2 Experiences with Shirdi Sai Baba

Sai Baba was a sweet and loving saint from Shirdi, Maharashtra. He was also a genuine enigma to both his devotees and visitors to Shirdi. His many teachings and miracles were chronicled in the biographical book called “Sai Satcharitra”. It was only a few years ago that I realised what a close connection my family had with this beautiful soul.

He first came to my mother. Once as a young girl, but that’s her story to tell. A second time in visions as she was teaching meditation to a group in 2016. This was shortly before she had a fall outside the steps of our home and broke her ankle. The third time she saw him was the day of the fall. As she was in the ambulance, her blood pressure started dropping rapidly and she could see Baba’s presence, along with her late father, standing at either side of her. The fourth time was when he physically appeared at the foot of her bed one night and swiftly manipulated her injured foot, after which the pain dissipated and she somehow managed to avoid a surgery that the doctors insisted she needed. All this was just his introduction.

Soon enough, my dad had fallen in love with Sai and felt a strong personal connection in his own way. I don’t remember being interested initially, but somewhere down the line Baba managed to find his place in my heart. And he never left after that.

I feel inspired to share 2 of my experiences with Baba that were spiritually potent and meaningful to me. I can’t remember the exact timeline of these incidents except that they took place sometime between 2018 and 2019.

Divine Mother foretells a miracle

Since I was 12 years old, I’ve been lovingly guided by my Divine Mother, Nageswari Amman, channeled through one of the most humble and patient people I’ve ever known. She is known mainly locally and lives her life in service. I don’t know what blessing led me to her at that age, but she has been there for me and my parents at every twist and turn. My relationship with the Divine Mother steadily deepened over 2 decades as I grew to appreciate her true nature, not just as a gentle maternal figure, but the creative force behind all life.

Looking back, I realise that though she made it clear I was under her protective gaze, her intention for me was to go through a wide spectrum of human experience without being cushioned from all the pain. Sometimes she would say and do things specifically to throw me off my own intuition just so I would go and learn something I couldn’t otherwise have done. On a lighter note, I have to say that the path of the Divine Mother isn’t strewn with roses and kittens. Be prepared for a truly wild ride! I had to trust, be patient, fall down and get up repeatedly, and more essentially, learn how to re-open a hurt, closed heart as many times as needed.

A full spiritual life can’t just be lived in the mystical realms, or more accurately, one’s idea of them. We must honour and embrace, not just tolerate: the mundane, the worldly and the beauty in the messiness of humanity. This is her domain; meditate, but also live a complete and authentic life. In my experience, the second one is so much harder to do, at least without some degree of self-deception.

I’m sure Baba won’t mind the detour to Divine Mother, but back to the point now. On one of our many visits to her home in Chennai, she foresaw our upcoming trip to Shirdi the following week and surprised us with a prediction: we were going to witness a miracle.

My first visit to Shirdi – I’m upset with Baba

With Shirdi being one of the most popular pilgrimage sites in India, we expected to see long queues as the norm, with a healthy dose of pushing and shoving. What I struggled to get used to though was how people treat each other, especially on such sacred ground.

Perhaps we could chalk it up to having a bad day, but one of the ushers was being particularly impatient with people. I let the shouting and complaining pass over my head, but when I noticed him forcefully pushing some elderly devotees along the queue, I got upset. Not with the usher. With Baba. I mentally aired my objection to Sai with intense focus. In my childlike view, he was the boss over here and knowing what he was capable of, I couldn’t excuse him for allowing this behaviour by his people.

We had our turn and then departed the temple. My mum wanted to go to a nearby temple shop so everyone else tagged along. My dad and grandmother sat outside on the steps of the shop while my mum was browsing. Still wounded with indignance, I had little patience for shopping and went inside to gently demand that my mum hurry up. She held two portraits of Baba and asked me which one looked better. I squinted, then asked her to please just pick one so we can go back to the hotel.

On her insistence, I found myself holding both portraits and walking to the shop entrance for a second opinion from my dad. Of course, mother always wins, right?

However, I have to thank her for that strange obsession over a single picture, because at the very moment I stepped foot outside the shop, I saw him.

Fully clad in a white kafni, the dress robes of a fakir or mendicant, and a white cloth around the head, a figure walked around the corner and stood in front of the shop. He was accompanied by a shorter, older lady in a blue saree. My immediate thought was “Baisa Ma”, who was a mother figure to Sai Baba.

Ignoring the striking resemblance to Baba, one might be forgiven in thinking that these were just ordinary beggars on the temple grounds. After all, that is a real possibility at any of these sacred places. However, I hadn’t yet seen any ordinary beggars whose eyes were blazing blue lights. Not blue eyes, but visible blue light.

I rushed back inside to call my mum and we both hurried outside again to get a better look. They were both still standing there, still silent. I couldn’t take my eyes off him and didn’t feel like saying anything either. There was no need.

My mum sensed the same thing as me, but still wished to offer some money as a token of respect to the mendicant. He took the offering and pressed it to his eyes, all the while looking oblivious to what was in his hand. The entire time, neither he nor his companion said a word. They walked off together. The surprising thing was that no one else seemed to notice them at all. As my family were leaving for our hotel, I sensed someone watching me and turned around to see the lady who came with Baba, standing at a distance yet facing me. She was staring intensely.

The next morning we visited the temple again one last time before leaving Shirdi and what a turn of events! It was still very busy, but the ushers were all calm and respectful. So respectful that I saw one of them fold their hands to guests, encouraging them to take their time.

A beggar on the streets of London

Humility was one of Baba’s best known qualities. To be clear, I don’t believe in the narrative that one must renounce or reject material prosperity in order to demonstrate humility. Real humility is an inner quality, often misunderstood and weaponised. It cannot be judged just by someone’s clothes, speech or life choices alone. However, Baba was the real deal.

There’s a Shirdi Sai Baba temple in London that I used to visit sometimes, usually during quieter times so I could sit peacefully in a corner somewhere. They almost always had an abundance of prasad or consecrated food for the devotees to take after prayers. Often this was a box of cooked lentils and rice, fruits or a sweet.

On one particular visit, I decided to meditate at the temple for a short while. When I got up to receive the prasad, I was surprised to be given not just one sweet but an entire little box of sweets. I looked down at the box and knew straight away that this box was meant to go somewhere else. There was no festival that day and barely any crowd. Baba was up to something.

Without thinking or analysing, my feet followed my heart’s guidance. I walked across town, seemingly without a goal, and suddenly stopped to cross the road. My feet started pulling in the opposite direction so I just went with it. That’s when I saw him.

A roadside beggar with a long white beard and dirty clothes. He had a small cup next to him with maybe a few pennies. Nothing that sounds too unusual. Yet I found myself drawn to him inexplicably. I walked up to him and placed some spare change into the cup. At this point he looked up at me and there it was again. Those blazing blue lights for eyes, brimming with kindness and love. I handed over the box of sweets to him before my mind could even process what was happening.

He used both hands to accept it graciously and then took my right hand and placed it against his cheek tenderly. His skin was velvety soft for someone apparently living on the streets. I remember being so reluctant to let his hand go. I’d walked those streets many times before and after this experience, but I never saw that individual again.

These are simply 2 stories from the heart, which can only be understood by the heart.

Kiruthika Rajeswaran