Baba asked Hiralal, "How is your eczema? Have you taken Padri's medicine?"
Hiralal answered, "I took it, but instead of feeling better, I feel worse. I feel uneasy."
"What sort of restlessness do you have?"
Hiralal replied, "I am not sure, but I will not be able to return to Hamirpur."
Baba teased, "The very thought of your remaining here makes me restless! I will have to see that your itch disappears and also this new malady. On your recovery, you will have to leave for home."
"Cured or not cured," said Hiralal, "I want only Baba, and I will stay here so that I can see you daily."
"In that case," Baba joked, "your eczema won't leave you but will spread 'inside'! You will have physical and mental eczema!"
"Let it be outward or inward, I won't return home!"
Baba gestured to Padri, "For God's sake, give him some medicine so that he will get well soon and leave!"
Hiralal said, "I need no medicine to go home."
Everyone laughed, including Baba, who assured him, "Don't worry, I have the proper medicine for your disease."
At 3:50 P.M., Baba asked the Hindi group to accompany him to Arangaon, where he had been invited by the villagers. Niranjan Singh and other indisposed or elderly lovers were driven in Adi's car, while Baba and the group walked the distance. There Baba first stepped into the old shrine of Buaji Bua, the Hindu Perfect Master who had had himself buried alive 400 years ago. His shrine is known as Dakhta (Little) Pandharpur . Women were standing with garlands and an arti tray, and performed Baba's arti. From all directions, women ran to touch Baba's feet, and although it was forbidden, they would not listen and literally fell at his feet. Baba sat down near Buaji Bua's samadhi where, turn by turn, the women garlanded him.
Addressing the sahavas group, Baba observed, "Although the people of Arangaon are poor, their love for me is great. I will visit today some of my lovers' families."
A large crowd collected, and Baba was led in a grand procession to the houses of some from the village. Dust stirred everywhere as the villagers danced and played lezim (finger-bells and cymbals). In every house, Baba's arti was sung and he was garlanded; even in tiny huts he would sit smiling. He embraced the children and reminded their elders about the old days, when they were students in the Hazrat Babajan School.