RAMANA SMRTI Sri Ramana Maharshi Birth Centenary Offering - Part 5

RAMANA SMRTI

Sri Ramana Maharshi

Birth Centenary Offering

1980

SRI RAMANASRAMAM

SHRI BHAGAVAN’S GRACE

By Gouriammal

MY father was always an earnest devotee of Sri Bhagavan.

Whenever he happened to be at Tiruvannamalai on an official

visit he never missed going to see Bhagavan. At that time

Bhagavan was residing at Virupaksha Cave. My father would

sometimes take me with him. I think I was seven years old

when I saw Bhagavan for the first time. But it was much later

that I came to stay close to Ramanasramam. Thus I got many

opportunities to meet and talk to Bhagavan.

Once I asked Bhagavan what I should do to be on the spiritual

path. He said, “Do what you want to do but keep doing it;

don’t remain doing nothing. Repeat the name, or think deeply

or seek the source of your ‘I’ consciousness, do Atma Vichara

but keep working on yourself. This is very important”.

One instance of his grace to his devotees is his

recommendation of two songs from Tiruppugazh to help them

get their daughters married. The devotees of Bhagavan

believed firmly that it was enough to sing the two songs from

Tiruppugazh before Bhagavan to have the marriage arranged

in the best way possible. There is another song in Tiruppugazh

in which God is invited to come to the house as a newborn

child. When anyone approached Bhagavan praying for a child

he would tell them to sing that song.

I stayed at Ramana Nagar, where my house was situated,

for eight years. Those were the most memorable and fruitful

years of my life. How sweet they were and how many

miracles happened before my very eyes! Once Dr Sreenivasa

Rao was telling Bhagavan how good it would be for him to

eat more pineapples, when somebody entered the hall with

a heap of pineapples on a tray. On another occasion,

Bhagavan was mentioning one Gajanana Sharma who used

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to stay with him some years earlier and enquired about his

present whereabouts and doings. At that very moment the

Postmaster entered the hall and in the mail there was a letter

from Gajanana Sharma with photos and details about his

life, Ashram, and disciples. Bhagavan said, “Look at this,

how wonderful! I was telling about him just now and here it

all comes”.

On another day a well-meaning but ignorant devotee

insisted that Bhagavan should take the glass of orange juice

that he had brought. Bhagavan was annoyed at being treated

partially and said, “If you give anything to me without giving

it to all, it will be like poison to me”. When the devotee said

that next time all would be given orange juice, Bhagavan said,

“What is the use of giving because I tell you? You should

know by this time that they are all myself and what you give

them you are giving me”. Bhagavan disapproved of any

difference made between him and others.

Once my sister’s five-year old son was bitten by a snake

and in desperation she brought the child to Bhagavan. The

doctor had given up hope and the boy was perspiring profusely

and was in great pain. The child was already stiff with glazed

eyes and was breathing heavily. The mother of the child was

weeping all the way and carried him to Bhagavan. When

Bhagavan saw her he said, “Don’t weep, don’t weep. It is

nothing”. He passed his hand over the child and within a few

minutes the boy recovered his senses and sat up. They sat in

the hall for some time but as it was late in the evening the

mother was told to take the child home. As she was leaving

she saw a Muslim devotee on the porch in front of Bhagavan’s

Hall, murmuring his prayers. By profession he was a snake

charmer and a snakebite healer. When he saw them he said,

“The boy was dying of snakebite, but since you were going

to see Bhagavan I kept quiet. Now the child is safe, but the

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poison is still in his body and I had better chant some charms

to get it out”. He chanted some prayers and then asked them

to go. Bhagavan had saved the child but wanted the snake

charmer to take the credit.

Ramana Sadguru

By Arthur Osborne

To feel, to know, to be the Christ within —

Can there then be love for Christ on earth,

Walking like men, seen as a man is seen?

Seek not to argue; love has greater worth.

Love makes man kin.

With the Beloved. Such have I known,

Him of the lustrous eyes, Him whose sole look

Pierced to the heart, wherein the seed was sown

Of wisdom deeper than in holy book,

Of truth alone

Not to be learned but lived, Truth in its hour

To sprout within the heart’s dark, wintry earth

And grow a vibrant thing, then, come to power,

To slay the seeming self that gave it birth,

Or to devour.

Heart of my heart, seen outwardly as one

In human form, to draw my human love,

Lord Ramana, Guru, the risen Sun,

Self manifest, the guide of all who rove,

Lost and alone.

In tangled thoughts and vain imaginings,

Back to pure Being, which your radiant smile,

Full of compassion for my wanderings,

Tells me I always was, though lost this while

In a world of things.

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A LIFETIME WITH BHAGAVAN

By T. K. Sundaresa Iyer

IN 1908, when I was 12 years old, Bhagavan was living in

Virupaksha cave. My cousin, Krishnamurty, used to go to

Bhagavan every day and sing songs of devotion and worship

before him. One day I asked him where he went everyday. He

told me, “The Lord of the hill himself is sitting there in human

form. Why don’t you come with me”? I too climbed the hill

and found Bhagavan sitting on a stone slab, with about ten

devotees around him. Each would sing a song. Bhagavan

turned to me and asked, “Well, won’t you sing a song for

me”? One of Sundaramurti Nayanar’s songs came to my

mind and I sang it. Its meaning was:

No other support I have except thy holy feet. By holding

on to them, I shall win your grace. Great men sing your

praise, Oh, Lord. Grant that my tongue may repeat thy name

even when my mind strays.

