This article was culled from Swami Omkar’s monthly magazine PEACE, dated September 1931. It describes the first visit of Paul Brunton to Sri Ramanasramam. His book, A Search in Secret India, did more than anything else in the early years to make Sri Bhagavan widely known. When Paul Brunton first came to India he was using the name of

R. Rafael Hurst. Paul Brunton was his pen-name, which he later permanently adopted because the book he wrote under it brought him much recognition.

It is interesting to note that an event of a visit from a foreign journalist to the Ashram was in those far-off days something to be written about in the newspapers!

T was half past four in the afternoon and the disciples were sitting before the Maharishi in the hall and were talking about a notification that had appeared in the dailies to the effect that a Mr. Hurst and a Buddhist bhikshu were intending to visit the Ashram. The clock struck five and there entered the hall a man in European costume bearing a plate of sweets, followed by a Buddhist monk. The visitors offered the sweets to the Maharshi and then, after making obeisance in the Eastern way, they both squatted on the floor before him. These were the visitors of whom the disciples had been talking. The man in English clothes was R. Raphael Hurst, a London journalist who was then on a visit to India. He was keenly interested in the spiritual teaching of the East and thought that by an intelligent study and appreciation of it the cause of cooperation between East and West might be greatly promoted.

He came to Sri Ramanasramam after visiting many other ashrams. The bhikshu who came with him is also an Englishman by birth. He was formerly a military officer, but is now known as Swami Prajnanananda. He is the founder of the English Ashram at Rangoon. Both visitors sat spellbound before Maharshi and there was pin-drop silence.

The silence was broken by the person who had brought the visitors asking them if they would like to ask any questions. They were, however, not in a mood to do so, and thus an hour and a half passed. Mr. Hurst then stated the purpose of his visit. In a voice of intense earnestness, he said that he had come to India for spiritual enlightenment. “Not only myself,” he added, “but many others also in the West are longing for the light from the East.” The Maharshi sat completely indrawn and paid no attention. One of those who were sitting there asked them if they had come to the East for a study of comparative religions. “No,” the bhikshu replied, “we could get that better in Europe. We want to find Truth; we want the light. Can we know the truth? Is it possible to get Enlightenment?” The Maharshi still remained silent and indrawn, and as the visitors wanted to take a walk the conversation ended and all dispersed.

Early next morning the visitors entered the hall and put some questions to the Maharshi with great earnestness. The conversation reproduced below is from rough notes taken while it was going on.

Bhikshu: We have travelled far and wide in search of Enlightenment. How can we get it?

Maharshi: Through deep enquiry and constant meditation.

Hurst: Many people do meditate in the West, but show no signs of progress.

Maharshi: How do you know that they don’t make progress. Spiritual progress is not easily discernible.

Hurst: A few years ago I got some glimpses of the Bliss, but in the years that followed I lost it again. Then last year I again got it. Why is that?

Maharshi: You lost it because your meditation had not become natural (sahaja). When you become habitually inturned the enjoyment of spiritual beatitude becomes a normal experience.

Hurst: Might it be due to the lack of a Guru?

Maharshi: Yes, but the Guru is within. That Guru who is within is identical with your Self.

Hurst: What is the way to God-realization?

Maharshi: Vichara, asking yourself ‘Who am I?’, enquiry into the nature of your Self.

Bhikshu: The world is in a state of degeneration. It is getting constantly worse, spiritually, morally, intellectually and in every way. Will a spiritual teacher come to save it from chaos?

Maharshi: Inevitably. When goodness declines and wrong prevails He comes to reinstate goodness. The world is neither too good nor too bad: it is a mixture of (both) the two. Unmixed happiness and unmixed sorrow are not found in the world. The world always needs God and God always comes.

Bhikshu: Will He be born in the East or in the West?

The Maharshi laughed at the question but did not answer it.

Hurst: Does the Maharshi know whether an avatara already exists in the physical body?

Maharshi: He might.

Hurst: What is the best way to attain Godhood?

Maharshi: Self-enquiry leads to Self-Realization.

Hurst: Is a Guru necessary for spiritual progress?

Maharshi: Yes.

Hurst: Is it possible for the Guru to help the disciple forward on the path?

Maharshi: Yes.

Hurst: What are the conditions for discipleship?

Maharshi: Intense desire for Self-realization, earnestness and purity of mind.

Hurst: Does a Guru want to take control of the disciple’s worldly affairs also?

Maharshi: Yes, everything.

Hurst: Can he give the disciple the spiritual spark that he needs?

Maharshi: He can give him all that he needs, this can be seen from experience.

Hurst: Is it necessary to be in physical contact with the Guru, and if so for how long?

Maharshi: It depends on the maturity of the disciple. Gunpowder catches fire in an instant, while it takes time to ignite coal.

Hurst: Is it possible to develop along the path of the Spirit while leading a life of work?

Maharshi: There is no conflict between work and wisdom. On the contrary, selfless work paves the way to Self-knowledge.

Hurst: If a person is engaged in work it will leave him little time for meditation.

Maharshi: It is only spiritual novices who need to set aside a special time for meditation. A more advanced person always enjoys the beatitude whether he is engaged in work or not. While his hands are in society he can keep his head cool in solitude.

Bhikshu: Have you heard of Meher Baba?

Maharshi: Yes.

Bhikshu: He says that he will become an avatara in a few years.

Maharshi: Every one is an avatara of God: “The kingdom of heaven is within you.” Jesus, Mohammed, Buddha, Krishna, all are in you. One who knows the Truth sees every one else as a manifestation of God.

Bhikshu: Will the Maharshi make a statement about Meher Baba?

Maharshi: What statement? That (the existence of an outer avatara) is a question which seekers of Truth need not consider.

Bhikshu: Will the world be rejuvenated?

Maharshi: There is One who governs the world and it is His business to look after it. He who has created the world knows how to guide it also.

Bhikshu: Does the world progress now?

Maharshi: If we progress the world progresses. As you are so is the world. Without understanding the Self what is the use of understanding the world? Without Self-knowledge, knowledge of the world is of no use. Dive inwards and find the treasure hidden there. Open your heart and see the world through the eyes of the true Self. Tear aside the veils and see the Divine Majesty of your own Self.

June 29,1929

HE evening was calm but cloudy. Occasionally it would drizzle and in consequence it was somewhat cool. The windows of the Ashram hall were closed and Maharshi was seated as usual on the sofa. A number of devotees sat on the floor facing him. Mr. A. S. K., the sub-judge of Cuddalore, had come to see the Maharshi accompanied by two elderly ladies, his aunt and his cousin. He was also accompanied by Raghupati Sastri, a pleader of Cuddalore. Of the inmates and regular visitors there were about seven or eight, including Sri Niranjanananda Swami (Chinnaswami), Echammal, Ganapathi Bhat, Visvanathan Iyer, Muruganar, and Madhavan.

It was about 6-00 p.m., and the conversation was mainly carried on by the Maharshi and the Cuddalore visitors. Mr. A.

S. K. started the discussion as to the impermanence of all mundane things by putting the question: “Has sat-asat-vicharana (enquiring into the real and the unreal) the efficacy, per se, to lead us to the realization of the One Imperishable?”

Maharshi: As propounded by all and realised by all true seekers after the Truth, Brahma-Nishtha (abidance in Brahman) alone, if one may say so, can make us know and realise it, as being of us and in us. Any amount of vivechana (discrimination) can lead us only one step forward by making us tyaginah (renouncers), by goading us to discard the abhasa (the fleeting), and to hold fast only to the Eternal Truth and Presence.

Then the conversation turned upon the question as to whether Iswara prasad (the grace of God) is necessary for the attainment of samrajyam (Self rule) or whether an individual’s honest and strenuous effort to attain it cannot, of itself, lead us to that from where there is no return. The Maharshi, with an ineffable smile which affected everyone present, replied:

“Iswara prasadam is essential to realisation. It leads to God realization. But Iswara prasadam is vouchsafed only to him who is a true bhakta or a yogin who has striven hard and ceaselessly on the path towards freedom. . .”

Sri Raghupati then proceeded to question the Maharshi about the six yogic centres (adharas).

R: The six adharas are mentioned. But the jiva (individual soul) is said to reside in the heart. Is that not so?

M: Yes. The jiva is said to remain in the heart in sushupti (deep sleep) and in the brain in waking hours. The heart need not be taken to be the fleshy or muscular cavity with four chambers which propels the blood. There are indeed passages which support the idea. The description that it resembles the bud of the lotus, that it is above the navel and between the nipples, that the blood vessels terminate there appear to confirm that view. There is the stanza in “Forty Verses on Reality,” Supplement, v. 18, to the same effect. But there are many who hold that the term ‘heart’ denotes a set of ganglia or nerve centres about that region. Whichever view is correct does not matter to us. We are not concerned with anything less than our Self. About that we have certainty within ourselves. No doubts or discussions arise there. The ‘heart’ is used in the Vedas and Shastras to denote the place whence the notion ‘I’ springs. Does it spring only from this fleshy ball? No. It springs from within us somewhere right in the middle of our being. The ‘I’ really has no locality. Everything is our self. There is nothing but That. So the heart must be said to be our entire body and the entire universe conceived as ‘I’. But for the practice of the abhyasi (spiritual aspirant) we have to indicate a definite part of the universe or body, and so this heart is pointed out as the seat of the Self. But, in truth, we are everywhere. We are all that is and there is nothing else.

R: The six adharas, are they not the seats of the soul?

M: Those six are stated to be the seats of the soul for the spiritual aspirant’s contemplation. He should fix his attention on muladhara first, think of the Self as residing there, and gradually go higher up.

R: There is a description of each of the six as the seat of a God, or a figure with a varying number of sides, and with a varying number of faces.

M: Yes. These are for purposes of concentration. They are interpreted symbolically.

R: There is a difference of opinion between two schools as to the order of the adharas. Sir John Woodroffe mentions that some (probably the Nepalese) place the anahata (the heart) next to muladhara, i.e., as the second of the six.

M:

Yes, there may be variations. But the usual order here is muladhara, swadishtana, manipuraka, anahata, visuddhi, ajna, and sahasrara chakra on the top of all these six.

R: The muladhara is said to be triangular.

M:

Yes. We may think of the muladhara or Self therein as arising from a three-sided figure.

R: The kundalini is said to rise from that.

M:

Yes. That current is ourselves. By meditating on each adhara, the current advances higher and higher and various powers are said to develop.

R: It is said that Iswara prasadam is necessary to attain successful samadhi. Is that so?

M: We are Iswara. By Iswara drishti (seeing ourselves as Iswara) we are having Iswara prasadam. So we need Iswara prasadam to obtain Iswara prasadam.

Maharshi smiles as he says this and the devotees all laugh.

R: There is Iswara anugraham (grace). That is said to be distinct from Iswara prasadam.

M:

The thought of Iswara is Iswara prasadam. His nature is arul or prasadam, i.e., grace. It is by Iswara’s grace you think of Iswara.

R: Is not Guru anugraham the result of Iswara anugraham?

M:

Why distinguish between the two? The Guru is viewed as Iswara and not as distinct from Iswara.

R: When an endeavour is made to lead the right life and to concentrate thought on our Self, there is often a downfall and break. What is to be done then?

M: It will come all right in the end. There is the steady impulse of your determination that sets you on your feet again after every fall or breakdown. Gradually the obstacles disappear and your current gets stronger. Everything comes right in the

end. Steady determination is the thing required.

A day in 1929 (date not given)

SRI N. NATESIER, advocate of Madura, arrived this morning at 7-30 a.m. with his family and paid his respects to the Maharshi. He quoted a verse from the Bhagavad Gita and then asked: “How are doubts removed?”

Maharshi: By granthichhedan (cutting the knot).

N. Natesier: “All karmas get destroyed on seeing it.” How are we to have that experience? How does this illusion arise and to whom? How is it removed?

M:

Instead of pursuing these inquiries as to how illusion arises and how it is removed, it is sufficient if we solve first the question ‘To whom?’ it arises and then all questions are solved.

N.

N: The doubts arise in my mind and to me. The books say that I must know myself and learn my own nature. But how is this to be done?

M:

Seek your source. Find out whence the thought I springs.

N.N: How is that to be done? I don’t find that easy.

M:

Do we not see things and know them clearly? But what object can we be surer of and know more certainly than our Self? This is direct experience and cannot be further described.

N.N: If we cannot see the Self, what is to be done?

M:

Strenuous endeavour to know the Self. Develop the antarmukham or introspective attitude. Constantly put before your mind the query “What am I?” and in time you will be able to see your Self. How can you see your Self? You can see that which you have not seen before. But as to what you are always experiencing, there is no drishti (vision), strictly speaking. By drishti, the removal of the hindrance, viz., the idea that you are not seeing the Self, is meant.

