The miracles of Shirdi

HUGH and COLLEEN GANTZER tell us of how an enigmatic seer transformed a nondescript village into a throbbing pilgrim centre

 

When we first visited it, years ago, Shirdi was still a village. No longer. Upscale hotels rise where dhabas once stood and glittering shops have replaced thatched shacks, non-resident Indians with faux accents rub shoulders with truly rural folk. And it has all happened because of one man.

 He was an ethical seer, but even in our land, famed for ethical seers, he stands apart. He came from nowhere, asked for nothing, spoke little; his family and his past are still a mystery. Yet, in spite of this, he radiated so much empathy, gave so much solace by his presence, that people were drawn to him for the comfort they received. Since they didn’t know his name, and he never revealed it, they gave him the respectful title of Sai Baba. And as his devotees grew, so did the little village which he had chosen as his home.

 

A Simple Fakir

He died there and his grave has become the sanctum of a great shrine. This is the first miracle. We joined a jostling queue of devotees and entered the Sai Baba Temple.

 The sanctum was framed in a golden arch beyond which red-robed priests sat on both sides of the Muslim savant’s grave and ministered to his garlanded statue. It is now an idol. It wore a golden crown and sat on a golden throne. This was in contrast to the grainy, blown-up, black-and-white photographs of the Baba framed in the museum. He had always dressed like a simple fakir and one of the displays holds his very humble personal possessions. The fire he had lit to cook a Sufi seer’s meal for his followers still burned and its ash is treated as holy vibhuti.

 That is the second miracle: an Islamic seer, whose mosque is still venerated, who is now worshipped by Hindus and who draws devotees of all faiths, all ages and all walks of life. Standing in the shelter of a neem tree rising above a small monument, we skimmed through a little booklet. It listed miracles reported by devotees who said that these were answers to their prayers to the Baba.

 A miracle is an apparent suspension of the laws of nature. For self-styled sceptics to claim that there must be a scientific explanation for every event is rather like saying, “I know there is a logical reason for this even if I don’t know what the reason is!” Such sophistry has had no effect on Sai Baba’s growing ranks of devotees.

 

Hi-tech Dining Hall

Happily, the facilities offered by the Shri Saibaba Sansthan, a trust that takes care of the temple administration, have kept pace with the burgeoning needs of the pilgrims.

 According to the deputy executive officer of the Trust, 70,000 pilgrims visit the shrine every day, the numbers going up to 1,25,000 on Thursdays and weekends, and soaring to two lakhs on festivals. To cater to this great influx of visitors, the trust has created a hi-tech wonder: the Prasadalaya, or dining complex. Standing in its manicured grounds was a covered pedestal holding a larger-than-life statue of Baba stirring an enormous cauldron of food. Mushrooming the roof of the Prasadalaya are solar collectors pumping the sun’s heat into the largest solar kitchen in the world, directly below.

 Catering monitors, looking at the CCTV screens, assess the number of diners likely to eat in the Prasadalaya. This is transmitted to the kitchen and the stainless steel kneaders, fryers and boilers are programmed accordingly. On an average day, they cook 2,500 kgs of rice, 600 quintals of dal and a large quantity of vegetables. In the huge dining hall, one batch of 1,000 diners had just left. Stainless steel thalis were collected, tables scrubbed, a mechanised sweeper swirled its brushes across the floor, squeegees and swabs dried them. An army of apron-wearing attendants placed clean thalis on the tables. It is an efficient, state-of-the-art operation.

 

Take Heart

So, too, is the trust’s famed Sai Baba Hospital. In the sunlit atrium of the hospital, relatives of patients stood in front of a statue of Sai Baba, clapping rhythmically and singing bhajans in his praise. A resident heart surgeon told us that they do between 55 to 60 open heart procedures in a year and sometimes, up to four a day.

 We learnt later, that though the world recovery rate for such operations is 90 per cent, it is 95 per cent to 98 per cent in this hospital. The bhajan singers had completed their hymns and were walking past when they overheard the doctor’s conversation. They stopped and said, “It is all the grace of the Baba. He is still here, still watches over everyone in Shirdi!” In an age of cynicism and terror, violence and blatant cupidity, this pilgrim centre stands like a green island of serenity, sanity and solace. That is the third and continuing miracle of Shirdi.