“Yes, that is what must be done”, said Bhagavan, and I took

it to be his teaching for me. From then on I went to him regularly

for several years without missing a day.

One day I wondered why I was visiting him at all. What was

the use? There seemed to be no inner advancement. Going up

the hill was meaningless toil. I decided to end my visits on the

hill. For a hundred days exactly I did not see Bhagavan. On the

hundred and first day I could suffer no longer and ran to

Skandashram, above Virupaksha cave. Bhagavan saw me

climbing, got up and came forward to meet me. When I fell at

his feet, I could not restrain myself and burst out in tears. I clung

to his feet and would not get up. Bhagavan pulled me up and

asked, “It is over three months since I saw you. Where were

you”? I told him how I thought that seeing him was of no use.

“All right”, he said, “maybe it is of no use, so what? You felt the

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loss, did you not”? Then I understood that we did not go to him

for profit, but because, away from him there was no life for us.

Once I wrote two verses in Tamil, one in praise of the Lord

without attributes, the other of the Lord with numberless forms.

In the latter I wrote, “From whom grace is flowing over the

sentient and insentient”. Bhagavan asked me to change one

letter and this altered the meaning to, “Who directs his grace to

the sentient and the insentient”. The idea was that grace was

not a mere influence but could be directed with a purpose where

it was needed most.

Whenever I went up the hill to see Bhagavan, I used to buy

something to eat and take it with me as an offering. One day I

had no money. I stood before Bhagavan in a dejected mood

and said, “This poor man has brought nothing”. Bhagavan

looked at me enquiringly and remarked, “Why, you brought

the main thing. All else is unimportant”. I wondered, not

knowing what I had brought. “Don’t you understand? You have

brought yourself”, laughed Bhagavan.

Once I got an offer of a job at Sholapur to teach Jewish

refugees. It carried a good pay. I intimated my consent and

received an appointment order by wire. I showed the wire to

Bhagavan. “All right, go”, he said. Even before I left the hall, I

felt gloom settling over me and I started shivering. My heart

wailed, “What are you doing? You are going away from the

presence of your Guru”! I went back, fell at Bhagavan’s feet

and cried, “I cannot go, I cannot leave you”. Bhagavan laughed,

“Look at the man! He has been here for twenty years and look

at the result. He thinks there are places where Bhagavan is not

and he refuses to go there”! He ridiculed me mercilessly and

told me to pack off to Sholapur. I was getting ready to start. A

very rich Seth came to the Ashram with a hundred questions,

all on paper. Bhagavan replied to them all, but in Tamil. The

Seth noted down the oral translation of the answers. The next

day a big car appeared before my school and I was told that I

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was wanted in the Ashram. Bhagavan told me to see the Seth

and see that there were no mistakes in his translation. This work

took me six hours. I was offered thirty rupees for my trouble. I

refused the money, saying that it was Bhagavan’s work and no

money should be offered for it. He referred the matter to

Bhagavan. Bhagavan ordered me to accept and added, “Now

you have enough money to go to Sholapur”. On my way I fell

ill at Bangalore with high fever. It was increasing from day to

day. I wired to Sholapur expressing my inability to start work

and the fever disappeared the next day! I was without a job and

without money when I returned, repentant, to Bhagavan’s feet.

The bitter lesson was learned: I should not have been tempted

by the job in the first instance.

Years passed. I was married and led a well-ordered family

life as laid down in the scriptures, studying the Vedas,

worshipping ancestors and deities in the prescribed way, and

feeding the five kinds of living beings. I was associated with

political and religious activities and used to go from village to

village teaching the Periya Puranam; yet I would find time to

visit Bhagavan quite often.

About 1920, Kavyakanta Ganapathi Shastri came to reside

at Tiruvannamalai. Everyone used to address him as ‘Nayana’

(father). He became the President of the Tiruvannamalai Town

Congress Committee. From my early days I was in Tilak’s

movement and did not see much future in Mahatma Gandhi’s

programme. One day I said to Nayana, “I do not expect much

from political activities; without God’s grace no action will

prosper. To ask for grace is our main task. People like you, who

are blessed with grace in abundance, should use your spiritual

powers for the uplift of the world and liberation of the country

and not waste your time in speeches”. He liked the idea and

asked me to stay with him and pray to God for grace. He made

me study the Vedas and taught me verses from the Rig Veda,

with their meaning. Mahendra societies were started all over

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India and I was made the General Secretary. Their object was

to win freedom for our country by purely devotional means,

like rituals, prayers, and personal and collective penance. We

managed to register about ten thousand members.

Nayana mainly stayed in the Mango Tree cave on Arunachala

and used to visit Bhagavan off and on. Nayana used to discuss

sastras with him and get his doubts cleared. He was a mighty

scholar, while Bhagavan was just literate, yet Nayana would

say, “Without Bhagavan’s grace, the intricacies of the scriptures

are beyond one’s power of understanding. One word from him

makes everything clear”. When Nayana would see someone

sitting in front of Bhagavan, meditating with his eyes closed,

he would scold the devotee saying, “When the sun is shining in

front of you, why do you need to close your eyes? Are you

serious or do you only want to show what a pious fellow you

are”? Those were happy days indeed, and I was blessed with

many visions of deities and divinities. It was all due to Nayana’s

powers and Bhagavan’s grace.

