Accounts of Bhagwan Nityananda’s life, preserved largely in oral tradition and devotional literature, portray a figure whose very presence was experienced as miraculous. From an early age he was remembered as unusually still and inwardly absorbed, often sitting in meditation and speaking very little, and later came to be revered as an avadhoota, one whose realization is said to transcend conventional forms of practice. Devotees consistently describe him as a siddha guru whose miracles were not displays of power for their own sake, but expressions of compassion and instruments for spiritual awakening. Within this devotional frame, such stories are understood less as historical data to be proven or disproven and more as windows into how his presence was experienced by those around him.

A major strand in these narratives concerns healing and the alleviation of suffering. Numerous devotees recount being cured of serious physical ailments—blindness, paralysis, chronic diseases—as well as mental distress and psychological turmoil, sometimes through a touch, a glance, a brief exclamation, or even silent proximity. There are also stories of broken limbs restored simply by his look, and of people emerging from depression or confusion with a new sense of peace after encountering him. Many regarded this capacity to heal as inseparable from his spiritual state, seeing the restoration of bodily or mental health as a by‑product of a deeper transformation taking place within.

Another recurring theme is the mysterious way in which material needs were said to be met around him. In places such as Kanhangad and Ganeshpuri, devotees tell of food being sufficient for all who came, even when provisions appeared meager at the outset; rice and other staples reportedly never ran out once he had blessed or even glanced at the cooking pots. Stories also speak of the sudden availability of water in dry places and of resources appearing just when they were most needed. For those who lived near him, this created a sense that no one who approached him in genuine need would be turned away hungry or destitute.

Many narratives attribute to him an intimate relationship with nature and an uncanny knowledge of people’s inner lives. Devotees recall rain beginning or ceasing in response to his indication, and speak of hot springs whose temperature or flow seemed to respond to his will. Animals that might normally be fearful or aggressive—dogs, cows, even wild creatures—are said to have become calm and gentle in his presence, while children who were usually restless would sit quietly near him for long periods. At the same time, he was believed to know the thoughts, past actions, and unspoken questions of those who came before him, often answering doubts that had never been voiced and exposing deceit or misuse of resources without any ordinary means of information.

Finally, the literature surrounding Nityananda places great emphasis on more subtle, interior forms of miracle. Central among these is shaktipat, the awakening of the inner spiritual energy, which many devotees report receiving simply by sitting with him, having his darshan, or remembering him from afar. People describe being drawn into deep meditation, experiencing inner light, sound, or bliss, and finding their consciousness permanently altered after even a single encounter. Stories of his appearing in dreams, intervening at a distance in times of danger, or even being perceived in more than one place at once all serve, for his followers, to affirm that his presence was not confined to the physical body. Even after his passing, many continue to speak of guidance, healing, and inner awakening associated with his name, suggesting that, for them, the true “miracle” lies in an ongoing relationship with the guru’s living presence.