The gunny sacks over her head were scant protection and Babajan was drenched. Her close disciples begged her to come away to some sturdier shelter, but she refused to move from under the tree and sent them away. Although she saw to the safety of others, she herself withstood the deluge and was soaked.
Gradually the ancient woman's fame spread, and Muslims, Hindus and Zoroastrians came for her darshan. Char Bawdi became a holy place of pilgrimage and Babajan poured out wine for the sincere. After meeting the Master, the pilgrims felt content and grateful. Day after day, the number of devotees increased, and Babajan was worshiped and revered by thousands throughout India.
The British military authorities were annoyed at finding the road near Babajan blocked with traffic and surging crowds each day. The officials were helpless, however, to do anything about it, because they knew that if Babajan was forcibly removed, there would be an uproar which would not easily subside. It became apparent that a strong, permanent shelter needed to be erected for the old woman. Initial funds were provided by the British authorities, but when the new shelter was finished, Babajan obstinately refused to shift, since it had been constructed a few feet away from her original seat. So the structure was extended at additional cost to the civic authorities to cover her seat under the neem tree. Again she refused to sit under it. Only when her devotees pleaded with her did she at last consent.
Even at 100 years old, Babajan's wrinkled countenance still resembled a blossoming rose, and the expression in her brown-blue eyes was irresistible. She was somewhat stooped and short in height. Her complexion was extremely fair, and her white hair fell to her shoulders. Her voice was uncommonly sweet and pleasing to the ear. She lived as a simple fakir and possessed only what she wore. But her simplicity held an invaluable treasure. She had renounced her royal heritage and become dust-like. And by leading a life of utter purity, she had gained untold divine wealth, which she dedicated to the world.
Babajan would dress in loose white cotton pants with a long white kafni (tunic) in both winter and summer. A shawl always lay across her shoulders, and besides these humble garments, she wore no other protection against the elements. Her head was always bare and her hair was never washed, combed or oiled.