At Skandashram a peacock would follow Bhagavan

everywhere. One day a huge black cobra appeared in the

Ashram and the peacock attacked it fiercely. The cobra spread

its hood and the two natural enemies were poised for a fight

to the death, when Bhagavan came quite near the cobra and

said, “Why did you come here? That peacock will kill you.

Better go away at once”. The cobra immediately lowered its

hood and slithered away.

There lived at that time a great Vaishnava guru,

Vilakshanananda Swami. He was well advanced in yoga and

had the power of attracting crowds. I went to see him one day

and he asked me to take him to Bhagavan. With thirty disciples,

he appeared before Bhagavan and just stood, neither bowing

nor joining his palms in greeting. For ten minutes he stood

motionless, and then fell flat at Bhagavan’s feet. Tears were

flowing from his eyes and he said, “This head of mine has

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never bowed before a human being. This is the first time and

bless me that it may also be the last”. Coming down the hill he

met Nayana. They started talking and during the discussion

Nayana told the swami that divine powers should not be used

for public shows and propaganda. This must have had its effect,

for Vilakshanananda Swami never left his residence again.

Once Nayana was composing his magnum opus called Uma

Sahasram, a thousand verses in praise of Uma, the power aspect

of Shiva. He had written seven hundred, and three hundred

still remained. Nevertheless, he had already fixed the date for

the book to be offered to the Goddess and had sent out invitations

to friends and devotees all over India. Hundreds of people had

gathered, but on the eve of the day fixed, the three hundred

verses had yet to be written. In the evening Bhagavan asked

Nayana whether he would postpone the function. Nayana

replied in the negative and said that he would, by the grace of

God, have the verses written before the next morning. He had

four people sit before him with pen and paper and started

dictating a verse to each in turn. Bhagavan was present, sitting

with eyes closed, apparently quite oblivious to all that was going

on. Nayana appeared possessed with some tremendous fervour;

he was dictating without break and without hesitation; the verses

were flowing from his mouth in a torrent. By midnight the work

was completed. Bhagavan, who until then was sitting motionless

with his eyes closed, opened them and asked whether all had

been written down. Nayana, who seemed unconscious of his

surroundings when he was dictating, instantly replied that he

had dictated everything exactly as inspired by Bhagavan. When

he later read what was dictated by him, he was amazed and

exclaimed, “Oh, how wonderful! Only Bhagavan could produce

such beauty. I was only his mouthpiece”. They were so perfect

that no improvement was possible.

In 1926 Nayana went to some place near Belgaum for a

course of austerities and, when leaving, he handed me over to

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Bhagavan’s care. Later he wrote, “Sundaresa must be feeling

lonely and sad since I left him. May Bhagavan be especially

kind to him”. Showing this letter to me, Bhagavan said, “Better

keep near me. You see, I must be able to produce you and hand

you over to Nayana when he comes back and claims you”.

Since then I lived in the Ashram. I would teach at school

everyday, and at the end of the month, hand over my salary to

my wife. This was my only contact with my family.

In 1929 I got tired of the relative shaplessness of my inner life

and asked Bhagavan to give me some clear instructions as to

what direction I should proceed in my spiritual practice. He gave

me Kaivalyam to read and explained to me the inner meaning of

some sacred verses. From that time until 1938 I gave myself

completely to spiritual life. I did my duty at school and supported

my family, just as something that had to be done, but it was of no

importance to me. It was wonderful how I could keep so detached

for so many years; it was all Bhagavan’s grace.

On my thirtysixth birthday I wrote a poem in which I

complained that the vision of the glory of God had not yet been

given to me and gave the poem to Bhagavan. He read the whole

of it very slowly and carefully, as he usually did, and then asked

me to sit down and go within myself. I did so and soon the

physical world disappeared and in its place I saw an allpervading

white light. An inner voice told me to ask what I

would like to see. I wanted to see the divine Ramachandra, and

suddenly I saw the coronation of Rama as king in the minutest

detail, with shapes and colours, clear and alive beyond

description. It lasted for about an hour and then again everything

was normal. Some time later, Bhagavan asked me whether I

had read Dakshinamurti Asthotharam. I said I had not, and

was told to read the last few verses in the book. Bhagavan added

that Rama and Dakshinamurti are the same Great Being.

One day Bhagavan was explaining to me the meaning of

some abtruse Vedantic verse. It was half past ten by the clock

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in the hall. But I was completely absorbed in the subject and

forgot all about my school. Suddenly Bhagavan reminded me

that it was getting late. “But no school today”, I exclaimed,

“today is Sunday”. Bhagavan laughed, “Is this the way you

work? Today is Monday. Hurry, your headmaster is waiting for

you at the gate”. I ran to the school and, to my surprise, I found

the headmaster waiting for me at the school gate, looking

towards the temple. When I came near, he said, “Well, probably

you forgot that it is Monday and perhaps Maharshi had to remind

you about it”. I admitted that that was exactly what had

happened and we both had a hearty laugh!