N.N: It is said there are trimurtis (three aspects of God) and that Vishnu is in Vaikunthalokam (a heavenly region). Is that a real world, real like this world, or is it only a fiction?

M: If you and others and this world are real, why are Mahavishnu and Vaikuntha unreal? So long as you consider this reality, that also is reality.

N.N: I am not referring to the Advaita state or truth that Brahman alone is real and all else is fiction (mithya). But I am trying to find out if, in vyavahara (empirical) stage, accepting the standards for truth that we have here, Vaikuntha is true. Trikalabadhyam satyam (true in all three states) is not the standard I take. In vyavahara, this body exists now and though it may not be found at other times, it is satyam or true in one sense. In that sense, is Vaikuntha true? Does it exist?

M: Why not?

N.N: Are Mahavishnu, Siva, etc., then included among jivakoties?

M: There are jivas and Iswara. Jivas are not the only beings known.

N.N: Is there pralaya (dissolution) for Mahavishnu, etc., and do these trimurtis also meet with their end? Or are they eternal? Do they exist with a body, like this panchabhutika (made of the five elements) body of ours? Have they a vyavaharika satyatwam (empirical reality)?

M:

Instead of pursuing the inquiry in that direction, why don’t you turn attention on yourself? To whom does the notion of Vaikuntha and Vishnu arise?

N.N: Is Mahavishnu or Vaikuntha a mere notion or idea?

M:

Everything to you is a notion. Nothing appears to you except through the mind and as its notions.

N.N: Then Vishnu and Vaikuntha are creatures of my imagination and pure fiction? They have no more reality than the snake fancied in the rope or sasa-vishanam, the hare’s horn?

M: No. When you consider your body and life and other things as real, how can you treat Mahavishnu or Iswara as unreal? if you are real, he is real, too.

N.N: It is not about reality in that sense that I am asking. Sasa-vishanam, for example, never exists. None has seen it. It is a case of atyantika abhavam (absolute nonexistence), whereas this body is felt and exists at least as an object of sense experienced for the present. There is a difference between the two sorts of abhavam. Can it be said that Vaikuntha is as unreal as sasa-vishanam, the hare’s horn?

M: No. Just as you experience this world and this body and say it is true, there are others who have experienced Vaikuntha, the Vishnulokam, and say that is true. Why call that alone unreal, while you talk of your sense experience as real?

N.N:

Then Vaikuntha must exist somewhere. Where is it?

M: It is in you. N.N: Then it is only my idea, what I can create and control? M: Everything is like that – your idea.

N.N:

That is coming back to the Advaitic idea. But what I wish to know, is there a separate person like ourselves who is phaladata, the rewarder of virtue and the punisher of sins?

M: Yes.

N.N: Has he an end? Does he get dissolved in pralaya?

M:

Pralaya is for the soul held by maya. If you can, with all your defects and limitations, rise by jnana into realisation of the Self, and above all pralaya and samsara, is it not reasonable to expect that Iswara, who is infinitely more intelligent than you, is above and beyond pralaya?

N.N: I have my doubts yet.

M:

He who has doubts will go on doubting up to the end of the world.

N.N:

No. I am anxious to get rid of that doubt and request you to remove my doubts begotten of ignorance. Pray, enlighten me.

M: Enlighten yourself by realising your Self.

N.N:

That I am unable to do. In spite of my desire to shake off all doubts, they cling to me. That is why I seek help. My present doubts about the reality of the existence of other worlds have been long with me. Are devas and pisachas true?

M: Yes.

THIS IS A conversation between the Maharshi and Bezwada Sundararama Reddi from the Nellore district. It took place on the morning of 23-2-30.

Bezwada: What to do to get moksha?
Maharshi: Learn what moksha is.

B: Should I not leave wife and family?

M: What harm do they do? First find out what you are.

B: Should not one give up wife, home, wealth, etc.?

M: Well, first learn what samsara is. Is all that samsara? Are there not people who live in their midst and get realization?

B: What steps should I take as sadhana?

M: That depends on your qualifications and stage.

B: I am going on with vigraharadhana (worship of a form of God).

M:

Go on. That leads to chitta ekagrata (one-pointedness). Get one-pointed. All will come right. People fancy moksha is somewhere and has to be searched for after kicking out samsara. Moksha is knowing yourself within yourself. Keep on to a single thought. You will progress. Your mind itself is samsara.

B: My mind is being too much tossed. What to do?

M:

Fix yourself to one thing and try to hold on to it. All will come right.

B: I find concentration difficult.

M:

Go on practising. Your concentration must come as easy as your breathing. That would be the crown of achievement.

B: Brahmacharya, sattvic ahara, etc., are all helpful, are they not?

M: Yes, all that is good.

Then Maharshi is silent, gazing at vacancy and setting an example to the questioner for him to imitate and follow immediately.

B: Do I not require yoga?

M: What is that but concentration?

B: To help in that, is it not better to have aids?

M: Breath regulation, etc., are of much help.

B: Is it not possible to get a sight of God?

M: Yes. You see this and that. Why not see God? Only you must know what God is. All are seeing God always. Only they don’t realize it. Find out what God is. People see and yet they don’t see, because they don’t know God.

B: Should I not go on with kirtan, nama japa, etc., when I worship?

M:

Yes. Manasa japa (mental repetition) is very good. That helps with dhyana. The mind gets identified with that japa and then you know what real puja is – the losing of one’s individuality in that which is worshipped or revered.

B: Is Paramatma always different from us?

M:

The difference is the view a man has now. But by thinking of him as not different, you achieve identity.

B: That is Advaita, is it not? Becoming oneself.

M:

Where is becoming? The thinker is all the while the same as the Real. He ultimately realizes that fact. Sometimes we forget our identity, i.e., as waking individual self. In sleep Bhagavan is perpetual consciousness.

B: Is not the Guru’s guidance needed in addition to idol worship?

M: How did you start without advice?

B: From puranas, etc.

M: Yes. Someone tells you, or Bhagavan himself, in which latter case He (God) is your Guru. What matters it who the Guru is? We really are one with the Guru and Bhagavan. The Guru is really Bhagavan. We discover that in the end. There is no difference between them. “Guru is God” is the idea.

B: If we have some merit the search will not leave us.

M: Yes. You will keep your effort that way.

B: Will not a cleverer man be a great help in pointing out the way?

M: Yes, but if you go on working with available light you will meet your Guru, as he will be seeking you himself.

B: Is there a difference between prapatti (surrender) and the yoga of the rishis?

M: Jnana marga and bhakti or prapatti advocated by Sri Aurobindo are the same. The goal is the same. Self-surrender leads to it like enquiry. Complete self-surrender means you have no further thought of ‘I’. That is what bhakti leads to, and also jnana. Then all your samskaras are washed off and you are free. You should not continue as a separate entity at the end of either course.

B: Don’t we attain swarga (heavenly regions) as a fruit of our actions?

M:

Why? That is as true as our present existence in this world. But, if we enquire what we are and discover the Self, what need is there to think of swarga, etc.?

B: Should I not try to escape from birth and death?

M:

Yes. Find out who is born, and who has the trouble of existence now. When you are asleep do you think of birth and trouble, etc.? You think of it now. So find out whence this trouble arose and you have the solution. You discover none is born. There is no birth, no trouble, no unhappiness in fact. Everything is That. All is bliss. We are then freed from rebirth in truth. Why feel misery?

B: Chaitanya and Ramakrishna wept before God and achieved success.

M: Yes. They had a powerful shakti drawing them through those experiences. Entrust yourself to that power to take you on to your goal. Tears are often referred to as a sign of weakness. We cannot attribute weakness to these great ones. These symptoms are passing manifestations while the great current is carrying them on. Let us look to the end achieved.

B:

Can this physical body be made to disappear into nothingness?

M: Why this query? Why not find out if you are this body?

B:

Can’t we appear and disappear like Viswamitra and other rishis?

M: These are debates about physical matters. Is that our essential object of interest? Are you not the Atman? Why think about other matters? Seek the essence. Reject other disquisitions as useless. Those who believe that moksha consists in disappearance err. No such thing is needed. You are not the body. What matters it how the body disappears – in one way or another. There is no merit in disappearance of body in one way over the other. Everything is one. Where is superiority or inferiority in the one? See Chap. XIV of Ramana Gita. The loss of the ‘I’ is the central fact – and not of the body. It is the dehatma buddhi (the idea that I am the body) that is your bondage. It is the discarding of it and perceiving the Real that matters. Should you pound to pieces something golden before seeing it is gold? What matters if it is round or powdered when you perceive the truth of its being gold? The dying man does not see this body. It is the other man who thinks about the manner in which the body dies. The realized have no death. Whether the body is active or drops off, he is equally conscious and sees no difference. To him nothing is superior to the other. To an outsider also, the manner of disappearance of a mukta’s body is unimportant. Mind your own realisation and after that it will be time enough to see which form of death is preferable!

Are you the body? During night, when you are fast asleep have you body consciousness?

B: No.

M: What exists always, is the ‘I’.

HEN I was in Tiruchendur in 1932 it came to my mind that I should regard all women as my mother or Valli if I was intent on leading a spiritual life. One evening, I went to the Shrine of Sri Subramanya and stood for half an hour before the Moolavar (main deity) and the following words flashed into my consciousness: “Here I am a God who does not talk. Go to Tiruvannamalai; Maharshi is a God who talks.” This was how Maharshi’s Grace manifested itself to me. I had not even seen Maharshi then.

In December 1932, I wrote to Ramanasramam and got the reply conveying Bhagavan’s upadesa that the body is the result of prarabdha (accumulated karma) and the joys and sorrows relating to it are inevitable and they can be borne easily if we put the burden on God.

In 1933, one day, Vakil Sri Vaikuntam Venkatarama Iyer suddenly spoke to me about Maharshi and gave me a copy of Ramana Vijayam in Tamil. I read it and when I came to the part when his mother was crying before him to urge him to return home I was choked with tears.

Then my mother made the following inspired utterance. “Malaiappan calls you; go to him. This path will result in the salvation of twenty-seven generations of your family. This is the upadesa (teaching) of Mother Truth. Go along this path. Any obstacle you meet, regard as maya (illusion). You will soon be liberated.” So saying, I was given upadesa of Mahavakyam and Karana-Panchaksharam (Vedic truth of Brahman).

In February 1933, I wrote to the Ashram again and got a prompt reply. Bhagavan’s upadesa given in it was as follows: “Sattvic food will keep the mind clear and help meditation. This is the experience of sadhakas. Eat to appease hunger and not to satisfy taste or craving; this will in due course lead to the control of the senses. Then continued and concentrated meditation will result in annihilation of desires.” It is the Atman that activates the mind and breath. Watching the breath will result in kevala kumbakam (stopping of breath). Control of breath will lead to temporary control of the mind and vice versa. Intense and constant japa (repetition of a sacred syllable) will lead to ajapa (non-repetition). Sound being subtler than form, japa is preferable to murti (image or form) or worship. Aham Brahmasmi (I am Brahman) is the best. To those who seek the source of the ‘I’ no other mantra or upasana (meditation) is needed.”

Within a month after the receipt of this, I proceeded to Ramanasramam to stay there permanently. One day I decided to spend the nights for one mandala (cycle of 48 days) in the presence of Bhagavan. On the 15th day I had a dream: The attendant Madhavan had an epileptic attack and suddenly grasped my hand. I cried for help to Bhagavan who pulled away Madhavan’s hand, and gave me milk to drink. When I woke up I still had the taste of the milk in my mouth; I felt I had drunk the milk of wisdom. From then onward my mind turned inwards.

One morning while cutting vegetables, I wanted to do giri pradakshinam (circumambulation of the Hill) and asked Bhagavan’s permission. Devotees nearby made signs pleading to Bhagavan not to let me go. Bhagavan said, “Is pradakshina a sankalpa (intention)? Let him go.” I said, “No. I decided last night to go with somebody. That is all.” Bhagavan, “Oh! You already made the sankalpa. Sankalpa leads to samsara. Fulfil the sankalpa. You need not cut vegetables.” I took it as an upadesa (teaching) not to make sankalpas thereafter.

Another morning when I was cutting vegetables with Bhagavan, he said: “Sundaram! Take this hurricane light and pick up the mangoes that have fallen from the tree.” I said “Yes”, but continued cutting up the vegetables. Bhagavan said, “Sundaram! Attend to what ‘I’ said first. It is from me that everything rises. Attend to it first.” I took this as an adesh and upadesa (advice and instruction) to make the enquiry “Who am I?” My friends also felt so.

