SHIRDI SAI BABA
An old dilapidated mosque it was,
Which served mainly as a residence,
To Sai Baba during his lifetime,
At Shirdi, that lifelong sheltered him.
He called it a mosque to Muslims,
And Dwarakamai Temple to Hindus,
Thus he showed them no differences
Among different religious followers.
Baba sat at the North-East corner,
Opposite end Dhuni, the sacred fire
Was burning by day and night,
And by its side was his water pot.
There was a grinding stone,
To grind pulses and corn,
And on the wall small shelves,
To keep clay smoking pipes.
There as a bag of wheat in stores,
With a sack of tobacco leaves,
For Sai Baba to smoke the pipes,
With his visiting devotees.
In the central hall, he ate food,
Collected from various doors,
Along with the day’s visitors,
Like Hindus, Muslims, and Parsees.
Hindus prayed him with rituals,
As usually performed in a temple,
Applying sandal paste on his chest
Forehead, and down o’er his feet.
Arati was performed at noon,
With all the show and the din,
Ringing all the hanging bells,
And also lighting all the lamps.
Muslims also enjoyed the same,
And they chanted his holy name,
So, Dwarakamai held its due fame,
When all communities there came.
As a Church for the Christians,
As a Mosque for the Muslims,
As a Temple for the Hindus,
Dwarakamai gave its place.