BABA'S WAY

 
In early summer of 1982 I had a strong inclination to quit my job at the end of August and return to college in the fall. At the same time, however, two of my close friends, both in their seventies, decided to journey to India in September and began to drop hints that my company would be appreciated on this long trip. Moreover, I sensed that Baba would be pleased if I did accompany them. As I was not really "feeling" the urge to go to India at this time, quite a conflict developed in my mind.

One day, in the midst of this inner turmoil, as I was driving along a busy street, the following thought occurred to me: "Oh Baba, you really do take away all our little props and supports and leave us with nothing left to hold on to except you."

At this very instant my gaze struck an old bus parked at a garage. In the space above the windshield where one can usually read the destination of the bus were printed two words in big capital letters: MY WAY.