One day the attendant Madhavan was binding a book. A devotee wanted a book from the library. Bhagavan asked Madhavan to get it saying, “You do my work; I will do your work.” And Bhagavan took the book and went on with the binding while Madhavan got the library book. A devotee interpreted this as follows: “My work means looking after the needs which arise in the minds of devotees for anything from Bhagavan. Your work is to get liberation which is not possible without Bhagavan’s Grace and help.” Bhagavan heard this comment and said “Hum Hum! That is what it is !”

Once when meditating in the presence of Bhagavan, the mind persisted in wandering. I couldn’t control it. So I gave up meditation and opened my eyes. Bhagavan at once sat up and said, “Oh! You abandon it thinking it is the swabhava (nature) of the mind to wander. Whatever we practise becomes the swabhava. If control is practised persistently that will become the swabhava.” Yet another upadesa for me.

BEFORE I HAD the first darshan of Sri Bhagavan in 1942, I was brought up in a religious and spiritual atmosphere at home. Ever since 1914, I used to visit Alandi, near Poona, to have darshan of the samadhi of the Maharashtrian saint, Jnaneshwara. About 90 years ago, there stayed in Alandi a great realised saint and yogi, Swami Narasimha Saraswati. My grandfather was his staunch disciple and the Swami’s grace has been showered on our family ever since then. Even though the Swami left this world and was enshrined in samadhi before my birth, I knew that many devotees had the good luck to have his darshan even after his nirvana. I also felt ardently that I should have his darshan in flesh and blood and I used to pray to him for many years. In spite of many happy incidents of grace in our family, my yearning for his darshan remained unsatisfied and I was rather insistent on it. I was not satisfied with his darshan in a dream and so continued to pray for the same off and on.

From 1939 to 1942 I suffered from sciatica due to overexertion in my engineering work, and became very weak. As I did not like in this state to be a burden to my old father I went to Vai, a sacred place on the bank of the Krishna, about fifty miles away from Poona, rather dejected about my health. Still I used to pray to the Swami of Alandi to give me darshan. But because my prayer was not granted and I was not feeling well, I made a slight change in my prayer that I should at least have a darshan of a great Mahatma like the Swami before my death. After a month or so, in February 1942, when I was in a state of utter depression, I had a wonderfully vivid vision-like dream at dawn.

In a cave of a mountain, a great mahatma was staying and throngs of people of different religions and castes, sannyasis, yogis and householders were going up the mountain towards the cave to listen to the speech of the mahatma. I was one of them. The cave was spacious enough to hold the 150-200 people who had assembled there and were sitting close to one another in a crowd. I also sat there among them, waiting. I waited for an hour or so and still the speaker was not seen nor heard. Naturally I was bored and asked the people around me, “How is it that the lecture has not started yet? Where is the Saint?” Near me sat an old man with matted hair. Afterwards I came to know that his name was Kavya Kanta Vasistha Ganapati Muni. He raised his hand and said to me, “Silence of the Master is his speech and the disciples have no doubts left.” I was wonder struck to hear this, as I could not understand who that silent Master was and could not follow his silent speech. So again I asked, “Where is the Master?” He replied, “He is sitting quite near you.” I began to search among the people near me and found a slender young man of twenty-two years wearing a white codpiece and a smile on his face. I bowed down to him immediately and asked whether I could know his name and would understand the silent speech. He pointed his finger to his heart and said in Marathi, “This is known as Ramana Maharshi.” Having said this he smiled in a charming manner and instantly I woke up in delight. I took it to be the answer to my constant repeated prayer, felt happy and began to reflect.

Though a resident of Poona, I did not hear much about Ramana Maharshi’s greatness then (in 1942) as his name was not then well known in Maharashtra. In a big library there were one or two books of Paul Brunton, but very few people would read them. A few educated pilgrims visiting Rameswaram might have heard his name in the Madras province. But in a distant town like Vai, nobody knew Bhagavan’s name and hence it was very difficult to account for my vision. For about ten or twelve days I was eagerly longing to get some information about him. All the while, I was praying. All of a sudden, one day a gentleman of my acquaintance from Poona happened to meet me and having seen the photograph of Narasimha Saraswati Swamy on my table, instantly remembered something and told me that recently, during his pilgrimage to Rameswaram he heard from some pilgrims about Sri Ramana Maharshi, and went along with them to Tiruvannamalai and had his blissful darshan. He further told me that Bhagavan was a Siddha Purusha (a liberated Being) like this Swami and advised me to go and have his darshan once.

Thus unexpectedly my dream was accounted for and immediately I sent money by telegraphic money order for two or three books of Bhagavan. My curiosity and longing were intense. In four or five days the books came but before I could read them, a friend of mine took them away and when I wrote to him, he ordered them again, and in the next week I got them. Their reading increased my longing to see Bhagavan. Even though I had become very weak due to the disease, my earnest desire to have Bhagavan’s darshan did not allow me to keep quiet. I started in that very condition by rail and reached Tiruvannamalai station on the third day at dawn. I hired a horse-cart and reached Sri Ramanasramam at 6 a.m. The driver showed me that Bhagavan was coming towards us. My joy knew no bounds. As I prostrated before him Bhagavan approached me and said, “Have you come from Poona? You seem to be quite exhausted.” I was wonder struck to hear this, as I had not written to the Ashram about my whereabouts and the date of my coming there. Thereafter arrangements were made for my stay.

In the afternoon, when I sat before him in the Meditation Hall, he enquired about my health. I replied that I had been suffering terribly from sciatica for three years, had no sleep, no desire for food and was growing from bad to worse in spite of the treatment of the best doctors. I further told him that my father was old, my children were young and my young wife helpless, and being extremely pestered by the disease I continued praying to Swami Narasimha Saraswati of our family and as a result was blessed by Bhagavan’s darshan in a vision-like dream and hence had come there. I handed over the Swami’s photograph to Sri Bhagavan. He smiled and indicated his divine intimacy with the Swami. He graciously said to me, “You can stay here in peace. Your disease is not incurable.” He quoted a verse from the Bhagavad Gita, (II: 14): “O son of Kunti, the contacts between the senses and their objects, which give rise to the feelings of heat and cold, pleasure and pain, etc., are transitory and fleeting. O Arjuna, bear them,” and pacified me. I felt extremely relieved. In three or four months I was completely cured of the disease by his grace.

Thereafter I used to see him three or four times a year up to 1950, and came in close contact with him. He rejuvenated me physically and spiritually and brought me eternally into the fold of his benign Grace, to describe which I have no words.

On receiving a telegram I came to the Ashram on the day of his mahasamadhi. My emotions and feelings were checked somehow during the day he left the body. But next day, at night, when everybody was asleep, I began to weep bitterly feeling very uneasy that I shall never henceforth see Bhagavan in an embodied form and enjoy the bliss of his presence. All of a sudden in the dead of night, some footsteps were heard and lo! there came Bhagavan with a lantern in his hand! He straightaway approached me, removed the curtain and said to me in a soft, gentle, loving voice, “Oh! Why do you weep? Did I not tell you that I am here?” I controlled myself and bowed down to him. By the time I raised my head, he had disappeared, leaving me in utter surprise and desolation. My thousand pranams to Ramana Bhagavan.

UNTIL MY THIRTY-SECOND year I did not have any special inclination for spiritual pursuits. I was living with my wife in Tanjavur where I was a teacher. But suddenly my outlook on life changed. I distinctly remember even now the exact date on which it happened. It started with a vivid sense of the impermanence of all the things which I had valued in life. I realised that God is the only unchanging Reality. I therefore began to adore him and to pray to him in the usual manner by reciting hymns of praise like “Dakshinamurthi Stotra” and “Subrahmanya Bhujanga Stotra” of Sankaracharya, the “Dhyana Sopana” of Vedanta Desika and “Mukundamala” of Kulasekhara. Sometimes tears flowed from my eyes while reciting them.

Shortly after this my wife died. Although I was only thirty-three at that time I did not remarry. The worldly life had lost its charm for me. I continued my daily prayers. To the hymns of praise I added nama japa or the repetition of the name of Rama, into which I was initiated by one Guha Das of Sengalipuram. I maintained a diary in which I used to note down the time spent by me daily in prayer, meditation, etc. I devoted on an average six hours a day for these practices. Although my hymns and prayers were addressed to several gods, Rama was the god for whom I had a natural liking and love. I used to sit before his picture and gaze at it intently. On such occasions I would see a halo of stars and bright lights around his face. Sometimes I saw him smile at me. About this time I came across a book of Swami Ram Tirtha in which there was an article on the True Self. This appealed to me very strongly and I read it repeatedly.

After about two years of this kind of sadhana, one day before going to bed I prayed to Rama to vouchsafe His grace to me and to uplift me spiritually. I prostrated before his picture with extreme devotion. That night I had a dream in which I saw some thatched sheds, trees and a hall in which a holy person was sitting in the middle of devotees. I heard a voice telling me to wake up and go immediately to see Sri Ramana Maharshi who was bestowing his grace on all. This dream made such a deep impression on me that I caught the next train to Tiruvannamalai and arrived there the following day.

I had previously visited Tiruvannamalai on my way to Tirupati, but I had not then heard of the Maharshi or his Ashram and had therefore gone away after seeing the Arunachaleswara Temple and Pavalakkunru. When, therefore, I reached the Ashram I was surprised to see the same thatched sheds and trees which I had seen in my dream. After taking my bath I went to the hall and sat before Bhagavan. As I looked at him I saw around him a halo which was exactly like the one I used to see around Rama. During the two days of my stay I spent almost all my time sitting before him experiencing a strange peace and tranquillity. When I took leave of Bhagavan I implored him to bestow his grace upon me. He nodded his head in assent.

Gradually it began to dawn upon me that it was Rama who had directed me to Bhagavan and that Rama and Ramana were one and the same. But when the person who had initiated me into nama japa came to know of my visit to Sri Ramanasramam he was displeased and warned me that I would meet with some disaster. I, however, began to study books about Bhagavan and went to the Ashram regularly every year during the Jayanti and the Mahapuja, staying for two or three days. Once I came at the time of the Deepam Festival and stayed for seven days. On one of these days, when I was alone with Bhagavan, I narrated my story to him and had the supreme blessing of hearing from his lips that I had his grace and need not fear any disaster or obstacle to my sadhana.

I retired from service in 1956 when I attained the age of sixty, but continued to live at Tanjavur until 1960 when I received a call from the Ashram President to come and help him with the Ashram accounts in the absence of Chelliah, who had suddenly fallen seriously ill and was not likely to resume his duties for a long time. I looked upon this as a call from Bhagavan and accordingly came and took charge of the Ashram accounts. I have since then been attending to this work more or less continuously and at the same time devoting as much time as possible to prayer, meditation and Self-enquiry as taught by Bhagavan. I also teach the Vedapatasala boys English, Tamil, etc. I wish and hope to spend my remaining days doing such service to Sri Bhagavan!

ONE OF THE great regrets of my life is the loss of a letter which I received in 1934. It was in reply to a rather hysterical missive I had despatched addressed ‘Personal and Private’ to Sri Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi at Tiruvannamalai. This communication dealt with a serious, self-admitted weakness of mine which was my mother’s despair – a combustible temper which would explode at the slightest provocation. It was a bad time for me. I had just lost a father I had worshipped. I was twelve, going on thirteen and at once all had been said.

I desperately needed a confidante, an adviser, somebody preferably outside the family, and out of the blue the name of Ramana Maharshi came to me. His was the only name I had ever heard my father – a stubborn, intolerant sceptic – mention without any codicils. I decided, therefore, to write to the sage of Tiruvannamalai secretly. After a number of unsuccessful attempts, I finally sent off a letter asking the Maharshi directly to “please, I beg of you, help me with my temper problem.” Within a week I received a reply signed by the Sarvadhikari, informing me that my letter had been received and placed before the Maharshi and that his message to me was that if I myself made a constant and earnest effort to overcome my temper I would rid myself of it, and that he sent me his blessings.

My first reaction to that letter was one of astonishment at being treated like a grownup, since I had always been told what to do, guided, instructed, warned, but never challenged except on Sports Day. And here was this great Guru as good as telling me: “It is your temper, isn’t it? So, you yourself deal with it.” He had simply batted the ball back to my court in the nicest possible way by treating me as an individual in my own right. I rather liked that.

