The Afterglow of Their Love

MARG PATEL reflects on love and continuity in the Heartfulness tradition through his observations of his father, DAAJI, and the Masters who came before him.

I never knew Lalaji. I never met Babuji. Their names came not as faces or voices, but as figures emerging from stories, silences, and my father’s words. As a kid, I listened but didn’t understand. As an adult, I listen again and now hear something new beneath the words: a love that burned so intensely, it left no trace.

I learned about Babuji’s love for his Master, Lalaji, from my father. That love wasn’t based on closeness or time together. It was stronger and rarer. Babuji loved Lalaji so deeply that, even after his passing, his physical absence had no meaning.

People understand that a moth can burn itself in a living flame. But they might also say that it doesn’t make sense to give yourself to a flame that has gone out, or to give your whole being to a master who is no longer physically present. Yet, this is exactly what Babuji did. He set himself on fire in the essence of Lalaji’s spirit, keeping the flame alive by becoming its continuation; by becoming the very flame that his Master was.

My father said Babuji never saw Lalaji as someone from the past. That love wasn’t nostalgic; it was driven by loyalty. Babuji lived for Lalaji, taking him not as a memory but as an Order, Guide, and Inner Authority. Loving that way takes courage. When the Master can still see you, devotion is easy. But to obey Silence or shape your life around an Inward Presence that offers no outward comfort? That is different.

And then there’s my father’s love, first for Babuji and then for Chariji. I didn’t learn this through words either. I learned it by observing how he lives in the world. His honesty, confidence, and unwavering commitment to truth have always distinguished him. He doesn’t distort the truth to make people comfortable or try to gain their approval. I realize now that that firmness is a sign of love.
 

I didn’t get to meet Lalaji or Babuji, but I do get to 
live in the afterglow of their love. 
And through my father, I see that a flame lit 
by a love never burns out. 
It simply passes from one to another, 
and with each transfer, a silent question follows: 
Are you willing to burn in love?

I see this characteristic reflected in my father’s relationship with Babuji and Chariji. He has never tried to copy them; instead, he strives to be open with them. There is quiet respect behind his firm tone of voice, as if he’s still listening to himself and checking against something greater than his own opinion. In this way, he has always remained consistent.

As his son, what strikes me most is something I find difficult to put into words. I see in my father an irrefutable need for universal love in the world, even though he’s strict, diligent, and holds a prominent global position. It’s not sentimental love. Not love as an emotion. But a love that unites people instead of dividing them—above all, a love that desires connection rather than recognition.

As my father shared stories of the Masters' lives, it never felt like a biography, but always like a blessing—something that came alive in how we lived. The stories of past Masters helped shape how we understood love, so in our family, love rarely felt excessive. You wouldn’t see it outwardly; it always stayed balanced. Each act in our family life was free of personal claims, so the ego wouldn’t affect the Master’s work. There was always a desire to let go so something better could emerge.

Perhaps this is how the Heartfulness lineage survives—not through titles or the strength of institutions, but through a hunger for eternal love. Lalaji’s flame burned in Babuji, Babuji’s clarity burned in Chariji, and Chariji’s refinement burns in my father. And what passes on further is not personality, but an insistence on truth, a refusal to compromise essence, and a love willing to consume itself for something greater.

I didn’t get to meet Lalaji or Babuji, but I do get to live in the afterglow of their love. And through my father, I see that a flame lit by a love never burns out. It simply passes from one to another, and with each transfer, a silent question follows: Are you willing to burn in love?