There was a proposal to print all that Bhagavan had written in

Tamil. A preface was needed but nobody came forward to write

it. Even learned pandits did not feel confident and backed out

under some excuse. The talk was going on in the hall all day

long and Bhagavan was watching. At about half past ten in the

night he called me and asked me why I should not take up the

preface. I said that with his blessings I would do it. “It will be all

right”, said Bhagavan. Immediately I started writing and finished

the preface in an hour. While writing I felt a silent influence as if

someone was guiding my pen. At two in the morning Bhagavan

was up and I showed him the preface. He was quite pleased and

asked me to go to sleep. From the door he called back and asked

me to revise the last sentence which said, “It is hoped that those

who go through this book will attain divine salvation, which gives

peace and happiness”. Bhagavan said, “There is no question of

hoping. The reader will definitely attain salvation”, and told me

to correct the sentence accordingly.

A couple from Peru, husband and wife, came to the Ashram

once and were telling Bhagavan their story; how after reading

about him, they felt that he was Christ Himself reincarnated, and

wanted above everything else to meet him. They were not rich

and had to save from their wages, a little every week. After a few

years struggle they sailed to India in the cheapest possible way.

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The journey lasted some months and gave them a lot of trouble,

but at last they had arrived. Bhagavan listened carefully to the

very end, and then said, “You have travelled a long distance and

experienced so many hardships. You could have meditated on

me there with the same result, and the added satisfaction of seeing

me in Peru”. Bhagavan’s words sounded strange to them and

they could not get their meaning. In the evening Bhagavan was

inquiring about Peru and her people, how they looked, lived,

and worked. The Peruvian couple were telling him about the

capital, the seaports, the industries and commerce of their

countrymen. When they were describing a place on the seashore,

Bhagavan asked, “Is not the beach paved with marble slabs, with

coconuts planted between”? The two were astonished and asked

Bhagavan how he came to know such details. He replied, “Why

do you ask how I came to know? Understand once and for all

that time and space do not exist apart from the mind and that the

heart is not bound by them”. Then they understood that, with

Bhagavan’s grace they could have him at their own place.

A devotee of Bhagavan, one Mahadeva Ayyar, was suffering

from hiccups in Madras for over a month. His daughter wrote

to Bhagavan praying that he should help her father. Bhagavan

told us to write to Mahadeva that dry ginger, powdered, and

mixed with brown coloured sugar, would cure the disease. At

the same time he enquired of Madhavaswami, his attendant,

whether this mixture was available at the Ashram.

Madhavaswami brought the bottle with the ginger and sugar

mixture in it. Bhagavan took a pinch and gave a little to each of

the people present in the hall. I said, jokingly, “Well, there is no

need of writing to Mahadeva Ayyar. He must be free of hiccups

by this time”. The letter with the prescription was sent the same

day. The next day, a letter came from Madras saying that

Mahadeva’s hiccups had vanished at 1.00 p.m. the day before.

It was exactly the time when Bhagavan was taking his share of

ginger powder!

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On a Shivaratri day, after dinner, Bhagavan was reclining

on the sofa surrounded by many devotees. A sadhu suggested

that since this was a most auspicious night, the meaning of the

verses in praise of Dakshinamurti could be expounded by

Bhagavan. Bhagavan gave his approval and all were eagerly

waiting for him to say something. He simply sat, gazing at us.

We were gradually absorbed in ever deepening silence, which

was not disturbed by the clock striking the hour, every hour,

until 4 a.m. None moved or talked. Time and space ceased to

exist. Bhagavan’s grace kept us in peace and silence for seven

hours. In this silence Bhagavan taught us the Ultimate, like

Dakshinamurti. At the stroke of four Bhagavan asked us whether

we had understood the meaning of silent teaching. Like waves

on the infinite ocean of bliss, we fell at Bhagavan’s feet.

One day when Bhagavan was staying at Pachiamman

Temple, Rangaswami Ayyangar, a devotee from Madras, arrived

on a hot noon and went to bathe in the pond in front of the

temple. It was at that time a forest area and rather lonely.

Bhagavan, who was talking with his devotees, suddenly got up

and went towards the pond. A cheetah was drinking water on

one side of it, unnoticed by Rangaswami. Bhagavan looked at

the cheetah for some time and said, “Now go away and come

later. The man may get frightened if he sees you”. The cheetah

looked at Bhagavan, looked at the devotee, and went away.

One Mr Knowles came to pay his respects to Bhagavan.

Being well versed in Eastern and Western philosophy, he used

to have long discussions with Bhagavan. One day the

discussion was about the condition of a realised person. In

the heat of the discussion Mr Knowles asked whether the

Bhagavan who was talking to him was a reality or not.

Everybody was eagerly waiting for a reply. Clearly and loudly

Bhagavan said, “No, I am not talking”. Mr. Knowles was quite

satisfied. He said, “Yes, Bhagavan is not talking to me. He

never talks. He only exists. That is all”.

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An optician from Madras visited the Ashram. Chinnaswami

wanted him to examine Bhagavan’s eyesight and prescribe

glasses. The optician found that his own glasses suited Bhagavan

well and offered them to him. They were bifocals for near and

distant vision, a beautiful and costly pair. Bhagavan said that he

only needed reading glasses and that a simple pair of spectacles

would do. Chinnaswami wanted the best for Bhagavan and

insisted that Bhagavan accept the bifocals. I took them again to

Bhagavan, but he refused to touch them. I was rather anxious to

please Chinnaswami and pleaded with Bhagavan to use the

bifocals. He looked at me intently and said, “When I do not want

them, why do you press it”? I went away disheartened. This

happened just before Bhagavan’s birthday celebrations.

