Sai Chalisa

No one ever learned who Baba's mother or father was, and the place of his birth stayed an unanswered puzzle.

Some called him Lord Rama of Ayodhya, while others believed Sai Baba was Hanuman, the wind god's son.

To some he was the auspicious Ganesha; to others he was Krishna, the beloved of Gokul and son of Devaki.

Many worshipped him as Shiva himself, and others honoured him as an incarnation of Dattatreya.

Whatever name one gives him, Sai is the true God, deeply kind, a friend of the helpless, who restored hope and life to countless people.

The poet now recalls an event from years past, when a fortunate family's wedding party arrived in Shirdi.

Travelling with that party was a strikingly beautiful child who stayed on and, by his presence, made the town of Shirdi holy.

For many days he wandered and begged from door to door, performing wonders that the world would remember forever.

As the years passed his fame only grew, until every household in the town was singing the praises of Sai Baba.

His name soon echoed in every direction, for protecting the poor and the suffering was the work Baba lived for.

Anyone who came to Baba's feet and confessed their poverty received his mercy, and their chains of sorrow fell away.

When someone begged him for a child, Baba would simply say 'so be it' and grant the blessing.

Baba would feel the pain of the poor as his own, for his heart was as wide and deep as the ocean.

A very wealthy devotee came from Madras; he had endless riches but no child of his own.

He pleaded with Sainath for mercy, asking Baba alone to steer his storm-tossed boat safely across.

He said his home was dark without a son to carry the family lamp, and so he had come to take refuge in Baba.

Without an heir, he felt all his wealth was worthless, so he came like a beggar to Baba's shelter.

He asked for the gift of a son, vowing lifelong gratitude, saying his only hope and trust rested in Baba.

After he begged at length with his head at Baba's feet, the pleased saint gave him this blessing.

Baba assured him that God would bless him with a son, and that divine grace would protect both him and the child.

No one has ever measured the limits of Sai's grace; by giving the Madras devotee a son, Baba enriched his whole life.

Whoever worships wholeheartedly is uplifted; truth can never be harmed, and falsehood is always defeated.

The devotee declares he will forever live under Baba's care as his servant, for having found a lord like Sai leaves nothing more to wish for.

He recalls his own hard days, when even a piece of bread was beyond reach and a thin loincloth was all the clothing he had.

Though a river flowed before him he stayed thirsty, and his misfortune fell on him like a rain of fire.

He had no support in the world except the bare earth, wandering as a beggar and stumbling from door to door.

In that hardship he met a friend, a great devotee of Sai, who though free of worldly snares was as humble and ordinary as himself.

The two friends resolved together to go and behold Baba, and made themselves ready for the sight of the compassionate Sai.

Reaching holy Shirdi, he gazed on Baba's enchanting form and felt his very birth had become blessed.

From the moment of that darshan his sorrow vanished, and every trouble and calamity came to an end.

Baba granted him dignity and respect like alms, and through Sai's radiance his own light shone out in the world.

With the honour Baba gave him in this life as his strength, he says he will walk through life with a smile.

Sai's divine play affected his mind so deeply that he now feels Baba present in every particle of the world.

A devotee named Kashiram lived in Shirdi and would tell everyone, 'I belong to Sai and Sai is mine.'

He earned his living selling cloth in village and town markets, while the strings of his heart stayed tuned to Sai's name.

One still night, when moon and stars rested in the dark sky and all slept, the darkness was so thick he could not see his own hand.

Kashiram was returning home after selling his cloth, and by a strange chance he was travelling alone that day.

Wicked, lawless men surrounded him on the road, and the air rang with cries of 'beat him, cut him, rob him.'

After robbing and beating him the villains fled, leaving Kashiram so badly wounded that he lost consciousness.

Without knowing it he cried out 'Sai', and the echo of that cry reached Baba's ears far away in Shirdi.

Baba's heart was shaken and he grew restless, as though the entire attack were unfolding before his own eyes.

He sat up and thrust his hand into the sacred fire before everyone, so that cooling relief might reach Kashiram's burning body.

Each time someone tried to pull him back, Baba only pushed his hand deeper into the flames, risking himself further.

As his hand burned in the fire Baba bore the heat himself in Shirdi, sending the cooling comfort to far-off Kashiram.

Not until Kashiram had fully regained his senses did Baba withdraw his hand from the sacred fire.

A cooling stream seemed to flow through Kashiram's every vein; he opened his eyes, sat up, and began to examine his own wounds.

Seeing no one of his own beside him, he wondered whose unseen care had saved him, sensing the hand that watches over its devotees.

Hearing the cry of 'Sai' answered, Baba in Shirdi grew calm, lifted his hand from the fire, and his vow stood fulfilled.

Witnessing this miracle, all the devotees were astonished, and the glory of the Dwarakamai's sacred fire spread across the world.

That day Kashiram passed devotion's hardest test, and the townspeople thronged together just to behold him.