Go Round the World and Spread My Message

David Bailey, a pianist from England and his wife Faye spoke at the Manhattan Center in October, 1998. The following article is based on their talk.

I‘d like to share how Swami transformed my life. I was brought up in the Christian church and I had always loved Jesus. When I was about twelve, I had an important experience. My grandparents knew a lovely Scottish woman, a clairvoyant. One day, when I came home from school, she wanted to talk to me but I had a great deal of geography homework. After she assured me that my teacher would be absent the next day, I sat down to talk.  Just as she predicted, my geography teacher did not come the following day.

I came to look forward to her visits because always the next day a member of the staff would be out of school. How did she know? She knew all about my life—past, present and future—totally accurately, including my meeting Swami.

Meanwhile, I had become very competent at playing the organ in local churches. I completed a degree in music and started to perform. Of course, I learned the classics, but I didn’t want people to be bored. Some people love classical music, but others sleep through it. I wanted to make people happy, to put smiles on their faces, so I performed musical evenings of all the tunes people love to hear—from Glen Miller to Beethoven, classical pieces, opera.

In the meantime, I kept up my spiritual search. I found people who could touch people and heal. I looked into the old Greek philosophers. I explored the supernatural. But something was missing. I wanted the feeling I had had as a choirboy. What was it like to be near Jesus? What would it be like if Jesus walked into this room now? The energy of love that He carried had to be here somewhere, but I didn’t know where.

Five years ago, I saw a sign saying, An evening with Sri Sathya Sai Baba. I went and listened to a man speak of how Swami had given him the confidence to leave his job as a hospital porter to follow his dream. Every month, he went to Bosnia and Croatia with a load of supplies. For Christmas, Swami instructed him to take a hundred trucks. Suddenly I remembered that I had seen this story on television. Swami promised the man that Swami Himself would be in the war zone to protect him. The other drivers were quite nervous.  They kept coming up to the man and saying, “We are definitely afraid, but something seems to be calming us down. Who is the man in the orange robe walking around our lorries?”

What did I learn about Sai Baba that first evening? You don’t have to sign up for anything; you don’t have to give Him your money; and whatever religion you are, you can remain. He says if you are a Christian, be a better Christian. If you are English, be a better Englishman. If you are a pianist, play even better. If you are a Buddhist, be a better Buddhist. Whatever you are, be better at it. Don’t change things for me, He says.  I am here as an example—to show you how to bring love into the world and transform your life. This seemed exactly what I had been looking for. I didn’t have to change me. I simply had to expand me.

Three months passed and several coincidences occurred.  Someone called to invite me to go to India with a group.  I agreed and went home to tell my mom and dad. Dad is a retired scientist and Mom, a retired headmistress; for them, anything to do with India had always been a no-no. I gathered up my courage to tell them. But, to my surprise, my mom replied, “Great! I’m really pleased. Go.”  Later I learned that she had just had a call from a singer in the local church choir. The woman said she was having a cup of tea when something appeared in front of her and told her to phone David’s parents to tell them that David was going on a long journey having to do with the church and the future.  Since he had a job to do, he simply had to go.  While my parents were discussing what type of tea she might have been having, I walked in and said, “I am going to India.”

I then went to see my grandmother, an Alzheimer’s victim, who had not known anything for the past three years. When the nurse told her she had a visitor, she said, “Yes, I know.  He looks like my David.  He’s going to India, you know.” When I walked into the room, my grandmother looked at me and said, “Oh, David, I am so pleased to see you. You’re going to India. You’re going to see Sai Baba, aren’t you?” This was the last sane word any of us ever heard from her.

