For the past four years many people have urged me to write an account of the hijacking my husband and I experienced on our way home from a visit to Baba in March of 1974, to illustrate how lovingly he takes care of us when we remember to call on him for help.
It was our second visit to Baba, and on our way home we planned to stay for two or three days in Bombay, in order to visit the parents of a young Indian friend who was a student in the States at that time.
We had reservations on a plane leaving on Saturday March 2nd, for London, where I was born and where I was to visit my elderly mother.
However, we heard that Baba was arriving in Bombay that Saturday night, so I suggested to my husband that we try to change our reservations to leave the following day, so that we could have one last Darshan before leaving.
We were able to change our tickets, and drove out to the Dharmakshetra in time for the Sunday morning Darshan. We were seeing this beautiful place for the first time and were most impressed by the design and particularly Baba's quarters, which were pointed out to us.
There were crowds of devotees gathered there, but we were seated close enough to where Baba stood as he came out, for me to receive his smile of recognition, which seemed to me to be the perfect way to end our visit, and we left happily to board the plane to London.
The plane put down at Bahrain and Beirut for refueling, and at the later city, as we were going back on board, I remarked to my husband that the check I had just been through was such a farce that we could easily be hi jacked; prophetic words, though I certainly did not realize it at that time.
After dinner had been served and the trays cleared away, we became aware of a group of first class passengers headed by the captain moving back into the tourist section, where we were sitting.
I commented on this to my husband, and he replied that we could be about to hit bad weather, and perhaps this was a precautionary measure to shift the weight.
As the captain passed us we asked what was happening, and he told us that we would hear shortly.
As soon as they were all re seated a harsh voice came over the loud speaker telling us in very broken English that we were being hi jacked, but that if we co operated no harm would come to us.
Then two of the toughest looking characters came out of the cock pit, carrying machine guns and pistols which they held ready to shoot at anyone who might attempt to resist them in any way.
As I look back I recall thinking that if actors were being selected to play the part of hijackers in a film, none could have been found who looked more the part than these two. They were like caricatures.
They enlisted the services of an Arab-speaking passenger, who was told to collect all our passports which we were to have ready to hand to him.
Then we were told to hold our hands up over our heads, and neither move nor speak.
One of the hijackers checked through the pile of passports, separating them into the various nationalities.
Most of the passengers were Indian, English and Arab, with a small handful of Americans: so we concluded that we few would be taken as hostages.
Next, all of our flight bags were collected, emptied, and re filled with dynamite, and placed at strategic points through the plane, particularly outside the toilets.
We were then told that we could use the toilets only with a stewardess escorting each person there & back, one at time, while one hijacker pointed his gun at the bag of dynamite to insure good behaviour.
Naturally, everyone needed to use the toilet, as fear has that effect on the physical body.
It certainly looked as if our end was near and logically I should also have been filled with fear, and extremely agitated at the thought of leaving our two daughters so suddenly.
But miraculously, I had absolutely no fear; and moreover, I was completely certain that we would be saved, and told my husband that he must not entertain any other thought than this.
This made no sense to me, and I searched for the fear which should have been present, not wishing to delude myself, but there wasn't a shred in me.
I had, as soon as I realised what was happening, taken out of my hand bag a picture of Baba and some Vibhuti, and a ring he had materialised for me on our first visit to him the year before.
Placing these in my lap, out of sight of the hijackers, I started to call Baba's name in my head, visualising him in his apartment at the Dharmakshetra in Bombay, which had so recently been pointed out to me.
Meanwhile, one of the hijackers began wiring the plane in preparation for blowing it up, ostentatiously working on the escape hatches, with a lighted cigarette hanging out of one side of his mouth, and his gun under one arm, the very image of bravado.
After this was completed he had the stewardesses bring all the bottles of liquor and perfume from the duty free supply, and he proceeded to break the bottles and spill the contents up and down the aisles, obviously to feed the flames when they set fire to the plane.
At the very start of all this activity, as I was calling on Baba to help us, I heard his voice in my head distinctly telling me to send love to the hijackers!