From the moment I left Bhagavan I felt a burning sensation

inside, and although I was busy with preparations, I was racked

with pain. On the third day it became so unbearable that I ran into

the hall, packed at that time with devotees, and fell flat on my face

before Bhagavan and cried, “Bhagavan, forgive me. I blundered

when I tried to force those glasses on you. You got angry with me

and it burns like fire. I can bear it no longer. I know it is my karma

and not your will that punishes me, but have mercy and help me”.

Bhagavan, who was gazing into space immersed in bliss, turned

his luminous eyes on me and said calmly, “What is all this? Who

is angry? Sit down quietly; everything will be right with you”. I

wept like a child, and within a few minutes the pain disappeared.

One day I asked my wife to prepare some rice pancakes and

added in fun that all the broken ones should be offered to God. It

is not difficult to make rice pancakes and usually they come out

whole. My wife was a good cook, yet when I came home I found

all the cakes in pieces. To please my conscience I took them to

Bhagavan and told him the story of Lord Shiva who took the

shape of a coolie and undertook to work and be paid in crumbled

rice cakes. From that time there were no whole cakes to be had

until he had been worshipped. Bhagavan enjoyed the story, tasted

some of the cakes and had the remainder distributed to all.

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The attendant, Madhavaswami, used to dry Bhagavan’s towel

on a bamboo tied between two trees. On one end of this bamboo

a bird had built a nest. One day, while removing the towel,

Bhagavan dislodged the nest, which fell down. One of the three

eggs rolled out and cracked but did not break. Bhagavan told

Madhavan that a grievous sin had been committed and examined

the egg with pity and repentance. “The poor mother will think

that the egg is broken and will weep bitterly. She will surely

curse me for having broken her egg. Can this egg be mended to

hatch a young one”? He wrapped the damaged egg in a piece of

cloth and put it back in the nest, and every few hours he would

take the egg in his hands, look at it for some time and then put it

back, wrapped in its piece of cloth. All the time he was murmuring

to himself, “Will the crack heal? Will the egg hatch”? With such

care and compassion Bhagavan nursed the egg for a week. On

the eighth day Bhagavan exclaimed like an excited child, “Look,

the cracks have gone. The mother will be glad. Let us watch and

see when the little one will come out”. The egg was watched all

the time and the little thing finally appeared. Bhagavan took it in

his hand tenderly beaming with joy, showed it to everybody and

finally gave it back to its mother.

One Amavasya (new moon day) all the Ashram inmates were

sitting down for breakfast in the dining room. I was standing and

looking on. Bhagavan asked me to sit down for breakfast. I said

that I had to perform my late father’s ceremony on that day and

would eat nothing (Usually the ceremonies are performed to

enable the ancestors to go to heaven). Bhagavan retorted that my

father was already in heaven and there was nothing more to be

done for him. My taking breakfast would not hurt him in any

way. I still hesitated, accustomed as I was to age-old tradition.

Bhagavan got up, made me sit down and eat some rice cakes.

From that day I gave up performing ceremonies for ancestors.

Once Chinnaswami got very cross with me and I felt quite

nervous about it. I could not eat my dinner and the next morning,

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feeling unreconciled and yet hungry, I told Bhagavan, who was

preparing rice cakes, that I was in a hurry to go to town as some

pupils were waiting for me. “The cat is out of the bag”, said

Bhagavan. “Today is Sunday and there is no teaching work for

you. Come, I have prepared a special sambar for breakfast and

I shall make you taste it. Take your seat”. So saying, he brought

a leaf, spread it before me, heaped it with iddlies and sambar

and, sitting by my side, joked and related funny stories to make

me forget my woes. How great was Bhagavan’s compassion!

My wife used to prepare some food every afternoon and bring

it to the Ashram. Bhagavan often asked her to break this habit,

but she would not. One day he said, “This is the last time I am

eating your food. Next time I shall not”. The same day Bhagavan

was telling us how a certain dish should be prepared. The next

day my wife brought it all ready. Bhagavan remembered what

he had told her, but what could he do against her imploring look?

He tasted her dish and said that it had been prepared very well.

Such was his graciousness towards his devotees.

My second son was lazy and not at all good at school. The

time for his final high school examinations was rapidly

approaching and the boy’s sole preparation was the purchase

of a new fountain pen! He brought it to Bhagavan and asked

him to bless the pen with his touch so that it would write the

examination papers well. Bhagavan knew his lazy ways and

said that having hardly studied, he could not except to pass.

My son replied that Bhagavan’s blessings were more effective

than studies. Bhagavan laughed, wrote a few words with the

new pen and gave it back to him. And the boy did pass, which

was a miracle indeed!

In those days I was attending to the foreign correspondence

of the Ashram. I used to show Bhagavan the draft of every

reply, get his approval, give it the final shape and despatch it.

We used to receive some very intelligent and intricate questions.

These questions and the answers would have formed a very

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enlightening volume. One day an office copy of such a reply

was used for wrapping some sweets and it fell into Bhagavan’s

hands. He raised a storm, sent for me and told me plainly what

he thought about such misuse of spiritual records. I was very

frightened and at the same time sorry for the condition of the

foreign correspondence files. I tried to find out who took the

old files to the dining hall, but nobody would confess. All

blamed me, the last man in the chain!

