go to His room. He moves in a fascinating way, like a panther, swift, powerful, precise, with long, slender, brown legs and bare-footed. They called Shanti and myself into the room where He was and with a little reluctance I hesitantly pranamed to Him for the first time. Babaji asked which country I came from and gave me a radiant smile; I felt as if I had received a severe electrical shock, as if struck by a wave of luminous light, and a voice inside me told me that I would see Him again.
I went back to the house where we were staying, deeply affected by this encounter. Even Shanti, who has already met many gurus, also noticed the especial beauty and purity of this Being.
16 April 1972
Last night I had a dream. I was in a dark, deep forest and suddenly Babaji appeared, emerging out of an intense light, surrounded by some disciples. He walked with the help of a stick and He told me: 'I am your guru.'
'What will You teach me?' I asked Him and He replied: 'To wash dishes well.'
I woke up deeply impressed because His message is very clear to me: the importance of learning to accomplish simple, humble tasks, useful to other people. In the past, in the life of our community in Milan, we were continually faced with this problem, nobody wanted to do the washing-up or carry out the simple jobs. People always left dirty plates and other things lying around, out of selfishness, laziness or egotism. I know that it is necessary for me to work through these problems. When I told Shanti about my dream he proposed that I go and visit Babaji where He lives, at His ashram in Hairakhan, and to speak to Tara Devi about it.
Babaji 1972
23 April 1972
We saw Tara Devi, the American woman, and asked her if we could join her on her trip to Hairakhan. She looked me up and down and told me I needed to dress a little better and not to wear these hippie clothes; she added that she doesn't even know if women are welcomed by Babaji in His ashram, since He is a brahmachari, a celibate. Shanti also told me I must be especially careful with my female energy, because the Indian people can easily become hostile and would even kill a woman trying to seduce a brahmachari Baba. I am so surprised by this kind of talk, because to be quite honest sex is the last thing to come into my mind in the presence of somebody like Babaji.
Hairakhan, 26 April 1972
We reached Hairakhan yesterday after an exceedingly long walk and I am exhausted. There were five of us who travelled from Almora, Shanti and myself, a Danish man, an American, Tara Devi and also her Indian cook. We reached a certain point on the road and then began walking through the jungle. The journey seemed to go on for ever. We walked for six hours, barefoot on the hot stones, continuously criss-crossing the Gautam Ganga river, an interminable distance, carrying our luggage on our heads. On more than one occasion I thought that I'd not be able to make it, and because I'm afraid of feeling the cold I had also insisted on carrying a quilt on my head as well.
The jungle here is really charming, the water in the river so pure and transparent one can drink it. Then all of a sudden we caught a glimpse of a white temple on the top of a hill, Hairakhan, a small village, looking as if it belonged in a fairy tale. When we came closer to the temple, we saw Babaji dressed in white coming down the steep steps to welcome us. With great embarrassment I found myself to be the first in line. Babaji took me up the steps with Him and then around the temple in a circle, ringing all the bells. I had the impression I was enacting an ancient, forgotten ritual. Using Shanti as interpreter He asked me if I was a hippie and I answered, 'Yes,' with a certain pride. Then He wanted to know if I smoked dope and when I nodded He told me that here in Hairakhan it was strictly prohibited.
A few minutes later we were approached by an old sadhu called Prem Baba, who took me with him to smoke some hashish and he gave me something strange to eat as well. I sat on the outside wall feeling quite stoned, looking out onto the valley. It is a magnificent place, the landscape archaic and mysterious, the hills covered in terraces, fertile, green with crops and in the background the mountains are covered with pine trees. The movement of the river running through the valley sounds like an exquisite melody and a huge bodhi tree arching its branches down towards the sound completes the scene.
Everybody lives in the open under the trees, the only buildings are the temple and one small hut where Babaji lives, which is open on all sides and has a ceremonial fire-pit at its centre.
While I remained sitting on the perimeter wall, absorbed in my contemplation, Babaji came near me and taking a stone He drew the shape of a small temple on the ground, telling me just one word: 'Dio', God. I felt very embarrassed, since I am still quite an atheist and the idea of God remains difficult for me to accept. Babaji motioned for me to sit with Him in His hut, His dhuni, and said to me in English: 'God is love.' The concept of love is maybe easier for me to accept. His eyes were deep and shining, luminous and He gave me an orange and some nuts to eat. In the evening the people gave us chapatis and a large quantity of halva, a delicious sweetmeat, to eat for our meal.
The temple in Hairakhan
27 April 1972
Yesterday afternoon some of the Indian people wanted to serve us tea, but Babaji shouted that tea is poison and is not permitted in the temple.
I find myself looking at Him all the time, but there remain doubts in my mind and I analyse all His movements, largely because He seldom speaks. He has a magnetic energy, such perfect beauty and Shanti teases me, suggesting that I am merely attracted by His physical presence, but it's not that at all: I feel overcome by a powerful psychic wave, a vibrating light. Sometimes I am afraid of being hypnotized, at other times I receive a deep, exquisite energy within my heart that is overwhelming.
Today, while we were sitting in the dhuni around the sacred fire, some of the village women arrived to visit Babaji. They are very colourful, wearing long, green skirts like myself and when they saw me they laughed. Babaji told them that my name is Lalli, which means 'little girl'. He asked me how old I was, I said twenty-six and He told me that I looked about fifteen.
In the evening, what I witnessed during the ceremony in the temple made a lasting impression on me. Babaji sat motionless, dressed in white, like an exquisite statue, while an Indian man began to sing and lifted a lighted lamp towards His face, which assumed a mysterious radiance. While praying in this way by waving the lamp the man started to cry and I could tell that he felt the presence of a Divine Being. Shanti has also been greatly moved by what he has seen, even if he tells me that I have to be careful not to be led astray by all these rituals.
Prem Baba, the old sadhu, invited us to sit with him around another fire, so that we could all sing together the mantra dedicated to Shiva, 'Om Namah Shivaya', and Shanti laughed at me, commenting that I have so easily become caught in the enchantment of the place. Some of the women were cooking chapatis, Indian bread, on a small improvised fire in the open and everything felt very simple and pure. Tonight we sleep within the temple area, looking up at the dark, tropical sky.
28 April 1972
This morning they woke us up at four o'clock, virtually still night-time. The air was chilly and I went down to bathe in the river. As I descended the steps I met Babaji, already coming back up. I jumped into the river, immersing myself in the cold water, under the bright stars. Later on I sat in a corner of the temple, thinking that I would like to continue being part of this magical story and follow Babaji, but that I would never
