Chapter 21 Miracles of the Shirdi Foot Pilgrimage

  

Life never moves smoothly just the way we want it to. Unexpected troubles and obstacles keep coming. They suffocate us. We can’t see a path forward. It feels like a journey without a destination.

“In the darkness, in pitch darkness,

in the ocean called time,

in the boat called sorrow,

to which shore, in which direction…” (Cheekatilo, kaaru cheekatilo, Kaalamane kadalilo …)

From far away, I could hear Sri Sri’s song in Ghantasala’s voice. When I think about it, that song seemed exactly like my own situation. The job I have is hanging by a thread. My children are doing their higher studies. The place is new to us. The relatives I thought would support me have drifted away.

How do I come out of this crisis? How do I escape from this?

I was working in Andhra Prabha at that time and the management changed unexpectedly. I didn’t like the ways of the new management at all. On top of that, for some reason, my superior didn’t like me. That same superior told me, “If you stop talking to that good friend of yours who works in this office, I’ll even get you a promotion.”

Which clearly meant: if I give up that friendship, he won’t trouble me.

Day by day, my freedom was shrinking. In this situation, what should I do? Where should I go? How do I protect my family? Will I be able to support my children and make them realise their dreams and ambitions?

Many questions with no definite answers.

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It was the year 2006, and Diwali was just around the corner. But there was no festive mood in our house.

What power could chase the darkness in my heart? Where was that power? Would Diwali ever return to our home with new light and happiness?

That was when something happened — an incident that changed not just my problems, but the direction of my whole life.

At that time, my son Rajesh was doing engineering. One day, his friend Vinay casually said,

“Uncle, are you going to Shirdi? My uncle is going.”

I didn’t really understand why Vinay asked me that. But his words felt strangely comforting.

When someone is searching for peace of mind, certain words work like a magnet — they pull you in. That’s exactly what happened to me.

“Okay,” I said.

Vinay immediately called his maternal uncle, Prasad, and put him on the phone with me. After speaking to him, I made a sudden decision — I would go to Shirdi.

At that time, I didn’t realize what unseen force was guiding that choice.

My family also encouraged me to go. Prasad said he would book the train tickets, and I agreed.

Without even knowing it, I had taken my first step towards a foot pilgrimage to Shirdi.

The Burden is Yours, Baba:

This wasn’t my first visit to Shirdi. I had already gone twice earlier with my family.

But this time, because of the children’s studies, my wife Sridevi said she and the children couldn’t come. So I decided to go with Prasad’s family and told him, “Okay.”

After the tickets were booked, Prasad called me and explained everything in detail. That’s when I found out the real plan.

From Pune, we weren’t going by bus.

All the devotees would walk together and reach Shirdi on foot.

Many Sai Baba devotees start walking from Pune and reach Shirdi on the seventh day.

Prasad had already done this journey once or twice before, so he shared many details with me.

I didn’t even know how far Shirdi was from Pune.

The moment I heard the word “walking pilgrimage,” I started doubting myself.

My family members had the same concern at first.

But by then, I had already committed.

The tickets were booked.

There was no turning back.

So I placed the entire burden on Shirdi Sai Baba and got ready for the journey.

As soon as Diwali came, the journey began.

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The Right Aim:

Before my marriage, I did not hear much about Shirdi Sai Baba. In the early days of our married life, whenever we went to my in-laws’ place in Guntur, my wife would take me either to the Anjaneya Swamy temple opposite Jalayya College or to the Sai Baba temple in Arundalpet. She had deep devotion towards Sai Baba. She used to say that Baba would protect us from the difficulties of life. She would read out Baba’s Eleven Principles to me and ask me to keep my gaze fixed on Baba. Slowly, I began to understand her devotion and  started believing in Baba.

The Pain of Transfer:

When I was working in Vijayawada, the management of Andhra Prabha in Madras decided to launch an Internet edition. In those days, it was a sensation. Though people knew the word “Internet,” very few knew that news could be delivered through it. Journalists who were interested in the Internet were sent on deputation. I was one of them. Along with me, Kunishetty Prasad from the Visakhapatnam edition also came to Madras.