Chinnaswami started building something and needed money

to complete the work. He made a plan that the Maharaja of

Mysore should be approached by some senior members of the

Ashram, introduced by Sri Sundaram Chettiar, the retired Judge.

I was asked to put the matter before Bhagavan and obtain his

blessings. Knowing Bhagavan’s dislike of such things, I was

very much afraid of him, but still more of Chinnaswami. Finally

I did it indirectly, by drafting a letter to the Judge and explaining

the matter to him. This draft I took to Bhagavan for perusal.

Bhagavan read it and threw it away, saying with scorn, “Always

asking for money. We think of money every moment and waste

our lives for it. What have I to do with money”?

The town municipality was divided in its attitude towards

the Ashram. There was a group supporting the Ashram and

another group vilifying the Ashram and creating trouble. A tax

was imposed on the Ashram and we protested. At every meeting

of the municipality the matter was raised, hotly discussed and

left undecided. One day when the subject of the tax was to

come up again for discussion, I was asked to attend and defend

the Ashram’s interests. I could only pray to Bhagavan, “You

are the ruler in the hearts of all including those who abuse the

Ashram”. To my surprise not a single person opposed me at the

meeting and the tax was repealed.

Individually these incidents may appear trivial and

insignificant, but collectively they are impressive. They created

the atmosphere in which he lived, in which every day would

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Birth Place - By T.P.R.

It was the command of Sri Bhagavan that I should go to

Tiruchuzhi and see the house where Bhagavan was born. It was

then in someone else’s possession. Sri Bhagavan gave me all

minute details about Tiruchuzhi and what places I should see:

the temple, the tower on which he played, the mantapam, the

school, the tank. He particularly instructed me to meet some very

old people there who would still remember him. Bhagavan also

wanted to know whether pujas in the temple there continued to

be performed with prasadams and other offerings on the

customary scale. I had the unique experience of visiting these

places and noting down all details required by Sri Bhagavan. On

my return, when I gave my report in writing, Bhagavan took

enormous interest in reading it aloud to devotees in the hall. In

the last paragraph of that report I had made an appeal to Sri

Chinnaswami, Bhagavan’s brother and Sarvadhikari, that his duty

would not be complete if that house did not come into the

possession of the Ashram and that it should be renovated and

kept as a pilgrim centre for all Ramana devotees. Sri N.R.

Krishnamurthi Iyer was of great help to me in all these

undertakings. Thereafter Sri Chinnaswami took a lot of interest

and the house was eventually bought and now it is in the

possession of Sri Ramanasramam. The house was named by Sri

Bhagavan as Sundara Mandiram.

bring new mircales of power, wisdom and love. Bhagavan gave

us a tangible demonstration of God’s omnipotence, omniscience

and omnipresence. Our sense of ‘I’ would burn up in wonder

and adoration on seeing his unconditional love for all beings.

Though outwardly we seemed to remain very much the same

persons, inwardly he was working on us and destroying the deep

roots of separateness and self-concern, the greatest obstacles on

our way to him. A day always comes when the tree of the ‘I’,

severed from its roots, crashes suddenly and is no more.

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MAHARSHI’S TEACHINGS AND

MODERN SCIENTIFIC THOUGHT

By K. K. NAMBIAR

BHAGAVAN Sri Ramana Maharshi has taught us that eternal

happiness is one’s real nature and the best way for realising it

is for the Self to be itself. In other words one has just to be.

Abiding as the Self, which is Pure Consciousness, is the

greatest happiness, perfect and permanent. Any other form of

so-called happiness, obtained from external sources is illusory

and evanescent. It might go the way it came. So, the pursuit

of the Self by the continuous quest “Who am l?” is the safest

and surest way to dispel ignorance and remain as the Self.

I had once approached Bhagavan and asked him about the

different locations suggested for concentration in various srutis,

e.g., between eyebrows, tip of the nose, heart centre, muladhara,

etc. Bhagavan who was reclining on the couch, got down and

took out a copy of Sri Ramana Gita, from the rotating shelf

nearby and opened it right on the page containing the sloka:

If the Heart be located in anahata chakra 1, how does the

practice of yoga begin in muladharas?

In yoga shastra, anahata chakra is the fourth, and muladhara

is the first and lowest of the six centres in the spinal chord.

It looked like a miracle when the book opened on the right

page; but such experiences are common to devotees of Sri

Bhagavan. He added in Malayalam, “Why should one desirous

of coming to Tiruvannamalai first go to Kasi (Banaras) or

Rameswaram and then come here? Why not straight to

Tiruvannamalai instead of the long detour”? I felt a great sense

of remorse when Sri Bhagavan had to point out this sloka from

Sri Ramana Gita to me. Though I had with me a sacred treasure,

a volume of Sri Ramana Gita in Malayalam in Sri Bhagavan’s

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own handwriting, given to me with his blessings, I had not closely

studied it, or tried to put into practice the instructions contained

therein. The whole of the fifth chapter entitled hridaya vidya

deals with the technique of meditation and elucidates points

regarding the respective functions of nerve centres, nadis, etc.

