BABA WOULD OFTEN WALK ALONE

 
One day as we were walking on the beach, dipping our feet in the ocean, Baba asked me, "Do you swim?"

I replied, "No, Baba. You gave me an order not to."

Baba then asked, "Is there any other order I have given you?"

I said, "Yes. You've also given me orders not to drive a car and not to learn the sitar."

Baba smiled and said, "You can go swimming from now on."

Someone said, "Baba, since you are releasing Arnavaz from the order not to swim, why not allow her to drive also?"

I remained silent. I would never have asked Baba to take away any order, nor did I like someone else asking. Baba nodded in response to the question, appearing to indicate that I could learn to drive, but His reply did not seem wholehearted.

During these days Baba would often walk alone from one end of the beach to the other. I remember watching Him one evening at sunset, His beauty leaving me breathless. He walked with long, graceful strides, His hair flowing, His sadra moving with the wind, while the ocean rippled and sparkled in the light of the setting sun. The moment was ethereal, and I treasure this memory of watching Beloved Baba move so freely for the last time [April 1952].