RAMANA SMRTI
Sri Ramana Maharshi
Birth Centenary Offering
1980
SRI RAMANASRAMAM
BHAGAVAN RAMANA AND
THE BHAGAVAD GITA
By Prof. G.V. Kulkarni
IT is well known that the Bhagavad Gita is one of the main
scriptures of the Hindu religion (Prasthana Trayi, the threefold
authority). It is a universal scripture, a ‘Song Divine’.
Bhagavan Ramana used to say that the Gita and the Bible are
one and one should read the Gita always. 1 He often used to
quote verses from it and explain them in his own inimitable
and illuminating way in reply to various questions of seekers.
The light that he has thrown on the teaching of the Gita is
simply unique, extremely clear and very penetrating. This is
perhaps because he lived the scripture in toto and hence had
the authority to elucidate it like Bhagavan Sri Krishna or Sri
Jnaneshvara. He spoke from his plenary, first-hand experience
and not from verbal erudition.
Bhagavan was asked by a devotee to give in brief the contents
of the Gita. He selected fortytwo verses and arranged them in
an appropriate order to serve as guidance. 2 Another devotee
complained that it was difficult to keep all its seven hundred
verses in mind and asked if there was not a verse that could be
remembered as the gist of the whole Gita. Bhagavan
immediately mentioned Verse twenty of Chapter ten:
Aham Atma, Gudakesa, Sarvabhutashayasthitah Aham
Adischa Madhyam cha bhutanam anta eva cha.
I am the Self, O Gudakesa, dwelling in the hearts of
all beings.
I am the beginning, and the middle and the end of
all beings. 3
1 Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, p. 387.
2 This booklet entitled Gita Sara is published by Sri Ramanasramam.
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Another time Bhagavan summarised the purpose of the
Gita in a reply to a question by a devotee:
Devotee: The Gita seems to emphasise karma, for Arjuna
is persuaded to fight. Sri Krishna Himself set the example
by an active life of great exploits.
Maharshi: The Gita starts by saying that you are not the
body, that you are not therefore the karta (doer).
D: What is the significance?
M: That one should act without thinking oneself to be the
actor. The person has come into manifestation for a certain
purpose. That purpose will be accomplished whether he
considers himself the actor or not.
D: What is karma yoga?
M: Karma yoga is that yoga in which the person does not
arrogate to himself the functions of being the actor. The
actions go on automatically.
D: Is it the non-attachment to the fruits of action?
M: The question arises only if there is the actor. It is said
throughout that you should not consider yourself the actor.
D: The Gita teaches active life from beginning to end.
M: Yes, the actorless action. Bhagavan Sri Krishna is an
ideal example of such a karma yogi. 4
Maharshi clarifies it thus:
The Self makes the universe what it is by his shakti and
yet he does not himself act. Sri Krishna says in Bhagavad
Gita, ‘I am not the doer and yet actions go on’. It is clear
from the Mahabharata that very wonderful actions were
3 The Bhagavad Gita, English translation by Arthur Osborne and Prof G.V.
Subbaramayya.
4 Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, pp. 599-600.
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effected by him. Yet He says that He is not the doer. It is
like the sun and the world action. 5
There are certain apparent contradictions in the Gita which
baffle an ordinary reader. Maharshi in his replies removes
such contradictions. In reply to a question he said:
The answers will be according to the capacity of the seeker.
It is said in the second chapter of the Gita that no one is
born or dies; but in the fourth chapter Sri Krishna says that
numerous incarnations of His and of Arjuna had taken
place, all known to Him but not to Arjuna. Which of these
statements is true? Both statements are true, but from
different standpoints. Now a question is raised, how can
jiva rise up from the Self? Only know your real Being;
then you will not raise this question. Why should a man
consider himself separate? How was he before being born
and how will he be after death? Why waste time in such
discussions? What was your form in deep sleep? Why do
you consider yourself as an individual? 6
On another occasion a devotee asked Maharshi, “Why does
Sri Krishna say, ‘After several rebirths the seeker gains
Knowledge and thus knows me?’ There must be evolution
from stage to stage”.
Maharshi replied:
How does Bhagavad Gita begin? ‘Neither I was not, nor
you nor these chiefs, etc. Neither is it born, nor does it die,
etc’. So there is no birth, no death, no present as you look
at it. Reality was, is and will be. It is changeless. Later
Arjuna asked Sri Krishna how he could have lived before
Aditya. Then Krishna, seeing Arjuna was confounding Him
with the gross body, spoke to him accordingly. The
5 Ibid. p. 440.
6 Ibid. p. 409.
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instruction is for one who sees diversity. In reality there is
neither bondage nor mukti for himself or for others from
the jnani’s standpoint. Abhyasa (practice) is only to prevent
any disturbance to the inherent peace. There is no question
of years. Prevent this thought at this moment. You are only
in your natural state whether you make abhyasa or not.7
Here Maharshi refers to his famous dictum, “You are
already realized”.
People generally consider Sri Krishna as a personal God.
They overemphasize the physical form of the Lord. According
to them He is a mythological God of the Hindus; and thus
they miss the real teaching of the Gita. What does Sri Krishna
say about Himself throughout the Gita? Bhagavan clearly
removes the doubt and explains the real nature of Sri Krishna.
He points out even the limitations of the cosmic form shown
by Him to Arjuna, as described in the eleventh chapter.
Once a devotee said, “There is a girl of eleven at Lahore.
She is very remarkable. She says she can call upon Krishna
twice and remain conscious, but if she calls Him a third time
she becomes unconscious and remains in trance for ten hours
continuously”.
Maharshi commented, “So long as you think that Krishna
is different from you, you call upon Him. Falling into trance
denotes the transitoriness of the samadhi. You are always in
samadhi; that is what should be realized. God vision is only
vision of the Self objectified as the God of one’s own faith.
Know the Self. 8
Another devotee asked, “What is visvarupa”?
M: It is to see the world as the Self of God. In the Bhagavad
Gita God is said to be various things and beings and also
7 Ibid p. 218.
8 Ibid p. 586.
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the whole universe. How to realize it and see it so? Can
one see one’s Self?
D: Is it then wrong to say that some have seen it?
M: It is true in the same degree as you are. Realization
implies perfection. When you are limited, your knowledge
is thus imperfect. In visvarupa darshan, Arjuna is told to
see whatever he desired and not what was presented before
him. How can that darshan be real?
On another occasion a devotee asked, “Divya chakshuh
(divine sight) is necessary to see the glory of God. This
physical eye is the ordinary chakshuh”.9
M: Oh! I see, you want to see million sun-splendour and
the rest of it.
D: Can we not see the glory as million sun-splendour?
M: Can you see the single sun? Why do you ask for millions
of suns?
D: It must be possible to do so by divine sight.
M: All right. Find Krishna and the problem is solved.
D: Krishna is not alive
M: Is that what you have learnt from the Gita? Does he
not say that He is eternal? Of what are you thinking, His
body?
D: He taught others while alive. Those around Him must
have realized. I see a similar living guru.
M: Is Gita then useless after He withdrew His body? Did
He speak of His body as Krishna? ‘Never was I not, etc’.10
Later Sri Bhagavan said that divine sight means Selfluminosity.
The full word means the Self.
9 Ibid. p. 407-408.
10 Ibid. p. 305-306.
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In this dialogue Bhagavan has very logically and
mercilessly removed the common ignorance about the real
nature of Sri Krishna and has clearly indicated Him to be the
all-pervading Self, residing in the Heart.
The three yogas, karma, bhakti and jnana (which includes
dhyana) given in the Gita are meant for seekers of different
temperaments, says Maharshi. Karma yoga is meant for men
of active tendencies. It is calculated to eliminate the idea of
doership in the seeker. Bhakti yoga is meant for men of
powerful emotions. It dissolves the ego in supreme devotion
for God. Jnana yoga is meant for men of reason and
understanding capable of Self-enquiry. When the mind
wanders, it should be controlled and brought back to the Self.
It eliminates the individual ‘I’, the spurious ego. This is the
direct path and all other yogas ultimately lead to this. When
the false ego is understood and hence removed, the Reality
shines in all its glory automatically. To understand this truth
and experience it here and now is the purpose of the teaching
of the Gita, says Bhagavan.
