PREFACE

This book, as its sub-title indicates, contains some of my reminiscences as well as the notes which I took down at odd times during my long residence in Ramanashram.

The memories of a close association with its celebrated Master Sri Ramana Maharshi, lasting for more than fourteen years, are vast, indeed, but the majority, being of spiritual nature, must needs remain unexpressed.

Part I contains these reminiscences – my first impressions of the Master, his spiritual influence on his disciples, the conditions prevailing then in the Ashram, some autobiographical reflections and episodes, etc.

Part II consists of extracts from my notebooks, where from time to time I jotted down the English translation of the Master’s answers to questions almost as soon as they were given. They cover practically all the questions which a beginner on this path asks himself and which were actually put to him by me or in my presence.

Part III is the diary which I kept of the last two years of the Master’s life. It describes, in particular, the closing scenes of his earthly career as an illustrious member of that divine race of Rishis, who for thousands of years have sanctified this land by their presence and by their sublime teaching of the Absolute. Seekers of whatever cast or creed, race or colour, have found in him their ideal of a perfect Master. With the crystal clear reason of Gaudapada and Shankara, and the peaceful, unwavering devotion (Parabhakti) to the supreme Quest, peculiar to the Vedantic Teachers and the path of Jnana, he satisfies both head and heart. Above all, the purity and love which radiate from him ceaselessly shed their beatific influence on all around him, justifying the appellation of “Bhagavan” given to him by his very early devotees when he was still in his teens, in consideration of his rigorous tapas and the original knowledge of the Absolute which he exhibited at that tender age.

Vellore S. S. C.

CONTENTS

Chapters Page

Publisher’s Note ................................................. iv Preface ................................................................ v PART I — Retrospect I Arrival .................................................................. 3 II Expectation ............................................................. 6 III Vanaprastha – Forest or Ashram Life........................ 7 IV Yatra – Pilgrimage ................................................. 19 V Masters Influence .................................................. 23 PART II — Talks Introductory ..................................................... 27 I Light Dialogues:–

1. The Believer in the Impersonal ..................... 27

2. The Business Man......................................... 30

3. The Pendant ................................................. 31

4. The Missionary ............................................. 32

5. The Philosopher............................................ 32

6. The Scientist ................................................. 33

7. The Sceptic ................................................... 34
II Life, Death, Rebirth and Suicide ........................... 36
III Happiness and Misery in creation ......................... 45
IV Karma ................................................................ 47

V Free-Will, Unpremeditated Action ........................ 48
VI Ego ................................................................ 51
VII Danger of Philosophy............................................ 55
VIII Surrender .............................................................. 56
IX Maya ................................................................ 57
X Guru ................................................................ 63
XI Meditation ............................................................ 66
XII Samadhi, Turiya, Nirvikalpa, Sahaja ...................... 80
XIII Nirvana ................................................................ 88
XIV Heart, Liberation .................................................. 90
XV The Jnani – The Awakened ................................... 94
PART III — Diary
Introductory........................................................ 100
Diary .............................................................. 101

Residual Reminiscences of Ramana

Preface .............................................................. 161
Residual Reminiscences of Ramana ..................... 162

Memories and Notes

PART I
RETROSPECT

I

ARRIVAL

The third of February 1936, early morning, saw my horse-cart rolling on the uneven two-and-a-half-mile road from Tiruvannamalai railway station to Ramanashram. Two sleepless nights in the train from Bombay found me tired in body and mind. My head was swimming and my senses were confused. I had hoped for some rest in the Ashram, but when I arrived there at last, there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. Presently, a corpulent man with a giant rugged head and scarlet-red lips from perpetual chewing of betel-nuts appeared. He was, I later discovered, “the legal adviser” of the Ashram, who sometimes acted as the de facto sarvadhikari (manager) as well. “Is that Mr. Cohen? Follow me quickly before the Maharshi goes out for his walk,” he called out. I obeyed, extremely eager to see the great Sage, who had haunted me night and day for three long months. I was led to a small dining room, at the door of which I was asked to remove my shoes. As I was trying to unlace them, my eyes fell on a pleasant-looking middle-aged man inside the room, wearing nothing but a kaupin, with eyes as cool as moonbeams, sitting on the floor before a leaf-plate nearly emptied, and beckoning me with the gentlest of nods and the sweetest smile imaginable.

He was the Maharshi himself. My mind, which was already in a state of haze, grew now more confused in my haste to enter. But the shoe lace resisted. So I tugged at and broke it. Just then my guide appeared again and said: “If you have any fruits to offer, bring them now.” “They are in my suit case,” I replied, and plunged my hands into my pockets for the keys. But the keys had gone: I had dropped them in the train or at the station, I did not know where, in my hurry to race to the Ashram. I told this to the legal adviser and immediately forgot all about them and entered the room.

It was then the Ashram’s custom to honour the newcomer by giving him his first meal in a line directly opposite the Maharshi’s seat and at hardly four feet distance from it. My leaf-plate was thus placed there with two rice cakes on it. I took no notice of the cakes, although my hand fingered them, but directed my whole look at the peaceful countenance of Sri Bhagavan. He had by then finished eating and was slowly rolling a betel-leaf for a chew, as if deliberately to give me a little more of his company, when a man entered from the back door, which was the passage to the small kitchen, and, in a low voice, said something in Tamil to him, from which I understood the single word “keys.” Then Maharshi rose, looked at me by way of farewell, and left the room. I hastily swallowed half a cake, gulped the cup of tea, and went out in search of the room to which my luggage had been taken. But alas, I could not have a bath or a change of clothes – everything was locked up in the suit cases. I was greatly embarrassed, and started thinking of breaking them open, when someone announced that Sri Maharshi was coming to the Darshan Hall. I stopped thinking and rushed straight to the Hall with my hat and full suit on. Behind me calmly walked in the tall, impressive figure of the Maharshi with leisurely though firm steps. I was alone in the Hall with him. Joy and peace suffused

my being – never before, had I such a delightful feeling of purity and well-being at the mere proximity of a man. My mind was already in deep contemplation of him – him not as flesh, although that was exquisitely formed and featured, but as an unsubstantial principle which could make itself so profoundly felt despite the handicap of a heavy material vehicle. When after a while I became aware of my environment, I saw him looking at me with large penetrating eyes, wreathed in smiles rendered divinely soothing by their child-like innocence. All of a sudden I felt something fall in my lap and heard the jingling of keys – my keys! I looked up at the Maharshi extremely puzzled. The man – Sri Ramaswami Pillai – who had dropped them through the door behind me came in and explained that he had gone to the railway station on a bicycle and found the station master waiting for him. It appears that during the few minutes that the train had stopped at the station a passenger had providentially entered the very compartment I had vacated, and, seeing the keys on the seat, he picked them up, and, wonder of wonders! ran up to the station master and handed them over to him. The latter by an unusual flash of intuition surmised that the keys belonged to an Ashram visitor, whom he might have seen detrain in the morning, and awaited a claim for them.

It was a series of miracles which occurred on my behalf in the short space of barely ninety minutes, of which I was blissfully ignorant, absorbed as I was in the entrancing personality of this magnificent human magnet

– Sri Ramana Bhagavan.

It is needless to say that from that day Ramanashram became my permanent home.

II

EXPECTATION

Days melted into weeks, and weeks into months and the foreigner impatiently awaited the Great Experience: each day was the day, and each moment the moment. The Indian is never in a hurry: he knows his work well, and, looking wistfully ahead, continues his practice, full of unshakeable confidence. But the foreigner, being used to work on a timetable, fixes hour and date, as if for an interview. As the clock strikes, he buckles on his belt, sits stiff, shuts his eyes, and waits for the interview. The clock strikes again, he opens his eyes, unbelts himself, and rises, postponing his hope to the evening or the next morning, and so on and on he goes.

When many months thus rolled by and nothing startling happened, he cried with all the fervour of his soul: “How long, O Lord, how long?” But lo! what had happened to him! He looked back at his old self and looked at the present one – what a change, Good God! And he wondered what could have happened in six short months. Then the Great Secret dawned on him – the secret influence of the Divine Man in whose radiant ocean he had been daily bathing: the interview, after all, did take place, although the foreigner was not aware of it.

III

VANAPRASTHA – FOREST OR ASHRAM
LIFE

Thus began the pilgrim’s Vanaprastha; its spirit slowly crept into his hungry soul. For the body the new life was hard, the change very drastic. A redeeming feature was that in Ramanashram, unlike in other Ashrams, there were no compulsions of any kind; no programme to be followed, no meetings, study-classes or bhajan to be attended, so that the body was spared the additional strain of having to rise at an early hour every morning, or be in a certain place at a certain inconvenient time, and so on. Bhagavan was the most liberal of Gurus in that at no time did he consider the need to frame rules and regulations to control the lives of his disciples; nor did he believe in a common, enforced discipline, for he himself had attained the highest without them, and had discovered the self-evident truth, illustrated by his own experience, that at the right time Realisation surges up from within by a free impulse, like the budding and blossoming of a flower.

While it is true that not all seekers are as ripe as Bhagavan was, when the flood of Realisation suddenly inundated him in his seventeenth year and, thus, need a discipline to transform the desultory life of the world, to which they are accustomed, into that of self-controlled yogis, yet the discipline that is imposed from without can neither bear the desired fruits nor endure. The discipline which is not known to fail is the one which is self-imposed, constitutionally determined, and readily applied by an inner urge of the awakened intellect. Hence Bhagavan left his disciples completely free to mould their lives as best they could. This physical freedom considerably helped me to tide over the first few difficult months of my new existence.

The whole month of February 1936 I lived in the Ashram in a completely bare room with a sand-covered floor and palm leaves for walls and roof. In March I started constructing a small hut for my residence in the neighbourhood of the Ashram, as the next chapter will relate. No sooner was it ready than I moved to it. I hardly stayed in it in the daytime: my mind was wholly fixed on the Master. So I spent my days and a part of my nights in the Hall, where he lived and slept.

There I quietly sat and listened to the visitors’ talks with him and to his answers, which were sometimes translated into English, particularly if the questioner was a foreigner or a north Indian – not always. His answers were fresh and sweet. His influence was all pervasive in his silence not less than in his speech. To me in the beginning this was all the more perceptible in the contrast it offered to the hustle and bustle of the life on which I had just turned my back – to the wasted energy, the false values, the foolish expectations from ideals which are in themselves hollow reeds, the dreary intercourse with people with whom one has very little in common; to the social rules which have been laid down by many generations of selfishness, convention and superstitions, not to speak of the mess of politics, of rank and wealth, and the bitter jealousy and hatred they breed in the minds of men. It is small wonder therefore that Bhagavan appears to the serious-minded as a beacon light in an otherwise impenetrable darkness, and a haven of peace.

Bhagavan was then enjoying the sound, robust health of middle age, and could very well afford to be available at almost all hours of the day to devotees. The years 1936-1938 were very blissful, indeed, to us, when we could gather round his couch and speak to him as intimately as to a beloved father; tell him all our troubles and show him our letters without let or hindrance. After 8 p.m. when the hall contained only the local residents, we sat round him for a ‘family chat’ till about 10 o’clock. Then he related to us stories from the Puranas or the lives of Saints, yielding to transportations of emotions when he depicted scenes of great bhakti, or great human tragedies, to which he was sensitive to the extreme. Then he shed tears which he vainly attempted to conceal. Some stories are memorable like the following one. Kabir was a great bhakta (devotee) and lived in or near Benares some centuries ago. Although he had siddhis (psychic powers), he earned his livelihood by weaving. One day, when he was working on his looms, a disciple entered in great excitement and said: “Sir, there is a juggler outside here who is attracting large crowds by making his stick stand in the air”, etc. Thereupon Kabir, who like all true saints, discouraged the display of jugglery, wanting to shame the man, rushed out with a big ball of thread in hand. Seeing the long bamboo standing in the air, he threw up the ball of thread, which went up and up unwinding till the whole thread stood stiff in mid-air, and to a far greater height than the juggler’s stick, without any support whatever. The people, including the juggler himself, were stunned in amazement, and Sri Bhagavan’s eyes acted the amazement, while his hand stood high above his head in the position of that of Kabir when he threw up the ball.

On another occasion Bhagavan recited from memory a poem of a Vaishnava Saint, in which occurred the words “Fold me in thy embrace, O Lord,” when the arms of Bhagavan joined in a circle round the vacant air before him, and his eyes shone with devotional ardour, while his voice shook with stifled sobs which did not escape our notice. It was fascinating to see him acting the parts he related, and be in such exhilarated moods as these.

Some disciples and his attendants used to sleep on the floor of the hall at night. Bhagavan’s sleep was very light: he woke every now and then, and almost always he found an attendant nearby fully awake to say a few words to, and slept again. Once or twice he would go out for a few minutes, and, by 5 a.m., when the Veda chanters came from the township, they found him fully awake and chatting in a soft, subdued voice. Now the parayanam would get started and go on for a little less than an hour, during which everybody abstained from talking, and Bhagavan often sat cross-legged and completely indrawn. Then he went out for bath, breakfast, and a little stroll on the hill, and returned at about 7.30, when visitors and devotees began trickling in – men, women and children – till they filled the hall by about 9 a.m. This morning hour of the parayanam was the best time of the day for meditation: the congregation was small, women and children were absent, the weather cool, and the mind had not yet completely emerged to run its usual riot. Over and above this Bhagavan then shone in the stillness of his samadhi, which permeated the hall and the meditation of the disciples. But unfortunately I could not keep up this attendance, nor could I benefit by it even when present, for my mind remained in the fog of somnolence. Being a life-long bad sleeper I never succeeded in making the requisite six-hour sleep before six in the morning. Another tendency which I could not completely overcome was intolerance to noise, of which the hall was seldom free. Apart from the free access to it by all and sundry there was also the freedom of singing, which at times took one by surprise at a moment when the hall was plunged in silence and the atmosphere conducive to meditation. All of a sudden a soprano voice rose from somewhere in the hall intoning some hymn or other, or reciting some shloka in a South-Indian language, to be succeeded by a tenor or another soprano, often the latter, in competition with a male of the species, till Bhagavan went out at his usual hours. These were: 9.45 for a few minutes, 11 o’clock for luncheon, followed by the midday stroll in Palakottu, evening 4-45 on the hill, preceding the evening Veda parayanam, and 7 o’clock for dinner. The best I could do then was to remain in a semi-contemplative or reflective mood, reserving my serious meditation to the quiet solitude of my own room. Major Chadwick, the only other foreign resident then, who had preceded me to Ramanashram by exactly three months, used to wonder how I could meditate in my room at all. I reciprocated by myself wondering how he could seriously concentrate amidst so much disturbance in the hall. Even in as small a matter as this, it will be observed, individual idiosyncrasies are apparent. These lonely hours I snatched from the time when Bhagavan was out.