Also, at the daily vedaparayana at the Ashram in Sri

Bhagavan’s presence, the verse appearing in Mahanarayana

anuvakam at the end of Purushasuktam underlines the above

instructions:

The Hridayam (the heart which is the place of meditation)

resembles an inverted lotus bud. A span below the throat

and above the navel. . .

So, the continuous quest Who Am I?, guided by the grace

of Sri Bhagavan, who is always with us, will lead one to the

Heart centre, the seat of Consciousness, which is neither within

nor without, all pervading and eternal This supreme awareness

is all that IS, and abiding therein is the ultimate goal.

Let us now have a look at recent developments in scientific

knowledge At one time the world around us was supposed to

consist of matter, made up of molecules and atoms. Physicists

chased them further and broke them down to nucleus,

electrons, quanta, waves, particles and fields. Einstein said

that the universe of our experience consists of matter and

energy in a space-time-continuum He established the famous

equation E= MC2, where C is a constant representing the

velocity of fight. Matter and energy became interchangeable.

Max Planck, famous for his quantum theory, added a further

dimension to this, stating that it is consciousness that is

fundamental and that matter is derivative of consciousness

As a corollary even space and time are only concepts of our

consciousness. Thus scientists are veering round to the

conclusion that since every object is a sum of its qualities and

these qualities are perceived by us the whole objective

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universe of matter and energy, atoms and stars does not exist

except as a construction of consciousness.

Yoga Vashista says:

All things that exist everywhere are experienced by us;

there is nothing here anywhere which has not been

experienced by us.

Bhagavan has told us that the world as such is not real It is

real as Brahman or Consciousness. The world we see and

experience with our senses is a product of the mind; the mind

is part of the ego, which rises from Pure Consciousness, which

is the same as Reality. One has to realise That and just BE.

The Other Worlds

Someone enquired of Bhagavan: “People talk of Vaikunta,

Kailasa, Indraloka, Chandraloka, etc. Do they really exist?”

Bhagavan replied: “Certainly. You can rest assured that they

all exist. There also a swami like me will be found seated, and

disciples like this will also be seated around. They will ask

something and he will say something in reply. Everything will

be more or less like this. What of that? If one sees Chandraloka,

he will ask for Indraloka, and after Indraloka, Vaikunta and

after Vaikunta, Kailasa, and then this and that, and the mind

goes on wandering. Where is shanti? If shanti is required, the

one correct method of securing it is by Self-enquiry and

through Self-enquiry Self-realisation is possible. If one realises

the Self, one can see all these worlds within one’s Self.

The source of everything is one’s own Self. Then this doubt

will not arise. There may or may not be a Vaikunta or a Kailasa

but it is a fact that you are here, isn’t it? How are you here?

Where are you? After you know about these things, you can

think of all these worlds”.

- Letters from Sri Ramanasramam, By Suri Nagamma, p.46.

188

BHAGAVAN IN THE KITCHEN

By Sampurnamma

IN 1932 I went to Tiruvannamalai with my sister and her husband

Narayanan. We found Bhagavan in a palm leaf hut built over his

mother’s Samadhi. Dandapani Swami introduced me to Bhagavan

saying, “This is Dr Narayanan’s wife’s sister”. The days that

followed were days of deep and calm happiness. My devotion to

Bhagavan took firm roots and never left me. I was able to sit for

long hours in Bhagavan’s presence without any mental activity

and I would not notice the passing of time. I was not taught to

meditate and surely did not know how to stop the mind from

thinking, It would happen quite by itself, by his grace. I stayed

for twenty days. When I was leaving, Bhagavan took a copy of

Who am I? and gave it to me with his own hands.

I came back to Ramanasramam after a period of absence

and I was asked to help in the kitchen. Bhagavan helped us in

the kitchen, I soon learnt with his guidance the Ashram way

of cooking. Bhagavan’s firm principle was that health

depended on food and could be set right and kept well by

proper diet. He also believed that fine grinding and careful

cooking would make any food easily digestible. So we used

to spend hours in grinding and stewing.

He paid very close attention to proper cooking. He was

always willing to leave the hall to give advice in the kitchen.

He would teach us numberless ways of cooking grains, pulses

and vegetables. He would tell us stories from his childhood,

or about his mother, her ways and how she cooked sampurnam

(sweet filling).

He was very strict with us in the kitchen. His orders were

to be obeyed to the last detail. No choice was left to us to

guess or try on our own. We had to do blindly as he taught us

and by doing so, we were convinced that he was always right

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and that we would never fail if we put our trust in him. When

I think of it now, I can see clearly that he used the work in the

kitchen as a background for spiritual training. He taught us

that work is love for others, that we never can work for

ourselves. By his very presence he taught us that we are always

in the presence of God and that all work is His. He used

cooking to teach us religion and philosophy.

In the kitchen he was the master cook aiming at perfection

in taste and appearance. One would think that he liked good

food and enjoyed a hearty meal. Not at all. At dinner time he

would mix up the little food he would allow to be put on his

leaf — the sweet, the sour, and the savoury — everything

together, and gulp it down carelessly as if he had no taste in

his mouth. When we told him that it was not right to mix such

nicely made up dishes, he would say, “Enough of multiplicity,

Let us have some unity”.