In the words of Saint Jnaneshvara, “It is easy to make
the earth golden, to create great mountains of desireyielding
jewels, to fill the seven seas with nectar, but it is
difficult to indicate the secret of the meaning of the Gita”.
Bhagavan Ramana has definitely done it. No wonder it is
identical with his main teaching, “Either know who you
are or surrender”.
From the great Adi Shankara down to Dr Ranade and
Swami Swaroopanand, many scholars and sages have written
works on the Gita. In this galaxy, Bhagavan Ramana’s
contribution to the Gita, though couched in a few words, is
remarkable and true to the original. It is at once universal and
beyond the categories of time and space, and yet practical in
the everyday life of man.
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Supplication to Sri Bhagavan
By A.K. Ramachandran
Decades ago, as a student, I used to gaze with admiration
at the photo of a youth in a loin cloth before whom my father
used to prostrate. The last words of my father before losing
consciousness were about Bhagavan and about how eagerly
he had been looking forward to spending some years in Sri
Ramanasramam. These words were ringing in my ears when
I visited Sri Ramanasramam in 1930. I was specially blessed
on this occasion as I saw him all alone in the dining hall in
the early hours of the morning. I caught hold of his holy feet
as Markandeya caught the lingam and told him about the last
words of my father. With tender love beaming out of his eyes,
he said that my father had taken leave of him before passing
away! When I beseeched him to bless me, he said, “It will be
all right in the end”. Those words of benediction have rung in
my ears and brought me hope in moments which I cherish in
my heart as the most worthwhile event in my life.
Let us pray to him during this birth centenary year to shower
his grace and blessings on us all to help us understand this
truth and experience it here and now. A thousand pranams to
him!
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RAMANA SAT-CHIT-ANANDA GURU
By Dr. Purnima Sircar
WHENEVER there are earnest seekers God manifests in human
form to guide and bestow grace upon them. The faceless Sat-
Chit-Ananda or the original name ‘I am’ has been named
differently through the ages. In the Vedas it has been named
‘Indra-Varuna’ or ‘Indragni’. In the puranas it was
‘Lakshminarayan’ or ‘Siva-Parvati’. Sri Ramachandra called it
‘Maheswar’ and devotees of Rama, ‘Rama-Sita’. Jesus called it
‘Father’ and Christians, ‘Jesus the Christ.’ Sri Ramana Maharshi
identified it as ‘Sri Arunachala Ramana’, and his devotees, as
‘Sri Arunachala Ramana’. One is the eternal aspect and the other
is the phenomenal aspect of one and the same thing.
What can be said about him whose voice is the
voicelessness or mouna? “The sun is ever there; to see it you
have only to turn towards it”. And man inevitably turns
towards the spiritual Sun. Somewhere in his evolution he has
to turn from the circumference to the centre and end his dizzy
circumambulation round his ego-self. Somewhere there is the
question, “Who is this ‘I’? What is its nature? And who seems
to suffer through all these changes yet remains throughout?”
A quest is launched upon, and again it is inevitable that man
must pursue the quest to the last because there lies his supreme
achievement and eternal bliss. “Though the ‘I’ is always
experienced, yet one’s attention has to be drawn to it. Then
only the knowledge dawns”. Suitable guides can be found on
the path. One such is Ramana Satguru.
We, the latter day devotees were not fortunate enough to
be in his physical presence and yet not so unfortunate as to
miss him completely. For us he is the same all the time, the
perennial source of inspiration, guidance and grace. Many
will bear witness that even the physical manifestation was
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not withheld after his death to devout seekers, if earnestly
desired. What is impossible for him who is beyond any
limitation — the ever-present guru?
“Everyone has to come to Arunachala”, said he. Whichever
path may be followed it ends in ‘I’ and the investigation of
the nature of the ‘I-thought’. Its elimination is the sadhaka’s
hardest task. But what could be easier than to fall back on the
experiencer and to ask oneself who perceives and who sees
with each experience? All methods of sadhana lead to onepointedness
of the mind; thus distraction or the vikshepa of
the mind may be overcome, but the veiling or the avarana
might still remain. If blankness prevails, unless one persists
with the question, “To whom is the blankness? Who am I?”
and holds a receptive attitude with absolute surrender for the
grace to prevail, the veiling is not removed. One day the door
is opened and the meditator is merged in the ever-present,
all-pervading peace. The peace is so profound and all
absorbing that the sadhaka cannot give up till it is constant
and abiding. A true sadhana begins and his inner monitor
will guide him till that state is reached. “My reward consists
in your permanent unbroken bliss. Do not slip away from it”,
says the guru to a devotee in Kaivalya Navanita. This is
endless Ramana-Consciousness.
Truth is so simple that it is hard to grasp. Sri Bhagavan
said, “Who does not know that he exists? Everyone is Selfrealised,
only he does not know”. Who will believe that
Self-realisation is so simple a process? No elaborate rite and
ritual, no asana and pranayama, no dispute and dissertation,
only turn the mind to its source. Ego is not boosted, not fed,
but simply dissolved in this process. Indeed Ramana’s teaching
is hard for the confusion-ridden, samskara-bound mind; only
those who have already exhausted them can comprehend it.
But in the spiritual world intensity is counted and not numbers,
and the few are sufficient for our ever-shining guru.
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Sri Bhagavan says,“Ego in its purity is experience in
intervals between two states or two thoughts. . . Realise this
interval with conviction gained by study of the three states
(waking, dream and deep sleep). Just like the screen in the
cinema, the Self is ever there, no matter what the time or the
picture of the phenomena are. But we do not realise because
our outlook is objective and not subjective. You attach too
much importance to the body. In deep sleep there was no
world, no ego and no trouble. Something wakes up from that
happy state and says ‘I’. To that ego the world appears. Our
mistake lies in our searching in the wrong place”. His
dispassion towards his body during his last illness, “Where is
pain if there is no mind”? — is the same detachment he had
throughout his life. The Sat-Chit-Ananda Self and the body
without the intermediary ego-self and the reflecting media of
samaskaras — such is Ramana Chaitayna Guru.
Ramana removes the confusion between manolaya and
manonasa, between kevala nirvikalpa and sahaja nirvikalpa
samadhi. The wrong idea that a man will be a log or a stone
after the dawn of wisdom is dispelled categorically. “If
everybody does sadhana, who will plough the field and sow
the seed”? is the fear that assails so many and keeps them
away from the quest. “The physical body will do whatever
work it has come for, and the body is bound by the prarabdha,
not your mind”, he assures us. And then Sri Bhagavan, through
his teachings and by living among us for so long in sahaja
samadhi has set an outstanding example as to how a jnani
works and lives without feeling the burden of it. “Who is there
to think about it”? was his reply to the devotees who pleaded
with him to cure himself. An example of complete surrender
to the higher power, by Ramana, ever-compassionate guru.
The profound mouna that pervaded his holy presence not
only influenced and inspired whoever came under its spell,
but drew mature minds from all over the world to this spiritual
46
centre. And it shall continue to draw such competent ones
like a magnet. To understand this silence it must be
experienced. In this age of unrestrained gibbering, lecturing
and preaching, who could have imagined the influence of
mouna upon the human mind? What transformation is brought
about by turning the minds of innumerable devotees to the
source by the peace that emanates from his profound mouna.
“The highest form of grace is silence. It is also the highest
upadesa”, said the ever blissful Guru Ramana.
Ramana’s Self comprises all and blesses all. Any attempt
on our part to extol him is like worshipping the sun with an
oil lamp. He consoled his devotees, “I am not going away,
where can I go? I am here”. So we are always at the feet of
Arunachala Ramana. To that grace personified, peace
profound, the eternal Satguru, our heartfelt reverence and
prostrations.
No Further Change
By Prof G.V. Subbaramayya
Questioned as to what changes he underwent after coming
to Arunachala, Sri Bhagavan replied, “I am ever the same.
There is neither sankalpa (will) nor change in me. Till I
reached the Mango Grove I remained indifferent, with my
eyes shut. Afterwards I opened my eyes and began functioning
actively. Otherwise there is no change whatsoever in me”.
“But Bhagavan,” said one, “we do note many outward
changes in you”.
“Yes,” replied Bhagavan, “that is because you see me as
this body. So long as you identify yourself with your body
you cannot but see me as an embodied being”.
from The Mountain Path, January 1966.