Ramana Maharshi entered my life again a year or so later when my sister took our whole family on a pilgrimage. The whole thing was going to take less than a week and we were to stay at Tiruvannamalai only for two days. But as it turned out we stayed at Ramanasramam for the whole week and I wept like a lost child when we had to leave. The visit to Ramanasramam was a shattering experience for me. I do believe I literally fell in love with Ramana Maharshi. I was in a daze, a trance, my tongue was gone, my mind was gone, I was in a state of dumbfounded ecstasy. This love which had been awakened was the kind which totally bypasses the physical and creates an awareness of a different kind of consciousness which can only be described as a mindless rapture, pure joy. It is an unlocated, pervasive state of being sparked off by some kind of recognition and it stays with you and you are never the same again.

We arrived at Tiruvannamalai just before dawn. After reaching the Ashram we bathed and had our breakfast, and then made our way to the Hall. My mother, brother and sister went ahead and quickly disappeared into the Hall. I hung back, unaccountably apprehensive. Then, as I at last composed myself and got to the door and looked in, I saw reclining on a sofa, a golden-brown figure with the most radiant countenance I had ever seen before or since and, as I stood there riveted to the spot, the Maharshi turned and looked at me. When I remember it even now, more than forty years later, tears come to my eyes as they did then. I stood there, God knows how long, just looking at that face. Then, as in a trance, I moved forward deliberately towards him and touched his feet. Fighting my way through the disapproving glances that followed, I then made my way to a place near the window. Once I was seated I let my tears flow. I remember I spent a good part of that morning wiping my eyes. They were not tears of grief nor were they tears of joy. Maybe they were for something which I saw in the Maharshi fleetingly and which I also want and shall forever seek. Yes, I cried for myself then and I still do it now.

Never before had I seen in a human countenance a more intense, inward life and yet one which remained so transparent and childlike. There was about him an irresistible and indefinable spiritual power which simply overwhelmed me. I was conscious of people sitting all around me but was totally incurious about them. After an hour or so of silence I suddenly felt like singing. Without hesitation or embarrassment, I lifted my 12 year-old voice in a rendition of Tyagaraja’s Vinanok koni Yunnanura, keeping time softly with my fingers on my knee. The audience sat still and unresponsive. The total lack of reaction to my performance, should in reason have embarrassed me, but I was away in a state of mind which recognised nobody except that reclining figure on the sofa. After a few minutes I threw myself with another gush of abandon into Thelisi Rama Chintana. As I began the anupallavi which exhorts the mind to stay still for a moment and realise the true essence of the name Rama, I saw the Maharshi turn his eyes upon me with that impersonal yet arresting look of his, and my heart soared and I thought: “I want to be here for ever and ever.”

For three hours every morning and every evening my vigil in the Hall continued for seven days. After the first day my family had, without any discussion, silently and unanimously changed our planned programme and requested and got extension of residence. I sat in my seat near the window still and thought-free, just gazing at the Maharshi. Occasionally somebody would ask a question and the Maharshi would turn and look at him, and you got the feeling that the question had been answered. Or somebody would ask for the meaning of a particular phrase in a Sanskrit or Tamil stanza, and the Maharshi would answer softly, briefly.

He was not a man of many words. His long years of practised detachment from people made him laconic in speech. His knowledge of classical Tamil religious literature was considerable; he could himself compose verses and he did. His enlightenment had not been directed by a Guru but had come from his own Self-consciousness. It was all there lighting him up from inside and his most effective form of communication was intra-personal through the sense of sight and the medium of silence. He was a very human being, who laughed and joked occasionally, but he could suddenly plunge deep into himself while sitting in a hall full of people and rest in that stillness of spirit, which as he himself said, was being in God.

One afternoon somebody showed Maharshi some verses written on paper. Maharshi read them, made a brief comment, and then clarified it by narrating a story from Yoga Vasishtam. I listened – and felt that I could understand the words that were being spoken though I really could not have grasped their meaning. I wondered in retrospect years later when I myself read that book, at the delightful ease and simplicity with which the Maharshi had narrated that story, going straight to the spirit like an aimed arrow, and then lapsing into what I can only describe as a speaking silence. In those eloquent silences that punctuated his brief remarks, one seemed to feel unspoken thought flowing around the room touching and drawing everybody into its illuminating course. That was a strange experience to me, that in the presence of Maharshi, speech seemed redundant. I was totally and blissfully satisfied just being in his presence.

That whole week we spent in the Ashram. I practically did nothing else but sit in that Hall. We attended the Vedic recitals at dawn of the students of the Ashram Patasala. My brother and I watched every morning the Maharshi’s gangly walk up and down the hill and I remember, on one memorable occasion, the gentle sage himself smilingly stood still for a couple of minutes as he saw my brother adjusting his camera. I had never before spent so many days talking so little, just sitting around so much, or so lost in a single-minded pursuit of the Maharshi. The evening we finally left, my brother and I kept coming back to look at the Maharshi “Just one more time” as he sat in the enclosed veranda beside the hall having a light oil massage. I finally said: “We will go only after he turns his head and looks at us once more.” After a minute or two the Maharshi turned full face towards us and looked at us and without a word we turned and walked away.

I shall not claim that my whole life was transformed after this meeting. No. I went back to school and then to college, got married, set up house, had children, started a journalistic career of mine own. My grihasthasramam became my main preoccupation. But my visit to Ramanasramam had done something to me. It had left a mark on my mind and heart. The picture of the Ashram and of the Maharshi was always in my mind like the background curtain of a stage. Whenever I was tired or dispirited or perplexed the wish to go to Ramanasramam would possess me like a hunger. Even when I was so busy that I did not know whether I was coming or going a sudden look at a picture of the Maharshi hanging on the wall would momentarily root me to the spot and my mind would suddenly go blank.

I did go to Ramanasramam a fortnight before death claimed the Maharshi’s frail human body. Because of the vast crowds which had come to visit him, the Ashram authorities had made special arrangements for everybody to get darshan of the white-haired smiling figure who sat on an easy-chair on the veranda of the room in which he later breathed his last. For a brief moment I stood below and looked up at that benign countenance, the eyes so bright and serene, and knew it was the last time I was looking at the living Maharshi.

I went to the Ashram again some years later. As usual, as soon as I passed through the Ashram gates, its peace closed around me and emptied my mind. I sat on a veranda where I had only to turn my head to the left to see the mountain and bring my eyes back to the samadhi to see in my mind the Maharshi sitting on his sofa. I sat there the whole of that day doing nothing, not reading, not writing, not eating, not thinking, not remembering, not wondering why it was so quiet or where everybody was, and the voice of a young lad who came running through the gate screaming: “Nehru has passed away” was just an incidental sound. During all those hours I never for a moment wanted to be anywhere else or doing anything else.

Whenever I feel I want to go away somewhere, away from home, family, friends, book, mistakes, fears, sorrows, my mind automatically turns to Ramanasramam. And my body follows. I make the journey to Tiruvannmalai, walk into the Ashram, enter the Hall, and I am “home” and totally at peace.

Every human being has really only one Guru like one mother. Some are fortunate enough to meet their Gurus, some pass them by, like ships in the night. I stumbled upon mine when I was twelve. I now stand alone in myself. In a sense I am twelve-going-on thirteen all over again, standing on another threshold, remembering, waiting.

BHAGAVAN SRI RAMANA MAHARSHI personifies, to many devotees, the Universal Father. Instances are many when devotees felt that they were looking at their own father when they saw Bhagavan.

I vividly remember a friend of our family who had accompanied us to Sri Ramanasramam in 1942, exclaim in delight as soon as he saw Bhagavan, “Here is my father, just as he looked in his later life!” Far back in 1933 when my own father was drawn to Bhagavan Ramana for the first time, he actually saw ‘his father’, with the same physical traits. And as recently as 1966, after the passing of my father, I cannot but be touched by the striking resemblance between his and Bhagavan’s appearance, although such an impression was not altogether new to me. Indeed, Bhagavan Sri Ramana is the embodiment of ‘Fatherhood,’ that is at once universal and transcendental.

On the sacred occasion of the Mahakumbabhishekam of Sri Bhagavan’s shrine, many an illustrious pen poured forth its spontaneous homage to his Lotus Feet. Before them, mine is like a candle before the splendour of the sun. Nonetheless, the inner urge to share an experience of mine, I would call it the most sacred and valuable experience in all my life, blots out my hesitation. It is just an insignificant parijata flower in the midst of thousands of fragrant roses.

Experiences with Sri Bhagavan and his Grace used to be recounted very often by my father together with other incidents in his life, rich with spiritual lessons. A boy of about twelve then, I used to listen avidly and as a result these narrations took a deep root in me, ripening into an incessant desire to have Bhagavan’s darshan, to touch him and to be always near him. During my daily prayers, my mind used to fix itself on the frontispiece photograph of Bhagavan Ramana, appearing in his books and fervently ask for his darshan. As time rolled by, the yearning intensified but no call came. Once or twice I ventured to ask my father about it, but he used to simply brush it aside with the remark, “If and when Bhagavan calls you, you will go.”

Then one day the first experience came. I think it was in 1945. One night during deep sleep I dreamt that I was sitting in the corner of a room, waiting for somebody. I then saw Bhagavan Ramana slowly enter the room and rushed to him and held him around the waist with both my hands, crying and supplicating. But Bhagavan simply passed on with apparent unconcern. I woke up and thought of it for a long time. It seemed so disappointing that there was no response from him. However, I felt confident since at last I had seen him and touched him, which proved that he had not forsaken me.

Now I began to think of him more and more. Yet again, for a long time nothing happened.

Once more I was becoming desperate and losing hope. Then one dark night, he appeared and initiated me out of his boundless love. This time it was more of a vision than a dream. I was half awake and felt myself rising from bed and walking into the courtyard of our house. Total silence enveloped the entire surroundings. The blanket of darkness was accentuated by the twinkling stars above. I found myself standing still on a mound of sand, facing westward, looking, looking and looking. Slowly out of the darkness emerged the outline of a hill, shaped exactly like the Holy Arunachala. Emerging, it steadied itself into a discernible silhouette by remaining darker than the dark background. After a few minutes, a small flame leapt out of the apex of the hill. In the beginning, it was just like an eye in vertical position, but very swiftly it grew and grew until it became a pillar of light with extraordinary brightness, having the hilltop as its base and origin. Its height touched the very heavens. Its splendour was beyond description. It was just the shape of the flame of a lamp when it burns steadily golden coloured, shining as if a thousand suns had arisen together. Its golden rays fell on my body. I was riveted to the spot and found that I could move neither hand nor foot. I stood there as one totally hypnotised, oblivious of anything else but the burning golden flame. My mind was in raptures, throbbing with an ecstatic joy, which seemed to burst out of my body. How long I stood like this I cannot say, for time seemed to stop altogether. Then I became conscious of the scene, and felt that I was not alone, in that spot. With an effort, I turned my face to the right and found Bhagavan Sri Ramana was standing there, looking at me. On his lips played the most bewitching smile, while his eyes poured out boundless compassion and love. When I saw him, I forgot the jyoti and everything else and tried to fall at his feet. But he gently stopped me by placing his divine hand, upon my head. Joy of joys! My whole being, inner and outer, thrilled to that divine touch from the hand of one who is no other than God. Waves of bliss and tranquillity took possession of my whole being. He raised his forefinger and pointed at the Golden Flame and asked me in a voice resembling the sound of silver bells, “Child, do you understand what the jyoti is? This is the real Karthigai Deepam.”

Suddenly I was wide awake, ushered by consciousness into the care and worry-ridden world. Subsequent visions have followed, all of them showing Bhagavan as the personification of supreme love, but none could ever match the splendour of this first vision and initiation.

I no longer felt dissatisfied at not being able to go to the Ashram in a physical sense, though I must confess, occasionally the desire did arise.

In 1942, I was proceeding to Madras from Coimbatore. The train was speeding along some hills in the night when a prayer to be allowed to visit the Ashram took shape in me. As I was accompanying my father, who did not entertain ideas from children, I did not talk of the prayer to anyone. A few days later, when we were to return to Coimbatore, my father suddenly asked me how I would like to go to Ramanasramam and have darshan of Sri Bhagavan. I am not ashamed to record here that I broke into tears on hearing this, as this was a prayer so graciously granted by Sri Bhagavan.

The next day, we were in our home — Sri Ramanasramam. It was a Friday and a New Moon day. As I entered the divine presence of Bhagavan Ramana, I felt that I was submerging in a sea, only this was a sea of bliss and tranquillity.

We were there the whole of the forenoon and except for a swift, piercing look that Sri Bhagavan blessed me with, nothing happened. Nothing mattered any more.

When I heard later that Sri Bhagavan had shed his mortal frame, a few teardrops rolled down my cheeks, but my father sternly said, “You are a fool. Where can Bhagavan go?” Years have rolled by; still the torch burns on, gathering more and more brightness. It is the torch that he, out of his boundless grace, lit in my heart. Now my children, in their turn, ask me: “Father, when will Bhagavan Thatha come to us?” I feel too full to reply to them, yet sometimes say, “All in good time, children. Learn to labour and to wait.”