I had never been to India and had no idea what to expect. When I saw Swami, I wondered, Who is this little chap walking across the front there wearing an orange robe? Had I traveled all the way around the world to see this? Am I really all right?  I have performed on television and before various personalities. Usually, I get a nervous feeling when the cameras come close or the royal family walks by, but now there was none of that. And then something happened that I’ll never forget.  Suddenly, He seemed to come from behind me, downward and very close by. I can barely describe it. Something hit me and exploded inside. I didn’t know what had hit me. The next thing, tears poured down my face. I didn’t know what was going on. My brain said, “You’re an Englishman, how dare you cry?” But the tears still poured.  It was absolutely beautiful. This is what it must have felt like near the energy of Jesus. And now the energy was back again in a fantastic way. What was it? An energy of the most powerful love in the world. It went right through me and filled me up. There was no physical thing I could describe. It was inside.  And it was truly fantastic.

The next thing I heard was that if you want an interview with Swami, do seva.  So for the next ten days, I cut capsicums in the western canteen. I got cross because this took the skin off my hands. I thought, “If this figure is anything like Jesus, I can’t believe that cutting these jolly capsicums will get me closer to Him!” And there certainly was no interview. So I stopped. The next day, Swami came up to me, slapped me across the forehead and I landed on Mars. I didn’t know where I was. That was the end of the trip.

Back in England, I went to the local photo shop to have my film developed. When I went to collect the photos, they told me they had lost a roll.  “Special trip to India. It meant a lot to me,” I said. “Don’t worry, sir. We will pay for you to go back again.  We’ll buy your ticket.”  I don’t know whether this happens in the States – but it doesn’t happen in England.

My father became ill just before I left; doctors said he needed surgery. So I wrote a letter to Swami asking Him to heal my father. When I got to Prasanthi, Swami called me for an interview. I gave Him the letter and didn’t think any more about it. I also gave Him a song I had written. He opened it. He held it to one side, eyes fixed on me and sang it. I thought, “How did He know that?” For a musician, that was a beautiful little touch.

When I got home, Mom and Dad met me at the airport. When I asked my dad about the operation, he replied, “When I went to the doctor, they took an x-ray and they re-x-rayed.  There was nothing there. So I didn’t have the surgery.” What a beautiful thing.

Later I was invited to play at the international music festival in Prasanthi Nilayam. I got there on a Thursday night and the concert started Friday. They put a baby grand piano on the stage and the piano tuner came and tuned it about a dozen times, so it was reasonable. The next day when the curtain went up with Swami present, the piano was completely out of tune. Nothing was related to what I was playing. I wept as I played because I had worked for three or four months to get it right and it sounded like absolute rubbish. I finished the first piece and people clapped. It was a disaster. Swami was sitting there looking at me. I sat down at the piano and put my hands on for the second piece and the piano was back in tune. Both pieces are on the video of the music festival. When I took the tape home, people surmised that I had gotten the piano tuned between the two pieces.  But I told them, “Only two minutes separated the two.

A couple of days after that, Swami called me into the interview room. He waved His hand and a lovely ring appeared.  He said it would fit my forefinger and it did. Swami then asked if I would give a series of lectures to the college boys on how to read western music, the history of western music and the piano. The students were lovely, and they went crazy over me. When I asked why, they explained, “Because you play with your left hand.”  I realized why I’d gotten that round of applause.  It was because they had never before seen anyone playing with his left hand. It sounds crazy to us, of course, but they play the harmonium with their right hands and pump with their left. So how did my two hands become coordinated, they wanted to know? I was fascinated that something I took for granted was totally strange to them.  I saw things as a person from England; something I thought was extraordinary might be the norm for them. So I learned to be very careful in what I saw and what I experienced. One thing I knew for sure: Swami was the embodiment of the most incredible love.

I can easily go off onto these tangents, but they don’t matter.  They are about trinkets, calling cards, fun and games. Before I saw Swami, as well as afterward, I noticed that many people get caught up in the trinkets.  This is not Swami’s message. Swami’s message is one of transformation and love. That is what makes Him different. That is what makes Him Swami – the fantastic love. The love energy that is around us all the time is there through Swami.

