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Like many young boys who have heroic dreams, I also had dreams of being a pilot. Meher Baba’s disciples would often write to him seeking advice and guidance for their problems or pour their hearts out to him in times of grief as well as good fortune. On one occasion, seated with Meher Baba in the private audience room at Guruprasad, Baba asked Eruch Jessawala to read aloud the correspondence sent by his followers from India as well as from all over the world. Normally, Mani aunty, Baba’s sister, would read the letters written by women and Eruch uncle would handle the correspondence written by men to which Baba would reply in his unique sign language. Eruch or Mani, to save time, would have previously screened all letters. Eruch would make a mental note of all Baba’s replies, and later at his leisure would reply in his beautiful handwriting. He was Baba’s eyes, ears and tongue as he interpreted all Baba’s gestures and signs. Similarly, Bhauji would look after the Hindi and Marathi correspondence.
After a couple of letters were read, Eruch picked one up and said, "Baba there’s a letter from Jimmy.” I was about six feet away from Baba, who looked at me and with gestures inquired, "What have you written?” I replied that I wanted to be a pilot. Mumma must have had a heart attack right there! Baba looked at Eruch and asked him to read out the letter. To my great embarrassment, Eruch read my letter for all to hear. Before Baba could interact with me, Baba’s brother Jal (Irani), piped in stating, "Baba you should not encourage him, being a pilot is quite dangerous, especially as his mother is a widow.” The other elderly old-timers, Nariman Dadachanji and Dr Deshmukh, also put in their two cents by suggesting, "Baba, he is young and immature, you should dissuade him. So many young pilots have died flying planes.” Another senior member, Meherji Karkaria, also chipped in arguing, "Baba, aeroplanes are quite safe now, they don’t come down daily as they used to earlier.” Plane travel was much safer at that time; in the 1960s, the Boeing 707 jet was already in the air.

 

 

 

Baba heard each one out with the greatest attention and patience, then turned to Mumma who was sitting three feet away from Him and pointed out, "You are his mother, and you have not said a word.” Mumma’s reply was, "Baba, he is yours, if you say yes to him, it is yes from me, and if you say no, then it is no from me.” Her reply seemed to please Baba for it indicated that my mother had totally surrendered her three children to his care. Remember, the very first time we met Baba, he had with these words confirmed, "From now onwards you do not have to worry, I will look after them,” and she was happy to let him do so. As a mother, she looked after our needs as all mothers do, but she must have stopped worrying about us and looked towards Baba who knew what was best for us, just as a father would. Baba then looked at me and questioned, "Who told you that it costs Rs 25,000 for a pilot’s training?” Twenty-five thousand rupees was indeed a large sum of money at that time. Pervez, the son of Meheru Billimoria, who was already taking flying lessons, had told me so. He was training to be a pilot. As a result of his talk, I visualized this to be an exciting profession, as did many young boys my age.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After the above exchange, Baba looked at me and with gestures explained, "You are too thin and weak. To be a pilot you need to have a sturdy constitution; you need to be tough since it is a hard calling. What else can you do?” As I was already studying in a business (commerce) college, the only option in those days was to be a chartered accountant (CA). I then instinctively announced, "Baba, I will become a chartered accountant.” Baba seemed very pleased with this reply. With gestures, by patting the arms of his own chair, he indicated that a CA would earn much respect, and with his fingers in an act of counting money remarked, "Very good, a good profession. People will respect you; you will sit on a big chair and will make good money.”
The year was 1965, and we were at Mobo’s Hotel in Poona when I got the result of my failure in the university’s second year (in those days, the Inter Commerce year) final examination. I felt terrible since all the other youngsters in our group had been successful. I was crying, and the word went to Guruprasad that Jimmy was very upset about his failure. Baba summoned me to his presence. I was instructed to go into the central hall where Baba was seated at a dining table eating mangoes. He gestured for me to sit down. After that, he asked me about my failure. I told him that the economics paper was very unusual. Consequently, 74% of the students had failed. Dr Goher, Baba’s physician, was nearby to translate Baba’s gestures when somebody called for her. She excused herself from Baba’s presence. This left me alone with Baba in the hall. Usually, when one talks in terms of being alone with Baba, it means you, him and a mandali member to translate his gestures. Here I was alone with him! As of today, I know of less than 10 Baba lovers who have had the privilege of being alone with Baba. Strangely, only recently, Bapsy, my younger sister, told me her story when she and our mother were also alone with Baba.
Through his gestures, Baba tried asking me something, but I could not comprehend the meaning and drew a blank. Again, he tried, and I failed and a third time too. Imagine my frustration and chagrin. The godman tried to talk to me and I could not respond! Thereafter, he asked me to come closer to him and gave me a slice from the mango he was eating. I took my seat again on the carpet (at Guruprasad we always sat on the carpet; only Baba sat on a chair before us). For almost two to three minutes, I was alone with Baba; all alone with the godman!
Dr Goher soon returned. Baba gestured to her, and she translated the meaning to which I could subsequently respond. Baba then instructed her to give my mother Rs 300 towards my education, for additional coaching tuition. I do not remember that conversation very well now as I had so many humbling thoughts filling my mind. Baba then asked me to leave. In the garden, I ate the slice of mango along with its skin, feeling much lighter at heart. Only recently, when I requested my sisters to gather all the artifacts we had collected over the years related to Baba which the mandali had given us for safekeeping, my sister Diana told me that our mother had retained a Rs 10 note from the money that Baba had asked Goher to give her for my education. It is a treasure beyond all other treasures!
All those who hear this story wherever I have narrated it, ask me two questions: "Have you made a lot of money?” and "Why did you take such a turnaround?” Very honestly, I have not made a lot of money as I have always stuck to ethical practices. The answer to the second question is, I was already in a business college, and this was the only available option I could think of. As soon as Baba suggested it, I knew in a flash that I had to become an accountant. However, I did not lose my interest in aviation. I have read a lot about space exploration and in parrot-like fashion can relate the entire sequence of the moon landing in technical jargon. In fact, when Apollo 11 landed on the moon, I was awake the entire night listening to the commentary on my transistor radio. As of today, I can give a full talk on rocket science. Thus, finally after a long struggle, a CA I did become, as Baba had guided me to my future. I am compelled to say, he never did command me to take up the career I am in today, but he very gently pointed the way to allow me to make the right choice.
I have thus been a recipient of the beloved’s grace. Failing and repeating a year in college was a trade-off for me as it enabled me to be with the Avatar of the Age, all alone for a few precious moments. What a trade-off! People would give their lives for such moments.