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THE SAGE OF ARUNACHALA
By Ratna Navaratna
THE light of eternity, Para Sivam, transcendence merging in
the immanence of Sat-Chit-Anandam, formless form of Siva
that eluded the search of Brahma and Vishnu. Into its
resplendence was drawn the youngster of sixteen,
Venkataraman. The call of the Father was promptly obeyed
by the son of Matrubhuteswara.
He had done little sadhana. He made no vows, but vows
were made for him. The youngster did not leave home in
search of happiness, nor was he seeking a solution to life’s
sufferings as did Prince Siddhartha. The son of Alagu-
Sundaram set out on a homeward journey, from the citadel
of Sakti, Madurai Meenakshi, to the abiding dwelling of
the Father, Arunachala Siva, the eternal flame of Pure
Awareness. Saint Pattinathar sings of the self same
experience thus:
I followed in the footsteps of the gracious Mother,
Till at last, I was led to the Father-Lo!
The Mother, I no longer remembered.
Bliss was mine. This is Nishtai indeed!
O Kanchi Ekambaranatha!
For fiftyfour years, the son moved about as the radiant
smile of Arunachala Siva. He stood as a tree on this mount of
transfiguration. Like sage Trisanku, immortalised in
Sikshavalli of the Taittreya Upanishad, he declared:
I am the Tree of life, the splendour,
The Mountain’s crowning glory;
I am its eternal support and auspiciousness,
The light of the brilliant sun. my treasures are
Luminous wisdom and nectar of immortality.
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After a poignant period of total withdrawal, the young
swami ushered in a new race of mankind with the age-old
query of “Who am I?” (Naan Yaar?) indicating the spiritual
quest for personal and social regeneration. His technique of
Self-enquiry awakened the inner consciousness of man by
stilling the mind. Saint Tayumanavar thus describes this stage
of Awareness in his adoration of the mouna guru, “Chintai
yara nil, or freed from the fetters of thought, be still”.
People came to him for illumination and peace. From all
walks of life at all stages of inner growth they came. And he
was accessible to them all. They came for solace, world-weary
and exhausted, some hopefully and some casually. He set them
all at ease by his compassionate look and drew them gently
out of the quagmire of delusion into the inner sanctuary where
the heart rules with the subdued mind in attendance. From
the enlightened muni they learnt “that one illimitable force
alone is responsible for all phenomena we see and for the act
of seeing them”. They acclaimed him as the Dakshinamurthi,
the Jnana Guru, of our age.
The “Who am I?” quest leads to the direct realization of
the Self — Siva, Siva. It is the heart of the Saiva faith to
recognise the eternal not as obscured, but as revealed, by the
transient, and to hold infinity in the palm of one’s hand, to
see the One unborn in every birth and the One undying in
every death. “Find out who you are and then ponder no more
on the tragic brevity of your mortal tenure or on the transience
of all things seen and known”, is the injunction of Bhagavan.
Basking in the sunshine of his grace, his robust family of old
and young, learned and unlettered, cows and peacocks, live
and grow as That which is responsible for them all. I am that
I am, the experience of true Being-Awareness, lies embedded
deep within each one, breathing the breath of eternity,
whispering the music of peace, throbbing with power to meet
the challenges of life.
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True awareness is the Infinite Eye
Which sees no other, no duality,
No good and evil, object and subject,
Time, space or seed and fruit of deed.
Thus it came to pass that Ramana Maharshi embodied and
spread anew the message of Arunachala. He pines not.
Passions sway him not. Never for a moment does he forget
the Self. He unfolds every moment the natural virtue of Selfgiving.
In Walt Whitman’s words:
I do not ask the wounded person how he feels;
I myself become the wounded person.
. . . . . . . . .
I understand the large hearts of heroes,
The courage of present times and all times.
I am the man, I suffered, I was there.
Let us not forget that the constant meditation on the source
of our being calls for loving kindness, and an active radiation
of goodwill in all directions and towards all forms of life.
Bhagavan’s sadhana of Self-enquiry cures us of deafness to
the still sad music of humanity, gives us courage to confront
the giant agony of the world, saves us from the tendency to
be self-centered, uncharitable and ill-tempered. Know who
you are. Return to the source. Dive into the depths of your
being. Saint Karaikal Ammaiyar, in that exquisite poem,
Atputha Tiruvandadi, unfolds the majesty of the Supreme Siva,
perfect awareness.
The Knower is Himself, the object known.
Himself, the knowing too Himself.
Object, subject, all the universe.
He alone the sole Reality.
Bhagavan’s experience of his being as Pure Awareness
released a fount of all-fulfilling love and power. The old
1 Guru Vachaka Kovai, Verse 880.
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meditation hall continues to this day to be the central power
station, transmitting the Master’s love and wisdom. The
sanctum of the Matrubhuteswara temple and the Samadhi
mantapam of Bhagavan vibrate as dynamic power centres,
so that all who meditate or worship there pick up
spontaneously the bliss of Sat-Chit-Anandam.
The preceptors of sanatana dharma prescribe diverse forms
of sadhana in order to attain the goal of Self-realisation, such
as study, dhyana, tapas and bhakti. However, in this age of
split personality, it seems most natural that the science of the
Self should be learnt by investigation and experiment in the
laboratory of the mind. The jnana marga and the vichara
method are the most appropriate to humanity today. Bhagavan
is a modern Upanishadic seer, pointing to Arunachala as the
symbol of Satyasya Satyam, the pure I AM which shines in
silence, Self-effulgent.
He who, his ego gone, knows through and through
I, the first person, subject substantive,
Combined with ‘AM’, the predicate of being,
He indeed and he alone is the true knower.
2 Guru Vachaka Kovai, Verse 137.
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SOME RECOLLECTIONS OF BHAGAVAN SRI
RAMANA MAHARSHI
By C.R. Pattabhi Raman
MY first meeting with Sri Ramana Maharshi was in the early
1930’s when I returned from England after my studies. I
accompanied the young Maharaja of Travancore to
Tiruvannamalai. The Maharshi was sitting in a small building.
He was, as always, the same serene blissful self with a benign
look on his face. He spoke fluently in Tamil, Malayalam, English
and other languages. When the Maharaja asked him what the
first step was for atma vichara, he said that the very fact that he
had come to Tiruvannamalai was itself the first step for him.
The next important occasion when I went to Tiruvannamalai
was a few days before the Maharshi’s bodily demise. I
accompanied my father, Dr C.P. Ramaswami Iyer along with a
friend. It was about nine in the night when we reached the
Ashram. We were taken to the sage, who had been operated
upon for a carcinomatous growth on his left arm. Sri Bhagavan
was lying on a sofa in an annexe away from the Ashram. Apart
from a few beads of perspiration on his forehead, there was
nothing on his face to show that he was ill or was suffering
from pain. He proved beyond doubt that pain or sorrow did not
affect a realised soul. A leading civil surgeon from Vellore
expressed great surprise that the sage did not even want
anaesthesia for the operation and yet was able to stand the pain
and the shock. Sri Ramana Maharshi spoke a few words to my
father and we took leave. We came to the main Ashram and got
ready for dinner. My father was just then saying that he did not
want food and would have some milk. At that very moment an
attendant ran to us with a message from Bhagavan, “The elderly
person will say he will only have milk. Let him eat some fruits
also”. It was miraculous because the Maharshi was nearly half
52
a furlong away and could not have heard what my father was
just then saying.
The Maharshi was unique in many respects. Like Sri
Dattatreya of the puranas, he did not have a guru as such.
One could see on his face expressions of joy when recitations
from the Vedas and Upanishads were taking place in the
Ashram. His path of knowledge was not rigid or exclusive.
He was also a great bhakta of the Supreme Arunachala in the
form of the eternal fire.
Sri Ramana did not seek to establish any new cult but
showed the direct way to Self-realisation. He taught as a
jivanmukta (liberated soul), exemplifying Tat tvam asi (‘Thou
art That’, of the Chandogya Upanishad). Like Suka Brahman
of Srimad Bhagavatam, he was characterised by samatva
(sameness in joy and sorrow and freedom from duality).
His few writings in Tamil, like Ulladu Narpadu (Forty
Verses on Reality), have been translated into many languages.