I was completely taken aback at such a suggestion, especially as I watched them at their destructive work, and saw their faces filled with fanatical, almost ecstatic gleeful hate.
My first reaction was, "Oh Baba, how can I send them love?", but quickly added, "Please love them through me, as you alone can be the God within them."
I then leaned back in my seat and felt Baba's love flow through me, directed to those two men, and was fascinated to watch the effect.
The one who was scattering the liquor and perfume in the aisles became visibly nervous, and cut his wrist on one of the broken bottles and had to stop to bind the cut with a handkerchief.
From then on, both of them became more nervous, and lost their former air of bravado.
All this time none of us had any idea of the direction in which we were flying, let alone what they planned to do with us, but later we were informed that their first plan was to land the plane at Athens, there to exchange some of us as hostages for Palestinian prisoners being held there.
However, they were not permitted to land there, so we flew on to Amsterdam, where they were also refused permission to land.
They then decided to fly the plane over the North Sea there to blow it up; but the co-pilot informed them that there was not enough gasoline to take them that far.
They then called Amsterdam again, explaining the lack of fuel, and this time were allowed to land.
As we knew none of this at the time, we were most surprised when one of them announced that we were about to land, and that we would have 2 minutes to leave the plane before they set it on fire.
They continued to instruct us to take off our shoes and hold them over our heads, leave all of our possessions such as coats, hand bags, hand luggage etc., and to move in to the aisles and towards one exit.
They warned us that they would shoot if anyone did anything suspicious.
They let down a plastic chute, and pandemonium broke loose, as everyone pushed and jostled to get off before they set fire to the plane.
Unfortunately I was pushed sideways down the chute in the excitement, and landed on the base of my spine, and could not stand up.
I was pushed aside, and my husband and another kind man carried me free of the plane before it started to burn.
Buses were rushed out to pick up the fleeing passengers, and we boarded the last bus.
Imagine our horror when our driver, catching sight of two more people standing by the plane, wheeled his bus around to pick them up.
We could speak no Dutch, so my husband banged on the window screening us from the driver, and screamed, `Hi jackers' pointing to the two men he was about to bring on board with us.
He finally understood and turned back to the airport, leaving them standing there dejected and limp, as if all their energy and determination had drained out of them, as they looked back at the smouldering plane, somehow symbolising their defeat.
Later we heard that one of the food handlers had been paid $400 to take the guns and dynamite onto the plane in the food containers; and place them under two seats reserved for the hi jackers.
At the time I felt profoundly thankful to Baba for saving us, as I knew without a shadow of doubt that our release was entirely due to His help, but it was not until a whole year later, on our next visit, that we, were able to thank Him in person, though, I had written to Him as soon as we returned home after the hijacking.
At our first interview I started to say, "Thank you Baba, for saving us,” when He interrupted me by saying, "Yes, Yes, I know! I heard your voice calling, Baba! Baba! Baba! mimicking my voice perfectly, with the slight English inflection which returns when I am excited.
Later, at our final interview He smiled and said, "There will be three seats on the plane this time, one for each of you, and one in the middle for Swami,” indicating with His hand a space between us at shoulder level, as if he would be perched in the back of our seats.
Now, looking back over four years, I understand much more of the deeper learning contained in the experience.
Baba has said that we must remember to call on him. In other words, we have free will, which not even he will over ride, so it is always our personal responsibility to ask his help.
He has also said that those objects which he materialises for his devotees, such as rings, pendants, etc. are, not of value in the usual sense as jewelry, but are links to him, so that when we call on him to help, there is a flash before his eyes which alerts him to our cry for help.
But perhaps the biggest lesson, as least for me, is that he needs us to be willing and available for him to use in situations and with people, as he used me to allow: his love to flow into the hi jackers, which was the power necessary to divert them from their plan.
We so often say, "Baba, do it for me”, but we must be willing to do our part, as it is Baba working through us that is effective, and this verily is a mighty partnership.
The secret is `remembering', and how often we forget! but if we do as He advises, and practise repeating His name daily, it will be on the tip of our tongues in time of need, and then we have nothing to fear.
