THE MOTHER OF PONDICHERRY
To a tough Egyptian Mother,
And a rich Turkish Father,
A girl child, in 1878, was born,
By name Mira she was known.
As a well-disciplined divine child,
She grew up in this material world,
Under her Mother’s protective care,
Whose hidden love for her to share.
As a growing child her face
Revealed extraordinary powers,
Her head showing circles of light
Like twelve balls shining bright.
She went into a trance quite often
When she was five years old then,
That appeared to her strict mother,
As if she was a born daydreamer.
There was not even a slight indication,
That she was born to guide every nation,
In the sacred Divine path, she had chosen,
As a way of her daily life in this mission.
At the age of ten, from a cliff, she fell down
But no crack, not even to a single bone,
Was found as she landed like an Angel,
Flying slowly up and down in that fall.
One day in Paris as she was crossing,
She didn’t notice a streetcar passing,
But behind her, a force was dragging
To save her from the car fast running.
While boiling milk in the kitchen,
A similar experience she had then,
Of her dress being pulled by someone,
To drag her immediate attention.
Her life was full of such miracles,
Indicative of her divine qualities,
Born to lift the struggling lives
From their endless sufferings.
People in large numbers
Came just to touch her dress
And felt some kind of relief,
From their every pain and grief.