A few days passed, and the management’s intention became clear. They planned to transfer us permanently and retain us in Madras. I felt it was unavoidable. Once the management took a decision, there was no turning back. I accepted it. My family also began preparing themselves to settle in Madras.

My son Rajesh even bought a book titled “How to Learn Tamil in 30 Days” and started practising. My daughter Divya was very young then. Whoever spoke to her, she would proudly say to them, “We are going to Madras.” My elder sister, who lived in Madras, almost finalized a family portion for us near her house. The Andhra Prabha office in Madras was on Mount Road. My sister lived in Dasarathapuram near Vadapalani. Though it was a little far, we decided to stay close to her. Thus we were making our own arrangements. One day my wife suddenly said, “For some reason, I don’t feel happy about all of us going to Madras. The salary may increase by a thousand rupees, but this is the town we are used to, and the children are also settled here. If possible, try to stop the transfer.”

Her words made me think deeply. I was the Vice President of the Workers’ Union (Andhra Prabha – Indian Express Employees’ Union) in the Vijayawada office. I always worked for employees’ problems. Now I myself had a problem. I decided to try.

Around the same time, Andhra Prabha had started a weekly pull-out called “Kulasa,” related to health advice and tips. For this, we needed articles from doctors. I personally met doctors and formed a writers’ panel. While the “Kulasa” page was running well, suddenly this Internet edition and Madras deputation came in between.

When the Editor came from Hyderabad and asked in a meeting, “Who is interested in the Internet?”  I could have remained calm like others. But I raised my hand as if I were an expert in software. That was the consequence of being sent to Madras on deputation.

After hearing Sridevi’s words, I informed the union leaders and my superiors that I did not want the transfer. But since the Madras management had already decided, it was doubtful whether anything would change.

I took four days leave and came from Madras to Vijayawada. On the fourth day, I had to board the Madras train at 10 p.m. At home, everyone was packing my suitcase with heavy hearts. The children were looking at me with sad faces. Sridevi came to me and said, “Baba will take care of everything. Meditate on Him.”

Hearing those words, I started reading the life story of Shirdi Sai Baba. I continued reading till 4 p.m. — only a few hours left to board the Madras train. I was in deep contemplation. By then, the office had provided me with a landline phone. Suddenly, the phone rang. I picked it up.

My friend Prasad, who had come to Madras along with me, was speaking, “Friend, you don’t need to come to Madras. Your transfer has been stopped. You are asked to report in Vijayawada itself.”

I didn’t know whether it was a dream or Lord Vishnu’s Maya! My problem was solved, and my mind became light. When Sridevi came to know, she immediately performed aarti before Baba’s photo and applied Baba’s Vibhuti on my forehead.

Instead of boarding the Madras train, I set out for the Vijayawada office. I felt that Baba’s miracles were working. When I went to the office, I was given back my old duty. The chapter of “promotion with transfer” ended there.

Later, I myself applied for a transfer to Hyderabad. My good friend P. Vijaya Babu helped in ensuring that this transfer went smoothly. Later, he worked as the Editor of Andhra Prabha, served as the RTI Commissioner of united Andhra Pradesh, and after the state’s bifurcation, worked as the Chairman of the Andhra Pradesh Official Language Commission. Even today, my friendship with him continues with the same bonding.

Baba’s Divine Grace:

Because I had faith in Baba, I finally got the chance to go on a padayatra (a pilgrimage with bare feet). My body might be weak. I may not even be used to walking two kilometers at a stretch. But compared to all these weaknesses, Baba’s strength of will is far greater. I realized this truth at every single step of the journey.

All of us devotees boarded the train at Secunderabad and reached Pune early the next morning. While we were on the train, the topic of “Pune Baba” came up. Just like Shirdi Baba in appearance, he leads a very simple life and has completely dedicated himself to Baba in thought and action. I was eager to see him!

