Fire of Transformation

Vrindavan, 27 June 1972

I have come back to Babaji with feelings of deep emotion. He called me over to talk with Him by the temple door, touching my bracelets and asking me why I wear all these ornaments. He looked at the tattoo on my hand forming the Om sign and told me in English: 'Full power.' In the evening He had me dancing in front of the Indian people who were present, smiling and telling them that I am a hippie.

Delhi, 30 June 1972

I don't know why but I had to come back to Delhi. I am too restless and the life in the temple is too difficult for me, I am not ready for the discipline especially. I miss my friends, the sense of freedom and comfort that I have here.

* * *

Love Story

Delhi, 5 July 1972

As soon as I arrived at the guest-house I came across Sitaram, the young American who I had encountered in Almora with Shanti. I asked him to help me, because there were no other people around and I felt lost in Delhi on my own, especially with my poor grasp of English. Something crazy happened, I don't know how but it did: we are having a love affair after taking an LSD trip together. I don't know whether it will be a successful relationship but we intend to leave for the mountains in order to find a house and live together for a while.

Simla, 7 July 1972

We are in Simla, high up in the mountains, the monsoon has already started and it rains all day. We went around barefoot carrying a large umbrella in search of a house where we could pass the rainy season and now we have discovered a lovely place in the forest with a river and a small lake nearby.

11 July 1972

We've been establishing ourselves in our new home for a few days now and have been busy cleaning, cooking, meditating, taking baths and swimming in a natural pool in the river. When Sitaram travels he carries with him a small suitcase containing inside it a complete temple with representations of many of the Indian deities. He has met many gurus and has learnt a great deal, and now he is teaching me English. It feels good for us to be together, but I also find it impossible to forget Babaji.

Vrindavan, 22 July 1972

Here I am, in Vrindavan again, to kneel at Babaji's feet. This time He talks to me very seriously and tells me that I cannot leave again without His permission. I protest, show Him a photograph of Sitaram and tell Him about our house, but Babaji says that he is not the man for me and that the house is not my home. He goes on to say that in future I'll only be able to live in Hairakhan or in Almora; that is where my home will be. What He says has a tremendous impact on me and I think about it for much of the night. I have decided to try and obey Babaji, but first I must go back to Simla to get my luggage, although I have made a promise to return.

Simla, 25 July 1972

Strangely enough, nothing seems to work out right with Sitaram any more and remembering Babaji has become a kind of obsession for me. Before I left He gave me a painting He had done depicting the temple in Hairakhan, simple, naive, delightful and I keep looking at it.

* * *

Return to Babaji

Vrindavan, 29 July 1972

I have returned to Vrindavan, without knowing that today is Guru Purnima, the full moon dedicated to the guru throughout India. This evening Babaji had me dance the whole time in the big temple where we went for the occasion. Every time I looked at Him I saw Him suffused in a brilliant, vibrant light. A young Danish man was dancing with me, trying to catch me, but I always eluded him; I feel light, free.

When I pranamed to Babaji on this occasion, I truly had the impression that He really is the only one to be my guru and that it would be futile to continue wandering around in circles looking for someone else.

Ambaji, 4 August 1972

Babaji took me with Him together with many Indian devotees on a trip to Ambaji, in Gujarat, to visit a famous and ancient temple dedicated to the Divine Mother Amba. It is an incredible place and inside a huge crowd had assembled with hundreds of people standing in line waiting to pranam to Babaji. We all sit for hours on end singing and looking at Him and I ask myself why we do this, why we continue to watch Him all the time, while He just sits and looks back at us. There exists a strange, magnetic attraction, difficult to describe, and in His presence many things are happening inside me, as if He is a powerful catalyst for our collective energy. Everything about Him speaks of harmony and perfection: His gestures, His movements and His form are completely seductive. The mind is brought to another dimension, to a state of peace and inner awareness.

The Indians here adore Him as God manifest on earth and prostrate themselves before Him offering their souls, their humility, their prayers and hopes. I would prefer to be like them, not so intellectual but with greater simplicity and purity. Every time I pranam to Him there is pandemonium in my mind, a turmoil of absurd and conflicting thoughts, at times violent and unpleasant. I feel guilty in His presence and would so much like to be at peace.

10 August 1972

Today we travelled with Babaji to Koteshvar, to an ancient temple in the jungle. The building is constructed of white marble, with all the niches and statues carved out of the stone. Babaji resides here in a small underground room. In the evening I dance in front of hundreds of people, the majority of them coming from the villages nearby and living a simple and extremely basic existence. They look at me, this visitor from the West, the white stranger, as if I am a magical being. They gather around me, touching me, prostrating themselves before me: I must be very careful and pay close attention to my ego.

Datha, 20 August 1972

Today we have moved on to a Maharajas palace, a real fortress; inside there are many grand rooms decorated with tiger skins. The way in which the women live here has had a considerable effect on me: they live in isolation, never going outside the palace or seeing any man other than members of their own family. They sit together all day long, chatting, or busying themselves with small tasks, reminiscent of a scene from the Middle Ages. Babaji is treated as if He were a great king and suddenly I see Him behaving just like that, sitting on an elaborate throne, dressed in royal clothes and with a regal countenance.

Vrindavan, 25 August 1972

We have come back to Vrindavan and the police have paid me a visit, having discovered that I am living here without a visa, which expired a long time ago. The fact is that I haven't even bothered to do anything about it, following my impulsive anarchistic nature, wanting to stay here without the necessary papers as a matter of principle, an expression of my sense of freedom. But now I am in trouble and the police have told me that I have to leave India within three days.

I run immediately to Babaji, who asks me what I want to do and if I would like to go to Nepal. I agree, since I wish to meet the Tibetan Lamas there and smiling He asks me if I know any Tibetan mantras. He also told me that I could ask a question of Him if I wish, and so I inquire if I should go back to Italy or if I should stay in India. Babaji replied softly: 'You will stay all your life in India at My feet.' I also asked if He could see my past lives and He said that in my previous life I was an Indian woman in Almora with a family and children and before that, a Tibetan queen devoted to Lord Shiva. He told me not to worry, because I have His blessing and that I will come back to India and to Him.

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