When the messenger comes, carrying the authority of inexorable time may my heart surrender to him and may my lips whisper, “Om Namo Bhagavate Sri Ramanaya.”

THE YEAR WAS 1948.

I was then in my thirty-ninth year. I lived in Madras with my wife and four children. I was the branch manager of a large British firm, and being in happy circumstances, I did not find the need for any religious practices or spiritual enquiries; I was content with enjoying the good things in life.

I was on a tour of small towns, with one of the inspectors under me, Sri Parthasarathi. It was a hot April day. As Sri Parthasarathi and I were boarding the train at Villupuram to go to Tiruvannamalai, we noticed a young man of about twenty-five trying to enter the first class compartment by the next door. The man was so fat that he heaved his bulky body this way and that, while another man on the platform, obviously his servant, pushed him in through the door. He was also ashamed of the curious way the people on the platform, including Sri Parthasarathi and myself, watched his predicament. He got in somehow and occupied the cubicle next to ours.

When the train had run for some minutes, the man came to our cabin, introduced himself as Ratilal Premchand Shah and started talking.

Sri Ratilal was a Saurashtra Vaishya, born and brought up in Gondal, the only son of his father, a rich merchant of the place. He had been married six years ago. Cursed with so much fat in his body from his tenth year, now at twenty-five, he was a huge mass of flesh and misery. How he wished to get rid of his fat and be a man!

In the last week of March, Sri Ratilal had a vision while he was asleep at night. He saw an ascetic smiling and beckoning him. The smile and the beckoning persisted for a long time and stood clearly before Sri Ratilal’s mental eye when he awoke. He did not speak to any one about the vision. Two days later his wife was reading a Gujarati magazine. Looking over her shoulders he saw the picture of the ascetic he had seen in his vision. He came to know that the ascetic was Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi. He at once went to his father and arranged for his journey to Tiruvannamalai with the trusted family servant. All he knew about Bhagavan was what that Gujarati article said. But he felt sure that his suffering would end as soon as he reached Bhagavan; the smile and the beckoning of his vision of Bhagavan had given him that firm faith.

Sri Parthasarathi had seen Bhagavan many times before and had also read a good deal about him. He and Sri Ratilal talked about Bhagavan during the whole two-hour journey. I was apparently reading an English novel, but heard their conversation with interest and attention.

At Tiruvannamalai station, Sri Ratilal was received by a local merchant with whom his father had arranged for his stay. Sri Parthasarathi and I proceeded to the travellers bungalow.

It was four when we had our bath and tiffin. Sri Parthasarathi knew that I was very businesslike and would not waste a single minute. He said we could visit the market. He was very surprised at my reply: “No, Parthasarathi! We shall go and have darshan of Maharshi first. Then, if time permits, we shall go to the temple. Let business wait!”

It was about five when Sri Parthasarathi and I entered the Ashram. Going round Bhagavan’s Mother’s samadhi, we came to the veranda by its side. About fifty people were sitting there, Sri Ratilal, his host and his servant included. Bhagavan was not on his couch as usual. The visitors talked in whispers, trying to find out where he was.

After waiting for some ten minutes and finding that Bhagavan had not come to his seat, Sri Parthasarathi suggested to me that we could in the meantime go around and see the goshala and other places.

Finishing our inspection we were returning to the veranda by another side, when we heard a childish voice say “Chee, asatthe! (Fie, you creature!).” We could see no children around, and, therefore, peeped to find out the source of the voice. We observed movement among the leaves of the brinjal, lady’s-finger and other plants in the kitchen garden near the veranda. Looking more intently, we saw a small goat, a little monkey and a squirrel and Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi! Bhagavan was sitting on his haunches with his legs folded up to his breast. The goat nestled between his knees; the monkey had its head resting on his right knee; the squirrel was perched on his left knee. Holding a packet of paper in his left palm, Bhagavan picked ground nuts from it with his right-hand fingers, one by one, and fed the goat, the monkey and the squirrel, and himself, by turns. His remarks appeared to have been addressed to the monkey which had tried to snatch the nut he was going to place between the squirrel’s lips. As we watched, the four companions went on enjoying the eating. All four seemed to be equally happy; the way they looked at one another and kept close together was touching. The goat, the monkey, the squirrel, and Bhagavan, had obviously forgotten their differences in species! And we too, looking on, saw all the four only as good friends despite the differences in their forms. No words could describe the feelings which passed through my being at the sight. The vision of the Transcendent appeared as a flash of lightning, and revealed to me the essence of being, awareness and bliss, sat-chit-ananda.

The nuts were over. Bhagavan threw the paper away and said: “Pongoda! (Go away, you fellows!),” just as any old man speaking to his grandchildren. The goat, the monkey and the squirrel left. Bhagavan made to get up. Sri Parthasarathi and I hurried away, feeling guilty of trespassing into the Divine, but not sorry.

Soon after Sri Parthasarathi and I had resumed our seats in the veranda, Bhagavan came to his couch. I cannot say he looked at us. He stood facing us, his eyes fixed on something far above and beyond anything on earth. They were like screens which shut the material world off from the light which was burning behind them. Sparks of light shot out through the fibres of the screen at times, sparks which cooled the eyes on which they fell, pierced the gross coverings and lighted the wick inside them.

Bhagavan reclined on the pillows in the couch, supporting his head on his left palm. We all sat down to look at his face. We sat and sat, and looked and looked. No one spoke or made any noise. But the confrontation was not a dead silence; it was a very live experience in which the innermost being of each one of us communed with the Supreme Consciousness which was Bhagavan.

I was numb with the appalling realisation that the Glory was the same that dwelt in the simplicity which a few minutes ago I had seen eating groundnuts in the intimate company of the goat, the monkey and the squirrel. My mind kept recalling that scene: how the goat had snuggled to Bhagavan’s breast in perfect confidence in his love for it; how the monkey had grinned in joy and how Bhagavan had returned the grin as both bit the nut; how the squirrel had peered with its pinhead eyes into Bhagavan’s dream-laden ones and scratched his nose tenderly with its tiny left paw. The vision of the Supreme Spirit underlying and overlaying the sense perception was spiced with the lovely sight of the groundnut party in the kitchen garden.

Bhagavan got up from the couch. We got up. It seemed tacitly understood that we were to leave. We left. I felt a hitherto-unknown peace and joy inside me; the faces of the others also showed a similar condition.

I saw Sri Ratilal, his host and his servant get into their bullock cart at the Ashram gate. There was a new spring in Sri Ratilal’s movements. Bhagavan’s promise in the lad’s vision appeared to be starting a fulfilment.

Many things have happened since that day in my life. My material circumstances underwent changes for the worse, but my inner life has always been happy since that day, for I very often got a vision of Bhagavan, particularly when I was most depressed in spirits.

In 1953, I was in Rajkot staying alone in a lodge. One day, while in the dining hall, a man of about thirty accosted me, “Don’t you recognise me, Sir?” “No, I’m sorry,” I replied, truthfully. The man continued: “I am Ratilal of Gondal, Sir! You remember the darshan of Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi, five years ago?” I looked at the man again. He was thin and wiry, his face aglow with health and happiness. I shook his hands heartily. He spoke again: “Sir, Bhagavan fulfilled his promise wonderfully well. You see me. I am now managing our family business, my father taking complete rest. I have a son two years old and expect my wife to give me another child in a month or two.”

My mind immediately went back to the goat, the monkey and the squirrel – and Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi. I could never think of Bhagavan alone!

So it has been all these years. The scene comes to my mind’s eye often. The kitchen garden with the four friends at the groundnut party.

And, I thank Sri Ratilal and Sri Parthasarathi for guiding me to the Vision Beautiful!

N August 29, 1896, Venkataraman (later Sri Bhagavan) left Madurai for Tiruvannamalai. One week later, Munagala S. Venkataramiah, later known as Ramanananda Saraswati, went home from Madurai to Sholavandan and told his mother that a brahmin boy who was studying in Madurai at an adjoining school had run away from home. At that time he little realised that he was to meet this runaway boy later in 1918 at Skandasramam and that he was to become his disciple, live in close proximity of Sri Bhagavan from 1933 to 1950, and be the compiler of Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi.

S.V. Ramanathan and M. V. Krishnan, sons of Munagala

S. Venkataramiah came to the Ashram with their parents in the summer of 1930. They were just thirteen and ten years of age. One morning they were standing near the old dining hall (where now Sri Bhagavan’s samadhi stands) when Ramu, the elder brother, remarked that for the last few days no onion sambar had been tasted by them. At that precise moment Sri Bhagavan was passing by the boys, as he was returning from the kitchen. He smiled and asked Ramu: “So, you want vengaaya (onion) sambar!” The boys blushed and kept quiet. Next morning, the boys were served with vengaaya sambar. Everybody thought it was onion sambar. Sri Bhagavan later in the day asked Ramu how he relished the sambar to which he replied: “Very well.”

Ramu, however, was surprised to know the truth only a few days later when his mother told him that what he ate was not onion but garlic sambar! There was no onion at that time in the Ashram and yet Sri Bhagavan wanted to fulfil the boy’s wish. Through his expert culinary knowledge, he brought the smell and taste of onion to garlic itself!

* * *

IN THE 1930s, Dr. T. N. Krishnaswamy wanted to visit the Ashram and be with Sri Bhagavan during the weekend. He asked a friend to accompany him. This friend at that time did not even put on his shirt. He was in his dhoti and upper cloth and had two or three rupees in his purse. He readily agreed to go then and there. Both travelled up to Katpadi by train, took a bus to Vellore and changed onto another bus for Tiruvannamalai. In Vellore the friend wanted to take something to Sri Bhagavan. On the roadside he saw a woman selling kovai kai. He bought the lot for a few annas. It was about one viss, or 1½ kg in weight. Since he had no bag to carry the vegetable, he bundled them at one end of his upper cloth. Both of them reached Tiruvannamalai in the evening. The vegetable bundle was put in front of Sri Bhagavan when both the devotees paid their respects. On an enquiry from Sri Bhagavan, the bundle was opened. Sri Bhagavan saw the contents and said that if kovai kai was cooked with brinjals it would be tasty. The next morning a devotee arriving from Madras through Villupuram brought brinjals! The curry was cooked in the morning and all of them relished it.

* * *

IN 1937, AN elderly American came along with a group to visit Sri Bhagavan. The trend of the discussion was that the five

senses were to be put under check. Since the old American was deaf he could not follow the discussions. Sri Bhagavan remarked that the American needed to control only four senses as the fifth (hearing) was already under check. Someone in the Hall explained this to the American and he beamed with joy.

* * *

WHEN SRI BHAGAVAN was in Skandashram two devotees were having heated discussions regarding siddhis (occult powers). One devotee did not believe in such powers while the other was a firm believer. A challenge was accepted by the latter, who undertook to convert a copper coin into a gold one. It was agreed that this should be done in the presence of Sri Bhagavan. On the appointed day the two devotees were sitting in front of Sri Bhagavan. A copper coin was produced and everybody examined it. It was given to the devotee who kept it for several minutes in his closed palm and then opened it. There was a sovereign. Sri Bhagavan with a faint smile told him to part with the sovereign and repeat the miracle. The challenge was not accepted!

* * *

MUNAGALA V. KRISHNAN went to Delhi in December, 1940, in search of a job. He could not secure a job up to the end of February, 1941. So he wrote to his father Sri Venkataramiah saying that he had to return to the south as no job was available. This letter was shown to Sri Bhagavan who went through it and said: “Let him stay on in Delhi.” In March he got a job. From then V. Krishnan prospered very well.

* * *

SRI BHAGAVAN COULD very well probe deep into the minds of devotees and visitors. He said the following about a sannyasi-devotee who used to sit daily before Sri Bhagavan for three or four hours in meditation: “Aspirants who sat motionless even for longer times have been deceived,” meaning thereby that he lacked concentration or humility or both.

Sri Bhagavan said the following to Sri Salem Rajagopala Iyer about a devotee: “He has some eye defect. When he keeps his eyes open tears fall down. Others mistake this for deep bhakti.” This devotee used to visit people in various towns and demonstrate the tears flowing from his eyes.

* * *

SRI RAMANATHA DIKSHITAR, a pupil in a Vedapatasala, was a puny figure, about four feet and six inches in height. He used to spin cotton yarn, get it woven and present the cloth to Sri Bhagavan for his loin cloth. This Ramanatha Dikshitar was also a freedom-fighter and a follower of Mahatma Gandhi. Once he wanted to go to Vedaranyam to take part in the salt satyagraha. Sri Bhagavan jocularly remarked that the police would be afraid of him. When Ramanatha Dikshitar went and joined the salt satyagraha, he was not arrested, the police just ignored him.