Every second morning I went all alone for pradakshina – an eight mile non-stop trek round Arunachala hill – which took me almost exactly three hours to accomplish. This had its own special benefit. At that early hour I generally was in a walking-meditation mood, particularly as I expressly made a habit of it. The benefit of regularity in the practice of sadhana is here fully borne out. Another factor to a successful pradakshina and, to me, the greatest, was the determination at the very start not to retrospect – not to look back upon the past – throughout the three-hour trek. I might look this side or that, but would never allow memory to ruin my calmness. Each time I caught memory sneaking in, I immediately brought my attention to the rhythm of my footfalls till the mind regained its restful state. The partial fatigue experienced in the latter half of the journey automatically induced this mental rest without much effort. Somehow this practice worked marvellously well with me.

Speaking of retrospection, sadhakas must be warned against the tricks of memory, of which nothing is more harmful, nothing more destructive to the peace of mind which is necessary for a successful sadhana. It cannot be too often recommended to them to forbear looking into the past with its trials and errors, acts of omission and commission, regrets, fear, passion, love and hatred, personal tragedies, etc. Everything is dust, everything transitory, including the seemingly indissoluble human ties, more so wealth and fame, and, thus, not worth a moment’s regret. Nothing is changeless and lasting but the natural state of the pure being.

Another disturbance in the hall was caused by the distribution of the offerings on the spot, be they mangoes, raisins, sugar-candy, dates, or merely puffed rice. The moment one came, it went immediately round, after having been first touched and tasted by Bhagavan, so that he who happened to be then plunged in meditation for an hour or so, on opening the eyes sometimes found bits of edibles near his feet or in his lap, awaiting his pleasure. This custom was wisely stopped in 1938, when all the offerings were collected and distributed in the dining hall at meal times, or among guests who could not eat the usual food.

The constant influx of visitors was of some help in that it afforded the much-needed relaxation to an otherwise tense life. Secondly the peculiar problems which visitors brought with them were a useful study – study of the human mind and the endless ills to which it is subject. The problems of the mind and the conditions which give rise to them are infinitely more numerous than the variety which the physical universe presents to the human senses. Moreover, watching the masterly ways Bhagavan tackled these problems was sadhana in itself. Rationality was the very essence of his arguments. Whilst the ultimate answer to all the questions was always the same, namely, “Find out who you are,” he first met every questioner on his own ground, and then slowly steered him round to the source of all problems – the Self – the realisation of which he held to be the universal panacea. Psychologists deal only with the working of the mind, but Bhagavan goes to the source, the mind or Self itself. It was a wonder that all visitors were agreeably impressed by him, sometimes even without comprehending the drift of his ideas. People take siddhis as the sure sign of Perfection, but few understand the subtle influence of the truly Perfect person, who, without the deliberate use of miracles, works out the transformation of the people who come into contact with him, more so the genuine disciples, whom he actually turns into muktas, or well on the way to mukti, of which external siddhis are totally incapable. Many of those who have had the inestimable privilege of a long stay with Bhagavan bear witness to the blessedness which his mere presence conferred on them. This is the highest and truest siddhi which always accompanies Jnana (knowledge of the Self or Supreme Perfection).

When the audience shrank, the Master at times became humorously autobiographical about his early school and home life, or about his many experiences on the hill with sadhus, devotees, etc. One of the stories was about a “miracle” he had once performed in Skandashram, when his mother one day, leaving him inside a room in deep samadhi, bolted him in from outside and went to the town, and, on her return, to her great surprise, found him seated under a tree in the garden outside, and the door still bolted, as she had left it. She was so impressed by this “miracle” that she told it to everyone she met. The truth was, Bhagavan said, that he had unbolted the two door-shutters from inside and then re-bolted them, as before, from outside, from sheer habit.

Again and again the Master spoke of his early life in the big Arunachaleshwara temple in the first year of his escape to Tiruvannamalai (1896). Whilst urchins troubled him, educated adults had much respect for him, although he was then still in his teens. Pious men used to seek his company almost daily on the steps of Subramanya’s shrine. Two lawyers, in particular, were assiduous in this respect. On a certain Hindu festival day they prepared a grand dinner and came to take him to it, but his immovable silence indicated his refusal of their invitation. There was no alternative for them but to use force, which they did by joining hands and bodily lifting him, till he agreed to walk with them. Bhagavan said that that was the only house in Tiruvannamalai where he ate once. Another time he was also bodily carried and bundled into a waiting cart and fed, but that was not in a private house but in Ishanya Mutt – an Ashram-like institution for sannyasis of a special caste in the northern end of the town.

Then there came a break in my life at Tiruvannamalai. By the end of 1938 I felt I must go away for a while, as the next chapter will narrate: not to part company with my sadhana, but, on the contrary, to prevent it from degenerating into a colourless, monotonous routine, which I feared might wreck, or dry up the perennial inspirations which are necessary for continued efforts. So I planned a leisurely tour in South India. I visited temples and stayed in holy places for long or short durations, as the spiritual moods took me. Everywhere I was well received. No temple closed its doors in my face anywhere, as it was done to non-Hindus. Wherever I went Bhagavan’s name acted like a charm, particularly as I had adopted the Indian dress from the beginning (1936), lived in Brahmin streets, and ate Brahmin food, which was pure vegetarian. I even for the time discarded the wearing of footwear, bathed in Hindu bathing-tanks, and attended evening temple worship with the smearing of ashes on my arms and forehead. This proved of much benefit at that stage of my sadhana. In the end of 1939 I found myself landed in Anandashram in Kanhangad, on the north Kerala coast, of which Swami Ramdas was the presiding deity. I had planned to stay there for a few weeks, but somehow I lingered for more than eight months.

Anandashram is very beautifully situated. To the east stretches a small range of sloping hillocks, almost evergreen from the torrential rains that fall there in both the monsoon seasons. To the west a plain gently slopes for almost four miles down to the sea, across fields sparsely strewn with villagers’ huts, coconut groves, and tobacco plantations, in between which is wedged a thin strip of the township, which is very much smaller than Tiruvannamalai. Being far from the public road the Ashram enjoys a natural, quiet and sweet, idyllic simplicity, which made it a congenial retreat at that time for me. So, I liked the place and stayed on, and did my work in my own way. Even the peculiar atmosphere of this Ashram suited me in my then moods. After a short while I began to distinguish the psychical difference between it and Ramanashram, I was greatly amused when I detected the way Ramdas was affecting me. It enhanced the boyish tendencies which had been at times causing me much inconvenience, and which I had been trying to curb – the loquacity, the hastiness in action, the quickness of temper, the extreme sensitiveness to sound, the bouts of paralysing shyness, etc. I had spent fifteen years (since 1925) in comparative loneliness and silence, but Anandashram drew me out to the spontaneity of my adolescence for a good part of the time I was there.

For in Ramdas’s presence the heart expanded with joy, reminiscent of Krishna’s leela in Brindavan. Joy permeated everything: the hills, the grazing cattle, the faces round one, and the very air one breathed – all were joy-inspiring, all Ramdas’s RAM. In the spiritual life of some devotees what counts most is genuine bhakti, irrespective of labels and nomenclature, and Anandashram was, no doubt, surcharged with it, but it was a bhakti which was nurtured by joy. Joy and love oozed out of every pore of Ramdas’s being and infected his neighbourhood.

When I returned to my ashram in July 1940, the Second World War had already broken out, and darkness had fallen on the hearts and minds of men. Bombs had dropped on Warsaw like rain. Poland and Czechoslovakia had been subdued. Many millions of innocent men, women, and children, had been driven to concentration camps for a dread purpose. The Maginot Line had cracked and crumbled, and Paris had fallen to the mighty army of the invader.

I had expected to see some marks of this widespread devastation on the life of Ramanashram, but on arrival I found none whatever, except, to my surprise, a doubled rate of flow of devotees. The only other physical change I observed was in the Master’s body, which started showing signs of age, which had compelled the management to curtail the attendance hours at night. At midday the doors of the hall were closed for two hours for his siesta – the first time in the history of the Ashram. At first Bhagavan demurred but soon he grew resigned to the situation, seeing that it had some justification.

The stream of visitors continued to increase, so that soon afterwards sitting accommodation and easy access to the Master on personal matters became difficult. In fact under the new rules, letters and articles written by devotees were made first to pass the censorship of the office before they could be shown to him, which was not without reasons. One or two devotees, taking advantage of the Master’s compassionate nature, took to write to him letters running to several pages in very small hand on petty, often imaginary, difficulties in their spiritual practice, on which he strained his eyes for one or two hours. He was too scrupulous to let a single word go unread, which encouraged them to write still longer letters and daily too, imagining their epistles to be of great interest to Bhagavan till the management found it imperative to clamp down a ban on all correspondence to be shown or written to him.

A year or two later a colony of devotees, with families for the most parts, sprang up round the Ashram. As Bhagavan’s body grew weaker, his power to influence and attract increased, so that the tide of settlers and visitors continued steadily to rise and included world-famed philosophers, scholars, politicians, ministers, provincial governors, generals, foreign diplomats, members of foreign missions. They all came, whether in war or peace, in rain or shine. The tide swelled and swelled and reached its zenith in 1950, the last year of his earthly life. Till the last the Master continued to instruct. In the whole history of the Ashram there has never been a bar to the seeking of spiritual guidance orally from him, except in the very last year when he was seriously laid up and the visitors of their own accord desisted from troubling him.

As time passed and the Master’s state of mind and ideas took firm root in me, I ceased to ask questions, or to intercept him in his walks outside the Ashram grounds, as I used to do in the first six months of what I call my Vanaprastha life; for by then all my spiritual questions – call them problems, if you like – had resolved themselves in various ways. The final conclusion to which I came in the end of these six months I reported it one day to Bhagavan. He showed his gracious approval by a gesture of finality with his hand and said: “So much lies in your power, the rest must be left entirely to the Guru, who is the ocean of Grace and Mercy seated in the heart, as the seeker’s own Self.”

IV

YATRA – PILGRIMAGE

“I thought of Thee and was caught in Thy Grace;

And like a spider in Thy web didst Thou Keep

me captive to swallow me in Thine own hour.”

(Aksharamanamala of Sri Maharshi)

The builders had put the finishing touches to my small mud hut in Palakottu garden on April 4, 1936, and although its walls and lime plaster were still wet, I decided to enter it the very next day.

Palakottu is a large garden of about ten acres in area granted by the Government over eighty years ago to a Vira-Shaiva community for the purpose of growing flowers in it for the big Arunachaleswara temple in the township of Tiruvannamalai. It lies on the Western boundaries of Ramanashram, and has a clean and well-preserved deep tank seasonally fed by the rain water, which falls down the slopes of the sacred Arunachala hill, apart from two or three natural springs in its bottom. Around the huge, century-old trees of this garden, devotees of Sri Ramana Bhagavan since many years had built their small kutirs, where at different times lived Paul Brunton, Yogi Ramiah, Sri B.V. Narasimhaswami, the author of “Self-realisation,” Sri Muruganar Swami, the Tamil poet who filled a bulky tome of songs in praise of Sri Bhagavan, and many others, and where some sadhakas still live. In Palakottu, then the only inhabited place within a mile radius from the Ashram, I chose for my hut a lonely site to the north-west of the tank, edging the shady foot-path over which Sri Bhagavan used to take his midday walk, so that during its construction he could see the daily progress of the work and sometimes exchange a few words with the masons, till the 4th of April, when I informed him of my intention to start living immediately in it.

Sri Bhagavan had known of my chronic asthma, and probably thought it foolhardy on my part to live in a place which would take two to three months to dry up. I noticed his hesitation in uttering his usual “yes”; but, being hard-pressed for accommodation, and very reluctant to leave him even for a day, I completed my arrangements for the warming ceremony, known here as griha-pravesham, to take place the next day.

On the fifth of April the invited devotees gathered in my hut, and about noon the Master himself strolled in, on his way back from his usual walk, and, refusing the special chair I had made ready for him, he squatted like the others on the mat-covered floor. After the ceremony Bhagavan left. I followed him from a distance, waited till the devotees cleared away and approached him. “Bhagavan,” I started, “you have given a home for my body, I now need your Grace to grant the eternal home for my soul, for which I broke all my human ties and came.” He stopped in the shade of a tree, gazed silently on the calm water of the tank for a few seconds and replied: “Your firm conviction brought you here; where is the room for doubt?” Where is the room for doubt indeed! I reflected.

Three years rolled by, and the Master continued to pass daily by my hut. In the beginning he used to take shelter from the midday sun on my verandah for two or three minutes, during which I made myself scarce, in order not to inconvenience him, till one day I foolishly placed a chair for his use on the sly, which made him once for all boycott my verandah. Despite his full knowledge of our adoration of him, he was extremely sensitive to the slightest trouble which might ensue from him to us, or, for the matter of that, to anyone: thus placing a special chair for him, or expecting him every day at a fixed hour, he interpreted as interfering with my rest

– hence the boycott.

Three years, I said, had passed since that griha-pravesham day, years of great soul-searching, of incessant attempts to penetrate the Master’s mind, of reflection, study, meditation, and what not; years of extreme efforts to adjust myself to the entirely new conditions of life, of physical and psychical strain. They were admittedly intense years, in fact so intense, that I then felt that I must quit immediately, and informed the Master accordingly.

“Bhagavan,” I said on a day then near my hut, “I feel a strong urge to go on a yatra (pilgrimage) to the South – Chidambaram, Srirangam, Rameshwaram ...,” but lo! a look on Bhagavan’s face struck me forcibly with the thought “Yatra! what for? Are you still in doubt?” I instantly remembered his words of long ago: “Where is the room for doubt?” and, as if in reply to a verbal question from him, I continued: “No, Bhagavan, now I feel that I need a change for some months, which I intend spending in Hindu holy places.” He smiled approval and enquired about the date and time of my starting, and whether I had made arrangements for my stay in the various places I was to visit. Extremely touched by his solicitude, I answered that I was going as a sadhu, trusting to chance for accommodation.

