Visaless Travel

Verona, Italy. August. New news! What a wonderful surprise. Baba will be coming to Europe again! And after such a short gap. Maybe He will come often. Wouldn’t that be a delightful dream!

Of course, knowing Baba, the struggle I experienced during His first visit will only be greater this time. So goes the path of bliss.

He is scheduled to come first to Greece with a complete entourage on September 19th. This time it will be a ten day program. Tonight I already started calling all over the continent to begin preparations. I even had to call Iceland.

Hannover. 16 September. Another of His sudden games: at 3:00 in the morning I received a call that the timetable for Baba’s European tour had been pushed forward, and that He is to arrive in Athens the day after tomorrow. Three hours later I was on a southbound train together with two other Dadas.

I almost feel like saying, “This is too much.” But I won’t because He knows what He’s doing.

Next day. Athens, Greece. When we arrived at the station this morning, we were met by a new Greek Margi. “Namaskar, Dadas!”

“Namaskar. What’s your name, brother?” “I Giriish!

Trip good?”

“It was okay. Traveling is a big part of our life, you know.” “Yah hah!”

“Giriish, you must be excited that Baba is coming.”

‘Baba! Oh Baba! Was beautiful!"

“Yes, it’ll be beautiful. I guess you’ve never seen Baba before, Giriish?”

“Oh Baba! Was so beautiful!”

“Yes. Is His coming still fixed as planned?”

“Yes! Coming! Yesterday! Beautiful!”

“Not yesterday, Giriish. The word is tomorrow.”

“Coming yesterday! Coming yesterday!”

We ran to the station telephone, and called the yoga house. It was true: Baba came and left yesterday! How could this be?

We walked to the yoga house, still hoping there was a misunderstanding. There we met Dada Shaktinath.

“Yesterday the phone rang,” said Shaktinath. “The party said, ‘I am Dada Ramananda, and we are here with Baba in the airport.’ I said, ‘Yeah, sure. Who is this really?’ He said, ‘Believe me, I’m Ramananda. We came a little early.’ I was shocked, but I ran to the airport with two Greek Margis. I was the only Dada here. I was excited, but also worried: nothing was prepared yet. Not even their visas.

“By the time we got there, Baba and all the Dadas and the Didi and Margis in His group were outside the airport waiting for us.

“After we paid our respects to Baba, I asked, ‘No trouble with the visas?’

“‘No, no trouble,’ Dada Ramananda said. We didn’t get any visas.’

“‘What? How did you get out of the airport?’

“I still wonder that myself,’ Dada Ramananda said. ‘I had hoped you brothers could arrange something for us. But Baba took the initiative. We were waiting inside the immigration building when He walked out one door and waved for us to join Him. I guess we never would have been able to get the visas. Without Baba’s lead we couldn’t have entered Greece.’

“Then we took Baba to the yoga house. Though nothing had been properly arranged yet, He didn’t seem to mind. He was very affectionate. After a few milutes, Dada Ramananda told me that Baba would like to bathe and rest. The yoga house was not suitable so then we went to Jayanta’s house. Though everything was hodge-podge. Baba’s mood was perfect, and so was the darshan in the evening. Early this morning they all left for Egypt.”

We three Dadas were completely frustrated. We went to the beach for a swim. It was my first leisure-break in months.

When I arrived back at the yoga house, I received a phone call from Dada Karunananda.

“Baba will be arriving in Iceland tomorrow evening from Cairo. You should immediately fly there.”

“What? It’s not possible! Are you sure?”

“What can I say? Ramanandaji called me just now with that information. I’ve booked my flight to arrive in Reykjavik this evening. Don’t be late.”

“But I’ve only got about $200, and the flight will surely cost more than $ 1000 .”

“That’s your problem.”

When I told the other Dadas, they had a good laugh.

“There’s no money among the Margis here,” said Shaktinath. “This is one of the poorest units in Europe.”

“There’s no time and there’s no way you’ll make it,” another Dada said.

“We’ll see,” I said.

After about twenty phone calls, and the usual incredible coincidences, I jumped in a taxi. It was thirty minutes before the departure of the only appropriate flight. Brother Sandiip met me at the airport. As he handed me the money, he said, smiling, “For me is too much, Dada. But I love Baba.”

“Yeah. So do I,” I said, thanking him with a hug.

Reykjavik, Iceland. We were rushing like mad to get everything ready in time for Baba’s arrival when the phone rang. It was Dada Ramananda.

There would be a change, he said. They would arrive the day after tomorrow.

The phone almost slipped from my hand as I thought about the part of my fare that was “wasted”—I could have gone by train at least as far as Copenhagen, and saved about $500. Well, I suppose this was a good exercise for developing surrender in Sandiip. And in me.