They epitomise the truth enunciated by the ancient seers of
India. His teachings are universal, for the entire humanity,
and his presence is felt by devotees all over the world — such
is his chaitanya or magnetism.
He frequently referred to verses from Yoga Vashista wherein
the Sage Vashista advised the young Sri Rama to fulfil his mission
as avatara purusha, all the while abiding in the Self. The ideal of
Self-realisation is not visionary, but is the very goal of life.
Unswerving abidance in the Self, the one, eternal Truth, whatever
one may be doing, is well described by Sage Vashista:
Firmly established in the vision that shines forth
On the renunciation of all desires, and rooted
In your own Being as a jivanmukta,
Act playfully in the world, Oh Raghava.
To have seen him in flesh and blood and have heard his word
is for us our great good fortune and most treasured memory.
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THE SILENT INITIATION OF
BHAGAVAN SRI RAMANA
By Maha Krishna Swami
IN 1938, I was taken to Bhagavan. His face radiated serenity
and endless love. I prostrated myself before him and then he
said to me, “It seems you have been called”. After thus greeting
me, he became deeply absorbed. Without looking at anyone
or anything, he was penetrating into my innermost Self.
Suddenly, he turned to me and, with a look that acquired an
indescribable intensity, aroused in me quietness, deep peace
and a great compassion for all the beings of the universe.
From that day on, I knew that Bhagavan was not an ordinary
master but a Universal Sadguru.
I then began to tune myself to his upadesa, which I
perceived was vitalizing and transforming me in every way. I
knew that what I could absorb of the light of initiation would
be according to my own efforts. I was to develop more and
more control of my thoughts, to calm my mind for receiving
the subtle vibrations radiated by Bhagavan.
One day he told me, “Silence is the most powerful form of
teaching transmitted from master to adept. The soundless voice
is pure intuition. It is the voice of spiritual sound speaking in
our innermost being. Self-enquiry is the only path we have in
order to eliminate spiritual unconsciousness, which is
widespread. Self-enquiry brings the consciousness of the
divine, the universal truth and the light that governs the
universe. All this must be known, felt, lived and realized. In
order to realize this truth, we need to eliminate the thinking
mind, to dissolve it in the Universal Self”.
To forget the ego and discover the universal Being, not as
one being discovering another, but through the Self54
consciousness of this Being itself, is the direct path taught by
Bhagavan. After practising Self-enquiry for a period of time
one awakens a current of consciousness, the supreme
consciousness, that is never affected by the destruction of the
body. Bhagavan recommends, “Effort is necessary to move
oneself deeper and deeper in the practice of Self-enquiry, not
philosophising on the subject. Firm determination is necessary
to achieve experience, not trying to find it at one particular
point. This is to be done until the ego is consumed and only
the Self remains”.
The Self is eternal kindness and boundless love, the sole
reality. It shines like the sun and reveals itself as soon as the
false thought is destroyed and no residue remains, for this
thought is the cause of the appearance of false forms. Diving
into the right side of the chest, the adept enters into the attitude
of silence. Thoughts disappear and the state of consciousness,
‘I am that I am’, arises.
Bhagavan spoke very little, and showed the world how
much could be transmitted by silence. With his attitude of
serene benevolence he set all at ease, removing all criticism
and surrounding everyone with the most pure universal love.
I felt with absolute certainty that all the knowledge to be gained
would be simply assimilated from his holy presence, for I
had caught the truth that he is the link to the formless Being.
WHAT I OWE TO RAMANA MAHARSHI
By Douglas E. Harding
THOUGH I lived in India from 1937 to 1945 I did not, alas, get
to see Ramana Maharshi. In fact, I knew almost nothing about
him at that time. Since then, however, he has become one of the
great influences in my life. I would like to acknowledge in this
article, with immense gratitude, what I owe to him.
But first I must set on record, briefly, how things stood
with me when, in 1959 in England, I first came across Arthur
Osborne’s books about Maharshi. I had already seen Who I
was. Back in 1943, when I was still in India, I had noticed the
absence here of anyone and anything. Leading up to that vision
I had for some years been inquiring, with growing intensity,
into my true nature. In the main, this research had taken the
thoroughly Western form of investigating how I appeared to
observers at varying distances — from the normal human
range of a few feet all the way down to the angstrom units of
physics, and all the way up to the light-years of astronomy.
Clearly what my observers (including myself standing aside
from myself) made of me depended upon their distance from
here, how far off they happened to be. At great distances they
saw this spot as some kind of heavenly body; in the middle
distance they found a human body; at closer range (when
suitably equipped with microscopes etc.) they discovered
infra-human bodies — cells, molecules, atoms, particles. . .
In some sense I was all this, and more. How marvellous, how
mind-boggling! But it only underlined, and did nothing to
answer, the real, question: what lies right here, at the center
of all these bodily shapes, these regional impressions of me?
What is the reality of which these manifold views are mere
appearances? It seemed unlikely that the scientist would ever
get to the ultimate particles or waves, the basic substance,
but would just go on unveiling, layer by layer, progressively
56
featureless manifestations of that ever-elusive substratum. Yet
this substratum, if any, was me, and therefore absolutely
fascinating. I was stuck. How to penetrate to this central
Unknown, which defies the inspection of the most brilliant
researchers, armed with the subtlest of instruments.
Then, suddenly, I realised how silly this question was. How
could I be accessible to them; how could I be inaccessible to
myself? What outsiders make of me is their business; what I,
the insider, make of myself is my business. They are the
experts on how I strike them at x feet; I am the expert on how
I strike myself at zero feet. I had only to dare to look at this
Looker, here! What I saw then was, and is, the clearest, the
simplest, the most direct and obvious and indubitable of all
sights — namely the Space here, speckless, unbounded, selfluminous,
vividly awake to itself as at once No-thing and the
Container and Source of all things.
In the years that followed this discovery I had it for breakfast
and dinner and tea. I soaked it up, lived with it, explored it,
worked out some of its endless applications and implications.
And I tried, by every means I could find or invent, to share my
delight with others. How miserably I failed! Some folks were
intrigued, even me a fairly harmless eccentric, if not actually
crazy. But what did it matter? Endorsement from way out there
of what lies right here — this was as pointless as it was lacking.
All the same, I confess I often felt frustrated, lonely, and (very
occassionally) discouraged. Not that I could ever doubt the
actuality of what I saw myself to be here, and certainly I never
questioned my own sanity. It was the world’s sanity that I
questioned! I got on as best I could, very much on my own.
And then, in 1958, I started reading seriously the early
Zen masters — and felt lonely no longer. Here were friends
who described what was unmistakably my own experience
of myself as void. O joy! And, on the heels of this delightful
company, came Maharshi himself.
57
Why, I ask myself, did he become so important for me? Why is
he still, for me, superb? What, specially, have I to thank him for?
Firstly, I have to thank him for the gift of encouragement, a
precious gift indeed. Not for confirmation of what I see (only I
am in a position to see what’s right here); not for his support
(right here is the support of all things); not for friendship or
even love (unless one can be friends with oneself). I am having
difficulty in saying what I mean by the kind of encouragement
he gave me when I needed it most. Perhaps I should call it —
his darshan. Anyhow, from then on my dedication to the One-
I-am was complete. No more wavering, no periodical
discouragement, no other real interests than This.
Secondly, I have to record my gratitude to Maharshi for his
insistence on the ever-present accessibility, the naturalness, the
obviousness, of Self-realisation. Many a time I had been informed,
and had read, that Enlightenment is of all states the rarest and the
remotest and the most difficult — in practice, impossible — and
here was a great sage telling us that, on the contrary, it was the
easiest. Such, indeed, was my own experience, and I had never
been intimidated by those religious persons who were careful to
tell me that I couldn’t see what I saw. Nevertheless it was for me
marvellously refreshing to find that Maharshi never sent inquirers
away with instructions to work for liberation at some distant date.
It is not, he insisted, a glittering prize to be awarded for future
achievements of any sort: it is not for earning little by little, but
for noticing now, just as one is. Other sages, of course, have
stressed the availability of this, but here Maharshi is surely the
clearest, the most uncompromising, of them all. How wonderful
to hear, him saying, in effect, that compared with Oneself all
other things are obscure, more or less invisible, fugitive,
impossible to get at: only the Seer can be clearly seen.
