier, some of the more fanatic Mohammedans, certain Baluchi soldiers from the local military regiment, were so infuriated by Gool Rukh's declarations that one night they attacked her and held her by force. They dug a pit and then buried her alive.

The soldiers were proud of themselves, for they considered her utterances blasphemy against Islam. By killing this madwoman, they believed they would be spiritually rewarded.

They believed they had carved a special niche for themselves in Paradise by killing this kafir [infidel or heretic] and safeguarding Islam's sacred truth.

In spite of being left to die in a nameless grave, Gool Rukh did not die. She could not die, because her responsibility for manifesting formless God in form was not yet fulfilled. It is not known how she survived this ordeal, but around 1900 she managed to return safely to Bombay, over 1,000 miles south, where she lived on the sidewalk of a street called Chuna Bhatti near Sion.

Years later, the Punjab regiment was transferred to Poona, and when these same soldiers saw Babajan alive there, their pride and ill-formed conceptions were completely shattered. They then understood that it was not Babajan who was the unbeliever but they themselves. Overcome with repentance for their horrible deed, they fell at the Master's feet seeking forgiveness. As long as the regiment remained in Poona, the soldiers came to pay their respects to Babajan frequently. Some of the soldiers became her devotees and served as bodyguards.

In Bombay, Gool Rukh wandered about the Pydhonie locality particularly. Gradually, her fame spread and many believed her to be a Qutub. The Mohammedans began referring to her as Hazrat, meaning Your Highness, and began worshiping her as Babajan. Occasionally she would meet with saint Maulana Saheb of Bandra and with saint Abdul Rehman of Dongri. She would lovingly address them as "my children," and it was glorious to see how happy the ancient woman was in their company. Later, Babajan was to bestow God-realization upon both of these saints.

In April 1903, Babajan sailed from Bombay on the SS Hyderi on her second pilgrimage to Mecca. Although every moment Babajan was absorbed in her blissful state, aboard ship she acted quite normal. She would lovingly converse with the other passengers, reciting couplets from the Persian poets Hafiz and Rumi, and expound in simple terms about the deep mysteries of the Absolute. All were attracted to the old woman and eager to listen to her speak, including the crew, with whom she spoke in English.

One unusual incident occurred during this voyage. It started raining heavily and a massive storm arose. All were terrified. People panicked, convinced the ship was about to sink. Just then, Babajan appeared on deck, seemingly unmindful of the danger.

In an unusually loud voice, she shouted to one of the passengers, Nooma Pankhawala, "Wrap a large kerchief around your neck to form a bag. Approach every passenger including the children and collect one paisa [penny] from each. Then have them beseech God with this prayer: 'O God! Save our ship from this storm. On reaching Medina, in the name of your beloved Prophet, we will offer food to the poor.' " Immediately, Nooma collected one paisa from each person including the British sailors on board and all fervently repeated what Babajan had commanded. Gradually the squall subsided. They had escaped what appeared to be certain death.

When the ship arrived in Mecca, word of the miraculous rescue spread, and a great multitude gathered to be personally blessed by Babajan. At the Kaaba, Babajan assumed the role of an ordinary pilgrim, performing prayers five times a day at the shrine. After a few days, she journeyed north to Medina. There in the name of Muhammad, the Prophet of the All-merciful, she distributed grain to the poor.

About 1904, Babajan returned to Bombay and soon afterward proceeded to Ajmer in northern India to pay homage at the tomb of the Sufi Perfect Master, Mu'inuddin Chishti, who established Islam in India. Babajan returned to Bombay, and sometime in 1905 traveled east to Poona, where her beloved son was a growing child. With her arrival in Poona, Babajan's days of traveling came to an end. She settled in Poona permanently to fulfill her spiritual duty to unveil Merwan Sheriar Irani as the Avatar of the Age.

When Babajan first lived in Poona, she did not remain at any fixed place. She would wander in the "Camp" (cantonment) area or roam about the city and even frequent squalid slums. Although her clothes were ragged and soiled, the glowing beauty glow of her face attracted many to her. Gool Rukh had been born a princess, but now, as an Emperor, her true majesty was unmistakable!

After a while, Babajan was never found alone. She was always surrounded by a crowd. She never bathed, yet always smelt fragrant. Her physical needs were practically nil; she seldom ate or slept. She was fond of tea, however, and drank prodigious amounts throughout the day and night. Her followers would bring cup after cup for her and those around her, which she would distribute as prasad.

If someone happened to bring flowers, she would scold the person for wasting money, asking, "What good are these flowers? Why didn't you buy something like sweets or tea which all can enjoy?"

If Babajan happened to look at someone who was passing by, the person would stand transfixed, gazing at her divine countenance. Restaurant owners and fruit vendors would beg her to visit, and offer her whatever she wanted. If Babajan complied, they would consider themselves fortunate.

