Travel with UG

December 5 I have felt frightened off and on at night with odd dreams and sensations of U.G. being in the apartment in some sort of disquieting way. When I told him this on the phone, he said, “Good.” When I told him I heard via Bob in California that Ram Dass would like to see him again next visit and considered him a sweet dear who wouldn't hurt a fly, U.G. asked me if I agreed and I said emphatically, “No!” And again he said, “Good!” It’s true, that he wouldn’t hurt a fly, just our sacred cows. So I am in this mysterious position. He has a profound effect on me, and I'm sure he has all kinds of powers, but he disclaims everything. I feel attracted to him in a deep and strange way and yet I am also somewhat afraid. Still I am committed and drawn to whatever process is under way. He would say all that is between us is the practical process of traveling, photographing and seeing the world, that I am ascribing a spiritual process that is not happening except in my own mind. But

December 14 The flight was strange, U.G. withdrawn into himself. We hardly spoke at all, like two strangers. Yet when we arrived in Delhi, he came immediately to life. We were met by Frank Noronha, an old friend of U.G.'s, an ardent devotee. His love for U.G. is as open and visible as the sky. We drove through Delhi in the murky night, the coolness a relief after the heat of Bombay. Frank lives with his wife, Gita, and two children, Sneha, age four and Sowmya, one and a half. They were waiting for us at the top of the stairs along with Jayakumar, a young doctor in the Air Force, a relative of theirs, who had come to Delhi to meet U.G. The hospitality was immediate and complete. U.G. picked one room and I took the other, everything having been thought of for our comfort. The rest of the family, including the doctor, had moved into the third bedroom. To them, particularly Frank, having U.G. come to stay is the greatest gift heaven could bestow and, according to Gita, the preparations

December 30 We were met at the airport by Chandrasekhar and Eddie, a friend of U.G.'s from England who spends six months out of the year here, and another Chandrasekhar, an architect. Chandrasekhar explained to me that the name Chandrasekhar is a common one here meaning the moon mark on the scalp that signals enlightenment, the mark of Krishna. ~ ~ Bangalore was much warmer than Delhi and I immediately shed longjohns and stockings in the airport ladies room. Arriving at Poornakutee, Chandrasekhar's house at 40 K. R. Road, we were met by an array of people – Suguna (Chandrasekhar's wife), ‘Cedella’, a friendly woman from Ceylon who has known U.G. for only a little over a year, two nurses, and assorted other kurta-clad men. Too many faces to take in at once, I just sat, watched and listened. Soon I was settled in a lovely room adjacent to the upstairs living room, with its own toilet (a Western one, though still a faucet rather than toilet paper), mosquito netting, and plenty