I suspect that it was because of this renewed assurance —
Maharshi’s insistence on the present availability of Self-realisation
— that it became possible for me at last to share this realisation
58
with a friend, and then with several friends, and now with many
friends. Today, I won’t accept that inquirers can fail to see their
Absence. I don’t any longer ask them whether they can see this,
but what it means for them. My job is to point out the Obvious,
theirs to evaluate it. It is true that among the many who see, only
a few surrender at once to What they see. This is not, however,
the end of the story, and in any case the words ‘few’ and ‘many’,
are inapplicable here. The problem of sharing This with others
never was a problem. What others? — as Maharshi would say.
Which brings me to my third debt to him. I thank him for his
uncompromising attitude to people’s problems. For him, all
the troubles that afflict humans reduce to one trouble —
mistaken identity. The answer to the problem is to see Who has
it. At its own level it is insoluble. And it must be so. There is no
greater absurdity, no more fundamental or damaging a madness,
than to imagine one is centrally what one looks like at a distance.
To think one is a human being here is a sickness so deep-seated
that it underlies and generates all one’s ills. Only cure that one
basic disease — mistaken identity — and all is exactly as it
should be. I know no Sage who goes more directly to the root
of the disease, and refuses more consistently to treat its
symptoms. WHO AM I? is the only serious question. And, most
fortunately, it is the only question that can be answered without
hesitation or the shadow of a doubt, absolutely.
To sum up, then, I thank Ramana Maharshi above all for
tirelessly posing this question of questions, and for showing how
simple the answer is, and for his lifelong dedication to that simple
answer. But in the last resort all this talk of one giving and another
taking is unreal. The notion that there was a consciousness
associated with that body in Tiruvannamalai, and there is another
consciousness associated with this body in Nacton, England, and
a lot of other consciousness associated with the other bodies
comprising the universe — this is the great error which Maharshi
never tolerated. Consciousness is indivisible.
59
The Value of Book Learning
Once some very learned Sanskrit scholars were sitting in
the old hall discussing portions of the Upanishads and other
scriptural texts with Bhagavan. Bhagavan was giving them
proper explanations and it was a sight to remember and adore!
At the same time, I felt genuinely in my heart, ‘Oh, how great
these people are and how fortunate they are to be so learned
and to have such deep understanding and be able to discuss
with our Bhagavan. Compared with them, what am I, a zero in
scriptural learning?’ I felt miserable. After the pundits had taken
leave Bhagavan turned to me and said, “What?”, looking into
my eyes and studying my thoughts. Then, without even giving
me an opportunity to explain, he continued, “This is only the
husk! All this book learning and capacity to repeat the scriptures
by memory is absolutely no use. To know the Truth, you need
not undergo all this torture of learning. Not by reading do you
get the Truth. BE QUIET, that is Truth, BE STILL, that is God”.
Then very graciously he turned to me again and there was
an immediate change in his tone and attitude. He asked me,
“Do you shave yourself?” Bewildered by this sudden change,
I answered, trembling, that I did.
“Ah, for shaving you use a mirror, don’t you? You look
into the mirror and then shave your face; you don’t shave the
image in the mirror. Similarly all the scriptures are meant only
to show you the way to realization. They are meant for practise
and attainment. Mere book learning and discussions are
comparable to a man shaving the image in the mirror”. From
that day onwards the sense of inferiority that I had been feeling
vanished once and for all.
60
WHAT DOES HE MEAN TO ME?
By Wolter A. Keers
PONDERING over the Editors’ request for an article, I am
asking myself — What has Bhagavan meant to me, and what
does he still mean to me. And I find that it is impossible to
give a neat answer to this question.
The first thing, perhaps, is that he opened my heart.
Immediately when I saw him, even from a distance, I
recognized that this was what I had been looking for. But
when I say that this This was radiating, all-penetrating and
all-overthrowing love, striking me with the power of lightning,
I know that only those who had the same experience will
know what I mean. To anybody else, all this is verbiage, at
best creating an image of someone very magnificent.
Well, Sri Ramana Maharshi was the Unimaginable, and
therefore the Indescribable.
In literature, all over the world, one finds magnificent
descriptions of sorrow. But who can describe happiness?
Happiness is a state without ego and therefore without a someone
in it to describe it, or even to remember it. What we remember is
its afterglow, its reflection in feeling and body, not the moment
when we were present as happiness itself, as happiness only.
Ramana Maharshi is not the frail, old, dying body that I
saw reclining on a chair, but the Unimaginable, egolessness,
pure radiance, and the body, however much we may have
loved its appearance, was merely like a glittering diamond
reflecting the light that he really was.
I did not understand all this, when I first arrived. To me, he
was something like a divine person, and I was inclined to
compare him with Jesus or the Buddha. But Jesus or the Buddha
were images in my head, formed on the basis of the belief in
61
which I had been brought up, and on stories heard and read
later on. And Sri Ramana Maharshi, from the first second I saw
him, was anything but an image in my head. He was a bomb,
exploding the myth of my life until then, within a few minutes,
and without a word. His famous, to some, notorious question,
“Who Am I?” immediately got a totally new colour. For several
years, at home, I had been meditating on it, and it had something
of a mystical, yogic and philosophical ring about it. Now it
turned into, “Who on earth do you think you are, that you should
be so important as to cultivate a garden full of problems and
questions”? And this was not by way of condemning my ‘self’,
my ego as it is usually called in Vedantic circles — but the
question took this form in a sphere of utter astonishment: how,
boy, tell me, how have you been so misled as to think that you
or your ego had any importance? Instead of seeing that an ego
is a mere stupidity or the belief in a fantasy, you have been
cherishing it and even cultivating it by feeding it with important
questions and problems. Your life until now was led by the
belief in something totally imaginary.
Again, there was no condemnation in this — it was a
discovery, something revealed to me, suddenly, and leaving
me in utter amazement. Perhaps that is what triggered it. His
mere presence revealed to me how utterly stupid I had been
until now, that it was love which revealed it, not the criticising
father-knows-better attitude that we know only too well. My
darkness was revealed by the mere confrontation with light
— light that did not condemn me or wish to change me, but
accepted and loved me totally and unconditionally; light, as I
understood later, that saw me as nothing but light.
What I did not understand at the time, was that this
confrontation inevitably threw me back, as it were, upon the love
that I was myself. Seeing “myself” as an oddity with problems
implied that I was taken to a position beyond this “myself”, to
that one Consciousness that all beings have in common and
62
outside of which nothing is. In this confrontation, this “myself”
was no longer the “I” which I had lived so far, but a curious
object, a little whirlpool of light within an ocean of light.
I have described my “adventures” with Bhagavan
elsewhere .1 How I rebelled at one moment, finding that this
all-overpowering bliss and radiance left me the moment I left
the Ashram premises, and how he then broke through my inner
walls; how, as my stay with him had unfortunately been only
less than two months, as his body was gradually dropping
away like a worn-out leaf from a tree, not all problems and
questions had been answered and dissolved; how, very soon
after his “departure” I got his darshan and he referred me to a
person, most venerable and exalted, who in the course of the
following years allowed me to be in his nearness until he could
say that his work on me had been completed.
In other words, it was only three or four years later that the
full impact of what his silence had revealed to me became clear
and “my own”. Perhaps these last two words and their inverted
commas indicate the problem. Bhagavan never gave anyone
the possibility to believe that you, as a person, could realize the
truth. The axis, the central point in the sadhana that he proposed
to most of us, was the invitation to examine who put questions,
who came to see him, who wanted to realize, who felt exalted
or miserable or angry, who desired or shunned, and so on.
Recently I heard a “realised person” (there is no such thing)
say to one of his pupils, “There is only one question — that is
the question “Who am I”. But we come with many, many
questions, as our belief that we are a person has begotten many
other beliefs such as the belief that if we are to realize the
truth, we are to behave in a certain way, that we should or
should not eat and drink certain things, that love is an object
that one person can give to or receive from another person,
1 The Mountain Path, January 1977
63
and so on. All such questions stand solved, the moment the
question ‘Who am I’ is solved, when the light that we are and
have always been is suddenly recognized in all perceptions,
in the ones usually called ‘good’ no more than in the ones
usually called ‘bad’; in the perceptions usually called ‘the
world’ and in perceptions called ‘the ego’. Self-realisation is
never found by attempts to change the person, the ego that
we are not. It dawns, the moment it is made possible, and that
is when there is full realisation of the fact that ‘I am no ego
and I have no ego’. I am That unimaginable something in
which all things, including the thought that ‘I am a person’
arise, and which remains over after such perceived thoughts
or feelings or sensorial perceptions have dissolved into it.
