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water and electricity were frequently shut off, and Sai Baba was a small orange speck in the distance. In addition, it was also my birthday, aer all, and what kind of a celebration was it? Our daughters seled in and enjoyed the adventure. Sam endured living in a small space with five women and was simply happy to be near Sai Baba. I was the unhappy one. I suffered, complained, and loudly proclaimed, “I’m not going to return to this place again. I’ll just hold Sai Baba in my heart in the comfort of my own home!”
Within five months, Sam made another quick trip to India. Despite my previous proclamations that I would never again visit Sai Baba, I found myself on a plane heading back to India for the sixth time. It was 13 years aer my first trip to India in 1972. This time I made a silent vow to stop complaining and to be receptive. Then, perhaps, I would feel Sai Baba’s love.
Captivated by His Love
At the very first darshan, Sai Baba motioned to me to go in for an interview. Imagine! He had motioned to me first before Sam! I was incredulous because I had been convinced that Sam was the one that Sai Baba loved and that I was sliding in on Sam’s coaails. In the interview room, Sam asked if he could discuss Sai organizational maers. As Sai Baba turned on the overhead fan, Sam’s papers started flying about the room, and Baba sat patiently while Sam scrambled to pick up his materials. Watching Sam gather his papers, I realized that our seemingly important worldly maers are like feathers in the wind to Sai Baba. Still, Sai Baba was aentive to Sam’s questions and said very lile of a personal nature to me. I le the room feeling dissatisfied and yearned for deeper contact with him.
Aer this initial interview, the days began to pass without another look or sign from Sai Baba. The heat, nearly 100 degrees F, started to affect me, and I began to fantasize about siing on a chair with the elderly and infirm, rather than on the hard ground with the other able-bodied devotees. My hips were
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