When Babajan went to the cantonment area, she often visited the house of a Muslim named Shaikh Imam, a watchmaker. Seeing her ragged clothes, Shaikh's mother wished to bathe and dress Babajan in new clothes, but Babajan always refused. One day, however, she relented, and with the utmost difficulty and patience, Shaikh's mother gently bathed the Master and attired her in a new clean robe and undergarments especially stitched for her. This was the last bath Babajan was to have for as long as she lived. Despite this, her body was always fragrant and free from impurities, as if it was being bathed in the wine of love that flowed from her eyes.

Having no permanent place to stay in Poona, at night Babajan would rest alongside any street. Once she stayed near the shrine at Wakadia Bagh and from there went to sit for a time near the Panch Pir shrine at Dighi. There were many ant colonies near the Panch Pir shrine, and the ants would swarm over Babajan, biting her and causing large welts on her body. Yet Babajan remained seated quietly, as if nothing was happening.

One day a man named Kasam V. Rafai went to Dighi, and upon seeing Babajan covered with ants, with Babajan's permission, he attempted to remove them. He was not successful as many of the ants had burrowed into Babajan's skin. Rafai persuaded Babajan to come to his house where, with much difficulty, after applying oil to her body, he removed hundreds of the tiny insects. Throughout this painful ordeal, Babajan barely indicated any discomfort.

After staying temporarily at several different locations throughout Poona, Babajan took up residence under a neem tree near Bukhari Shah's mosque in Rasta Peth. Larger crowds began to congregate there, and Babajan was hampered by the limited space around her. Her followers implored her to change her seat, but Babajan replied cryptically, "One devil is here. Unless and until I get rid of him, it is not possible for me to move an inch."

Opposite her chosen site was a large banyan tree. When the municipality chopped down the tree to expand the road, Babajan suddenly decided to move. For two weeks she was seen near a tomb in the Swargate locality. From there, she shifted to an area in the Camp called Char Bawdi (Four Wells) on Malcolm Tank Road, where she sat beneath a neem tree. This spot proved to be her final throne, where she remained for many years until she dropped her body.

When Babajan first moved to Char Bawdi, the area was filthy, dusty, and infested with hordes of mosquitoes. Plague germs had even been detected there. During the day the area was desolate and deserted, but at night it sprang to life with thieves, drunkards, and the local riffraff.

Babajan remained seated under the neem tree a rock of absolute Godhood in the shifting sands of ignorance moving about her. After months of exposure to the elements, she grudgingly allowed her devotees to build a shelter of gunny sacks above her. She stayed there throughout the seasons alleviating humanity's suffering by allowing anyone to come to her to sip the wine of her presence. Several years later, there was a marvelous change in this area. Buildings were constructed, teashops and restaurants appeared, and electricity was provided. Due to the establishment of Babajan's seat under the neem tree, Char Bawdi became a charming area in which to live and raise a family.

Moths gather where there is light. They seek death by trying to merge the darkness of their futility in the light of purity. No one can escape the light of Illumination when one nears its source. Even one blindfolded in ignorance feels the effect of this light, whose flame burns away the veil. Such was the light in and around Babajan. As crowds gathered and bowed to her, qawaals (singers) poured their hearts out before her in song. The fragrance of flowers wafted on all sides, and the sweet burning of incense purified the air. Those who received her darshan and were blessed by her thanked God for their rare good fortune.

On one occasion in 1919, Babajan forewarned the large group gathered around her, "All should leave immediately for your homes. Go!" Her wishes were respected, but no one understood why she was so insistent on sending them away. Shortly thereafter, a storm with heavy rains swept through Poona, uprooting trees and causing extensive damage throughout the city.

The gunny sacks over her head were scant protection and Babajan was drenched. Her close disciples begged her to come away to some sturdier shelter, but she refused to move from under the tree and sent them away. Although she saw to the safety of others, she herself withstood the deluge and was soaked.

Gradually the ancient woman's fame spread, and Muslims, Hindus and Zoroastrians came for her darshan. Char Bawdi became a holy place of pilgrimage and Babajan poured out wine for the sincere. After meeting the Master, the pilgrims felt content and grateful. Day after day, the number of devotees increased, and Babajan was worshiped and revered by thousands throughout India.

The British military authorities were annoyed at finding the road near Babajan blocked with traffic and surging crowds each day. The officials were helpless, however, to do anything about it, because they knew that if Babajan was forcibly removed, there would be an uproar which would not easily subside. It became apparent that a strong, permanent shelter needed to be erected for the old woman. Initial funds were provided by the British authorities, but when the new shelter was finished, Babajan obstinately refused to shift, since it had been constructed a few feet away from her original seat. So the structure was extended at additional cost to the civic authorities to cover her seat under the neem tree. Again she refused to sit under it. Only when her devotees pleaded with her did she at last consent.