For three months thereafter I lay on a mat in Cape Comorin, immensely relieved of the mental tension which the Master’s physical form had caused me. In solitude I plunged in reflections on his blissful silence and calm repose. The stillness of his mind haunted me everywhere I went – in the beautiful, gem-like temple of the youthful Virgin Goddess, on the shores of the vast blue ocean around me and the sand dunes, in the fishing villages and the endless stretches of coconut groves, which ran along the seashore and the interior of the Cape. I felt his influence in the depths of my soul and cried: “O Bhagavan, how mighty you are and how sublime and all-pervasive is the immaculate purity of your mind! With what tender emotions do we, your disciples, think of your incomparable qualities, your gentleness; your serene, adorable countenance; your cool, refreshing smiles; the sweetness of the words that come out of your mouth; the radiance of your all-embracing love; your equal vision towards one and all, even towards diseased stray animals!”

V

MASTER’S INFLUENCE

The influence of Sri Maharshi on genuine seekers, who leave the world behind and turn pilgrims on the path of the Absolute, is great indeed; for such aspirants touch a sympathetic chord in his soul, evoking spiritual responses of great magnitude.

A close friend of mine once related to me his experience when a brief talk with the Master made him stop his fruitless pursuit of the “occult” and take to the path of knowledge (Jnana), which Bhagavan propounds and which has proved of immense benefit to those who had followed it. I let him use his own words:–

“On one of those happy days of July .... I decided at last to acquaint the Maharshi with the disturbed state of my mind, after a number of months’ stay in the Ashram, during which I had listened, reflected and argued with myself. Having been a keen student of Theosophy for twelve years, I had imbibed notions and theories which conflicted in almost every important respect with the Maharshi’s teaching. Theosophy and Vedanta, I discovered, notwithstanding the claim of Theosophy to the contrary, run along parallels which never meet. “Occult” Theosophy speaks of spheres and planes, of journeys into planets, of invisible Masters, hierarchies, Adepts, rays, supersensuous initiations and meetings, and hardly, if at all, of the Reality, with which the Vedanta and Maharshi exclusively deal, namely, the one Self, one Life, one Existence.

In fact seekers are again and again reminded that occult powers are diametrically opposed to the truth they seek.

“I was finally convinced that the Maharshi spoke from direct, valid experience, and on that day I made up my mind to speak alone with him, before the hall filled with devotees.

“It was eight in the morning. Sri Bhagavan had just entered and had hardly settled in his usual place, when I drew near his sofa and squatted on the bare floor. The attendant alone was present, keeping alive the incense fire and fixing new incense sticks in their silver stand, but he did not understand English. Nothing I knew gave greater pleasure to the Maharshi than to listen attentively to his devotees’ spiritual difficulties and give his advice. This knowledge encouraged me to explain to him slowly and briefly in clear, simple English the agitations of my mind. After I finished, he remained pensive for a few seconds and, then, in the same language but with considerable deliberation, said: ‘Yes, you are right; all preconceptions must go. Practice alone will show you where the truth lies. Stick to only one form of sadhana.’

“That was a clear pointer. But apart from the words he uttered, I was suddenly gripped by an overwhelming urge to surrender unreservedly to him to guide me in my spiritual hunger, abandoning all the methods I had previously followed and all the beliefs on which I had built my hopes. My fate and all that I was, passed from that moment into the sacred hands of Sri Bhagavan for ever.”

But this was not the only case of spontaneous surrender.

Spiritual surrender, we are told, is not a mental, still less an oral act, but the result of Grace, which comes in its own time and of its own accord, to cause the automatic subsidence of that self-asserting element in the sadhaka’s nature, which stands in his way to ultimate realisation. Sometimes it is sudden, and sometimes so gradual, that the devotee himself may not become aware of it. Grace, though it comes from the Guru by his very presence, is not fortuitous, but fully earned by hard internal fight, by long periods of suffering, prayer, self-purification, and intense yearning for release. Suffering turns the mind inward and eventually draws out the cry from the depths of the soul for the liberating light of Truth, and for the appearance of the Divine Teacher, who alone can lead to it and, thus, to Redemption.

PART II
TALKS

INTRODUCTORY

Visitors to the Ashram come from all parts of the world and all strata of society. The questions they ask naturally reflect their mental outlooks, their religious and philosophical beliefs, their social concepts, their personal predilections and phobias, their inner urges and so on. Many of them reveal a genuine desire to know the truth, and even spiritual hunger.

As a rule, all questions, except the impossible and the patently argumentative, Bhagavan graciously answers – fully, spontaneously, and calmly. Some answers are couched in a humorous vein, when humour is inherent in the questions. Some have a punning ring about them, when he turns worldly questions into spiritual hints, which sometimes baffle the questioner. But the best are the ones which concern sadhana and yogic practice.

Most of the devotees who are counted by the thousand are grihastas (householders), who continue to lead their normal life in their homes, pursue their normal avocations, and follow his teaching in their meditation as best they can. Almost all of them make it a point to visit the Ashram from time to time to have his darshan and light the torch of their inner fervour from his divine flame, which helps keeping up their link with him and preserving their mental balance in the intervals.

A small minority have settled inside, or in the neighbourhood of the Ashram, of whom some serve in the Ashram, but the others take to meditation and study. All benefit by his company, for guru-sanga is said to be far more quickening than the ordinary sat-sanga.

Soon after my arrival at Tiruvannamalai, I conceived the idea of recording as many of the talks held in my presence and translated into English as I could. Bhagavan always spoke in Tamil, except when the questions were put in Telugu or Malayalam, when he answered in the same languages. The visitors who knew none of these South Indian languages received their answers through an interpreter in English. For, although the Maharshi could read and understand English very well, he could not speak it sufficiently well for lack of practice. All I had to do was to concentrate my whole attention on the talk, try to memorise it, and then jot it down verbatim in my notebook as faithfully as possible as soon as I returned to my room, when it was still fresh in my mind. It was all along forbidden to write or take down notes in the Hall, except the devotee appointed for that purpose, and he too was stopped after about two years. That was therefore my only device to preserve for myself at first hand the valuable oral teaching of the Master.

In the first year of my stay I was a keen and close questioner, mainly on the technique of meditation. Bhagavan’s answers to these questions I recorded particularly carefully. Some of them appear here under my own initial C., or Mr. C. as that of the questioner. I have classified most of the notes according to subject and, as far as possible, in chronological order, beginning with the light ones, for the convenience of the reader.

I

LIGHT DIALOGUES

The great awe which Sri Bhagavan inspires makes him appear to new visitors too lofty, too majestic for humour, but soon afterwards they realise the fact that refined humour and wit emanate from that divine bliss which all spiritual Masters enjoy in an eminent degree. Their cosmic vision makes them view all phenomena and events as the mere play of the Lord – His Leela, His Cosmic Dance – which is all joy and beauty. But nothing is farther from my mind than to disparage anyone in recording the following dialogues or to exalt them as specimens of his humour: they merely reflect the minds of some visitors, as the serious questions reflect those of the more serious. It is but right that the reader should have a peep into both.

1. THE BELIEVER IN THE IMPERSONAL

Dr. H., of the small group of Americans, who spent a few weeks in the Ashram in February 1936, asked Sri Maharshi if there exists such a thing as a Personal God. Bhagavan. Yes, Ishvara. Dr. H. (with astonishment) What? with eyes, nose, ears, etc.? Bh. Yes, if you have them why should not God also have

them?

C. When I read in the Kabbala and the Puranas that God has

these organs, I laugh. Bh. Why don’t you laugh at yourself for having them?

2. THE BUSINESS MAN

Sometime afterwards Dr. H. came alone again to the Ashram for a few days’ stay. He had heard of the sanctity of the hill and of the number of disembodied siddhas (saints with psychic powers) who dwell in it in their astral bodies, and who at times were said to appear physically to some privileged persons. On the last night of his stay, he took it into his head to have his fill of the hill with, as he confided later to a friend, the secret hope of coming face to face with one of them. Being ignorant of the difficulty of the ground at night, he continued to roam among the boulders long after dark.

Sri Bhagavan, who in those days kept a watchful eye over newcomers, particularly foreigners, missed him, and, having been told that he had been seen going up late in the evening, he immediately despatched devotees with gas lamps in search of him. At last the American friend was found and brought down.

He entered the Hall jaded and with clothes wet from the drizzle that had fallen during his jaunt. There was a cane chair – the only one in the Hall – opposite Sri Bhagavan’s sofa. On that chair he sat, and started telling his adventure on the hill. After finishing his story, he turned to Sri Bhagavan and naively said:American. Oh, Maharishi, if you give me Self Realisation,

how grateful I’ll be to you! Bhagavan. Eum! Eum! Am. Indeed I’ll be very happy. Tomorrow I am leaving this

place and shall always think of you. Bh. (gently chuckling) You will never go. Am. (thinking that Maharshi was going to use siddhis to

prevent him from going, he was very scared indeed.) How? I am certainly going. I have urgent work in the United States. My passport is ready, and my passage booked. I made all the necessary arrangements for my return journey. How do you mean I am not going?

Bh. (still chuckling) You will never go, because you never came. It was only the car, the ship, the train, etc., that moved. You did absolutely nothing but sit all the time, till you found yourself here.

Am. (with a sigh of relief) Oh that!

3. THE PEDANT

On a summer morning a middle-aged Tamilian entered

and sat for about half an hour. His restlessness and rolling

eyes suggested that he had something weighty on his mind.

At last he spoke with an assumed humility, particularly as he

chose to speak in English.

Visitor. Swami, we ignorant people read so much, hoping to have an inkling of Truth, but, alas, the more we read the more Truth recedes from our ken. I have read all the Western philosophers from Descartes to Bertrand Russell – they are all useless. But our Rishis differ among themselves. Shankara says, “Go on repeating ‘I am Brahman’ and you become Brahman.” Madhvacharya says that the Soul is ever separated from Brahman. You say “Enquire ‘who am I’ and you will arrive.” Many other teachers gave many other solutions. Is this not puzzling? Which of you is right?

V. (Having waited in vain for about five minutes, he resumed with a mildly raised tone) Swami, which way am I to go?

Bh. (with a gentle wave of the hand) Go the way you came.

4. THE MISSIONARY

A few spick-and-span Europeans entered the Hall one morning, slightly bowed to Bhagavan and sat in the front row. Their leader was immediately recognised as a veteran Missionary, famous for his fiery preachings in YMCAs., Christian colleges, and public halls of towns and cities in India. One of the others was his private secretary. The preacher began with a question to set the ball rolling towards his pet theme. After some answers Bhagavan eventually referred him to the Self as the ultimate reality, without knowing the identity and motive of the questioner. That was excuse enough for the latter to fire a stream of quotations from the Christian scripture with his own interpretations on them.

Fortunately, before he went very far, Major Chadwick who at that time usually meditated there, shouted a challenge from the other end of the Hall in a powerful stentorian voice, which took him completely by surprise and eventually made him think it wise to keep silent and soon afterwards leave the Hall with his party.

5. THE PHILOSOPHER

April, 1943. A young man in his teens, with blushing cheeks and a very soft, timorous voice asked:– Youth. Swami, can I see God in this life? ......

Bhagavan. (gently smiling) First tell me who is the “I” in

your question; who, what, and where God is, and what

do you mean by “life”?

The youth dropped his eyes and remained silent.

An elderly man from the back rushed forward, produced a pencil, wrote a question on a piece of paper and handed it to the Maharshi. Bhagavan read it and smiled broadly. It was

a question on Time and Space.
Bhagavan. May I know who is putting this question – Space,

yourself, or Time? Visitor. Of course I. Bh. Do you know that I?

V. (after a little hesitation) Leave the I-question to the philosophers and answer my question. Voice. What? Is Time or Space dearer to you than your own self?

Bh. (seeing the visitor nonplussed) All these questions are superfluous. One thing you must bear in mind is that no question can be solved without Self-knowledge. On the realisation of the Self everything becomes clear and all problems are solved.

6. THE SCIENTIST

A fortnight later a science student strolled in.

Student. Science tells us that the atom is made of a nucleus in the centre, with electrons moving round it in the intervening space. Is the relation between God and the Perfect Man the same as these or different? I mean, although God and the Jnani are one unit, yet they preserve their separate identities.

Bh. Who is the Perfect Man?

Student. He who has perfected himself by sadhana.

Bh. So you think yourself imperfect that you ask this question. Will it not then be better for you to perform sadhana and perfect yourself and then you will know what happens? Why bother now about a state which comes only after Perfection. The fact is that you are even now perfect and your supposed imperfection is only your own creation.

2nd April 1937

7. THE SCEPTIC

A very busy Polish journalist came for a few hours this afternoon, within which time he expected to be shown the Truth in the clearest possible manner.

Pole. I have read in your books that one should enquire into the nature of one’s ‘I’ in order to know the Truth, which you call the Self. From biological science I have my own answer to the question of my own identity. What I wish to know is, who are you, you who speak of, and seem to have experienced, the Self? If another man confirms your statement, and so will a million, then there is the probability of the Self.

Bh. Have you no self yourself? Are you then in the region of probabilities, even with regard to your own self?

P. Yes, one cannot be sure of anything; even God cannot be

proved with absolute certainty. Bh. Leave God alone for the present. What of yourself?

P. I want confirmation of the Self.

Bh. You seek confirmation of yourself from others? How do you know that others exist?

P. By my senses. Bh. ‘My’ implies the ‘I’, which owns the senses. You take your existence for granted, at the same time ask others to prove it to you. Similarly you admit the certainty of your senses, which see others, whilst denying all certainty. You see how you contradict yourself. The fact is that

there are no others: there is no such a person as ‘you’. Each man, although addressed as ‘you’, styles himself as ‘I’. Even the confirmation you demand from others comes only from the ‘I’. ‘You’ and ‘they’ occur only to the ‘I’, without which they are meaningless.

P. If you are right, what becomes of progress and science? Bh. Progress and science are meant only for the perceiving mind. For whom is the progress if the mind is absent, say, in deep sleep, or in a swoon? The goal of all progress and science, you admit, is Truth, which is the Pure Intelligence, the substratum Consciousness, from which the thinking mind sprouts, and into which it is ultimately dissolved, when what you call ‘Perfection’, to which science aspires to lead, is attained. This is what we call

realisation of the Self, that is, realisation of the source of the mind.

