Welcome Guest Author Farzana Moon
True to its promise once again All Things That Matter Press has brought Ora Ray Baker on the stage of life in print form, ready to soar on screen of life in line of great American movies to be watched and cherished./The American Queen is the true life story of a young girl, Ora Ray Baker, born in Albuquerque, New Mexico.
She fell in love with an Indian mystic by the name of Hazrat Inayat Khan. He was not only a mystic from India, but a Sufi Master and a great Musician. He came to US with the intention of uniting the East with the West in God Realization. Against the wishes of her stepbrother who was Ora Ray Baker’s ward, she decided to elope to Europe to marry Hazrat Inayat Khan who was traveling there to give lectures and concerts. She met him in Belgium, and they were married in London. They lived in London and France for a while, and then went to Russia where their first daughter was born in Kremlin.
Soon the First World War started, so they had to leave Russia and came to London. During the war two more children were born, both boys, and one girl after a year later. After the WW1 they moved to France and settled there in a suburb called Suresnes. When the children were little, Hazrat Inayat Khan traveled alone all over Europe and even returned to America for a few months to spread his Sufi Message of love, unity and harmony. Ora Ray Baker lost her Love of Life in India when Hazrat Inayat Khan went there on a tour to give lectures on Sufism, their eldest daughter was barely thirteen-year-old at the death of her father. Then began the lone journey for Ora Ray Baker with all the agony of loss and grief. She lived through the ravages of WW11, her eldest daughter, Spy Princess, was arrested and killed in German Concentration Camps.
Finally, four years after WW11 of much grief and sorrow, Ora Ray Baker died in France. Her love, courage and perseverance still live on in Fazal Manzil in France, her home and shrine of Love, now a Sufi Retreat.
Ora Ray Baker Prologue:
O Beloved, is my love so weak
That it bringeth me not to Thee
Then let me weep more and more each day
Till by weeping, it strengthened be
But when its strength be still too less
And the fountain of tears run dry
Tears of blood, let me weep, yea until
By weeping for Thee, I may die
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