When I went again to see Swami, he asked me where my wife was. “Swami, I have no wife,” I replied.  He said, “You need wife.”  “But I have been happy for forty years,” I explained.  “You need wife. I will find you wife.”  After that, He came out on the verandah, reached in my pocket and start rummaging around. I said, “What is it, Swami?” He answered, “I’m looking for wife. I will find. I will sort out. You do nothing.”

(Thank goodness a friend was with me in the next interview; otherwise, nobody would believe me.)   Swami said, “Where is wife?”  I replied, “I haven’t got one. I don’t know where to look.”  “Where to look?” He said.  “There are 2,500 women sitting out there. Choose one.”   I must have been the first man in the ashram to get permission from Swami to look at the ladies. What would you do?  What do you do, actually, when He tells you to do something? A few friends from England were with me and they said they had found someone for me. They had all picked the same person.   The next morning, I had a cup of tea with her.  Then Swami asked, “Have you found somebody?”  “Yes, I suppose so. Its Faye from Australia.”  “Oh, yes. Very happy.  Very happy. Go and ask.”

After darshan, I went up her room and proposed. She said, “Yes, sure. If Swami said yes, that is fine. But you’re an Englishman.  Get down on your knees and do it properly.” So there we were.

In the afternoon, Swami asked if I had proposed. When I said yes, He asked, “Who to?”  “But Faye,” I answered.  “Very happy. Very happy. Very lovely. Oh no.”  “Oh no?”   “No, no, no, wait. Go and say ‘no.’ “

I had waited 40 years to propose; now, the same day, I was knocking on her door. “Excuse me, Faye. It’s over.” I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to upset anyone, yet there were both of us, having our hopes raised and then dashed. Both of us got on with what we had to do.  And we waited.

When I got home, I took my photos to the same shop to be developed and when I went to collect them, the woman said, “I am terribly sorry, sir.  There has been a fault on both cameras. You have not got any pictures.”   I said, “Oh dear. Special trip to India.”  “Don’t worry sir. We will pay for you to go back to India.”  Thus, the same film shop paid for two tickets.

I went back in February because Swami had asked me to write a book.  After I completed it, He designed the front cover and signed it. He told me to come to Kodaikanal. I had a horrendous journey getting there, but eventually I had an interview, along with some other people. After chatting with us, Swami went into the kitchen, which had square tables with stools around them.  Several students were there with Anil Kumar who translates Swami’s discourses. Swami pulled out a stool, looked at me, and said, “Would you like something to drink?” I said, “Yes, Swami, may I have a cup of coffee?” I just forgot myself. He said, “Yes, sure.” And He made me a cup of coffee and brought it to me.  Then he made a cup for himself and sat down to drink a cup of coffee with me. It was a beautiful gesture. We chatted and chatted.

He said to me, “David, how much do you weigh?”  “Swami,” I replied.  “The trouble in England is that you stand on an electric scale and put your money in. When I did that, it said, ‘one at a time please.’ ” It was so funny to see him roar with laughter like anybody else.

He told me to come back in the summer for the music festival. When I got there, He promised that at Christmas my marriage would take place.  But when I returned to India on Christmas, He said, “Marriage, next trip.” I said, “No, Swami. You promised this trip.”  He said, “Okay. Go and call parents.”

At 4:00 a.m. English time, I rang Mom and woke her up to ask her to come to India. She thought I must be joking because she had never been to India. I told her there might be a wedding—that it might be my wedding. So my parents agreed and out they came. Swami made them so comfortable. It was beautiful.

Editor’s Note:  Following David’s talk, his wife Faye spoke briefly. She added details of their wedding, during which Swami manifested wedding rings, which He then changed into the nine gemstones of protection. In their most recent interview with Swami, He said to them, “You can go around the world and spread my message of love.”  That is what brought them to the Manhattan Center in New York. As Faye put it, “We are here to share the music Swami creates through David.”