In plain words
It is not good to harm others. If anyone sets out to harm her, I will leave home and from now on live in her house itself,” I said. When I warned them like this, the anger of Karaṇam Subbamma and Kondamaraju cooled down. Whatever anyone served, I would eat it. I went about without the least fear.
You know, where the Kalyāṇa Maṇḍapam (the old mandir) now stands, there was once a bamboo shed. I used to stay in it. One night some ruffians set fire to it. As the shed was burning, rain suddenly poured down and put out the flames. The rain fell on that house alone; it fell nowhere else. Then everyone grasped Swami's divinity. From that day on, not only the people of Puttaparthi but people from the villages around, such as Kammavaripalle and Janakampalle, began to come with Bhakti to have Swami's darśan. In every village they began bhajan.
“The devotees alone are My all”
Recently, when the hip bone broke while I was in Bangalore, the people of every village, Puttaparthi included, began bhajans so that Swami would soon recover; in many hamlets they performed the Satyanārāyaṇa vrata. In whatever hamlet you looked: bhajans, bhajans! In this way, there was no one who did not call Swami's name to mind. Swami's divinity has spread through the whole universe. When I come from Whitefield to Puttaparthi, the people of every village stop the car and offer ārati. In Chikballapur the whole road fills with people. All along the road, nothing but bhajans! All along the road, nothing but ārati! “Sathya Sai Baba ki Jai!” they keep shouting. In every hamlet, Kappalabanda, Mamillapalli and the rest, wherever you look there are only cries of ‘Jaya! Jaya!’ Until I reach Puttaparthi, devotees go on offering ārati everywhere.
The doctors said I must take ‘rest’ for at least a year. “A year is not needed.