I am often touched by the outpourings of love, faith, sacrifice and service on the part of the growing number of those who believe in me here and in the West, and I do not mind the attitude of those who remain unconcerned about me, or even of those who oppose me. But I am constantly eyeing your obedience to me, because it is futile to have love from the whole world in the absence of the required degree of obedience from you.
I do not mean that you intend to disobey me or that you disobey me deliberately, when I insist so often on obedience. On the contrary, I do not forget your sense of duty.
Recently, for example, Pophali and Kutumba Sastri, and also their family circles, have given ample proof of their sense of duty to me. Pophali's son, a brilliant M.Sc. [master's degree in science], died in the prime of life after a short illness. In order to fulfill what he considered his duty to my cause, Pophali reached his dying son too late. In spite of this, Pophali's younger sons write to me that while they are still waiting to have my sahavas, their elder brother has come to me already.
Kutumba left his home for my work immediately after his young brother had died in the house. Kutumba, as the elder brother, did not even wait to perform the funeral rites demanded by custom. When questioned by visitors, the family replied by repeating what Kutumba Sastri had told them: that the man loved Baba and had merely dropped the coat of his gross body. Kutumba had felt certain that his young brother would have wanted him to go ahead with Baba's urgent work, at once, because he had always looked upon the service to Baba as infinitely more important and rewarding than any ritual.
The point I wish to drive home is that it is never too late to obey me; that you should obey me to the end; that you should obey me with a courage undaunted by any disaster. And that, above all else, you should obey me when I stand face to face with the dark cloud.