II

LIFE, DEATH, REBIRTH AND SUICIDE

Death and, to a lesser degree, Life and Rebirth, form the subject-matter of the majority of the questions asked by visitors. Death is the greatest catastrophe men dread. Omar Khayyam who sang:

“. . . Before we too into the Dust descend;

Dust into Dust and under Dust to lie,

Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer and sans End,”

is not alone in taking man as the merest dust and the grave as his last destination. The horror of everlasting extinction grips and numbs all hearts, even the stoutest.

To the Maharshi, death, like life, is a mere thought. When you are “awake,” you incessantly think, and when you go to sleep and dream, you do not think any the lesser. But when you pass from dreamful to dreamless sleep, your thoughts cease and you enjoy undisturbed peace, till you wake again and resume your thinking and with it your restless, peace-less state.

Life is miserable because it consists of nothing but thoughts. When death strikes down the body, the dreamless, thought-free state prevails for a brief period, but soon thinking starts again in the dream – “astral” – world, and continues till a full “waking” takes place in a new body, after another dreamless lull. This daily cycle of waking and sleeping is a miniature of the cycle of life and death in man and the universe, of alternation of activity and rest. The substance of the former is thoughts and sensations and of the latter the peaceful being from which these arise. To transcend birth and death we have, therefore, to transcend the processes of thought and abide in the eternal being.

* * * *

4th January, 1937

1. A visitor asks Sri Maharshi: Visitor. How can the terrible fear of death be overcome? Bhagavan. When does that fear seize you? Does it come when

you do not see your body, say, in dreamless sleep, or when you are under chloroform? It haunts you only when you are fully “awake” and perceive the world, including your body. If you do not see these and remain your pure self, as in dreamless sleep, no fear can touch you.

If you trace this fear to the object, the loss of which gives rise to it, you will find that that object is not the body, but the mind which functions in it and through which the environment and the attractive world is known as sights, sounds, smells, etc. Many a man would be too glad to be rid of his diseased body and all the problems and inconvenience it creates for him if continued awareness were vouchsafed to him. It is the awareness, the consciousness, and not the body, he fears to lose. Men love existence because it is eternal awareness, which is their own Self. Why not then hold on to the pure awareness right now, while in the body and be free from all fear?

2. A Mysorean, Mr. M. had read some Theosophical books and stayed here for some months trying to digest them. He wanted to know about rebirths.

M. Theosophy speaks of 50 to 10,000-year intervals between death and rebirth. Why is this so?

Bh. There is no relation between the standard of measurements of one state of consciousness and another. All such measurements are hypothetical. It is true that some individuals take more time and some less. But it must be distinctly understood that it is not the soul that comes and goes, but the thinking mind of the individual, which makes it appear to do so. On whatever plane the mind happens to act, it creates a body for itself: in the physical world a physical body, in the dream world a dream body, which becomes wet with dream rain and sick with dream diseases. After the death of the physical body, the mind remains inactive for some time, as in dreamless sleep, when it remains worldless and therefore bodiless. But soon it becomes active again in a new world and a new body – the astral, – till it assumes another body in what is called a “rebirth”. But the Jnani, the Self-Realised man, whose mind has already ceased to act, remains unaffected by death: it has dropped never to rise again to cause births and deaths. The chain of illusions has snapped forever for him.

It is now clear that there is neither real birth, nor real death. It is the mind which creates and maintains the illusion of reality in this process, till it is destroyed by Self-Realisation.

* * * *

12th April, 1937

3. A Dutch lady, Mrs. Gonggrijp, a resident of Adyar, is here on a three-day visit. She wants to know the cause of the urge to live, known in the Pali scriptures by the name of Tanha, which is inherent in all life.

Mrs. G. What is the cause of tanha, thirst for life, thirst for rebirth?

Bh. Real rebirth is dying from the ego into the Spirit. This is the significance of the crucifixion of Jesus. Whenever identification with the body exists, a body is always available, whether in this or in any other one, till the body-sense disappears by merging into the Source – the Spirit, or Self. The stone which is projected upwards remains in constant motion, till it returns to its source, the earth, and rests. Headache continues to give trouble, till the pre-headache state is regained.

Thirst for life is inherent in the very nature of life, which is Absolute Existence – Sat. Although indestructible by nature, by false identification with its destructible instrument, the body, consciousness imbibes a false apprehension of its destructibility, hence it tries to perpetuate that instrument, which results in a succession of births. But however long these bodies may last, they eventually come to an end and yield to the Self, which alone eternally exists.

Mr. C. Yes, “Give up thy life if thou wouldst live,” says the “Voice of the Silence” of H. P. Blavatsky.

Bh. Give up the false identification and, remember, the body cannot exist without the Self, whereas the Self can exist without the body; in fact it is always without it.

Mr. C. A doubt has just now arisen in Mrs. G’s mind, as she has just heard that a human being may take an animal birth in some other life, which is contrary to what Theosophy has taught her.

Bh. Let him who takes birth ask this question. Find out first who it is that is born, and whether there are actual birth and death. These are only of the ego, which is an illusion of the mind.

5th May, 1943

4. Mr. B. is a keen devotee of Sri Bhagavan. A few days ago he lost his only son, which shook his faith in the Maharshi and in God’s grace. For some days he went on strike by staying away from the Ashram, but today he came in “to have it out” with Sri Bhagavan with a long list of questions which he had prepared. After receiving some answers he was satisfied.

Mr. B. What is Faith?
Bh. Faith, Love, Grace, are all your nature, the Self.

B. If so, Faith and Grace are obtainable only on the Realisation of the Self. All that we call Faith etc., before then is variable and untrue.

Bh. Quite so.

B. Is sorrow a thought? Bh. All thoughts are sorrowful.

B. Even pleasurable thoughts must be also sorrowful.

Bh. Yes, because thoughts take one’s attention away from the Self, which is undiluted Happiness.

B. What made Bhagavan come to Arunachala? Bh. What made you all come?

B. By that I want to know whether there has been any difference in Bhagavan’s spiritual outlook between the day he left Madura and now.

Bh. None at all: the same experience has prevailed throughout without change.

B. Then where was the need for Bhagavan to write hymns in praise of Arunachala? Was that for him or for us?

Bh. I do not know why I wrote them. It might have been for others.

B. What is Life?
Bh. Materially speaking Life is the body; spiritually speaking

it is the Ultimate Consciousness. It depends on how you look at it.

B. What is Death?
Bh. It is oblivion of one’s real nature.

At this stage a visitor interrupted by asking whether suicide was a wrong act. Bh. Killing the innocent body is certainly wrong. Suicide must

be committed on the mind, where the suffering is deposited, and not on the body, which is insentient and feels nothing. The mind is the real culprit, being the creator of the anguish which tempts to suicide, but by an error of judgement, the innocent, insentient body is punished for it.

* * * *

3rd September, 1948

5. Three Anglo-Indian lady-doctors came from Bangalore. One of them had recently lost her husband in an air crash. She asked Sri Bhagavan:

Lady. Is there rebirth?
Bh. Do you know what birth is?

L. O yes, I know that I exist now, but I want to know if I’ll

exist in the future. Bh. Past!.... Present!.... Future!....

L. Yes, today is the result of yesterday, the Past, and tomorrow, the Future, will be the result of today, the Present. Am I right?

Bh. There is neither Past nor Future. There is only the Present. Yesterday was the present to you when you experienced it, and tomorrow will be also the present when you will experience it. Therefore experience takes place only in the present, and beyond experience nothing exists.

L. Are then Past and Future mere imagination? Bh. Yes, even the Present is mere imagination, for the sense of time is purely mental. Space is similarly mental;

therefore birth and rebirth, which take place in time and space cannot be other than imagination.

* * * *

22nd February, 1949

6. A well-educated North Indian came forward, prostrated to Sri Bhagavan and sat in the front line. He asked in excellent English:

Visitor. What is the cause and origin of the universe? Bh. Have you no worries of your own?

V. Of course I have; that is why I want to know about Life, Death, Consciousness, etc.

Bh. Begin with the beginning: who has Life, Consciousness, etc.? Have you, for instance, life?

V. Of course I know I am alive, for I see my body.

Bh. Do you always see the body? What happens to it and to the universe when you go to sleep?

V. I don’t know, it is a mystery.

Bh. You may not know what happens to them, but do you for that reason cease to exist?

V. I don’t know.

Bh. How do you then know that you exist even now?

V. Now I have awareness and see my body moving and thinking.

Bh. But you see your body also moving and thinking and being in all sorts of places while it is actually lying fast asleep in Tiruvannamalai.

V. It is a mystery. Can I say that I, the permanent, am ever present and only my ego changes?

Bh. So you think you are two persons: the permanent ‘I’ and the ego. Is that possible?

V. Then please show me the way to the Real. Bh.The Real is ever-present, like the screen on which all the cinematographic pictures move. While the pictures appear on it, it remains invisible. Stop the pictures, and the screen, which has all along been present, in fact the only object that has existed throughout, will become clear. All these universes, humans, objects, thoughts and events are merely pictures moving on the screen of Pure Consciousness, which alone is real. Shapes and phenomena pass away, but Consciousness remains ever. A few days later Sri Bhagavan gave a different answer to a similar question asked by Dr. Godel, a French Medical Officer of the Suez Canal. He told the doctor: “You must distinguish between the ‘I’, pure in itself, and the ‘I’thought. The latter, being merely a thought, sees subject and object, sleeps, wakes up, eats and thinks, dies and is reborn. But the pure ‘I’ is the pure Being, eternal existence, free from ignorance and thought-illusion. If

you stay as the ‘I’, your being alone, without thought, the I-thought will disappear and the delusion will vanish forever. In a cinema-show you can see pictures only in a very dim light or in darkness. But when all lights are switched on, all pictures disappear. So also in the floodlight of the Supreme Atman all objects disappear.”

Dr. G. That is the Transcendental State.

Bh. No, transcending what, and by whom? You alone exist.

III

HAPPINESS AND MISERY IN CREATION

4th May, 1937

A book is being read in which a question occurs whether

the world was created for happiness or misery. All eyes turn

to Sri Bhagavan for the answer.

Bhagavan. Creation is neither good nor bad; it is as it is. It is the human mind which puts all sorts of constructions on it, as it sees things from its own angle and as it suits its own interests. A woman is just a woman, but one mind calls her “mother,” another “sister,” and still another “aunt” and so on. Men love women, hate snakes, and are indifferent to the grass and stones by the roadside. These connections are the causes of all the misery in the world. Creation is like a peepul tree: birds come to eat its fruit, or take shelter under its branches, men cool themselves in its shade, but some may hang themselves on it. Yet the tree continues to lead its quiet life, unconcerned with, and unaware of, all the uses it is put to. It is the human mind that creates its own difficulties and then cries for help. Is God so partial as to give peace to one person and sorrow to another? In creation there is room for everything, but man refuses to see the good, the healthy and the beautiful, and goes on whining, like the hungry man who sits beside a tasty dish and, instead of stretching out his hand to satisfy his hunger, he goes on lamenting.

Whose fault is it, God’s or man’s? But fortunately for man, God, in His infinite mercy, never forsakes him. He always gives him new chances by providing Gurus and Scriptures to guide him to find the errors of his ways and ultimately gain eternal happiness.

Visitor. We know that the pleasures of this world are useless and even painful, yet we long for them. What is the way of ending that longing?

Bhagavan. Think of God and attachments will gradually drop from you. If you wait till all desires disappear to start your devotion and prayer, you will have to wait a very, very long time indeed.

IV

KARMA

15th August, 1948

A visitor from the North seemed to be extremely agitated. With much emotion he asked several searching questions, one of which, was why there was so much evil in the world, and why should evil-doers be more successful than good-doers? If it were due to Karma, who made that Karma, and why should it be so arbitrarily dispensed – various karma to various individuals, which become the cause of so much misery and turmoil? Sri Bhagavan, realising the agony of the questioner’s heart, was infinitely gracious to him. He answered all his questions pithily and with amazing clarity. About karma he said: “Whose karma is it? There are two creations, one God’s and the other man’s. The former is single and free from karma. The latter is varied and has varied karmas. If man removes his own creation, there will be no varied individuals and no varied karmas; misery will thus disappear. He who kills man’s creation sees heaven only, the others see only hell.

“It is every intelligent man’s experience that evil-doing recoils on the doer sooner or later. Why is this so? Because the Self is one in all. When seeing others you are only seeing yourself in their shapes. ‘Love thy neighbour as thyself’ means that you should love him, because he is your Self.”

V

FREE-WILL, UNPREMEDITATED ACTION

19th June, 1936

1. A visitor wanted to know if there was such a thing as Free-Will.

Bh. Whose will is it? So long as there is the sense of doership, there is the sense of enjoyment and of individual will. But if this sense is lost through the practice of vichara, the Divine will, will act and guide the course of events. Fate is overcome by Jnana, Self-knowledge, which is beyond Will and Fate.

* * * *

9th November, 1936

2. Mr C. asks where the will is located in the sheaths of the jiva.

Bh. The Will is the purposive force of the ‘I’, which determines and impels an act. It is thus inherent in the ‘I’. In which sheath is it located? It must be where the ‘I’-sense is, namely, in the vijnanamayakosha.

Annamayakosha is the physical sheath. Pranamayakosha is the sheath of the life and sense. Manomayakosha is that of thoughts and sense-perceptions – of subject and object: and vijnanamayakosha is the sheath of the ‘I’-sense, where the self-conscious individual wills and determines. It is really unnecessary to go into all this detail. What we should be concerned with is the true nature of the ‘I’, which is the pivot of all these sheaths and worlds. The true ‘I’ is the Supreme Reality.

* * * *

19th May, 1936

3. A French Doctor of Philosophy came for the day. He asked: “How should a seeker work?”

Bh. Without taking himself to be the actor, that is he should work without motive or a hard-cast plan. For instance, when you started on a journey from Paris did you include this place in your itinerary?

Dr. No. Bh. Now you see how you came without previous planning. The Gita says that no one can remain inactive, and that the purpose of one’s birth will be fulfilled whether one wills it or not. It is therefore wise to allow the purpose to be fulfilled by itself.