From Pune station, a few of us went to meet Pune Baba. He was living like an ordinary man in a small house. His profession was ironing clothes. In the courtyard of his house, there was a small Baba temple. He could speak Telugu. His words impressed me deeply.

That day was Thursday—the day our padayatra group set off for Shirdi. It was a week-long walk, about 204 kilometers. Our group had nearly 70 people. Some of them, like me, were doing it for the first time. Others had already done it two or three times. Those people shared their experiences and also told us what precautions to take while walking.

Along with our group, a palanquin carrying Baba’s idol also started in procession. When they told me that this palanquin would go all the way to Shirdi with us and that devotees would take turns carrying it, I was shocked. Walking itself felt hard enough—now we had to carry a palanquin too!

The First Steps:

With the belief that everything happens according to Baba’s will, I gathered courage and started walking with the group. All the planning had already been done—how much distance we would walk each day, where we would stop, arrangements for breakfast and meals, and even an ambulance for emergencies. Everything was very well organized.

Day One:

I started off very enthusiastically, chanting Baba’s name as I walked. After about ten kilometres, my legs started aching badly. Some people walked fast, while others like me walked slowly. Gradually, the gap between these two groups kept increasing.

I didn’t know where breakfast would be provided. I didn’t know where lunch would be given either. The organizers knew, of course, but they hadn’t explained it to every pilgrim. Everyone was busy in his own way, all eager to reach Shirdi as soon as possible. As for me, my legs just didn’t want to move forward.

I told a friend,

“I can’t walk anymore. Please tell Pune Baba about me. I’ll get into the vehicle…”

He said,

“Hey, it’s only just begun. Don’t panic. If things really get that bad, Baba himself will know. He’ll send a vehicle. That’s happened for some people. You can walk. You will walk. Leave it to Baba.”

His words gave me a bit of courage.

Since it was winter, the plan was to stop walking by 6 p.m. But because we had fallen so far behind, it took us another half hour to reach our night stop. Pune Baba came and spoke to everyone.

He said to me,

“So, Mr. Journalist, you look very tired. Here, have this prasadam. Tomorrow you’ll walk with more energy.”

Pune Baba’s words always boosted my confidence. I started believing that I really would walk better the next day.

Our first night’s stay was not in a comfortable hotel room. I learned that our “night stays” would be in temples or rest houses. We took our blankets from the luggage vehicle. I lay down in a corner—on bare ground, in an unfamiliar open place. Still, I didn’t think much about it. My mind was on something else.

Today, I managed to walk.

Yes, tomorrow I will walk too.

(Remember the word “I” in these lines.)

We were woken up at 4:30 in the morning. After finishing our morning routines, the prayers began. Baba, who was brought in the palanquin, was worshipped. After that, the Padayatra began again.

Second Day:

I’m walking. The pain in my feet eased a little. My steps feel lighter and more energetic. Along the way, Baba’s devotees are standing by the roadside, offering guavas and bananas. I got two bananas and one guava. Eating them, I keep walking and chatting with fellow pilgrims.

As my friends talk about Baba’s miracles, I share my own experiences. Since Pune Baba already knew I was a journalist, he would come over now and then, talk to me for a while, and ask about the difficulties in my profession. I never told him that I was struggling, but I felt that he somehow understood.

Once he said,

“These problems won’t last forever. They’ll go away soon. You’ll rise very high as a journalist.”

Later, those words turned out to be true.

By evening on the second day, as we were nearing our place of rest, I realized that the idea of “I” was wrong. A new feeling grew in me: “I’m not walking — Baba himself is making me walk.” When I told Pune Baba this that night, he encouraged me and said,

“Until you reach Shirdi, Baba himself will guide your steps. After that, your life will change.”

Third Day:

The Padayatra continued. At breakfast time, we were given small food packets. At lunchtime, hot meals were served. Watching all this, I was amazed, wondering how many people must be working behind such a huge effort. More than that, the villagers’ faith and unshakable devotion to Baba was clearly visible.