Ramanatha Dikshitar, who was short and frail, seldom spoke to others and when he did he was full of humility. There was another devotee who was well built and tall. This devotee once got angry with Ramanatha Dikshitar, and raised himself to his full height and thundered, “Do you know who I am?”

Dikshitar meekly replied that it was the very purpose for which every devotee was in the Ashram.

* * *

AFTER SRI BHAGAVAN moved down and settled near the Mother’s samadhi there was only a thatched roof over the samadhi and an adjoining hut. Some devotees decided to build a more solid hall. So bricks and building material were gathered. The bricks were carried to the site by the devotees. Sri Bhagavan also wanted to work but the devotees would not permit him. One moonlit night, when all were asleep, a devotee woke up and found that Sri Bhagavan was missing. He woke up the others and they all began to search for him. They found Sri Bhagavan taking part in bringing bricks to the site from a kiln opposite the Ashram.

* * *

IN THE EARLY 1920s there was a big mango tree near Palitirtham. Chinna Swami was also in the Ashram, although he had not yet taken charge of the management. Dandapani Swami, a huge figure, was another Ashram inmate. Chinna Swami and Dandapani Swami did not like each other. One night Dandapani Swami wanted to settle scores with Chinna Swami, so he seized Chinna Swami to crush him. Bhagavan appeared on the scene and slapped the back of Dandapani Swami, who immediately put Chinna Swami down. No words were spoken and each retired to his place of rest. Later Dandapani Swami described the slap as ‘terrific’.

’

UR Bhagavan was an adept in the art of cooking. He used to cut vegetables, grind pulses and freely take part in various kinds of preparations. In the utilisation of different parts of a vegetable or fruit, his suggestions were very valuable and worth noting. He was very economical and knew how to put to use anything that came his way.

Once when there was a discussion about the foodstuffs such as onions, drumsticks, carrots, etc., which the orthodox people avoid, Sri Bhagavan remarked that they may do good to the body, but not to the mind. They may purify the blood and benefit the body, but they rouse passions and are not helpful for the purification of the mind (manassudhi).

Giving up for life certain fruits, nuts or other foodstuffs dear to one, during the pilgrimages to holy places, is one of the practices prevalent among the religious people. One day Sri Bhagavan noticed a devotee avoiding a mango on this ground and commented that a better form of tyaga (renunciation) would be to accept whatever one happens to get and not to crave for that which is not available.

Once Sri Bhagavan expressed that one may avoid things which do not agree with one’s constitution and take necessary quantities of suitable ones that do him good. But maintenance of body and health should not occupy much attention as it is not our chief pursuit.

Sri Bhagavan never used to compromise with equality in serving meals. He never agreed to accept anything which is not equally shared by his fellow diners. He was satisfied only when he was served in the end after everyone was served. He liked that he should be given only smaller quantities of even the most delicious or costly dishes than others. Even under exceptional circumstances he was not willing to take the food of superior quality unless it was distributed to all. This was one of the principles he observed very rigorously.

Sri Bhagavan made people of different tongues in South India quite at home by speaking or writing in their respective languages. It requires a great effort to cross the narrow linguistic barriers and shed the unjustifiable prejudices against sister languages and appreciate good works in them. Only one who studies one or two languages in addition to his mother tongue and moves and lives with others has ample opportunities of broadening his outlook and also of reaching others’ hearts. The initial linguistic affinities do not last long and after all, people of the same mentality flock together, whatever their mother tongue is. Sri Bhagavan is particularly adored as he had taken a lot of pains to master several languages and write his works in the same for the benefit of devotees from various parts. His glorious example will continue to influence generations of devotees to put forth their best efforts in this direction and to come closer by understanding one another better.

N old devotee vividly relates how Major Chadwick once resorted to a stratagem to induce Sri Bhagavan to improve his health by taking a medicine.

It was some time during the early forties. Sri Bhagavan showed symptoms of slight jaundice and was growing weaker and weaker every day avoiding medication. Devotees implored him to have some treatment but without success. Some of us prayed and a few others were silently doing circumambulation round the Hall in which Sri Bhagavan was seated. Major Chadwick was prominent among those beseeching Sri Bhagavan to take some medicine.

One day while I was just starting from home to my office in Madras, the postman handed me a letter. It was from Mr. Chadwick. The letter I recollect read like this: “Dear T. P. R. I am sorry to tell you of the declining health of Sri Bhagavan who is growing weaker day by day, and will do nothing to alleviate it. He will not take any medicines, or heed our requests and persuasions. It is misery to be seeing this. Today just a thought came to me. You know that Sri Bhagavan always avoids medicines, but all the same he does not reject ayurvedic preparations like ‘black halwa’ (lehiyam) which if offered he may be pleased to accept. So why don’t you go to some ayurvedic expert or pharmacy and ask for something, mentioning the symptoms and conditions and send it to him (to the Ashram). If it is your good karma he may be pleased to take it. But don’t say I wrote to you or expressed concern. You can say that by chance you met so and so and found a lehiyam well prepared which is good for many things and that it is only a tonic and not a medicine, etc. I shall expect your immediate response.” On reading this letter, I went straight to the Venkataramana Dispensary in Mylapore before going to court, and meeting the senior physician in charge there narrated the symptoms without disclosing the identity of the person for whom it was meant. I requested him to prescribe and give something helpful. The doctor asked me if I could not bring the patient for examination. I expressed my inability to do that and merely gave the age and other details. He then wrote two items with instructions to follow. The first was an ‘oil’ and the second was a lehiyam, called jiragavilvadi lehiyam and he advised me how to use them. I knew Sri Bhagavan was not usually given to consuming any ‘oils’ internally and so left it out and purchased one pound of the lehiyam and went to my office. Retaining a small part with me, I packed the rest and sent it to Sri Niranjananandaswami, the then sarvadhikari, with a letter saying: “Dear Sri Chinnaswamigal, Today as I was passing through Mylapore I peeped into the Venkataramana Dispensary where a fresh lehiyam was being prepared and ready for sale, called Jiragavilvadi lehiyam. I felt impelled to buy it and did so. It is so sweet and good that retaining a portion for me, I have sent the rest to you which I request you may place before Sri Bhagavan as any other offering is done. This is not medicine but belongs to the class of tonics generally taken by all.” Sri Chinnaswami accordingly appears to have placed both the parcel and the letter before Sri Bhagavan.

That weekend, as was usual then with me, I left for Tiruvannamalai. On arrival at the Ashram and in Sri Bhagavan’s Hall as I rose up after obeisance Sri Bhagavan turned to me on his couch with a small container in hand and remarked, “See!

This is the lehiyam you have sent. I am using it regularly four times. Jeeraga and Bilva are very good for biliousness,” and all that. I felt elated and happy at the success of Mr. Chadwick’s scheme and sat down before Sri Bhagavan. Within half a minute Sri Bhagavan asked, “What? Did anyone write to you to send this?” I immediately admitted it and said: “Yes Bhagavan, Chadwick wrote to me all that I have said in my letter, and my expectations and hope also being the same, I did what he asked me to do and faithfully wrote to Chinnaswamigal without even mentioning his letter as if all this was my own initiative.” Sri Bhagavan laughed graciously saying, “See that, see that!”

That evening Chadwick entered the hall at 4 p.m. as was his routine, inwardly also elated and happy. But hardly did he rise from his obeisance when Sri Bhagavan said: “Chadwick! Did you write anything?” This was a moment of shock and surprise for Chadwick and he having done all this out of his extreme love and devotion to Sri Bhagavan, happily declared: “Yes Bhagavan, I wrote all that to T. P. R. What can we do? Sri Bhagavan never will take anything and it was miserable for us devotees to be witnessing Sri Bhagavan growing weaker day by day. So I did all that and I am happy now.”

He resumed his seat and began to meditate as usual. Such was Chadwick’s devotion and love to Sri Bhagavan! He was one among the many old devotees whose devotion to him was boundless.

HE highest ideal for man is to realise God, his real Self. Three prerequisites for fulfilling this sublime purpose of life are: a human body as it is only in such a state that we can work out our destiny and practise sadhana, the desire to be free and the help of a Guru who has crossed the ocean of delusion. This objective unfolds itself commensurate with our spiritual effort and growth.

It was Grace and good fortune that brought me to the presence of Bhagavan Sri Ramana in 1927. On entering the Ashram I saw the Maharshi seated on a couch wearing nothing more than a loincloth and appearing to gaze at some distant void. He was surrounded by devotees sitting at his feet and the whole scene was reminiscent of sages of yore. I stood for a while in his presence. He looked at me casually and I made my namaskarams. He made kind enquiries as to where I came from and about my stay. Next morning I went to the Ashram and sat before the Maharshi in meditation. The mind was quiet and not wavering. Sri Maharshi was sitting on the couch as usual, apparently gazing at the Hill.

Next morning I again returned to the Ashram to sit at his feet as I found I could easily concentrate in his presence and have progressively longer spells of undisturbed meditation such as I have never been able to achieve before anywhere else. When I told the Maharshi about it and how enjoyable it was, he asked me whether I was sleeping at the time of meditation. On my replying in the negative he laughed and enquired about my method of meditating, which was to concentrate on a light in the heart and offer a flower to my Ishtam (chosen God) whenever the mind wavered as instructed by Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj, second president of Ramakrishna Math Mission. The Maharshi said it was all right for me and I could continue in this way.

The third day after a lengthy meditation in front of the Maharshi I told him about a picture of Jesus I had seen in a church, surrounded by all sorts of animals at peace with one another. He replied that this was due to the fact of animosity having been conquered by the sage. Even snakes would not harm anybody here in this Ashram and added that in the presence of sages evil natures would be conquered and friendliness prevail. That is how the rishis of old used to live in forests and caves unharmed by wild creatures.

A visitor asked the Maharshi in the evening if he saw any form of God in meditation. He replied smiling that the Self or Atman is our real nature and has no form. He quoted a verse of Sankaracharya: “You are not the body, you are not the mind, senses or buddhi. You are beyond all these. You are the Atman.” When one becomes perfected in meditation having discarded all desires and merges in the Self the mind loses itself without any objectivity. The mind then is no mind. The mind losing itself in Atman is what is called samadhi. This is the real nature of man and sublime happiness.

The highest goal of man is to enquire ‘Who am I?’ and realize the Self. If a human being does not try to realize this he lives in vain. This state in which he enjoys the highest peace and happiness is dearer than anything else in the world. It is in all beings in the innermost heart. Unless one realizes this state one will have to be born and die again and again. In this real state one goes beyond grief and sorrow. It makes a man immortal.

Young as I was, I found it difficult to follow this teaching and asked for clarification when I returned to the Ashram the next morning. This was the first time I addressed the Maharshi as ‘Bhagavan’. He replied that the path was indeed difficult, as difficult as walking on a razor’s edge, but sincere effort is sure to bring result. “You (meaning me) could meditate for two or three hours not because of this life’s practice but as a result of effort in past lives.”

The fifth day of my visit I saw a young woman with a small baby seated at Bhagavan’s feet sobbing bitterly. She had recently lost her husband and was grief-stricken. Bhagavan looked at her with compassion and told her: “Husband, wife and children are for the body. Go home and know who you are. Go home and do not weep.” The words of a jnani have power to transform. ‘Home’ can also mean spiritual home, the source. His command “Go home and know who you are” might have taken effect in a heart one-pointed and purified by sorrow. In the case of another young woman, Echammal, heartbroken at the loss of her entire family, Bhagavan’s very Silence was enough to effect the transformation and lift her grief (as recorded in Ramana Maharshi and the Path of Self Knowledge).

The remaining days went off as usual. Bhagavan’s routine was to sit on the couch mostly in silence till noon and again after food and a little rest. He used to look through the mail twice a day and go for a short walk on the Hill. He said on one occasion that since there was no mind at all, there was also no concept of anything. All was one full expanse in peace and happiness. He quickly added that we cannot even say one expanse as there was no second. He was immersed in sat-chit-ananda (Existence-Consciousness-Bliss). Now his nature was that always.

When I was ready to leave I told Bhagavan so on the ninth day of my stay. Kneeling before him I wept profusely. He remarked: “You can stay on. Nobody asked you to go.” However, I took leave of him the next day and he told me to continue my meditation as usual and that everything will be all right in the course of time.

By Bhagavan’s Grace not only was I drawn into the fold of a sage who had the highest realization but was helped in every way to experience periods of supreme peace and bliss. This indeed forms the sheet anchor of my life that was, that is and that will be. The silent ministration of Bhagavan will indeed remain an eternal spring of spiritual joy and peace.