* * * *

10th February, 1944

4. In this connection it is relevant to record here a single instance of how the Divine Will automatically acted to the benefit of a devotee through an unpremeditated action.

About a month ago Shiva, one of the Master’s attendants, was for some reason dismissed from service, and he immediately left for his village. Last night he returned and related the following story to Sri Bhagavan in our presence. He said:–

“As I detrained at the railway station of my village on the next day of my leaving the Ashram, about a month ago, I saw a relation of mine there. Seeing me, he came running and shouted: ‘Hello, you have come, I was just going to send you this telegram. Your father is dying and wants to see you badly.’ I was stunned and realised that I had been dismissed from service so that I might be there in time. When I entered my home, my father, who had not been opening his eyes or talking, suddenly opened them and, seeing me, smiled and said: ‘At last you have come, santosham (I am happy).’ After an hour he breathed his last.”

VI

EGO

17th February, 1937

1. Mrs. D. Jinarajadasa, wife of the late President of the Theosophical Society and resident of Adyar, Madras, wanted to go to the root of the human ego, which is the cause of so much discord between nations, families and individuals.

Mrs. J. What is the difference between the ego and the Self? Bh. That which comes and goes, rises and sets, is born and dies is the ego. That which always abides, never changes

and is devoid of qualities is the Self. Mrs. J. Can I say that God is the Flame and we are the sparks? Bh. Although the sparks rise from the flame, they fall away

from it into space, whereas we are never outside God. Mrs. J. But is there a God apart from ourselves? Naturally there must be a creator to this universe. Bh. If by “ourselves” you mean your body, then there is a creator, but if you mean the pure Self, then there is nothing but It. If you objectify and see a universe, then you are bound to see many things beside yourself and postulate a God, the creator. Body, God and world rise and set together from, and into, the Self. If God is apart from the Self, then He would be Self-less, that is, outside existence, that is, non-existent. Mrs. J. I suppose one has to sublimate the ego-self into the true Self.

Bh. The ego-self does not exist at all.

Mrs. J. Then why does it give so much trouble? Look at the havoc it has created among nations and people. It is dreadful even to oneself.

Bh. To whom is the trouble? The trouble also is imagined. Pain and pleasure are to the ego, which is itself imagined. When the ego disappears through constant enquiry into its nature, the illusion of pleasure and pain also disappears, and the Self, their source, alone remains.

There is neither ego nor ignorance in Reality.

Mrs. J. But how did the ego arise?

Bh. Ego is non-existent, otherwise you would be two instead of one – you the ego and you the Self. You are a single, indivisible whole. Enquire into yourself, and the apparent ego and ignorance will disappear.

Mrs. J. Why then do we need to concentrate?

Bh. Concentration, meditation and all spiritual practices are not performed with the object of realising the Self, because the Self is ever-present, but of realising the non-existence of ignorance. Every man admits his own existence and does not need a mirror to prove it to him. Existence is awareness, which is the negation of ignorance. Then why does a man suffer? Because he imagines himself other than what he in reality is, e.g., the body, this, that, and the other – “I am Gopal, son of Parashuram, father of Natesan,” etc. In reality he is the intelligent “I-am” alone, stripped of qualities and superimpositions, of names and forms. Does he see his body and all these qualities, shapes and colours in dreamless sleep? Yet he does not deny that he is then himself existing even without a body. He must hold on to that existence, that lone being – Kaivalya – even when he is in the waking state. The man of wisdom simply is. “I-Am-That-I-Am” sums up the whole Truth. The method is summed up by “Be still and know that I am God.” What does stillness mean? Cessation of thinking, which is the universe of forms, colours, qualities, time, space, all concepts and precepts whatever.

* * * *

A visitor asked “If the ego or ‘I’ be an illusion who then casts off the illusion?”

Bh. The ‘I’ casts off the illusion of ‘I’ and yet remains as ‘I’. This appears to be a paradox to you: it is not so to the Jnani. Take the case of the bhakta. His ‘I’ prays to the Lord to unite it with Him, which is its surrender. What remains as residuum after this surrender, is the eternal ‘I’, which is God the Absolute, Paramatman Himself. What has happened to the ‘I’, which originally prayed? Being unreal, it simply vanished.

* * * *

18th November, 1936

2. Visitor. Sushupti is so peaceful that one would love to stay as long as possible in it, but cannot, why?

Bh. We are ever in sushupti. Becoming aware of it in jagrat is samadhi. The ajnani cannot remain long in sushupti because his ego pushes him out of it. The Jnani, although he has scotched the ego, it continues to rise again and again due to prarabdha. So, for both the Jnani and the ajnani the ego springs up, but with this difference: whereas the Jnani’s enjoys the transcendental experience, keeping its lakshya (aim, attention) always fixed on its source, that of the ajnani is completely ignorant of it. The former is not harmful, being a mere skeleton of its normal self, like a burnt up rope. By constantly fixing its attention on the Source, the Heart, the ego gets dissolved into it like a salt doll which has fallen into the ocean.

* * * *

14th March, 1943

3. Professor M. Venkataramiah (later Swami Ramananda Saraswati) asked whether the light which gives the “Aham” – ‘I’-sense – identity and knowledge (of the world) is ignorance or chit (Pure Consciousness). Sri Bhagavan replied:–

Bh. It is only the reflected light of chit that makes the ‘I’ believe itself different from others and create the objects. For reflection there must be a surface on which the reflection takes place.

Ella Maillart. What is that surface? Bh. On realisation of the Self you will find that the reflection and the surface on which it takes place do not actually exist, but that both of them are one and the same chit. There is the world, which requires location for its existence and light to make it perceptible. Both rise simultaneously. Therefore physical existence and perception depend upon the light of the mind which is reflected from the Self. Just as cinematographic pictures can be made visible by a reflected light, and only in darkness, so also the world pictures are perceptible only by the light of the Self reflected in the darkness of avidya (ignorance). The world can be seen neither in the utter darkness of ignorance, as in deep sleep, nor in the utter light of the Self, as in Self-realisation or samadhi.

VII

DANGER OF PHILOSOPHY

10th April, 1937

A highly learned visitor whose chief interest was man

and his constitution, wanted Sri Bhagavan to explain from

experience man’s various bodies, his koshas and their functions,

his atma-buddhi-manas, etc.

Bh. (after a brief explanation added) The intricate maze of philosophy of different schools claims to clarify matters and reveal the Truth, but in fact they create confusion where no confusion need exist. To understand anything there must needs be the understanding being. Why worry about his bodies, his ahankar, his buddhi, creation, God, Mahatmas, world – the not-Self – at all? Why not remain yourself and be in peace? Take Vedanta, for instance: it speaks of the fifteen pranas, the names and functions of which the student is asked to commit to memory. Will it not be sufficient if he is taught that only one prana does the whole work of maintaining life in the body? Again, the antahkarana is said to think, to desire, to will, to reason, etc. Why all these details? Has anyone seen the antahkarana, or all these pranas? Do they really exist? They are all conceptual divisions invented by teachers of philosophy by their excessive analysis. Where do all these concepts end? Why should confusion be created and then explained away? Fortunate is the man who does not lose himself in the labyrinths of philosophy, but goes straight to the Source from which they all rise.

VIII

SURRENDER

Visitor. What is self-surrender?

Bh. It is the same as mind-control. The ego submits when it recognises the higher authority of the Atman. This is the beginning of surrender. Although the ego cannot exist without the Self, yet, due to its ignorance of this fact, it remains rebellious, and acts on its own initiatives and by its own will.

V. How can the rebellious ego be subjugated? Bh. Either by seeking its source, when it automatically disappears, or by deliberately surrendering all its actions, motives and decisions, striking thereby at its root. Habits create the false notion that thinking is a permanent institution, with which it is impossible to dispense, but enquiry and discrimination will blast this fallacy. None

succeeds without effort and the successful few owe their victory to perseverance.

V. People prostrate before God or the Guru to prove, I suppose, or at least to show their surrender.

Bh. True surrender is the melting of the ego in its Source, the Heart. God is not deceived by physical genuflections; what He sees in the worshipper is how much of the ego remains in full control and how much is on the verge of self-destruction.

IX

MAYA

Of all the aspects of Advaita philosophy that of Maya is the most difficult to understand, still more to explain. Some interpret it as ignorance, others as dream, others still as illusion, and nothing but experience can explain it satisfactorily. In the meantime considerable misunderstanding is created by explanations – the more it is explained, the more obscure it becomes.

In one of the Ashrams I visited in 1939 I met a Canadian lady. She had come to India “in search of Truth,” and had visited many yogis and Ashrams, the last of which was the Ramakrishna Mutt in Madras. We talked as usual on yoga, meditation, etc., but when I mentioned the word “maya”, she gasped, clutched her throat, and dropped her voice: “Don’t say it,” she whispered, “those people of Ramakrishna Mission were about to destroy me, but God came to my rescue and I escaped.”

I. How do you mean, did they want to kill you? They are sannyasis.

She. Not my body, but my soul. They told me that nothing

exists: no world, no human beings, no trees, nothing,

nothing – all is illusion, all my own imagination, and

that I cannot kill the illusion till I surrender myself.

Where will I be without my soul and mind?

I had no alternative but to change the subject.

But Sri Bhagavan’s explanations are superb, as will be

seen from the following dialogues.

* * * *

1. Mr. C. wanted to know the mystery of this gigantic world illusion.

C. We speak of the world as illusion, yet everything in it follows rigid laws, which proves it to be well-planned and well-regulated.

Bhagavan. Yes, he who projected the illusion gave it the appearance of order and sound planning.

C. All spiritual institutions except the Advaitic give prominence to the creative aspect of Reality, which they name God. They speak of prophets, saints, scriptures, etc. Are they all illusion?

Bh. They all exist in the same way as you, the questioner, exist. You are in the relative world, so they are; or else you would not have known of them. In dreams one also sees a well-regulated world with saints, scriptures, etc., but the moment one wakes up they all disappear. So also waking from this dream world into the Supreme Consciousness causes them all to disappear.

C. But how out of Truth does illusion, falsehood spring up? Bh. Maya is not falsehood, although it has the appearance of it, but the active side of Reality. It is the maker of forms in Consciousness and form means variety, which causes illusion – mind you, all this variety is in consciousness and nowhere else; it is only in the mind. One jiva, seeing another jiva, forgets its identity with it and thinks of it as separate from itself. But the moment it turns its attention on its own nature as consciousness, and not as

form, the illusion of diversity or separateness breaks as a dream breaks when waking takes place.

C. It is hard to conceive God, the formless, giving rise to forms.

Bh. Why hard? Does not your mind remain formless when you do not perceive or think, say, in deep sleep, in samadhi, or in a swoon? And does it not create space and relationship when it thinks and impels your body to act? Just as your mind devises and your body executes in one homogeneous, automatic act, so automatic, in fact, that most people are not aware of the process, so does the Divine Intelligence devise and plan and His Energy automatically and spontaneously acts – the thought and the act are one integral whole. This Creative Energy which is implicit in Pure Intelligence is called by various names, one of which is maya or shakti, the Creator of forms or images.

* * * *

14th June, 1948

2. Mr. Subbaramayyah, the late Professor of English, is a frequent visitor. Whenever he comes he discusses ancient Vedantic books with the Master. Today’s talk is about Kaivalyam. Maya comes up in the middle and claims attention. Sri Bhagavan explains:

“Every plane has its own illusion, which can be destroyed only by another illusion on the same plane. For example, a man takes a full meal and goes to sleep. He dreams of being hungry in spite of the jagrat food in his stomach. To satisfy the dream hunger, he has to take dream food. A wound in dream requires dream treatment. A great king once dreamt that he was ill but was too poor to call a doctor. He had to beg the doctor’s fees from his friends to receive medical help. Although he had fabulous wealth in the waking state, it could be of no use to him in the dream state. Similarly the illusion of ajnana (ignorance) can be destroyed only by the illusion of guru-upadesa (the Master’s teaching). Mukti (liberation) is ever-present and bondage ever-absent, yet the universal experience is the reverse.”

* * * *

16th February, 1937

3. A visitor remarks that it is cruel of God’s leela to make the knowledge of the Self so hard.

Bh. (laughing) -Knowing the Self is being the Self, and being means existence – one’s own existence, which no one denies, any more than one denies one’s eyes, although one cannot see them. The trouble lies with your desire to objectify the Self, in the same way as you objectify your eyes when you place a mirror before them. You have been so accustomed to objectivity that you lost the knowledge of yourself, simply because the Self cannot be objectified. Who is to know the self? Can the insentient body know it? All the time you speak and think of your ‘I’, ‘I’, ‘I’, yet when questioned you deny knowledge of it. You are the Self, yet you ask how to know the Self. Where then is God’s leela and where its cruelty? It is because of this denial of the Self by people that the Shastras speak of maya, leela, etc.

* * * *

15th April, 1937

4. A frequent visitor to the Ashram is cogitating over the problem of Maya and its relation to the waking and dream states.

V. Is there any genuine difference between the experience of jagrat and that of dreams?

Bh. None, except that jagrat appears to be more enduring than the other to the person who is in jagrat, though not so to the dreamer himself. The person in jagrat relates his dream to have sometimes covered hundreds of years, hence he calls it transitory, whereas actually there is not the slightest difference between the nature of the two states.

C. There is this difference: each time we return to jagrat, we come to the same place, same people, same activities and interests, which is not the case with going to the svapna state.

Bh. This is because things move very rapidly in dreams, as they appear now to you in jagrat. But each time you go to the dream world do you feel being a stranger in it? Do you not feel thoroughly at home with the people and places as you do here? Don’t you sometimes dream of being a minister, or meeting your father who had died in jagrat long ago, or seeing God seated on a throne, etc., without noticing any incongruity in it? The dream is as real then to you as jagrat is now. Where is the difference? If you call the dream illusion, why do you not do so to jagrat also?