Even at 100 years old, Babajan's wrinkled countenance still resembled a blossoming rose, and the expression in her brown-blue eyes was irresistible. She was somewhat stooped and short in height. Her complexion was extremely fair, and her white hair fell to her shoulders. Her voice was uncommonly sweet and pleasing to the ear. She lived as a simple fakir and possessed only what she wore. But her simplicity held an invaluable treasure. She had renounced her royal heritage and become dust-like. And by leading a life of utter purity, she had gained untold divine wealth, which she dedicated to the world.

Babajan would dress in loose white cotton pants with a long white kafni (tunic) in both winter and summer. A shawl always lay across her shoulders, and besides these humble garments, she wore no other protection against the elements. Her head was always bare and her hair was never washed, combed or oiled.

When she walked, her gait was like one intoxicated. When she listened to devotional music, her body would sway to the rhythm of its melody. Babajan's physical condition changed frequently. One day she would have a high fever and the next, without taking any medication, she would be fine.

She would address everyone, whether young or old, man or woman, as baba (child). If any person called her Mai (Mother), she would grimace and rebuke them, "I am a man, not a woman." This strange declaration of hers was faithful to the words of Prophet Muhammad, who said, "A lover of the world is a woman, a lover of paradise is a eunuch, and a lover of God is a man." People would, therefore, affectionately call her Amma Saheb, meaning Mother and Sir at the same time.

Miracles were often associated with Babajan. She was a physician in her own peculiar manner. If someone sick approached her for relief, she would utter, "This child is suffering due to pills." By "pills" she meant that the person suffered from the sanskaras (impressions) of his or her actions. Babajan would take hold of the painful part of the person's body and mysteriously call to an imaginary soul. She would then shake the afflicted part two or three times and tell the cause the sanskaras to go. This method of treatment inevitably cured the sufferer of his or her complaint.

One day a Zoroastrian child who had completely lost his sight was brought to Babajan. She took the child in her arms, mumbled some incantation, and then blew upon the child's eyes. Immediately, the child regained his vision, jumped out of her lap, and joyfully declared his jubilation at being able to see.

Babajan lived as a poor, homeless fakir on the street, but out of reverence, her devotees would bring her expensive cloth or jewelry as gifts. Babajan was indifferent toward such material offerings, and dishonest persons would take away the cloth or jewelry. Some would even steal from her while she watched. Babajan never tried to stop them. Once Babajan, covered by a fine shawl, was seemingly asleep under her tree. A thief snuck up and, seeing the shawl, was tempted to steal it. But as a corner of the shawl was under Babajan's body, to pull it out was risky. The thief was wondering how to manage it when at that moment Babajan turned over.

Taking advantage of her changed position, the thief grabbed the shawl and ran away. In this way Babajan helped the thief fulfill his desire.

On another occasion, a devotee from Bombay brought Babajan two expensive gold bangles, and after bowing to her, put them on her wrist. The man said that through Babajan's past blessing, some worldly desire of his had been fulfilled, and as a token of appreciation, he had brought the bangles for her. One night soon after, a robber crept up behind Babajan and roughly forced the bangles off, causing her wrist to bleed. The robber attempted a speedy escape, but nearby witnesses shouted for help. Hearing their cries, a policeman came and inquired about the uproar. But what did Babajan do? The old woman startled the crowd by raising a stick and exclaiming, "Arrest those people who are shouting. It is they who are disturbing me. Take them away."

As mentioned, Babajan seldom ate. She would often protest that eating was like patching a torn cloth meaning that ingesting food was similar to patching this cloth of a body to preserve it. A man was appointed as her mujawar (caretaker), whose duty it was to look after her personal needs and to serve her. He was a good-humored fellow, and whenever he would ask Babajan to eat, he would jokingly say, "Amma Saheb, the jodna [patch] is ready now."

Babajan would constantly mutter seemingly incoherent phrases such as, "Vermin are troubling me incessantly. I brush them away but they gather again." Then she would vigorously brush her body, as if removing dust or cobwebs.

Baba once explained this:

The infinite number of sanskaras in the entire universe are attracted to the five Perfect Masters and are purified in their divine fire. When the sanskaras are purified, they return, spreading throughout the universe as spiritual sanskaras. In this way the Perfect Masters' bodies serve as centers for collecting and cleansing the universal sanskaras of the world, and again disseminating them as spiritual sanskaras.

Perfect Masters, such as Babajan, have their own inner way of working. For example, one night, in the town of Talegaon about 20 miles from Poona, a play was being staged in a local theater. There was a large crowd and the theater was packed to capacity. The management locked the doors to prevent more people from entering. During the play a fire broke out and the audience panicked, since the doors were locked.