Once Shri Bhagavan asked someone, “How do you know
that you are not realised”? If you ponder over it, you will find
that this question is like an earthquake. Who says so indeed?
It is the person, a mere habit of thought, that says it is not
realised. How can a habit of thought, or, for that matter any
thought at all know what I am? On the face of it, it seems
extremely humble and it is certainly most acceptable to say,
“Ah, poor me, I am not realised, no, no, far from it”. In reality
it is lunacy to believe that thought could ever know what ‘I
am’. It is the arrogance, the vanity of thought, to imagine the
unimaginable and to have opinions about it.
So, pondering deeply over this question, one cannot but come
to the conclusion that once again Shri Bhagavan told us the plain
and naked truth, when he said, “The Self is always realised”.
If you wish to have information about Britain, you do not
go to the Turkish Embassy, and if you wish to have information
about Turkey you do not go to the British Embassy. But in
matters of Self-enquiry we do so all the time. We ask the not-
Self about the Self and we investigate the image of the Absolute
instead of realising that the Absolute is unimaginable. A Turk
64
may have visited Britain and someone from Britain may have
lived in Turkey, but thought and the thoughtless can never be
reconciled in an idea or image. So it is not by changing thought
and through holier behaviour that the Self is realised, but through
the insight that no information whatsoever can be obtained by
what body and senses perceive, by what thought says or by
what feelings tell us: the Self is always the Self, whatever pranks
body, senses or mind may play. Realising the Self occurs when
we stop questioning the perceived and start listening to the Self.
How? For it is clear that the Self, the Absolute Reality, can
never become an object to which we might listen. So direct
contemplation of the Self is out of the question.
But we may for instance direct our attention to what
remains over when thoughts, feelings and sense-perceptions
have disappeared. Only that, which is always here, is entitled
to the name ‘I’. Thoughts and feelings and perceptions leave
us as fast as they have come. Therefore, we can never be
anything perceived. We are that which remains over when
nothing is perceived but the Presence that we are, and in which
all perceptions arise.
What happens in practice, is that when awareness is
directed to the Self, it dissolves into the Self and awareness
becomes aware of itself.
But it is essential, in one way or the other, that the answer
to the question ‘Who am I’ is clearly seen on all levels:
countless are the yogis who, by directing attention to
awareness, got into all kinds of samadhi, and came out just as
ignorant as they were before — and even more so. This is
because it has not been shown to them that the ‘I’, the person,
is nothing but a thought, an image which appears in
Consciousness like a wave in water or a current of air in space.
When the wave and the current have gone, water remains,
space remains, quite unchanged, completely unaffected. Water
has remained H2O and space has remained space.
65
To the yogi who has not seen this, the belief will cling that
the ‘I’, the person, was in samadhi, and this is perhaps more
dangerous than the other superstition that ‘I am an ignorant
person.’ Many people, even amongst the world famous
spiritual leaders of our time, got stuck up there, in India as in
the West. They talk about growing still larger, reaching still
higher states, having still purer love, and so on, and completely
miss the point that anything which can change is a perceived
something, and that we can never be defined as limited, by
what is perceived within us. They talk about enjoying God’s
love, failing to see that in love there is no ‘I’ to enjoy anything
and that love is our real nature; that there, we are present as
love, not as an ‘I’ that loves.
It seems so obvious, so evident, that “I love” and
unfortunately “I hate”, also from time to time. The question
“Who am I” helps us to get disentangled from the ever-soobvious.
When we face this question, one day the trap will
release us. But face it we must.
You as an ego are born afresh infinite times every day, but,
there is no reality and no permanency in you, and only the
telephone needs to ring to wipe out the I-thought or I-feeling;
and indeed, in reality you do not exist other than as an
“imaginary image” in your own head; in reality you were never
born. . . to realise all that requires courage, and lots of it, if
only because it goes straight against common sense and
accepted truths and respectability. But what Sri Ramana
Maharshi the radiant Master stands for is murder! What he
wants is the death of you as a body and you as a mind. He or
his words propagate the total disappearance of everything you
call ‘I’ and at all levels. What we now call “my body” is a
standpoint that must go. There is no such thing. What we now
call “my thoughts, my feelings” must go. There is no such
thing as ‘me’ or ‘mine’. And when the illusion of ‘me’ goes,
that which we call a body now, will be seen as non-existent,
66
unless in imagination; what we now call “my mind” will turn
out to be non-existent, unless in imagination. Whose
imagination? The ‘me’ is part of the imagined, just like the
dreamer is part of the dream. When the dream disappears, so
does the dreamer.
Yogis usually make a mistake when they try to kill thought
by refusing it and clubbing it on the bead, the moment it
appears. To them, thought is the enemy, and a very real one
that must be fought. To other, equally unfortunate persons,
the I-am-this-body is such an obstacle and such a situation of
unhappiness, that they kill the body. What such misled people
fail to see is that the real death they seek is the disappearance
of the idea I-am-this-body and I-am-this-mind. When thought
is seen as nothing but consciousness or clarity, as nothing but
a little whirlpool of light, thought disappears and light remains.
This is the real death that we seek, and the return to life as
really is, ever now.
When it is seen that every perception, sensorial or mental,
is nothing but a movement in consciousness, in light, then,
from that moment on, every perception chants the glory of
this Clarity, just as one can see a wave as a song of the sea.
Of every hundred people who come to visit Ashrams and
gurus, ninetynine come to seek food for their imaginary ego.
That is why so many frauds succeed in misleading many
thousands of well-intentioned people. Such imposters hand
out intellectual food and even the most authentic texts, and a
pleasing atmosphere for feeling, and in exchange they humbly
accept your dollars.
But Sri Ramana Maharshi has never given me anything. When
I arrived, regarding myself as a poor man in need of help, he
revealed to me that I was more than a millionaire, and the source
of all things. Nor has Sri Ramana Maharshi asked anything from
me — not even my love or respect. It was his mere presence that
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uncovered or unleashed in me what cannot be described by words
such as love or respect; it went deeper than the deepest feeling.
My meeting with him was in no way a matter of giving or
receiving, even though for a long time I thought so (he had given
me his love, I had given him my heart). It was the naked, radiant
confrontation of illusion and truth, in which confrontation and
illusion could not stand up. It was wiped away, but not because
He wanted it. He wanted nothing, and accepted me as I was. He
did not wish to change me, but he saw me as I really was — a
whirlpool of light in an ocean of light.
Perhaps it was the radiant certainty that he was, that broke
through my fears and desires and enabled me to let go of the
desire to enrich an imaginary “me”. Does it mean something
to you when I say that what he meant and means to me, is the
mere fact, that he was what he was, and is what he is? This
certainty made me face and later realize the ageless, timeless,
unimaginable fact, so utterly simple — “I am what I am” —
the Unthinkable.
A good deal more than half of the film reels called ‘my
life’ have been projected. I do not know how many more are
awaiting — but what does it matter? So far the film has shown
the best and the worst; it has shown scenes of violence, death,
war, blind hatred, sadness and utter despair. It has also shown
scenes of tenderness, of exaltation, the sudden flash of insight
when, suddenly for a moment, the screen remains white, and
I am there, all along, onlooker a moment ago, something like
“spaceness” now.
Here I sit, in the shadow of the temple, my back against
its wall.
Opposite: blazing light.
Behind him: sand, coconut palms. A monkey walks behind
him, just a few yards away, its baby clasping itself tight under
its mother, and looking curiously into his direction from its
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safe, protected place. Squirrels running up and down the
palms. An attendant moves a fan, to protect him from the heat.
Silence.
Someone approaches, prostrates before him, and hands a
bundle of incense sticks to one of the attendants, who lights
them. A wave of scent floats through the stillness.
What does he mean to me? What does all this mean to me?
The question has now become absurd, really.