On both sides of the road, villagers noticed us coming, stepped forward, and folded their hands in greeting. I realized they were seeing the pilgrims themselves as Sai Baba. With love, they offered us drinks or fruit.

At lunchtime, Pune Baba came to me as usual and said,

“Do you know something? In your last seven Janmas, you never walked this far. This is Baba’s blessing — his gift to you.”

It felt true. I don’t know about seven births, but even to go to the shop around the corner, I usually take a vehicle. That’s just how I am.

After the day’s walk ended, I looked at my feet. Blisters had formed between my heel and the sole. If those blisters had appeared in the middle of my sole, walking would have been unbearable.

Fourth Day:

My pace slowed. I kept walking, leaving everything to Baba. We never knew how many kilometres we had to walk each day. Our only job was to walk until we reached the destination. When the tiredness became too much, we rested for a while under trees and then started walking again.

In between, Pune Baba came and said,

“How are you? No blisters on the middle of your soles, right? Then there’s no problem — walking won’t be difficult. It’s all Baba’s grace.”

That’s when I noticed that some of the people walking with me had blisters right in the middle of their soles. For them, walking had become painful and difficult. By Baba’s mercy, I didn’t have blisters there, so walking wasn’t a big problem. At that moment, I understood the deeper meaning of what Pune Baba had said.

Day Five

Our Padayatra was continuing. The people who had started out walking energetically were now slowing down. Many were walking with difficulty because of blisters on their feet, knee pain, and back pain.

“Baba, how much farther is it? Please take us to You, Baba,” they kept praying as they walked.

As for me… I too had blisters. They were painful, but I could still walk. My body, however, was becoming weak. Pune Baba was going around, talking to everyone, and encouraging them. He knew that from the fifth day onwards, many devotees would start facing health problems. So he spoke to them with extra care and affection, helped those who needed it, and told stories of Baba’s miracles to keep their spirits up. His leadership was clearly visible.

When we stopped for a short rest, Baba came near me. I spoke to him affectionately and said,

“Baba, I’m a journalist and I write articles well. Should I write a book about this foot pilgrimage?”

Pune Baba listened carefully and nodded his head. I couldn’t understand whether that meant yes or no. So I asked again.

“You write well. Baba knows that. Baba Himself will make you write. How, when, and in what form—that only He will decide. Through this pilgrimage, you are getting closer to Baba. And who knows what more Baba will make you do…”

From that day, many times I felt like writing about Baba and about this pilgrimage. But is it enough just to want to write? Don’t I have to let go of the feeling of “I”? With that thought, I left everything to Baba. Once, I even bought a special notebook and started writing under the title ‘Shirdi Padayatra’ But after that, the writing stopped. There were obstacles and interruptions. I thought, “May be Baba’s grace hasn’t come yet.”

Now, after all these years, before starting this part of the writing, I stood in front of Baba’s picture at home and prayed sincerely:

“Baba, please let me at least share some of the experiences of this pilgrimage with the readers.”

I applied sacred ash on my forehead and began writing. I thought I would finish the pilgrimage part in just one or two paragraphs. But Baba’s will was different. It wasn’t I who started writing, and it wasn’t I who was writing. Even deciding where to stop was not in my hands. With that feeling, sentences kept flowing and turned into paragraphs.

That fifth day, we had to walk a long distance, mostly on ghat roads. It was very hard. Still, I felt as if some unseen force was guiding all of us forward.

Day Six

“You are very close now. You will soon see Shirdi Baba. Those joyful moments are very near,” Pune Baba and his main disciples kept encouraging us.

A line from an Annamacharya song came to my mind:

“Look, there… there is the abode of Lord Sri Hari,

made of the hoods of ten thousand serpents…” (Adivo alladivo Srihari Vaasamu …)

I thought about myself—weak like a little mouse, someone who catches a cold if he gets wet in the rain and fears sunstroke in summer! How had I walked such a long distance? My family at home was worried. They tried to call me every day, but many times I couldn’t answer their calls — sometimes because there was no signal, and sometimes because I was listening to stories about Baba’s miracles.

