At that moment, Baba clapped, and asked, "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing," Bhau said.
Baba scolded him, "Are you obliging me by doing this? On the contrary, I am obliging you by giving you this opportunity to serve me. You frighten easily. This is nothing! Even if I were to cut you into pieces, you should bear it without a word of complaint. Not even a whimper should escape your lips.
"This is love. This is service. My real mercy lies in making mincemeat out of you!
"This is nothing, not even the beginning!" he continued, "And even then, you complain. You think: 'What service I am rendering!'
"What is there in your service? It has not even begun, I tell you. Were you really to serve me, there would not be any thought of self. How will you serve me when you are having thoughts about your small trouble? You are serving your affliction, not me! This is not my cruelty, but my kindness."
Baba's words convinced Bhau of the meaning of real service, and he could only regret his misplaced thoughts. Baba then sat up and gave Bhau a painkiller tablet. The next day in mandali hall Baba instructed Goher to give Bhau an anesthetic injection. The procedure was repeated four or five times, every week.
Another incident on nightwatch taught Bhau an equally valuable lesson. One night Baba said he felt hungry. This was not unusual, and chocolates or some other snacks to nibble on were always kept in his bedroom. Bhau brought a tin of chocolates, opened it, and put the lid on the edge of the bed next to the tin. It was dark inside the room, as there was no electricity in Meherazad at that time. The only light source (apart from the flashlight used to read Baba's gestures) came from a kerosene lantern outside a window. The curtain was closed, so Bhau went to open it. As he was opening it, Baba reached for the chocolates without looking at the tin. As he put his hand in the box, the lid was accidentally knocked off the bed and fell on Baba's shin.