I look at him. He makes it clear that I am this stillness.
The stillness that he is, the stillness that I am, is the
meaning of things. To find it, people do whatever they do,
hoping that it will make them happy and lead them to this
stillness that is the perfect equilibrium, deep unfathomable
peace, fulfilment of everything, root of all joy where no
desire can survive.
I am the meaning of all things, the stillness behind the pictures
projected upon the screen. They all point to one thing — that I
am their beholder and that their meaning derives from me. As
long as there is the belief that ‘I am a person’, their meaning is
fear and desire, pleasure and pain, the constant search for love.
The moment it is revealed that I am all, the meaning changes.
Love does not search for love. It recognizes it everywhere. This
inmost meaning, not a thought and not a feeling, may yet be
called love. That is what human beings are — love, in search of
itself, a whirlpool of light in an ocean of light.
Deep, dreamless sleep is the dark, dark-blue stillness, the
peace from which all things arise, the waking state, the dream.
These states are what we call ‘all things.’ Once this is seen,
the waking state-the world-is peace with form. When form
dissolves, peace remains. But no ‘I’ to speak of. The ‘I’ is part
of the states. When the states disappear, what we really are
69
remains, nameless, I-less, formless, source of the universes
that we call waking state or dream.
He called it the I-I, to make us understand.
It has no name, for in It, there is no-one to name it.
Words can only give a hint. Like — I am that I am.
The rest is Silence.
1947 - TIRUVANNAMALAI - 1977
By Henri Hartung
IN order to celebrate this anniversary of Ramana’s birth, I
would like to recall two moments of my life, the first having
determined, the other confirmed, its meaning — they are two
stays in Tiruvannamalai, at an interval of thirty years.
According to the Hindu theory of the four ages of life, my
first stay corresponded with the end of the student state —
brahmacharin; the second was that of increasing spiritual depth
and also of sharing with all those who attempt to fulfil themselves
— vanaprastha, in some remote place. A forest for instance, with
one’s wife. Between the two periods came about the state of the
head of a family within society — grahastha. What a symbol at
the really sinister end of the Kaliyuga or dark age, to be able to
relate to such a reference — Sri Ramana Maharshi! What a
benediction to take advantage of his testimony, of the wise man’s
darshan, in order to progress on the road to one’s own fulfilment.
It is the autumn of 1947. I am in the presence of Bhagavan.
The long path which leads to these few Indian houses called
Ashram, suddenly becomes for me the royal road to the discovery
of oneself. Yes, what is fated to occur, occurs. A first meeting at
Lyon, just ten years earlier, with Olivier de Carfort, widely opened
to me the door of a spirituality as far removed from a dead religion
as from a theoretical culture. A discovery, experienced as a
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revelation, of Rene Guenon, of metaphysics, therefore of
Hinduism, and of the transformation of oneself. This is not a
formula; my life changes, marked through the storm of war by a
thorough study of this message of peace and serenity. So I learn,
while simultaneously engaged in the fight, that in 1939 there
survived an authentic representative of the traditional wisdom,
Ramana Maharshi. After several episodes related to the end of
the conflict in Europe, I am sent to the far East still combining,
with the impetuosity of youth, my temporal mission and my
spiritual journey.
There follows a new meeting, but this time in Bombay,
with a Brahmin who tells me without astonishment as if it
were an item of the everyday news and even before greeting
me, “I was waiting for you, I have to escort you to Maharshi”.
Two days and two nights of train travel follow. While
admiring the Indian landscape and especially the noisy and
colourful scenes which occur during the stops, I try to assess
myself. Finally I frame some ten questions that remain essential
for me — the meaning of my presence on earth, what happens
after death? Why? How? . . . Just after Madras, in the middle
of the second night, my friend wakes me. The train has stopped
at a tiny station, called Villupuram and we alight. My friend
asks me to board another train at seven in the morning and get
down at the third station. That is all. I do not remember having
slept much. All happens as planned. I read the third station’s
name — Tiruvannamalai. I settle in unsteady equilibrium at
the back of a small carriage drawn by two oxen with long lyreshaped
horns, driven by a coachman without visible effort. He
does not ask me where I am going; that is obvious, there is only
one possible destination — the Ashram. We cross many other
carriages whose two colossal wheels, much higher than the
animals that move them, turn slowly with an uninteresting
grinding. In spite of the early hour, crowds are walking and it is
a permanent astonishment to see that no one gives the
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impression of bothering his neighbour in spite of the very narrow
space available to the people and to the vehicles. I am shaken
and rocked by the tinkling of tiny bells tied to the animals’
legs, and I inhale red dust rising from the ground. On my right
rises the sacred mountain, Arunachala. It looks huge, but in
fact only stands a few hundred metres above the plain. Suddenly,
also on the right side of the road, appears a wooden arch which
constitutes the main doorway, held up by two white columns.
Moreover white letters compose the words Sri Ramanasramam.
Above this inscription, in the middle of the arch, is inscribed
the most sacred syllable of Hinduism, OM. All is in all, a single
letter of the sacred writings contains the whole doctrine. That
is why it is said that Brahman is OM, at the same time past,
present, future, the state of waking, of dreaming and deep sleep,
the highest support of meditation and fulfilment.
I pass the portal. All is quiet, some men and women come
and go; one of them comes to me and invites me to drink
coffee. As I ask him if it will be possible for me to meet the
Maharshi, he smiles and beckons slightly with his hand. Beside
him, having come momentarily to a halt, leaning on a long
wooden stick, he is here, silent and smiling. I am silent. During
the next ten days, I share the ritual life of the Ashram, sitting
for hours in front of Ramana, in the meditation hall with a
simple roof of coconut-leaves, held by bamboo posts that the
members of the community call a pandal, as in the refectory.
But, on the day of my departure, a precise answer to everyone
of the questions I had prepared is given to me.
I give these indications as they show well this function of
Bhagavan’s presence. Sometimes through a few words written
by himself, sometimes through answers to questions, sometimes
through some shared domestic chores, especially in the kitchen,
most often in silence; so unfolds a really subtle transmission of
an exceptional spiritual reality. I have to repeat the word: Ramana
is the Witness. Till his last day, he will make it possible for his
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visitors, from the next town or from a remote country, on foot
and penniless or in luxurious cars, servants or prime minister, to
see him, even to talk to him, to bow in any case not in front of
what he called himself this “chump of a body”, but in front of the
living incarnation of the divine reality which is in every human
being. He is here, amongst us, without ever showing any sort of
ambition, nor a particle of pride, one of the “self-centered”
projections that accompany human relationships. Obviously, he
does not have this or that, he “is”. A smile of love and peace, a
look. A look which I feel, while writing these lines, words could
only devalue. Testimonial of inner truth at a time of outward
tumult; of silence surrounded by noise and fury, of peace in the
midst of disasters and atrocities and so many wars; testimonial
of the living spirit facing so many forms of dead intelligence.
Thirty years after the meeting which changed my life, in the
Autumn of 1977, I am once again at Tiruvannamalai, with my
wife. A pilgrimage which goes to the depths of my soul, as it
did thirty years ago. The Maharshi, his Samadhi, Arunachala.
Who is present in these high quarters where I can, without great
effort, come to terms with what, inside me, is truer than myself?
And what limited means I have at my disposal to describe
but what is around me? Should I not as well, in order to carry
out this story, draw inspiration from a remark of the Ecclesiastes,
“There is a time for silence and a time for words”, or from one
of Bhagavan’s talks, “Everything will come at its time”.
Sylvie and I visit the Ashram which remains in every respect
similar to what it has always been. A library, two offices in which
the persons-in-charge watch over the organisation of visits and
over the daily celebration of rites and songs, the room for the
Ashram journal, The Mountain Path, reception rooms, the kitchen
in which a constantly harmonious activity is centered on big
charcoal fires and the dining-room. On the other side of a path
which leads from the entrance of the Ashram to the foot of the
mountain, stands a temple at whose end lies a pond that is in fact
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a big square reservoir, surrounded on every side by stone stairs
on which a few monkeys hop up and down. In the middle, a
memorial which carries the architectural emblem of South India,
indicates the place of rest of Maharshi’s mother and, close by, a
very large hall, wherein is situated the Samadhi of Bhagavan.