We heard that some people were unwell and were being taken to Shirdi in special vehicles. After five days of walking, my weak body felt like it would collapse. I told a friend who had come with me,

“Friend, shall we also say we’re not well and go to Shirdi in a vehicle?”

He looked at me closely and understood my struggle.

“That’s possible. But you’ve already walked this far. Today’s walk is almost over. Only one more day remains. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be in Baba’s presence. And do you know something? On the last day, they say we’ll take a shorter route. The distance will reduce, and we’ll feel some relief. Think about it.”

“Okay,” I said weakly.

Even though I agreed, the thought didn’t leave my mind: If I just got into any passing vehicle, I could reach Shirdi easily.

To remove this weakness, something wonderful happened the next day—the final day!

Day Seven

Just as my friend had said, on the last day, after walking some distance on the highway, our route changed to smaller village roads.

Villagers came forward and gave us fruits and drinks, helping us feel refreshed.

Now Shirdi was only a few kilometers away. We passed through many villages. The people there looked just like the villagers I had seen in the movie Sri Shirdi Sai Baba Mahatyam. Their clothes and way of speaking were the same. These villages seemed very backward in development, but their devotion to Baba was full and strong. I felt how blessed those villages were.

Even though it was winter, the afternoon sun was very hot. I felt weak. When I told my friend, he said,

“Look, there’s a tree. Let’s rest there for a while. Shirdi is only about ten or twelve kilometers away now. Baba is going to bless us. Tonight we’ll see Baba’s aarti, and tomorrow we’ll have darshan once more and then return home.”

While listening to him, I didn’t notice that a dog was lying down in the shade near us. I took two biscuits from my bag and gave them to it. I love animals, and I’ve mentioned it many times in earlier parts of my writing. So I looked at the dog closely. It wagged its tail as if responding to my affection.

After resting, we started walking again. After some time, we rested again. This time too, the same dog appeared. My friend said it seemed to be following us. From then on, I kept watching it. It had now joined our group. Until then, our group was just the two of us. The others had gone ahead quickly, saying Shirdi was nearby. We were far behind—walking, sitting under trees, getting up and walking again.

Now the dog was also with us, making our little group stronger. After some time, it started walking four or five steps ahead of us, as if it were showing us the way. Now and then, it would turn back to check if we were coming.

Shirdi was now very close. Without realizing it, our walking speed increased. Then my friend said,

“Look, there… that’s Shirdi. Look carefully—you can see the temple Gopuram. The flags are fluttering.”

I looked carefully. It really was the Gopuram of Shirdi Baba’s temple. The flags seemed to be welcoming us!

My heart overflowed with happiness!

“Baba… Baba… You have shown mercy, Baba…”

The words came out of my mouth without control. Tears flowed from my eyes. All I could see was Baba’s form.

In that moment, I forgot about one being—the dog. Suddenly I remembered and looked around. The dog that had followed us for so long was nowhere to be seen. I told my friend.

“That is all Baba’s Divine play,” he said.

“Yes, Baba’s miracle. It showed us the way and then disappeared,” I replied.

We reached Baba’s temple. The palanquin that had come with us was placed in Dwarkamai. After the rituals, it was taken around the temple three times. Just when I wondered whether I would get a chance to carry it, Pune Baba called me and asked me to help carry the palanquin. My life felt truly blessed.

After having Baba’s darshan fully, and again the next day, we boarded a bus to Hyderabad.

As the bus moved, I remembered Pune Baba’s words:

“You will soon understand the power of this foot pilgrimage. Keep your mind fixed on Baba. All your troubles will be removed.”

Tired from a week of walking, I fell asleep. When I woke up, the bus was nearing Hyderabad.

I reached home. Sridevi looked at me and said only one thing:

“Your face is glowing. Baba’s grace has fallen on you.”

And it was true. Soon after, when I was financially struggling, I found good work. My health improved. My confidence grew. I began to understand Sai philosophy. I felt as if I had found a great Guru who could connect the power of the soul with the power of God. I felt as if the seed for my future spiritual life had been planted.