V. Arjuna saw the Divine Form of Sri Krishna. Was that vision true?

Bh. Sri Krishna started the discourse in Chapter II of the Bhagavad Gita with: “I have no form,” etc., but in Chapter XI, He said: “I transcend the three worlds . . . ,” yet Arjuna saw these in Him. Again Sri Krishna said: “I am Time.” Does time have a form? If the universe is His form, should it not be uniform and changeless, He being the Changeless One? The solution to these apparent contradictions lies in His statement to Arjuna: “See in Me all you desire to see. . . ,” which means that His form varies according to the desires and conceptions of the seer. Men speak of divine visions, yet paint them differently with the seer himself in the scene. Even hypnotists can make one see strange scenes and phenomena, which you condemn as tricks and jugglery, whereas the former you extol as Divine. Why is this difference? The fact is that all sights are unreal, whether they come from the senses or the mind as pure concepts. THIS IS THE TRUTH.

* * * *

4th January, 1937

5. A disciple remarks that Sri Bhagavan often says that maya and Reality are the same. How can that be?

Bh. Shankara was criticised for his views on Maya without understanding him. He said that (1) Brahman is real,

(2) The universe is unreal, and (3) Brahman is the universe. He did not stop at the second, because the third explains the other two. It signifies that the universe is real if perceived as the Self, and unreal if perceived apart from the Self. Hence Maya and Reality are one and the same.

X

GURU

The rise of a new political ideology in the West after the first World War made men intolerant of all authority. The forces it released and the spirit of rebellion it disseminated everywhere had such extremely wide repercussions that its influence stamped itself on most of the new world literature. It invaded even the spiritual sphere and coloured the views of the rising generation of preachers, who became the Messiahs of the new age.

The truly-seeking minds were thus caught between the spirit of the new age and that of the venerable traditions and scriptures, which had, throughout the centuries, produced spiritual giants who led millions “from the unreal to the Real and from death to Immortality.”

It is small wonder then that bewildered, earnest, truth-hungry men should anxiously visit the Maharshi and seek his advice on the need or otherwise of a guru.

* * * *

June, 1937

Visitor. I have been following a certain school of thought, which completely dispenses with gurus. But after many years of deep thinking I have now come to the conclusion that a guide is absolutely essential on the difficult path which leads to spiritual liberation. I take Bhagavan to have reached the Highest, and so I beg of him to enlighten me.

Bh. All scriptures recommend spiritual teachers. The guru is none other than the goal men seek, the Self. As the seeker’s mind is bent outward, the Self takes a human shape as a guru to help driving it inward. Thayumanavar says that God, Self, or Guru appears as a man to dispel the ignorance of man, just as a deer is used as a decoy to capture a wild deer. He has to appear in a body in order to dispel the “I-am-the-body” notion of the seeker.

* * * *

30th October, 1945

2. Sri Dilip Kumar Roy of Sri Aurobindo Ashram this morning sang in the presence of Maharshi in the Hall and in the evening asked the following questions:

Dilip. Some people reported you to have said that there was no need for a guru. Others gave the opposite report. What does Maharshi say?

Bh. I have never said that there is no need for a guru.

D. Sri Aurobindo and others refer to you as having had no guru. Bh. All depends on what you call guru. He need not be in a human form. Dattatreya had twenty-four gurus: the five elements – earth, water, etc., which means that every object in this world was his guru. Guru is absolutely necessary. The Upanishads say that none but a guru can

take a man out of the jungle of intellect and sense-perceptions. So there must be a guru.

D. I mean a human guru – the Maharshi did not have one. Bh. I might have had one at one time or other. But did I not

sing hymns to Arunachala? What is a guru? Guru is God or the Self. First a man prays to God to fulfil his desires.

A time comes when he will no more pray for the fulfilment of material desires but for God Himself. God then appears to him in some form or other, human or non-human, to guide him to Himself in answer to his prayer and according to his needs.

* * * *

19th February, 1937

3. Mrs. Jinarajadasa, an old Theosophist and later a follower of Sri J. Krishnamurti: Mrs. J. In Mrs. Besant’s time we used to spend such a lot of time meditating on the Masters. Are Masters really useful?

Bh. Masters do exist externally as long as the pupil feels himself to be the body. As such they are useful to teach him the truth about himself. Once the pupil experiences the Truth and breaks the body illusion, he realises the Masters to be the same as himself, namely, the Supreme Consciousness, or Self. If there are Masters outside the Self, then they are not real, being external additions, for he who comes will also go, that is, is impermanent. The fact is Self, Master and God are one and the same.

Mme. de Rathonyi. Oh! We are far from this truth! Bh. How many miles are you far from it? Do you deny your existence? If not, how can you deny Reality, which is pure existence, the Self?

XI

MEDITATION

Meditation means many things to many individuals and ranges from quiet brooding on a concept or an ideal to the beatitude of the highest spiritual contemplation. But in the sadhana propounded by the Maharshi it strictly means, whatever the method, the attempt to still the thinking faculty, the perpetually-surging waves of the mind, in order that the calm ocean of pure awareness, from which they rise and on which they move, may be experienced.

To beginners this mind control appears to be a formidable feat, yet the Master encourages them to go ahead and practise – at all events to make a beginning. He constantly dins into us the inspiring notion that we are already Selfrealised and that, if we are not aware of it, the obstruction to that awareness should be removed by investigation – vichara

– which is as logical as it is simple.

To hear it direct from him this “Self-knowledge”, rather the way to Self-knowledge, is “the easiest thing there is” (Atma Vidya); but, judging from the questions constantly asked of him, and later of his disciples, there appears to be the need for much spade work before its central idea takes a firm hold on the seeker. The Master’s obvious meaning seems to be that, even apart from the psychological efficacy of the vichara proper, preoccupying the mind with a single theme to the exclusion of all others, if doggedly practised, will not fail to produce beneficial results. It will tend to reduce the oscillations of the thinking processes, and thus render the mind amenable to concentration on the supremely important work which is to follow, which by itself is a splendid achievement. Finding the answer to the query “Who am I?” is not the immediate burden of the practice in the beginning. Stability and fixity of the restless, mercurial mind is the first aim, and this can be achieved by constant practice and by frequently pulling oneself back to the subject of the meditation whenever the mind strays away.

When the mind has attained an appreciable degree of concentration, which means of depth, it will be time to think of the answer. Some sadhakas are fortunate enough to begin with a mind already accustomed to concentration, either “naturally”, or by training, or through intense fervour, so that they are able to go straight to the application of the vichara, and thus make a more or less rapid progress, according to the intensity of their determination, without much strain. For the Master tells us that mental calmness, that is, controlled mind, is essential for a successful meditation (vide p. 94).

The next idea in the vichara seems to be that wherever, and for however long, one may search for the answer in meditation, one will certainly not find it in the physical body; for no part of it is intelligent enough to stand the test of analysis or answer the call. Even if the meditator takes his body as a whole and confers on it his name, say, Krishna or Peter, sooner or later he will discover that it is only his mind which is responsible for this as well as all other thoughts and sensations. Thus diligent search and keen observation eventually lead to the mind as the perceiver, desirer and enjoyer of a world which is entirely its own thoughts; for the mind cognises naught but its own ideas.

The final idea, one gathers, refers to the most vital stage of the vichara, when the foregoing fact has become a settled conviction and the seeker unabatingly continues his inquiry, this time no longer into the insentient body, but into the very nature of the mind, from which he has discovered the ‘I’ thought to have arisen. Meditation has by then taken a firm grip and has turned from an erstwhile painful and apparently fruitless effort to a joyful, eagerly-lookedforward-to performance, which can no longer be abandoned or even slackened. The thinking processes have by now considerably slowed down and with it, naturally, the restlessness of the mind. Profound peace and inner joy impel more frequent and longer meditation, which in turn reduces thinking still further, till the moment of full maturity is reached, when all of a sudden all thoughts completely cease, and the meditator, the ‘I’, having nothing to disturb or preoccupy him, spontaneously finds himself in his pure Being, which is the Absolute State or Substratum. This is what the second and third sutras of Patanjali’s yoga mean by saying:

“Yoga is the suppression of the vritti (modifications of the thinking principle). Then the seer abides in himself.”

And what is that Self in actual experience? Sri Bhagavan tells us that it is the Light which ever shines in the Cave of the Heart as the flame of the Consciousness ‘I’ ‘I’ – the eternal and blissful Sat-chit-ananda. This is the answer to the vichara and its fulfilment. The ‘I’, which has carried out a determined and protracted search into its own nature, has at long last found itself to be not other than the Pure Mind, the immaculate Being, which is eternally wrapped in blissful stillness. This is Turiya, the Fourth, or Samadhi. There remains nothing more for one to achieve but to consolidate this state into the permanent experience of Sahaja Nirvikalpa, which is the Great Liberation.

Sadhakas take courage from the personal assurance of Sri Maharshi and the testimony of those who have found the Ultimate Peace, and relentlessly continue their efforts however sterile these may at first appear to be, strong in the belief of the descent of the Divine Grace on their endeavour to crown them with the greatest of all crowns, that of Supreme Enlightenment.

* * * *

16th May, 1936

1. Mr. C. relates how the reading of Patanjali Sutras in 1926 had greatly impressed him. The first few sutras had convinced him of the truth of the teaching, but unfortunately there was no one to give him proper guidance till he met Sri Bhagavan early in 1936.

Bh. Patanjali’s first sutras are indeed the climax of all systems of yoga. All yogas aim at the cessation of the vritti (modification of the mind). This can be brought about in the variety of ways mentioned in the scriptures through mind control, which frees consciousness from all thoughts and keeps it pure. Effort is necessary. In fact effort is itself yoga.

C. I suppose efforts have to be made in the waking state, which implies that moksha can be gained only in jagrat.

Bh. Quite so, awareness is necessary for mind control; otherwise who is to make the effort? You cannot make it in sleep or under the influence of drugs. Also mukti has to be gained in full awareness, because the Reality itself is pure awareness.

C.There seems to be nothing but awareness, for to know anything there must be knowledge – we cannot get over that.

Bh. Certainly. Subjective knowledge – knowledge knowing itself is jnana. It is then the subject as the knower, the object as the known and the knowledge which connects them.

C. This last is not clear to me in this case. Bh. Why so? Knowledge is the light which links the seer to the seen. Suppose you go in search of a book in a library in pitch darkness. Can you find it without light, although you, the subject, and the book, the object, are both present? Light has to be present to unite you. This link between the subject and the object in every experience is

chit, consciousness. It is both the substratum as well as the witness of the experience, the seer of Patanjali.

* * * *

18th June, 1936

2. A retired District Superintendent of Police started thinking of the life contemplative after his 60th birthday. He found meditation a serious affair and approached a disciple for guidance; but the latter advised him to place his difficulties before the Master, which he did today.

Visitor. Bhagavan, whenever I meditate, I feel great heat in the head and, if I persist, my whole body burns. What is the remedy?

Bh. If concentration is made with the brain, sensations of heat and even headache ensue. Concentration has to be made in the heart, which is cool and refreshing. Relax and your meditation will be easy. Keep your mind steady by gently warding off all intruding thoughts, but without strain – soon you will succeed.

* * * *

1st July, 1936

3. A devotee, long before he got attached to this Ashram, used off and on to fall into a sort of trance in which he saw not the Self but a sky-like blank, and told Sri Bhagavan about it.

Bh. He who sees the blank is the Self.

D. Meditation is possible only with control of mind, which can be achieved only through meditation. Is this not a vicious circle?

Bh. They are interdependent: in fact meditation includes mind control, the subtle watchfulness against intruding thoughts. In the beginning efforts for control are greater than for actual meditation, but in due course, meditation wins and becomes effortless.

D. Your Grace is needed for it.
Bh. Practice is necessary, there is Grace.

D. In meditation are there words to be repeated mentally?
Bh. What is meditation but mental repetitions of a concept?

It is a mental japam, which begins with words and ends in the silence of the Self.

* * * *

A visitor is experiencing great difficulty in meditation when he fights with what he imagines to be his ego. He went to the Master for verification.

V. In my meditation I try to eliminate the wrong ‘I’, but so far without success.

Bh. How can ‘I’ eliminate itself? All you have to do is to find its source and abide in it as your real Self. Your efforts can extend thus far, the Beyond will take care of itself.

V. Bhagavan, you always say that the Self is ever present: if I am present then why do I not feel it?

Bh. Do you not now feel that you exist? Your doubt is whether you will ever continue to exist. Why should you have any doubt? A little thinking will convince you that the destructible part of your being, the body, is a mere machine, a tool in the service of the indestructible, the mind, which is the all-in-all, the knower and the master – you yourself. Your doubts and difficulties arise from your thoughts, which perceive the body and mistake it for yourself. Stop the thoughts, which are your enemy (the ego), and the mind will remain as your pure being, the immortal ‘I’. That is the best way of eliminating the ego.

* * * *

2nd January, 1937

5. Visitor. I am taught that Mantra Japam is very potent in practice.

Bh. The Self is the greatest of all mantras and goes on automatically and eternally. If you are not aware of this internal mantra, you should take to do it consciously as japam, which is attended with effort, to ward off all other thoughts. By constant attention to it, you will eventually become aware of the internal mantra, which is the state of Realisation and is effortless. Firmness in this awareness will keep you continually and effortlessly in the current, however much you may be engaged on other activities. Listening to Veda chanting and mantras has the same result as conscious repetitions of japam – its rhythm is the japam.

* * * *

5th July, 1936

6. Visitor. How to prevent falling asleep in meditation? Bh. If you try to prevent sleep it will mean thinking in meditation, which must be avoided. But if you slip into sleep while meditating, the meditation will continue even during and after sleep. Yet, being a thought, sleep must be got rid of, for the native state has to be obtained consciously in jagrat (the waking state) without the disturbing thoughts. Waking and sleeping are mere

pictures the screen of the native, thought-free state. Let them pass unnoticed.

* * * *

27th July, 1942

7. A Chief Engineer of Railways from North India stayed in the Ashram for over a month to have a first hand guidance in meditation.

Eng. I am a beginner in meditation. I pray Bhagavan to guide me. You exhort us to go on enquiring “Who am I?” May I know where it will lead me?

Bh. It is not mere asking; you must go into the meaning of it. Many meditate on certain centres in the body till they merge in them, but sooner or later they will have to enquire into their own nature, which is unavoidable. Then why not straightaway concentrate on yourself till you merge in its source?

E. Yes, for twenty years I have been concentrating on certain chakras and have been seeing things and hearing sounds, but I got nowhere nearer the Truth. Now shall I go on asking “Who am I?” as soon as a thought arises in my mind?

Bh. Quite so. So long as you are not disturbed by outside thoughts dwell on its meaning. The aim is to reach the root of the ‘I’-sense, through constant suppression of the mental processes...

