In plain words
Today I have set out to make known a matter that no one has known until now.
Patri is a tiny village in a remote corner of the Nizam's State. In this village of Patri there lived a couple named Gaṅgābhavāḍya and Devagiramma. They had no children and were grieving over it. As the fruit of their prayers, on 28 September in the year 1835, a son was born. That day is today. That very child, so born, is Sai Bābā. But because they were possessed of great Vairāgya, Gaṅgābhavāḍya, without so much as looking at this son, left him and set out for the forest in his Vairāgya. Devagiramma, who looked on her husband as God, … went after that very husband.
But in that same village there lived a fakir of the Sufi faith. Having no sons, that fakir took this boy and brought Him up. The boy lived in this fakir's house 1835 … up to 1839. For four years He lived in the fakir's house. But as time and karma, cause and duty came together, the fakir died. This fakir's wife too, who had been rearing the boy with so much love, sank deep in grief. To match this, the boy went on doing contrary things. In those days, in … region, the religious differences between Hindus and Muslims had gone beyond all bounds. In many a fury they kept flaring up against one another. This boy would go into the Hindu temple and sing all the things that belong to Muhammad, that belong to Allah. ‘Hai Allāhu’: I am God. ‘Allā mālik hai’, that is, God alone is the Lord: so He would cry out. So all the Hindus kept punishing this boy in many ways. Then He would go into the mosque: ‘Rāma alone is God. Śiva alone is Allah’: this is how He would speak. To go to the temples of the Hindus and speak of the Muslims was altogether against the grain. People of all these faiths would come to this fakir's wife and complain. It was beyond her, so the fakir's wife took this boy and handed Him over to one who lived very near, a pandit, a sādhu, a great soul named Veṅkūsādās. Here, from 1835 to 1851, that is, for 12 years, He stayed in Veṅkūsā's āśrama. Veṅkūsā loved this boy dearly. In each and every matter he gave Bābā the first place. While things went on so, the people of the āśrama began to feel hatred for this boy. Envy kept rising in them. But one night in 1851, that is, after 12 years, He left the āśrama and set out. He reached Shirdi. Shirdi is a very small village. He stayed there only two months, and then He went on from there too, wandering. Wandering and wandering for some years, He came to a village called Dhūp Khedā. While He was living in that village, the wedding of Chānd Bhāi Paṭēl's younger brother took place.