It is but appropriate that I close this account with salutations to Bhagavan Ramana who keeps on inspiring ever increasing numbers of seekers as time goes on.

How gracious art Thou Lord Dakshinamurthy,

To have blessed mankind by Thy ministration

in human form,

To Bhagavan who is but the form of Satyam,

Sivam and Sundaram,

Do I offer my salutations again and again.

I BELIEVE THAT September 15th, 1943 is an important day in my life, since it was on that memorable day that I was

introduced to one of the greatest living sages of modern India. It is not every day that one meets a sage like Sri Bhagavan. I think the opportunity that arose of coming into contact with him must have been the result of my prayers to God to lead me to a living sage.

On September 15th, at 7 a.m. I reached the Ashram. Bhagavan had gone to the big dining hall for breakfast. The devotees accompanied him and they were taking their seats one by one. From an old devotee of Bhagavan, I had a letter to Sri Niranjanananda Swami. I delivered the letter to him, and he took me to the dining hall and introduced me to Bhagavan. Bhagavan welcomed me with a soft and affectionate look. I prostrated and when I got up he made a sign to take my seat nearby and I did so. From the moment Bhagavan’s eyes fell on me, my heart went out to him in spontaneous love and reverence. The way he ate his food, the way he sat, the way he walked, the way he talked, were so remarkably calm, and so different from the manner of ordinary men. Here, I thought, is a perfect example of a sage, a jivanmukta. It was only now that I understood the significance of Arjuna’s question to the Lord, regarding the sthitaprajna. These questions are important because the sage sits, talks and walks, not like ordinary men, but whatever he does has a peculiarity of its own. To understand this one has to see a sage for oneself and sit at his feet.

At about 9 a.m. Bhagavan came to the meditation hall and we too entered the hall and sat facing him, while he reclined on his couch with his face turned towards us. As I sat in the meditation hall the words of king Dushyanta, ‘Peace dwells in an ashram’ came to my mind and I felt that they were true of this ashram also. For the first time in my life, I realized how dynamic santi could be. Peace seemed to emerge from Bhagavan and fill the hearts of one and all. In his presence, the mind became calm and tranquil of its own accord and consequently doubts and questions became few, and finally vanished. I was very happy and felt myself spontaneously as a kritakritya that my heart softly whispered within me the words, “Dhanyoham, Dhanyoham” (I am blessed).

All the devotees sat in the hall in front of Bhagavan till about noon, and at 12 o’clock a bell was rung announcing lunch. Bhagavan got up from his seat, and with his stick in hand slowly moved out of the meditation hall and proceeded to the dining hall. There food was served and we waited till Bhagavan took his first morsel of rice. We followed, and in about half an hour we finished our lunch and Bhagavan went back to the meditation hall. We were expected to take rest for 2 or 3 hours. By about 4 o’clock, people came into the meditation hall and sat before Bhagavan, some to put themselves in tune with the atmosphere of tranquillity, some to meditate, some to ask questions and get their doubts cleared, and some to hear the conversation that took place between Bhagavan and the many visitors. To listen to these conversations was a lesson in itself. Bhagavan’s physical form has gone, but we his devotees who have sat in his presence and have heard his calm and profound words, carry in our hearts indelible impressions of him and his words which passing times and circumstances could not easily efface. To all of us, these memories are precious treasures, and I think we should feel grateful to the ashram for publishing these volumes which aid us to relive those days we have spent with Bhagavan.

I shall now relate an incident which to me was very significant. Two or three days after my arrival at the ashram, I had a desire to dedicate a Sanskrit stanza to Bhagavan, but my knowledge of that language was not so much as to compose verse with any degree of confidence. However, the desire had sprung up within me and I was sure that by God’s kripa even the dumb could be made eloquent. So, I thought, if I prayed to Bhagavan, he would satisfy my desire. Hence in my heart, I prayed to him to extend his grace so that I might fulfil my wish. That noon I laid myself down for my siesta. After three quarters of an hour, as soon as I got up a stanza occurred to me. Apparently without any conscious mental process, a poem was formed in my mind ready to be transcribed. I knew this was due to Bhagavan’s grace. My prayer had been granted. With great joy, I wrote it down on a piece of paper.

That afternoon I took the stanza to the hall and placed the paper at Bhagavan’s feet. Bhagavan took it, read the stanza twice or thrice, and with a tender expression he asked me to put the words sona sailam for the words Ramana Maharshi which the stanza previously had. So I changed the fourth line which read “I meditate on Ramana Maharshi in my mind” to “I meditate on sona sailam (Arunachala).” Thus Bhagavan revealed to me that he was none other than Lord Arunachala or Dakshinamurthy himself, who by his sublime silence expounded to his devotees the mysteries of self-knowledge. At that time it struck me so and my eyes were filled with tears of delight and gratitude. I prostrated once again and took my seat near the wall.

It was only after coming into contact with Bhagavan that I understood certain spiritual truths. Here I may mention one example. While I was at the ashram, I did quite a lot of mananam and meditation. Bhagavan taught that there was no qualitative difference between the experiences of ‘jagrat’ and ‘sushupthi’ and I had no great difficulty in apprehending that. But when I reflected upon my own experience, the state of sushupthi offered a difficulty. It appeared to be a complete blankness, a nullity in my existence which I felt to be discontinuous. Bhagavan said that the real ‘I’ is eternal, continuous and beyond even manas, buddhi, ahamkara and chitta, whereas I found my existence was discontinuous. So where is my real ‘I’, my true self? There seemed to be no answer and I did not realize that there could not be any answer to that question. Here, then, was a cul-de-sac, beyond which I could not go. Mentally I put the matter to Bhagavan and waited for his grace. And lo! one day, this blind alley disappeared and all of a sudden it struck me that ‘sushupthi’ is not after all a ‘sunya’ as I had formerly felt, and that I existed even in dreamless sleep to perceive the nonexistence of the world including my body and mind. A continuity of my existence is clearly intuited by me. In the waking state I am the witness of the world, mind and body; in the dream state, I am the witness of the dream; in dreamless sleep, I am the witness of the nonexistence of the world. Thus I exist in all the three states. It was indeed mysterious that all this came to me with such a depth of understanding that all doubts vanished forever. I understood clearly that to know myself was to be myself.

Mere reading and thinking about self-knowledge alone is of no use. Only by the grace of God coming through a sage like Bhagavan, can one rightly understand the words of wisdom of our great rishis, and as Sankaracharya has put it, the flight of steps leading to jivanmukti begins with satsanga, the company of sages and saints. In Viveka Chudamani it is said:

“There are good souls, calm and magnanimous, who do good to others as does the spring, and who having themselves crossed this dreadful ocean of birth and death help others also to cross the same, without any motive whatsoever.” Our Bhagavan is such a soul. Through the apparent severity and unconcern of this majestic sage, there shone unmistakably a sweetness and a love which endeared him to the hearts of those who approached him. I think we are too near Bhagavan’s time to see him in the correct perspective of history. As years roll on, his spiritual grandeur will assume Himalayan proportions and future generations will consider him as an avatara of Sri Dakshinamurthi. May He ever enlighten us!

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1. Japa of koham is not correct. Put the question once and then concentrate on finding the source of the ego, and preventing occurrence of thoughts.

2. You should not attend to the breathing if you are capable of concentrating on the enquiry without it. Some may have to attend to the breathing if unable to concentrate on the enquiry alone. Some may practise kevala kumbhaka during the enquiry. Some may require the help of regular pranayama also to steady the mind and control the thoughts. All these practices are to be given up when the mind becomes strong enough to pursue the enquiry without any aid. Pranayama is to be practised with the usual caution. It will gradually increase the power and duration of kumbhaka. It will make the mind one-pointed. Take help if unable to concentrate without it. Pranayama is like reins to control the mind-horse, or like brakes to control wheels of thought ... ‘Who am I?’ and ‘Whence am I?’ are one and the same. They refer to the ego only. No such questions can be asked in the case of the Real Self.

1. Suggestive replies such as Sivoham etc., to the enquiry, are not to be given to the mind during the meditation. The true answer will come by itself. Any answer the ego may give cannot be correct. These affirmations or auto suggestions may be of help to those who follow other methods, but not

2. in this method of enquiry. If you go on asking, the reply will come. The method of enquiry is dhyana, and the effortless state is Jnana.
3. ‘I’ is also a Guru-mantra. The first name of God is “I.” Even OM comes later. Atma or the real Self is always saying ‘I-I.’ There is no mantra without the person who does the japa, i.e., Aham. The japa of Aham is always going on within. Japa leads to dhyana and dhyana to jnana. You may practise saguna meditation or the method of enquiry according to your inclination. Only that method which is most suitable for a person will appeal to him.

4. Without losing hold of the knowledge of “Who you are,” you may continue all activities as prompted to perform by the inner controller. They will go on even without your efforts. What you are destined to do, you cannot avoid. They will come your way of their own accord. You should also understand what japa, kirtans, etc., are meant for. The real japa is always going on. Japa and God are one and the same. See the philosophy of the name of God as given by the saint Namadeva.

6. In the enquiry, ‘I’ refers to the ego.

1. Don’t entertain such thoughts of imperfection, lack of qualities, etc. You are already perfect. Get rid of the ideas of imperfection and need for development. There is nothing to realize or annihilate. You are the Self. The ego does not exist. Pursue the enquiry and see if there is anything to be realised or annihilated. See if there is any mind to be controlled. Even the effort is being made by the mind which does not exist.

1. Real asana is “being established” in the Self-Reality or the Source. Sit in your Self. Where can the Self go and sit? Everything sits in the Self. Find out the source of the ‘I’ and sit there. Don’t have the idea that the Self cannot be realized without the help of asanas, etc. They are not at all necessary. The chief thing is to enquire and reach the source of the ego. The details

2. such as posture, etc., may distract the mind towards them or to the body.
2. You may read whichever book you like. Self (Atma) is the real book. You can look into it whenever you like. Nobody can take it away. It is always at hand to be read. Hold onto your Self in your spare time also and then you can read any book.

3. Ask yourself, “To whom do these doubts, fears and worries occur?” and they will vanish. Cease to pay attention to them. Pay attention to the Self within. Fears, etc., can only arise when there are two, or when anybody else exists apart from, or separate from, or outside you. If you turn the mind inward towards the Self, fears, etc., will disappear. If you try to remove a doubt or fear, another doubt or fear will arise. There will be no end of it. The best method to annihilate them is to ask “To whom do they occur?” and they will disappear. Destroying a tree by plucking its leaves one by one is impossible – other leaves will grow by the time you pluck a few. Remove the root of the tree – the ego – and the whole tree with its leaves and branches will be destroyed. Prevention is better than cure.

11. Q. Should I look for the source within the body?

A. The ego arises within the body. Hence in the first instance you may look within the body for its source. When you reach the source there will be no inside or outside, because the source of the Self is all-pervading. After realization everything will be inside the Self.

12. Q. Is the source on the right side of the middle line of the chest?

A. The Heart is defined as the place from which the “I thought” arises. Heart means the Centre (of consciousness). It cannot be identified with any part of the body.

1. Keep the mind quiet. That is enough. Sitting in the hall will help you. The purpose of effort is to get rid of all efforts. The force will be clearly felt when the stillness is achieved.

2. Spiritual vibrations exist everywhere and they will manifest when the mind is stilled.
1. Look at your Self or Atma, rather than anywhere else. The eyes may be kept open or closed – it is immaterial. There is only one I, whether you spell it ‘I’ or ‘eye’. There is no point in opening or closing the eyes. Attention must be focused on the inner ‘I’. You are not an eye that can be opened or closed. You may close or open the eyes according to your liking or inclination. It is immaterial, and not important. You will cease to think of the world when you think of the Self. If you are in a room and close your eyes and do not look out, it is immaterial whether you close the windows or keep them open. (The body is the room, the eyes are the window.)

Looking at ajna-chakra, etc., is not necessary in this method. It may help in keeping the mind from going out towards external objects. Concentrate on the Self without which there are no chakras. They do not exist without you. You are all of them. All centres (chakras) are in the Heart.

The Heart is not the anahata chakra, which is in the spinal cord. Heart is ‘I’.

15. First find out whether the ego, who is depressed by these thoughts, exists. Find out how you got the idea of the body. Solve this problem for your ego, then see if anything remains to be solved.

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own the fact that a person’s external activities stop automatically when his heart is fully saturated with love and his sense of non-duality with all beings reaches its consummation. If we happen to meet such a person who has attained oneness with all, his mere darshan will drive away our miseries. But from among lakhs and crores, we will find only one mahatma of this type”, thus said Saint Vinobaji.

