The bass of drums, the higher octaves of bells seeking divine attention, the rhythm of pujaris chants... my inhibitions dissolved in the steady beat of devotion and I was drawn into its spiralling crescendo. My body swayed as I blended into the crush of devotees and surrendered myself to the moment. But I could discern a discordant note even in the flurry someone was clapping to the frequency of his own devotion, out of rhythm with the others. I closed my eyes and soon the discord became part of the harmony.

It was 5.15 in the morning and in the Sai Baba Temple at Shirdi, the fakir saint was being awakened with the performance of kakad aarti. The mosquito nets placed over his marble statue at night were removed and the priests prepared to bathe him in milk and rose water. Soon Sai Baba would be ready for another day.

On October 15, 1918, Sai Baba attained samadhi (salvation, not death), but in Shirdi his presence is very real even today. Indeed, Shirdi is Sai Baba, for without him this would have been just another little village of around 1,000 residents. Today it has a resident population of around 15,000 bolstered by a floating population of another 30,000 pilgrims.