* * * *

10th November, 1936

V. As far as I can see it, it is impossible to realise the Self until one has completely succeeded in preventing the rushing thoughts. Am I right?

Bh. Not exactly. You do not need to prevent other thoughts. In deep sleep you are entirely free from thoughts, because the ‘I’-thought is absent. The moment the ‘I’-thought rises on waking, all other thoughts rush out spontaneously. The wisest thing for one to do is therefore to catch hold of this leading thought, the ‘I’-thought, and dissect it – who and what it is – giving thereby no chance to other thoughts to distract one. There lies the true value of the vichara and its efficacy in mind control.

* * * *

19th February, 1937

9. A visitor asked:

V. What meditation (dhyana) is the best? Bh. The best meditation is that which continues in all the three states. It must be so intense as not to give room even to the thought “I am meditating”. As waking and

dream states will thus be fully occupied by it, deep sleep may also be deemed to be an undifferentiated dhyana.....

V. What is the difference between sushumna nadi and atma nadi?

Bh. Sushumna is the central nadi which functions in the practice of yoga, that is, in dynamic dhyana and for the attainment of siddhis (psychic powers) and which the yogis claim to end in the sahasrara, the brain. Atmanadi, Paranadi or Amritanadi is the force current which rises from Heart to the sahasrara in the static dhyana of the jnana marga, which leads to Self-realisation. Sushumna has finally to merge in the Atmanadi which supports it.

The nadis are the nervous system along which consciousness flows from Heart to the whole organism.

* * * *

12th February, 1936

10. Mr. C. caught Sri Bhagavan on his way back from the hill.

C. Sri Aurobindo speaks of two forces which affect the yogic practice; one horizontally and the other vertically. I do not understand it.

Bh. All forces come from the Self, which has no directions. But Sri Aurobindo may be speaking figuratively for the dynamic force which results from concentration in the head centre (or on kundalini shakti) and the static which results from the vichara dhyana in the Heart. Later in the evening Mr. C. asked:

C. Bhagavan speaks of samadhi, trance. I take it to mean total loss of body consciousness. I am afraid I shall never be able to attain it. I find it hard to send myself to sleep even. Is it necessary before Self-Realisation?

Bh. (laughing) You have to take chloroform in that case. Samadhi is itself the state of the Self. What do you understand by total loss of body consciousness? You do not imagine it to be falling into a sort of catalepsy or deep sleep. In samadhi the mind is in jagrat, but, being free from thoughts, it enjoys the bliss of sushupti, in which the mind is withdrawn. In samadhi the mind is so alert that it experiences Brahman. If it were not so fully awake, how would it know Brahman? In fact it itself becomes Brahman. Does trance convey that idea? If not, it is a wrong word for samadhi.

C. Do Karma yogis and Bhaktas also pass through samadhi? Bh. Samadhi is merging in the Heart through concentration and mind control. Karma and bhakti yogis also attain

samadhi if they practise. In fact most of them attain mukti eventually by the vichara method.

* * * *

15th July, 1936

11. Mr. C. reads the “Forty Verses” of Sri Bhagavan to himself in the Hall. Verse 30 fascinates him. He reads it aloud and says: “From this verse I understand that the quest must start with the mind and not the Heart, but Bhagavan always speaks of the Heart, perhaps as the last stage in the practice.”

Bh. Quite so: it has to begin with the mind turned inward to oppose the rushing thoughts and to understand the location of the ‘I’. When the mind eventually sinks in the Heart, undisturbed bliss is overwhelmingly felt. There is then feeling which is not divorced from pure awareness, i.e., head and heart become one and the same.

C. In verse 266 of Vivekachudamani Sri Shankaracharya says that Brahman can be realised by Buddhi, the subtle intellect, which means that the intellect can be of great help; in fact indispensable for Realisation.

Bh. The word “buddhi” is rightly translated as the subtle intellect, but here it means the cave of the Heart. Nevertheless the subtle intellect can also realise Brahman and is therefore of the utmost importance. (Reads aloud verse 266:)

“In the cave of the Buddhi (subtle intellect) there is the Brahman, distinct from gross and subtle, the Existence Absolute, Supreme, the One without a second. For one who lives in this cave as Brahman, O Beloved, there is no more entrance into a woman’s womb.”

* * * *

30th July, 1936

12. Mr. C. Vivekachudamani speaks of the ‘I’-‘I’ Consciousness as eternally shining in the Heart, but no one is aware of it.

Bh. Yes, all men without exception have it, in whatever state they may be – the waking, dreaming and dreamless sleep,

– and whether they are conscious of it or not.

C. In the Talks section of Sat-Darshana-Bhashya, the ‘I’-‘I’ is referred to as the Absolute Consciousness, yet Bhagavan once told me that any realisation before Sahaja Nirvikalpa is intellectual.

Bh. Yes, the ‘I’-‘I’ Consciousness is the Absolute. Though it comes before Sahaja, there is in it as in Sahaja itself the subtle intellect; the difference being that in the latter the sense of forms disappears, which is not the case in the former.

C. Bhagavan, you said yesterday that there exists in the human body a hole as small as a pinpoint, from which consciousness always bubbles out to the body. Is it open or shut?

Bh. It is always shut, being the knot of ignorance which ties the body to consciousness. When the mind drops in the temporary Kevala Nirvikalpa it opens but shuts again. In Sahaja it remains always open.

C. How is it during the experience of ‘I’-‘I’ Consciousness? Bh. This Consciousness is the key which opens it permanently.

* * * *

13. Mr. C. Does the enquiry “Who am I?” lead to any spot in the body?

Bh. Evidently, self-consciousness is in relation to the individual himself and therefore has to be experienced in his being, with a centre in the body as the centre of experience. It resembles the dynamo of a machine, which gives rise to all sorts of electrical works. It not only maintains the life of the body and the activities of all its parts and organs, conscious and unconscious, but also the relation between the physical and the subtler planes, on which the individual functions. Also, like the dynamo, it vibrates and can be felt by the calm mind that pays attention to it. It is known to the yogis and sadhakas by the name of sphurana, which in samadhi scintillates with consciousness.

C. How to reach that Centre, where what you call the Ultimate Consciousness – the ‘I’-‘I’ – arises? Is it by simply thinking “Who am I”?

Bh. Yes, it will take you up. You must do it with a calm mind

– mental calmness is essential.

C. How does that consciousness manifest itself when that centre – the Heart – is reached? Will I recognise it?

Bh. Certainly, as pure consciousness, free from all thought. It is pure, unbroken awareness of your Self, rather of Being

– there is no mistaking it when pure.

C. Is the vibratory movement of the Centre felt simultaneously with the experience of Pure Consciousness, or before, or after it?

Bh. They are both one and the same. But sphurana can be felt in a subtle way even when meditation has sufficiently stabilised and deepened, and the Ultimate Consciousness is very near, or during a sudden great fright or shock, when the mind comes to a standstill. It draws attention to itself, so that the meditator’s mind, rendered sensitive by calmness, may become aware of it, gravitate towards it, and finally plunge into it, the Self.

C. Is the I-I Consciousness Self-Realisation?

Bh. It is a prelude to it: when it becomes permanent (Sahaja), it is Self-Realisation, Liberation.

XII

SAMADHI, TURIYA, NIRVIKALPA,
SAHAJA

The word Nirvikalpa came to connote, particularly in the minds of some Western students of yoga, the profoundest and most awful of mysteries, which none hazards to penetrate without running the risk of total annihilation.

One day in September 1936 I picked up from the Ashram library the Life of Ramakrishna by Romain Rolland and sat in the Hall turning its pages. My eyes fell on the Chapter dealing with Ramakrishna Paramahamsa’s contact with the Bhairavi and Totapuri and strayed to other parts of the book. It was a fascinating chapter, full of dazzling rhetoric about the Impersonal, the Unmanifest, the Formless, the Unconditioned and the Absolute, of Whom, nevertheless, the author seemed to be extremely terrified. I was struck by its literary beauty, but frankly puzzled by some passages, notably the following:–

On page 58: “They both (Paramahamsa and Bhairavi), instinctively shrank from the blind vision, the last abyss, the Impersonal.”

“I have already said that the Formless God lay in wait for him (Paramahamsa) with all His terror and attraction.” (p. 59)

Of Nirvikalpa (pp. 81 and 82): “When young Naren importuned him to open to him the Nirvikalpa Samadhi – the terrible door leading to the gulf of the Absolute – Ramakrishna refused with anger.”

(While Vivekananda was meditating) “suddenly he lost consciousness and was absorbed into the Absolute. He had fallen into the depths of the terrible Nirvikalpa Samadhi.”

(p. 307)

Of Muktas (pp. 58 and 59): “For a long time Ramakrishna, not without anguish, had felt prowling round him the formless God and the inhuman, the superhuman indifference of . . . those paramahamsas from those rarefied heights, detached forever from all things, terrible ascetics denuded of body and spirit, despoiled of the heart’s last treasure; the diamond of love of the Divine. During the early days of his stay at Dakshineswar he had felt the terrible fascination of these living corpses (sic!), and he had wept with terror at the idea that he too might have to come to a similar condition.... Such a man was to be forced to abandon the home of his heart and sink body and soul in the formless and the abstract! Such a train of thought must have been more alien to his nature than it would be to one of our Western scientists.”

“But he could not escape. His very terror fascinated him like the eyes of a snake.”

How beautiful and how “terribly fascinating like the eyes of a snake” is this description, but how utterly fictitious and misleading it appears to us, we who daily see before our eyes for years and years the Supreme Mukta, the Lord of Nirvikalpa Samadhi – Sri Ramana Maharshi – whose human heart, far from being a “living corpse”, coruscates with the most exquisite and the most brilliant “diamond of love of the Divine”, the splendour of which, we know, is only due to its “Impersonal and Formless Divinity”. One would expect Romain Rolland, a savant and a great lover of Indian philosophy, to resist the temptation of rising to such sublime heights of fatuity when dealing with Truth, which are bound to scare the unwary. I must confess that, although I had lived at the feet of the Maharshi for over six months, I felt a shiver down my spine when I read these passages. Hence I turned to the Master for relief, and, after reading to him some passages, I asked: “Is Nirvikalpa so terrible? Are we then undergoing all these tedious processes of meditation, purification, and discipline only to end in a state of terror, or turn into living corpses?”

Sri Bhagavan sweetly laughed and said: “People have all sorts of notions about Nirvikalpa. Why speak of Romain Rolland? If those who have all the Upanishads and Vedantic tradition at their disposal have fantastic notions about Nirvikalpa, who can blame a Westerner for similar notions? Some yogis by breathing exercises allow themselves to fall into a cataleptic state far deeper than dreamless sleep, wherein they are aware of nothing, absolutely nothing, and glorify it as Nirvikalpa. Some others think that once you dip into Nirvikalpa you become an altogether different being. Still others take Nirvikalpa to be attainable only through trance, wherein the world consciousness is totally obliterated as in a swoon. All this is due to their viewing it intellectually.

“Nirvikalpa is Chit – effortless, formless Consciousness. Where does the terror come in, and where is the mystery in being oneself? To some people whose minds have become ripe from a long practice in the past, Nirvikalpa comes suddenly as a flood, but to others it comes in the course of their sadhana, which slowly wears down the obstructing thoughts and reveals the screen of Pure Awareness ‘I’-‘I’. Further practice renders the screen permanently exposed. This is Self-realisation, Mukti, or Sahaja Samadhi, the natural, effortless State.

* * * *

June, 1936

1. Mr. C. wanted to know the exact meaning of samadhi. Bh. Samadhi is one’s true nature.

C. Is it the same as Turiya? Bh. Samadhi, Turiya, Nirvikalpa, all have the same implication, namely awareness of the Self. Turiya literally means the Fourth State – the Supreme Consciousness – to be distinguished from the other three – the waking, dreaming and dreamless sleep. The Fourth State is eternal, over, or in which the other three, come and go. In Turiya there is the awareness that the mind has merged in its source, the Heart, and is quiescent there, although some thoughts still impinge on it and the senses are somewhat active. In Nirvikalpa the senses are inactive and thoughts are totally absent; hence

the experience of Pure Consciousness is intense in it; so is the bliss. Turiya is obtainable in Savikalpa Samadhi.

C. What is the difference between Sahaja and Nirvikalpa samadhi? Bh. Sahaja is also Nirvikalpa. You are probably meaning Kevala Nirvikalpa, which is temporary, while the samadhi lasts. The Sahaja Nirvikalpa is permanent and in it lies liberation from rebirths. There are two Nirvikalpas: the internal and the external. In the former the mind completely merges in the inmost Being and is aware of nothing else. This is compared to a lamp protected from wind. But in the latter, although the mind is absorbed in the Self, the sense of world still prevails without a reaction from within, and has the calm vastness of a waveless ocean. In both, the Self is realised

in its nakedness and the essence of bliss experienced. When the waveless ocean of the external and the steady

flame of the internal Nirvikalpa are realised as identical, the ultimate goal, the Sahaja Nirvikalpa Samadhi is said to have been reached. Nirvikalpa is effortless, whereas Savikalpa is attended with effort.

C. Is the internal Nirvikalpa absolutely necessary before the attainment of Sahaja?

Bh. Abiding permanently in any of these samadhis, either Savikalpa or Nirvikalpa is Sahaja. What is body-consciousness? It is the insentient body plus consciousness. Both these must lie in another consciousness which is absolute and unaffected, and ever-abiding, with or without the body-consciousness. What does it then matter whether the body-consciousness is lost or retained, provided one is holding on to that Pure Consciousness? Total absence of body consciousness has the advantage of making the samadhi more intense, although it makes no difference in the knowledge of the Supreme.

* * * *

July, 1936

2. Mr. C. May I have a clear idea, Bhagavan, of the difference between Savikalpa and Nirvikalpa?

Bh. Holding on to the Supreme State is samadhi. When it is with effort due to mental disturbances, it is Savikalpa, when these disturbances are absent, it is Nirvikalpa. Remaining permanently in the primal state without effort is Sahaja. Like Nirvikalpa, there is an internal as well as an external Savikalpa, depending on whether the disturbing thoughts are from outside or from inside.

C. Should all vasanas (mental habits) be completely overcome before Self-Realisation takes place, or may some remain for Self-Realisation to destroy?