Indeed, one such mahatma of our times was Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi, the Sage of Arunagiri whose mere darshan bestowed Grace on thousands and relieved them of their miseries. Even today his grace is available to all those who yearn for it, though he is not with us physically. After giving up his small mortal coil he has now assumed a huge all-pervading form.

As Sri Ramana himself has said, “The Guru is within; meditation is meant to remove the ignorant idea that he is only outside. If he be a stranger whom you await, he is bound to disappear also. Where is the use of a transient being like that?”

He further says: “One of two things must be done; either surrender yourself because you realize your inability and need a higher power to help you, or investigate into the cause of misery, go into the source and so merge in the Self. Either way you will be free from misery. God or Guru never forsakes the devotee who has surrendered himself.”

Thus he himself has shown us the path of winning his grace. We have only to follow it faithfully and then wait to reap the sweet fruits of his grace ‘full of love and oneness with all beings’. We will not have to wait for a long time if our efforts and devotion are sincere. His grace is bound to descend on us and relieve us of our miseries.

Replying to a question of a visitor to Sri Ramanasramam a few years ago, Sri Ramana Maharshi had said that, “To have darshan of a saint is sure to bring good to you. Thousands of persons pass by Tiruvannamalai in the trains daily, but a few alight here and fewer still visit this ashram. About darshan of and association with a saint, the scriptures say that it is a vessel which enables you to cross the vast ocean of samsara. What more benefit do you want?”

Indeed, darshan of a saint is so very efficacious that it occupies an important place in the curriculum of a sadhaka or a bhakta. In this connection I am reminded of a very inspiring experience that a devotee from Nepal, Sardar Rudra Raj Pande had, when he came for darshan of Sri Ramana for the first time. After having Sri Bhagavan’s darshan he went to Lord Arunachaleswara’s temple situated in the town at the foot of the Arunachala Hill. Narrating his experience about the darshan of Lord Arunachaleswara, Sri Pande says in his article published in the Golden Jubilee Souvenir: “All my attention was directed to the one purpose of seeing the image or lingam in the Sanctum Sanctorum. But strange to say, instead of the lingam, I see the image of Maharshi, Bhagavan Sri Ramana, his smiling countenance, his brilliant eyes looking at me. And what is more strange is that it is not one Maharshi that I see, nor two, nor three but in hundreds, I see the same smiling countenance, those lustrous eyes, I see them wherever I may look in that Sanctum Sanctorum. My eyes catch not the full figure of the Maharshi but only the smiling face from the chin above. I am in raptures and beside myself with inexpressible joy. That bliss and calmness of mind I then felt, how can words describe? Tears of joy flowed down my cheeks. I went to the temple to have darshan of Lord Arunachala, and I found the living Lord as he graciously revealed himself. I can never forget the deep, intimate experience I had in the ancient temple.”

Truly speaking, darshan and grace go together; one follows the other. Darshan begets grace and if it does not beget it, it ceases to be the darshan of a saint or a sage. A sage’s darshan will always be fruitful. It will surely bring some good. But as Sri Vinobaji says, in the vast multitude of lakhs and crores, there will be one sage. Hence, when we find such a sage, we must avail of his darshan and grace to our fullest capacity.

Speaking of my own experience about Sri Bhagavan’s benign grace, I have found it playing a prominent part in solving the most difficult problems confronting me and guiding me safely through thick and thin. I propose to narrate here a few glaring incidents of my intimate experience.

In 1945, I decided to wind up my printing press at Bombay in order to go and settle at Sri Ramanasramam. I had no prearranged plan for closing down my business. I did not know how things would be shaped, I solely relied on Sri Bhagavan. And he in turn did respond to my devout prayer.

In the early hours of one morning, while I was still in my bed half awake, I saw a vision in which Sri Bhagavan appeared before me. By his side stood the gentleman whom I recognized as a friend of mine, who had neither been in the ashram nor had any faith in Sri Bhagavan. The following conversation then took place between Sri Bhagavan and myself:

B: You want to sell away your press, don’t you?

I: Yes, Bhagavan, but I should find a buyer.

B: (Showing my friend standing by his side). This is the buyer. He will buy your press, so sell it to him.

I: When Bhagavan is so very kind to show me the buyer may he favour me by stating the amount at which I should execute the sale?

Sri Bhagavan thereupon showed me five figures on the opposite wall which were shining like a neon sign. The amount indicated to me was quite reasonable, neither low nor exorbitant.

Sri Bhagavan then disappeared from my sight, and with him also disappeared my friend. The vision ended.

I was simply wonder-struck and when I entered my press that day at 11 a.m., my friend was waiting there for me. Of course, he had come to see me for some other work. I narrated to him my vision of that morning. He heard me very attentively and when I had finished he simply replied: “I will buy your press at the price indicated by your Guru.” There was no limit to my joy. It was all over in a minute. My desire was fulfilled by his grace. I could leave Bombay with my family and settle first at Bangalore and later at Sri Ramanasramam itself, and spend about three years in his Holy presence. Our shifting from Bombay and settling at Bangalore was a series of incidents bespeaking of his benign grace. Those were the days when prices were soaring very high for everything. Bangalore was a new place for us. In view of the wishes of a few devotees at the Ashram I had agreed to buy a printing press at Bangalore for the purpose of executing the printing work of the Ashram. Thus I had to get a printing press as well as a house for us to live.

It was his grace which had drawn us to Bangalore and it was the same grace which got us both a printing press and a residence there, without the least difficulty.

In a good business locality of Bangalore there was a very old press established in 1885, lying idle for the last 6 months. It was for sale. I saw its proprietor and told him the purpose for which I was to buy the press. He agreed to sell it to me but haggled about the price. I proposed that both of us visit the Ashram and after having Sri Bhagavan’s darshan, might talk about the bargain. He at once agreed to it, and both of us went to Sri Ramanasramam. I took him to the holy presence of Sri Bhagavan whom I informed that I proposed to buy his press. Sri Bhagavan did not say anything but simply nodded. Within a few hours of having had Sri Bhagavan’s darshan, there was a wonderful change in the attitude of my Bangalore friend, who left the question of price to me. Of course I did not want to exploit him, so I stated a reasonable amount which he quite willingly accepted. Though he had insisted that no business talks should take place at the Ashram it was he himself who proposed that the bargain might be settled at the Ashram only. Of course his wish was carried out and the agreement of sale was executed and signed there and then.

Within a week thereafter, the press came into my possession. It was a fairly big press where I could do all types of printing work including the Ashram books in various languages, such as English, Tamil, Telugu, Hindi, Gujarati and Kannada. It was named ‘Aruna Press’ by Sri Bhagavan himself.

The press was idle for six months. It was to be put in working order. For this purpose a lot of work was to be done. It was really a heavy task, but due to his merciful grace I did not feel the burden. In a short period, the entire press was put in order and renovated, and publications of the Ashram began to be printed one after the other.

Throughout the period that I ran the Aruna Press at Bangalore, I felt his hand of grace extended to me on many occasions.

On 1st September, 1946, the devotees of Sri Bhagavan had decided to celebrate the Golden Jubilee, ‘in commemoration of the day, the 1st September, 1896, on which young Venkataraman reached Arunachala and in devout and humble recognition of his fifty years of transcendental life’. On that day, the Golden Jubilee Souvenir was to be published. The printing of this Souvenir was, of course, entrusted to my press. Up till now, the press had printed small books for the Ashram but as this was going to be a big volume and time at my disposal was short, I was rather diffident. But his grace eliminated my diffidence, and help and cooperation in the successful execution of this work began to pour in from all quarters, some of them being unexpected.

Only ten days were at my disposal and the major portion of the Souvenir Volume was yet to be printed. I lost courage and at once ran up to the Ashram. Having prostrated, I placed the entire position before Sri Bhagavan and then pouring out my heart pleaded that “Unless the help of some other press is taken, the volume will not come out on 1st September.” Then I sat before him in a praying mood, enjoying his blissful darshan and waiting for his gracious reply. After a few moments he said in a low melodious tone, “Do your work.” These three simple words were indeed magical words. They fired me with fresh vim and vigour and there arose in my heart a strong faith that the volume would surely be out on the scheduled date. There was the order for me I had simply to obey and “do my work,” and the rest would be looked after by him. I returned to Bangalore. I told the story of my experience at Sri Ramanasramam to my co-workers in the press. All of them accepted Sri Bhagavan’s order in the same spirit as I did and all of us worked with full faith, zeal and enthusiasm day and night. The bulk of work turned out in those last ten days was really surprising. For the last three days a party of about ten devotees came to my house on its way to the Ashram, going there for attending the Golden Jubilee. Three or four of them were expert bookbinders, whose timely help completed the work of the Souvenir a day early.

Indeed, wonderful are the ways and modes of his grace, which made so many impossible things possible and difficult things easy for us. All through the period of our stay at Bangalore we experienced the beneficial working of his benign grace.

There flows a perennial stream of nectar of his grace, which is freely available to one and all, provided we care to avail ourselves of it by following the path shown by him.

May all respond to his call divine and be devoted to Him, by adhering to his teachings.

ONCE, AN old lady came to Sri Ramanasramam. After prostrating, she placed a slip of paper in the hands of Sri Bhagavan Ramana. I guessed that it contained a prayer or doubt from her, as it was wont with all the devotees to offer their prayer or place their doubt before Bhagavan in that manner. But in this case, it turned out to be quite a different thing.

This old woman lived in the town in a dilapidated temple, to repair which she wanted some money. With this purpose she got an appeal for funds drafted by someone. In order to collect the required amount easily and early, she hit upon the idea that the appeal should be signed by eminent persons of the town and that Sri Bhagavan’s signature should top the rest. Thus the slip of paper was nothing else but the said appeal given to Sri Bhagavan for his signature. After reading he returned it to her without uttering a single word.

“My work will be done only if you will put your signature on this appeal”, the old woman urged Sri Bhagavan.

Sri Bhagavan with his usual sweet smile said: “It is well known that I never sign anything.”

But she would not accept defeat. She pressed him again and again to sign her appeal. At last Sri Bhagavan spoke out: “Yes, yes, you want me to sign your appeal, but how can one sign who has no name? With what name will he sign?”

The old woman was puzzled. What did Sri Bhagavan mean by saying that he had no name? Why, was his name not Sri Ramana Maharshi? How was it then that all knew him by that name?

As she could not understand the significance of Sri Bhagavan’s reply, she persisted in coaxing him to sign. But Sri Ramana remained unmoved and kept mum. After some time the old dame was also tired and left the hall, of course, without obtaining Sri Bhagavan’s signature.

Often would autograph hunters come to the Ashram and request Sri Bhagavan to sign their autograph books. Wreathed in his inherent smile, Sri Bhagavan would give all of them only one answer: “Let him sign who has a name. Here (meaning himself) there is no name. How can there be a signature then?”

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OF THE VARIOUS characteristics attributed to the man of wisdom and devotion in the Bhagavad Gita, the sense of equality

in word and deed towards all beings belonging to human, animal and vegetable life is considered to be very important. Sri Ramana Maharshi, the Sage of Arunagiri, possessed this rare quality among many others. This fact has been borne out by a few true, incidents from his life, set forth in this article.

One day the post brought a small parcel to Sri Ramanasramam. It was a tin weighing about a pound containing the invigorating medicinal jam called Chyavanaprash avaleha, sent from the Punjab by a devotee. It was accompanied by a letter wherein the devotee had requested Sri Ramana Bhagavan to take a teaspoonful of the avaleha every morning so that his health may be improved and vigour restored.

After reading the letter, Sri Ramana said with a sweet smile, “Oho! So he wants me to be a sandow! But, isn’t it still better if all of us become sandows?”

The next morning, every devotee found a little of the avaleha served on his leaf along with his breakfast and thus the entire quantity was consumed in a trice.

It was a rule with Sri Maharshi not to take any costly food at all and if a rich dish was brought to him, it was invariably distributed equally among all the diners. “We cannot afford rich dishes,” he used to say.

Once when Sri Bhagavan was suffering from serious ill-health and debility, the doctors recommended that he should take some nourishing food. But he would not listen to it. The devotees too continued to make pressing appeals to him. Some of them would earnestly plead for thickly-buttered bread, some others for milk and some again for sweet orange juice. But to all of them, he had only one answer to give, with his usual genial smile: “But how can we afford to have such a luxurious diet? For us there can only be the poor man’s ration.”

“But what is the harm in changing the diet for the sake of health? Even Mahatma Gandhi takes a special diet and Sri Aurobindo too does the same, to keep up their health. Please, therefore, do take at least a tumblerful of sweet orange juice, for our sake,” ventured a devotee in a plaintive tone.