Through his life which started on 30 December, 1879,
through his comments which serve as concrete references for
our personal growth, through the universality of his message
directed in the same way towards Oriental and Occidental
people, but also through his look, his smile, his silence, Ramana
Maharshi is the last link of a chain of wise and holy men whose
origin is beyond time and whose influence gives a meaning to
our life, a harmony to our behaviour and peace to our heart. He
appears as the witness of the real finality of the human state
and so puts naturally into their respective places what our
contemporaries still believe they may qualify as values. Time
has come to acquire cognizance of this testimonial which
illustrates transformation of an anxious person who has not
found a meaning to his life into a serene person, centered on
the essential. Yes, to be, as always, even nowadays.
The Ego
By Ira
The ego, in its desperation for survival, goes so far as to
make even the concept of itself (the idea of a limited, embodied
person) an object of thought, thereby creating the illusion that
it has been apprehended.
The seeker thus deluded might spend a lifetime scrutinizing
and studying his captive prize. But he must eventually ask,
‘Who is he that has so admirably apprehended the ego?’
Thus will he see how his captive ego is a decoy only, and the
real culprit exists still, strengthened even, by a new invisibility.
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RAMANA: AMANA AND SUMANA
By Ra. Ganapati
WAS Ramana only amana, mindless? Did he not manifest to
our human view the best and most beautiful of minds? Did
not the supreme Parasakti manifest through this Parabrahman
the very cream of a good, noble, virtuous and loving mind?
Himself transcending dharma, did not every act and every
word of his reveal dharma? If Rama, who averred atmanam
manusham manye (I consider myself only a human being),
personified all the noble traits of man in the Tretayuga, it was
Ramana who was ever-steeped in Atman-Consciousness,
without a trace of identification with his human habiliment,
who embodied the perfect man in the Kaliyuga. Why not write
a Ramanayana about this Sumana?
If as sky — dahara antarakasa — he is beyond words, as
the sea of virtues too — sakala guna sagara — he beggars
description. His sky-like silence silences our mouths and
minds. The variegated waves of his oceanic music, with its
different swaras pitched to the adhara sruti of goodness, also
baffles and stills our puny words and thoughts. Amana or
sumana, either way he is anirvachaniya — indescribable; that
was Sankara’s word for maya. Strangely, that is also the apt
expression for the sage who was utterly untouched by maya.
Other sages retained a small dash of maya for our edification.
But even the motive of edifying others was absent in Ramana.
Remembering him, in Ramana smaranam we experience
the Amana’s peace and the Sumana’s love — and enjoy the
sweetness of a melody unheard.
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UNIQUE MESSIAH SPEAKING
THROUGH SILENCE
By S. Ramakrishna
A trepidation overpowers one while attempting to weave a
tiny garland of homage to the immortal sage of Arunachala,
Maharshi Sri Ramana, on the occasion of his birth Centenary.
The remarks Sri Ramana proffered to his devoted disciples
when they planned to celebrate his birthday for the first time
in 1912, come back to the mind as a strident warning and
severe chastisement:
At least on one’s birthday one may mourn his entry into
this world (samsara). To glory in it and celebrate it, on the
other hand, is like delighting in decorating a corpse. To
seek one’s Self and merge in the Self — that is wisdom.
Ye, that wish to celebrate the birthday seek first whence
was your birth. That indeed is one’s birthday, when he enters
that which transcends birth and death, the Eternal being.
Yet, with due deference to the feelings of his devotees, he
did not prevent them from celebrating his jayanti year after
year. But, as for himself, this celebration was like an
inconsequential ripple in the ocean of serenity and silence
that he ever was.
In a situation like this, Sri Ramana must have considered
two aspects that were involved in the celebrations. Which was
his real birthday? Was it not the day when he was well and
truly established in the Brahma Stithi — the state of equanimity
so eloquently expounded in the second chapter of the Bhagavad
Gita? Such a one is immune from all delusions. But there were
the fervent pleadings of the disciples who yearned to utilise his
advent for reinforcing in themselves all that they had learnt at
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his feet and gave them anchorage in life. They also wished to
widen the pathway to the blessings of a purposeful life divine
to their brethren all over India and the world.
Sri Ramana could easily fathom the sincerity of the intent,
and the selflessness of the effort. His attitude was verily that
of the jnani of the Bhagavad Gita who participates in the
affairs of the world wisely but with total abandon and
disinterestedness.
This brings us to the question of the ultimate goal that Sri
Ramana always taught — the goal of Self-knowledge, of Selfidentity,
which he had actually experienced and achieved. To
him, there was the non-dual Brahman and nothing else. This
transcendental experience of the non-dual Brahman could be
got only through a constant and searching inquiry into oneself
— “Who am I?” Self-enquiry, therefore, is the means he taught
to reach this goal.
The numerous anecdotes, accounts of various encounters,
and the questions and answers that punctuate the life of Sri
Ramana reveal beyond doubt his persevering reiteration of
the need for Self-enquiry. Sometimes questions seemingly
unconnected with the subject elicited from him instructions
regarding Self-knowledge.
This search for the true nature of human personality, the
meaning and significance of human life on earth, the source
of the “Intimations of Immortality” that gifted men receive
now and again, has been going on from time immemorial.
Perhaps, in the earlier stages, this search was directed
outwards but very soon man turned his gaze inwards and
looked for an answer not in the depths and distances of Nature
but in the innermost recesses of his heart. We have in the
Upanishads, the young seeker Nachiketas turning boldly his
eyes inwards and seeking from the God of death an answer
to the eternal question, “Who am I?” The quintessence of the
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life and message of Sri Ramana is also the same — relentless
quest for “Self knowledge.”
Sri Ramana never consciously did anything to make an
impact and to carve out a niche for himself in the annals of
history. He shunned all publicity and image building. He never
gave discourses, much less went out on lecture-tours. When
people went to him and put questions, he answered them in
his own simple way, devoid of pontifical solemnity. True, he
did some writing, in response to the entreaties of seekers, but
they are very few though very precious. Asleep or awake, he
was so fully immersed in the bliss of the immortal Self, that
he gave no attention to his mortal, transient self. He was totally
unassuming and had successfully effaced himself.
Sri Ramana did not found a new cult or a new religion. He
did not insist on compliance with any marga, ritual or line of
conduct. Neither did he give any new direction or effect any
reform within an existing one. But he showed a new path to
adherents of all religions — the direct path of erasing the ego
ad discovering the Self, by Self-enquiry.
The timeless snows on the Himalayas have been enriching
the plains below with nourishing waters for many millennia
and will continue to do so for many more. Similarly, in
perpetual confirmation of the standing proclamation of the
Lord in the Gita, age after age, whenever the waters of
spirituality seemed to be ebbing away, rishis and munis have
descended on this punyabhumi of ours and made the tide of
spirituality rise higher and bathe the low-lying areas of human
existence, again and again. Sri Ramana undoubtedly belongs
to this parampara of immortal Godmen.
Strange are the ways in which sages and saints keep the
stream of spirituality constantly flowing. Some lead a life of
incessant activity, while others withdraw into the quietness
and the silence of some hallowed place. There, like a dynamo,
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they generate the power that transforms people from lead to
gold. To the superficial eye, pomp and pageantry might appeal,
but behind them all there is a vast storehouse — akshayapatra
— of inexhaustible power, luminous and strong, serene and
silent.
The Vedas themselves point out that the most potent form
of sound is inaudible. It is only wen it gets modified into lower
forms that it becomes audible speech. So it was with Sri
Ramana. This is his uniqueness. Beneath the small quantum
of his utterances lies the depth of wisdom beyond one’s gaze
and hearing.
Maharshi Sri Ramana is a symbol of serenity and
compassion. He will remain for generations to come as a living
embodiment of Advaita Vedanta, the ideal of a perfect
jivanmukta.
A few days before he cast off his body, the Maharshi
proclaimed, “They say that I am dying, but I shall be more
alive than before”.
There is no doubt that the message that this Messiah teaches
through silence will become more and more eloquent and
reverberate with greater power as the eternal wheel of time
— kalachakra — turns on and on.
The highest tribute to such greatness is silence.
Silence is golden.
(Continued ...)
My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Bhagavan Sree Ramana Maharshi
and also gratitude to Bhagavan’s great devotees for the collection)
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