Bh. Vasanas which do not obstruct Self-Realisation remain. In Yoga Vasishtha two classes of vasanas are distinguished: those of enjoyment and those of bondage. The former remain even after Mukti is attained, but the latter are destroyed by it. Attachment is the cause of binding vasanas, but enjoyment without attachment does not bind and continues even in Sahaja.

* * * *

13th March, 1936

3. Mr. C. and Major C. differed among themselves about whether or not the meditator can be affected by physical disturbance during Nirvikalpa Samadhi. They referred the matter to the Master.

Bh. Both of you are right. The one refers to Kevala and the other to Sahaja Samadhi. In both cases the mind is immersed in the bliss of the Self. In the former physical movements may cause disturbance to the meditator, because the mind has not completely died out, but is still alive and can, as after deep sleep, at any moment be active again. It is compared to a bucket, which, although completely submerged under water, can be pulled out by the other end of the rope which is tied to the pulley. Whereas in Sahaja, the mind, having sunk completely into the Self, like the bucket which has got drowned with its rope in the depth of the well, there remains nothing in it to be disturbed or pulled back to the world. One’s activities then resemble that of the child who sucks its mother’s milk in sleep, and is hardly aware of the feeding.

* * * *

25th February, 1949

4. Two young men, Sri Chakravarty and Sri Jivrajani, who have been performing sadhana in this Ashram since about a year, today had an animated discussion among themselves about Kevala and Sahaja Nirvikalpa, which attracted partisans on both sides. Finally they submitted their cases to the Maharshi. The younger, Jivrajani, led:

Jiv. Is the experience of Kevala Nirvikalpa the same as that of Sahaja, although one comes down from it to the relative world?

Bh. There is neither coming down nor going up – he who goes up and down is not real. In Kevala Nirvikalpa there is the mental bucket still in existence under the water, which can be pulled out at any moment. Sahaja is like the river that has linked up with the ocean from which there is no return. Why do you ask all these questions? Go on practising till you have the experience yourself.

Next day Sri Chakravarty, hearing Sri Bhagavan talking to a sadhaka about the above question, came forward and said:

Ch. I wish to make our point clear, Bhagavan. Is it possible for a person, who, once had the experience of satchidananda in meditation, to identify himself again with the body when out of meditation?

Bh. Where is the body? Is the body apart from the Self? If it is, then the world also will be apart from it, which is absurd, for you would not be aware of it – awareness being the Self. A sadhaka begins by taking himself as the body, but when he gets at the Self, he will realise himself to be Pure Intelligence – even the body will then appear as that intelligence, as the variously shaped jewellery are nought but gold. . . (pensively) Yes, it is possible for a sadhaka who has experienced the Self to continue identifying himself with the body when out of meditation, but he gradually loses the identification in the course of his practice. In the floodlight of the Self the darkness of illusion dissipates for ever.

XIII

NIRVANA

5th May, 1937

1. A visitor asked the meaning of Nirvana. Bh. Nirvana is that state wherein the sense of separateness

does not exist and where the ego has sunk in its source, the Heart.

* * * *

20th April, 1937

2. Mr. C. had read a book called Nirvana, written by a prominent Theosophist, in which the author claimed to have experienced Nirvana after going to sleep, in which he “saw the Masters” as vivid centres of light in the ocean of Light which is Nirvana, which Mr. C. could not reconcile with Sri Bhagavan’s teaching. So he asked the Master about it.

Bh. Nirvana is the Perfect State. There is neither seeing, hearing, nor experiencing in it. There is nothing but the pure “I am” awareness. The Nirvana you describe from your reading is sheer imagination.... Well, this and other similar movements are good, inasmuch as they make man unselfish and prepare him for the highest Truth. Service also leads to the same goal – Selfrealisation – if it is selfless.

C. But after how long and why should one who is ready for the Absolute knowledge go in for the relative?

Bh. Everything happens in its own time. One who is ready for the Absolute will be made somehow to hear of it and then start the practice. He will immediately recognise the value of Atmavidya and will follow it up with determination.

XIV

HEART, LIBERATION

Heart, in Vedantic parlance, is synonymous with the Self, Chit, or pure Mind. Being absolute, it is ever changeless, formless, single and inactive. But as the word connotes Centre, it seems to imply a connection with a phenomenon, of which it is the source, or point of contact. It is the point at which the formless Spirit appears to take a form, i.e. to manifest itself in, and as, the world of forms.

Although the world with its myriads of forms, colours sounds and qualities does not in reality exist, or exists to the Self-realised man as identical with his own Self, as waves, or thoughts, in his own consciousness, to the man who is struggling to release himself from the grip of the senses, it appears too true to be lightly rejected as mere thoughts. Such a man needs guidance on his own level and from his own standpoint. Hence the Scriptures use various names for the one and the same Reality – Self, Spirit, Mind, Heart, Soul, God, Pure Consciousness, Supreme Brahman, Great Void, Silent Witness, Knower of the field, and many more – denoting the various facets it presents to the seeker in the phenomenal world and the various attempts at explaining them.

Heart implies, therefore, the point of union between the Self and the world (or body), the switch-board of the fusion of light and darkness. It is thus the seat of the granthi, the knot of ignorance which creates the illusion that the world is other than Mind, that is, as a projection in an objective space independently of the perceiving mind.

The illusion arises out of the fact of life, which flows from Heart to the body, and which creates in it the impression that it is a body, an entity (jiva) entirely separate and different from all other entities. The consciousness which fills the body as life, being pure existence (sat) by nature, instinctively knows itself as ‘I’, but seeing nothing with the senses (through which it is accustomed to know the world) on which it can confer the title of ‘I’ but the body, it fails to apprehend itself as the unperceivable consciousness and falls victim to the primal illusion that the body is itself. Having thus lost sight of its true nature by false identification, it gets entangled deeper and deeper in the tamasic and rajasic needs and craving of the material body and thus sets turning for itself the grinding wheel of life and death, birth and rebirth, pleasure and pain, knowledge and ignorance, etc., till the bitter end, when the longing for home and rest stirs it to carry out a search for them through tapas and sadhana and the guiding grace of the Divine Master.

This fall of the individual consciousness from its sublime State is described in Srimad Bhagavata as “the Atman, fascinated by the sports of Its maya in the body, thinks ‘I’ and ‘mine’.”

Sri Bhagavan shows the way Home in the simplest words: “Enquire into the nature of that consciousness which knows itself as ‘I’ and it will inevitably lead you to its source, the Heart, where you will unmistakably perceive the distinction between the insentient body and the mind. The latter will then appear in its utter purity as the ever-present, self-supporting intelligence, which creates, pervades its creation, as well as remains beyond it, unaffected and uncontaminated. Also, finding the Heart will be experienced as being the Heart. When this experience becomes permanent through constant practice, the much-desired Self-Realisation or Mukti is said at long last to have been achieved – the ‘I-am-the-body’ illusion has broken for ever.”

* * * *

25th April, 1937

1. Sri B. V. Narasimha Swami is in the Ashram to prepare the third edition of his English translation of Sri Bhagavan’s Upadesa Saram with his own commentary. He requests the Master to give him some more details about Heart and its movements. Sri Bhagavan said:

Bh. Heart is the seat of Jnanam as well as of the granthi (the knot of ignorance). It is represented in the physical body by a hole smaller than the smallest pin-point, which is always shut. When the mind drops down in Kevala Nirvikalpa, it opens but shuts again after it. When sahaja is attained it opens for good.

The granthi is the knot which ties the insentient body to the consciousness which functions in it; that is why when it is loosened temporarily in Kevala Nirvikalpa there is no body consciousness.

I used to feel the vibrations of the Heart, which resemble those of a dynamo, even in school. When I developed rigor mortis many years ago in Tiruvannamalai, every object and sensation disappeared, except these vibrations. It was as if a dark screen was drawn before my eyes and shut the world completely from me, but of course I was all along conscious of the Self, with a vague feeling that someone was crying near me. This state continued till just before I regained physical consciousness, when I felt something rush from the Heart to the left chest and re-established life in the body.

A sudden fear, sudden joy, or a shock makes the Heart vibrate very forcefully, so that it can be felt by anyone who pays attention to it. Otherwise it is felt only in Samadhi.

* * * *

23rd October, 1936

2. A student who is preparing his thesis for the Ph.D. degree asked:

S. God is said to be immanent, how do you justify your confining Him to the heart?

Bh. God is said to reside in the Heart in the same way as you are said to reside in your body. Yet Heart is not a place. Some place must be named as the dwelling of God for those who take their bodies for themselves and who comprehend only relative knowledge. The fact is neither God nor we occupy any space. We are bodiless and spaceless in deep sleep, yet in the waking state we appear to be the opposite. Atman or Paramatman is that from which the body is born, in which it lives, and into which it finally resolves.

LOOK WITHIN IS THE MESSAGE.

XV

THE JNANI – THE AWAKENED

The Jnani, also known as the Awakened, the Enlightened, the Self-Realised is he, who, although like every other person, uses a body, has broken the illusion that the body is himself. After lives of strenuous search, he found the Heart and realised himself to be none other than the Supreme Sadasiva Brahman, the Absolute Consciousness, without qualities or forms. Evolution, Karma, Rebirth, have ceased to have any meaning to him. Although he has a body, he sees it as in a dream, or as he sees any other inanimate object around him, outside, yet not outside his being. The world neither attracts nor repels him, nor has any power to destroy him. He is the pure Void of Awareness, which sees yet does not see; acts yet does not act. He is neither bound nor free, neither God nor man, nor in fact anything – he is only himself.

His state baffles imagination. One wonders how the Cosmic, Pure Mind, wraps itself with a frail human body, which appears to eat and sleep, act, become diseased, tired and hungry. It is a mystery of mysteries. Hence Sri Bhagavan used to be assailed by questions about the Jnani’s mental state. Although the questions refer to him, the questioners took care not to put them in a personal form. They never addressed him as “you” or “yours”, but always as “Bhagavan”, or the “Jnani’s”. The following answers will give a remote idea of his sublime state.

HIS PAINS:

C. Does he who is in Sahaja Samadhi feel any physical pain, say, of a sting or a cut?

Bh. All pains, even physical, are in the mind. Everybody feels the pain of a cut or a sting, but the Jnani, whose mind is sunk in bliss, feels it as in a dream. His resembles the case of the two lovers in the story who were tortured together but did not feel pain because their minds were in ecstasy, gazing at each other’s face.

HIS SIDDHIS (psychic powers):

C. Do Jnanis who, before Jnana, had siddhis, preserve them after merging with the Absolute?

Bh. Yes, siddhis are acquired by prarabdha karma and are not a hindrance in Mukti. They are a hindrance on the way to Mukti.

* * * *

A North Indian visitor asks whether the Jnani

automatically acquires siddhis or whether he has to strive for

them separately if he desires them.

Bh. Who is the Jnani? If he is the body you see, then his siddhis will be shown to other bodies. But if he is pure awareness, from where will he get the siddhis and to whom will he show them?

Both the Jnani and the Bhakta (devotee) do not desire or work for siddhis; the former because he sees himself the All, and the latter because he sees his Ishta Devata – his favourite God – the All; even his own action is done by this God; he has no will of his own at all to impel action on his own initiative. Yet siddhis follow them both like their shadows.

What greater siddhi is there than that of the Sage, who by merely sitting on his couch, attracts thousands of people from the four corners of the earth, hundreds of whom change their old modes of life and some even attain Godhood?

People see many things which are far more miraculous than the so-called siddhis, yet do not wonder at them, simply because they occur every day. They do not see miracles in the man who comes almost from nothing and, when born, he is not bigger than this electric bulb, and then he becomes a giant wrestler, or a world-famed artist, orator, politician or Sage, but they are wonder-struck if a corpse is made to speak.

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HIS DREAMS:

Mr. C. asks if the Jnani dreams.

Bh. Yes, he does dream, but he knows it to be a dream, in the same way as he knows the waking state to be a dream. You may call them dream No. 1 and dream No. 2. The Jnani being established in the 4th state – Turiya, the Supreme Reality – he detachedly witnesses the three other states – waking, dreaming and dreamless sleep – as pictures superimposed on it.

* * * *

HIS DESIRES:

C. Does a Jnani have sankalpas (desires)? Bh. The main qualities of the ordinary mind are tamas and rajas (sloth and excitement); hence it is full of egoistic

desires and weaknesses. But the Jnani’s mind is shuddasattva (pure harmony) and formless, functioning in the subtle vignanamayakosha (the sheath of knowledge), through which he keeps contact with the world. His desires are therefore also sattvic.

* * * *

A visitor asks Sri Maharshi whether desire does not destroy Jnana. Bh. The desires of a Jnani are external to him like other objects and cannot taint him.

V. The Puranas say that Jnanis warred against Jnanis. How is that?

Bh. Yes, Sri Krishna fought against Bhishma. The Jnanis view all as Brahman, yet they fight.

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15th June, 1938

HIS VIDEHAMUKTI (after death):

The “Vision” (of Anandashram, Kanhangad) for June contains an article by Sri Bhagavan. It is a Preface to his translation into Tamil of Vivekachudamani of Sri Shankaracharya which has been translated by Mr. S. Krishna into English for the “Vision”. Mr. C. reads it to himself in the Hall. Struck by the following statement, he reads it aloud to Sri Bhagavan: “The liberated man is free indeed to act as he pleases, and when he leaves the mortal coil, he attains absolution, but returns not to this birth which is actually death.”

C. This statement gives the impression that although the Jnani takes no birth again on this plane, he may continue to work on subtler planes, if he so chooses. Is there any desire left in him to choose?

Bh. No, that was not my intention.

C. Further, an Indian philosopher, in one of his books, interpreting Shankara, says that there is no such thing as videhamukti, for after his death, the Mukta takes a body of light in which he remains till the whole humanity becomes liberated.

Bh. That cannot be Shankara’s views (he opens Vivekachudamani and points to verse 566 which reads that after the dissolution of the physical sheath the liberated man becomes like “water poured into water and oil into oil”). It is a state wherein there is neither bondage nor liberation. Taking another body means throwing a veil, however subtle, upon Reality, which is bondage. Liberation is absolute and irrevocable.

(Note: In his Atma-Bodha, stanza 53, Shankara says the same thing as in verse 566 of Vivekachudamani – S.S.C.)

PART III

DIARY