Simultaneously in Poona, Babajan was observed to be behaving quite strangely. She began pacing back and forth restlessly. Quite excited, she angrily shouted, "Fire! Fire! The doors are locked and people are going to burn. You damn fire! Extinguish!" The people around her could not understand what was happening. But in Talegaon, as the people there later related, suddenly the doors of the theater flew open and the crowd rushed out, averting a horrible tragedy.

The Perfect Masters' ways are unique as well as curious. The boundlessness of their spiritual work is outside the limits of rational human understanding. One example of this is the following incident. Although Babajan had an aversion to presents of jewelry, she kept tight, gaudy rings on her fingers which she would never remove. One ring was so tight that her finger began to swell and a deep wound developed. Maggots crawled in and out of the wound. When the worms would fall off, Babajan would pick them up. Placing them back on the wound, she would utter, "My children, feed and be at ease." Naturally, people tried to take her to a doctor, but she always refused, not even allowing the wound to be bandaged. Consequently, gangrene set in and the finger wasted away and fell off. The wound healed, but seeing her condition, the Master's devotees shed tears. "Why do you weep?" she scolded them. "I enjoy the suffering."

Babajan was generous toward the ailing and destitute. If a hungry man came to her, she would hand him her own food. In winter, if a shivering man approached her, she would give him her shawl. But once there seemed to be an exception to her usual generosity. It was bitterly cold one night and an old man, shaking pitiably, came to her. He had a severe cold and a high fever. He prayed to Babajan to cure him by her nazar (sight). Babajan, however, became furious and angrily snatched away the thin blanket wrapped around his shoulders which was his sole scanty protection against the cold. After this, Babajan ignored him, and the old man quietly sat down to spend the bitter night beside her. By morning, he was feeling unusually strong and looked healthy, and he left happily, fully recovered.

Babajan would usually speak in Pashtu or Persian and frequently utter the names of the Persian poets Hafiz and Amir Khushrow. She would often quote these couplets:

Despite millions of learned pundits and thousands of wise men,

Only God understands His own way of working.

Wonderful is Your creation, O God! Wonderful is Your game!

You poured jasmine oil on the head of a shrew.

Sometimes Babajan mentioned different saints or Masters and would remark particularly about Tajuddin Baba, whom she referred to with the utmost respect as Taj meaning crown of the Kingdom. "Taj is my Khalifa [successor, supreme ruler]," she would say. "What Taj gives, he gets from me."

On 17 August 1925 at midnight, Babajan suddenly exclaimed, "My poor fakir Taj has gone." No one could understand what she meant, but the next morning when the newspapers carried the story of Tajuddin Baba's demise in Nagpur, people grasped the significance of her utterance.

Babajan resided continuously on the streets of Poona for almost 26 years, during which time thousands of hearts were wounded by the arrow of her glance. Every day around her flame, the moths hovered and burned, and, in January 1914, her flame kissed the Light of the Age, unveiling young Merwan Irani. Babajan had traveled to Poona from the Punjab so many years before for this supreme mission. With tears in her eyes, she would utter, "One day my son will come ... He will shake the world!" No one had any idea what she meant.

Her seat under the neem tree was just a few streets away from Merwan's home. Often she would see him pass by, but she waited years before she embraced him. People would see her weeping, and when they inquired why, she would reply, "I weep out of love for my son." This statement was astonishing, because it was inconceivable for the old fakir to have given birth to a child. Age will soon witness their reunion.

On 18 September 1931, one of Babajan's fingers was operated on at Sassoon Hospital, but afterward she did not appear to be recovering. Three days later, at 4:27 P.M. on 21 September, when Babajan's beloved son was far away in a foreign land diffusing the rays of his Wine, Hazrat Babajan completed her divine mission and departed from this material plane.

It is believed that Babajan's physical presence on earth lasted between 130 to 141 years. People were speechless when they learned that the ancient woman had died. Tears flowed throughout Poona and gloom hung over the city as if clouds had become her shroud.

Thousands joined the funeral procession for her last journey through the streets of Poona. Babajan was buried at 10:00 A.M. on 22 September under the same neem tree where she sat for so many years. The expense of erecting her dargah (tomb-shrine) was met by her beloved son, Merwan, who personally contributed (rupees) Rs.4,000 for its construction.

A few days before Babajan dropped her body, she muttered, "It is time for me to leave now. The work is over ... I must close the shop."

One of her devotees pleaded, "Do not say such things Babajan. We need you with us."

With a quizzical look, she replied, "Nobody wants my wares. Nobody can afford the price. I have turned my goods over to the Proprietor."

Although Babajan is sleeping in her tomb, her devotees know that she is always awake in their hearts. Age declared:

O Babajan! Our loving and full-hearted homage to you.

Your kiss awakened the Awakener!

Lord Meher, Revised Online Edition, p. 3-16photo: meherbabatravels.com