In plain words
‘I am the one who came to test her; you are the one who came on hearing the prayer; so you yourself give that boon,’ said Īśvara. There was a knock at the door again. There is a woman here after all, she thought, and with courage she opened the door and came out. The two of them gave her the darśan of Pārvatī and Parameśvara. Devagiramma, unable to bear this joy, fell at their feet. Then Pārvatī blessed her. ‘I have granted a son to carry on the line and a daughter to give away in marriage,’ she said. Then she fell at Īśvara's feet. ‘Mother, I am pleased with your Bhakti; I shall be born of the third conception,’ He said. When she had bowed and risen, the two were not there.
She was brimming over with this joy. When will it dawn? When will my husband come? When shall I tell out all this? So, poor woman, she lay awake in her joy. At daybreak her husband came home. She was waiting for him right at the door. She told him all that had happened in the night, like beads strung on a thread. He said, ‘Devagiri! What madness is this? Poor thing, you have had some dream. What Pārvatī? What Parameśvara? What coming? What giving you darśan?’ In this way he kept on mocking. Though she explained it to him in many ways, he did not believe it. As time passed like this, she conceived. The son being born, and then, a year after, the daughter being born: all this he saw for himself. He came to believe that Pārvatī and Parameśvara had truly appeared.
This good fortune did not come to me; it came to you. As soon as her third pregnancy began, through Māyā his mind kept changing greatly. I must do tapas. I must have that Pārvatī and Parameśvara appear before me: so he took a vow. Her nine months were completed. Then he said that … he was going away to the forest. Devagiramma went right after him. She had gone only a little way when her birth pains grew strong. There she gave birth. She laid that infant in a cloth from her sari. She too went away. That is why no one knows who the mother and father were. Through kanu piṇḍulu to the fakir, this fakir took that child home with him. So whom He was born to, when He was born, how it all was: no one knows. That is why everyone has told the whole of Bābā's story only from after He came to Shirdi.
At the very last, the year 1917. He called them all: Dāmū, Dāsuganu, Mahālsapati, Chandorkar. That Dāsuganu had in earlier days made his living telling Harikathās. ‘Hey Dāsuganu, do you know who I am! Do you know who you are?’ He asked. Then he answered, ‘I am Your disciple,’ he said. Nānā, do you know who you are? Your disciple, Swami! In this way they all said they were disciples. Chī, chī! Do not use this word: I have no disciples in this world.