It was obvious that all the extraordinary care he gave to

cooking was for our sake. He wanted us to keep good health

and to those who worked in the kitchen, cooking became a

deep spiritual experience. “You must cover your vegetables

when you cook them,” he used to say, “Then only will they

keep their flavour and be fit for food. It is the same with the

mind. You must put a lid over it and let it simmer quietly.

Then only does a man become food fit for God to eat”.

One day he gave me a copy of Ribhu Gita and asked me to

study it. I was not at all anxious to pore over a difficult text

good only for learned pandits, and asked to be excused, saying

that I did not understand a single word of it. “It does not matter

that you do not understand,” he said, “Still it will be of great

benefit to you”.

He would allow nothing to go to waste. Even a grain of

rice or a mustard seed lying on the ground would be picked

up, dusted carefully, taken to the kitchen and put in its proper

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tin. I asked him why he gave himself so much trouble for a

grain of rice. He said, “Yes, this is my way. I let nothing go to

waste. In these matters I am quite strict. Were I married no

woman could get on with me. She would run away”. On some

other day he said, “This is the property of my Father

Arunachala. I have to preserve it and pass it on to His

children”. He would use for food things we would not even

dream of as edible. Wild plants, bitter roots and pungent leaves

were turned under his guidance into delicious dishes.

Once someone sent a huge load of brinjals on the occasion of

his birthday feast. We ate brinjals day after day. The stalks alone

made a big heap which was lying in a corner. I was stunned

when Bhagavan asked us to cook the stalks as a curry. Bhagavan

insisted that the stalks were edible and so we put them in a pot to

boil along with dry peas. After six hours of boiling they were as

hard as ever. We wondered what to do and yet we did not dare to

disturb Bhagavan. But he always knew when he was needed and

he would leave the hall even in the middle of a discussion. As

usual he did not fail us, and appeared in the kitchen. He asked,

“How is the curry getting on”? “Is it a curry we are cooking? We

are boiling steel nails”, I exclaimed laughing. He stirred the stalks

with the ladle and went away without saying anything. Soon

after we found them quite tender. The dish was simply delicious

and everybody was asking for a second helping. Everybody

except Bhagavan praised the curry and the cook. He swallowed

one mouthful like medicine and refused a second helping. I was

very disappointed, for I had taken so much trouble to cook his

stalks and he did not even taste them properly. The next day he

told somebody, “Sampurnam was distressed that I did not eat

her wonderful curry. Can she not see that everyone who eats is

myself? And what does it matter who eats the food? It is the

cooking that matters, not the cook or the eater. A thing done

well, with love and devotion, is its own reward. What happens to

it later matters little, for it is out of our hands”.

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In the evening before I left the Ashram for the town to

sleep, he would ask me what was available for cooking the

next day. Then, arriving at daybreak the next morning, I would

find everything ready — vegetables peeled and cut, lentils

soaked, spices ground, coconuts scraped. As soon as he saw

me he would give detailed instructions as to what should be

cooked and how. He would then sit in the hall awhile and

return to the kitchen. He would taste the various dishes to see

if they were cooked properly and go back to the hall. It was

strange to see him so eager to cook and so unwilling to eat.

As a cook, Bhagavan was perfect. He would never put in

too much or too little salt or spices. As long as we followed

his instructions, everything would go well with our cooking.

But the moment we acted on our own we would be in trouble.

Even then, if we sought his help, he would taste our brew and

tell us what to do to make the food fit for serving. Every little

incident in our kitchen had a spiritual lesson for us. We thus

learnt the art of implicit obedience while perfecting our

culinary skills under Bhagavan’s guidance.

On my way from the town to the Ashram and back, I had

to walk in the dark along a jungle path skirting the hill and I

would feel afraid. Bhagavan knew this and once said to me,

“Why are you afraid, am I not with you”? Chinnaswami,

Bhagavan’s brother and the manager of the Ashram once asked

me whether I was not afraid to travel alone in the dark.

Bhagavan rebuked him saying, “Why are you surprised? Was

she alone? Was I not with her all the time”?

Once Subbalakshmiamma and myself were going round the

hill early in the morning chatting about our homes and relatives.

We noticed a man following us at a distance. We had to pass

through a stretch of forest, so we stopped to let him pass and go

ahead. He too stopped. When we walked he also walked. We

were quite alarmed and started praying, “Oh Lord! Oh

Arunachala! Only you can save us”! The man said suddenly,

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“Yes, Arunachala is our only refuge. Keep your mind on him

constantly. It is His light that fills all space”. We wondered

who he was. Was he sent by Bhagavan to remind us that it was

not proper to talk of worldly matters when going round the

hill? Or was it Arunachala Himself in human disguise? We

looked back but there was nobody on the path. In so many

ways Bhagavan made us feel that he was always with us, until

the conviction grew and became part of our nature.

Those were the days when we lived on the threshold of a

new world — a world of ecstasy and joy. We were not conscious

of what we were eating, of what we were doing. Time just rolled

on noiselessly, unfelt and unperceived. The heaviest task seemed

a trifle. We knew no fatigue. Commenting on our early

completion of work in the kitchen on one occasion, Bhagavan

pointed out, “The greatest spirit, Arunachala is here, towering

over you. It is He who works not you”.

Bhagavan’s Sayings

A traveller in a cart has fallen asleep. The bullocks move,

stand still or are unyoked during the journey. He does not

know these events but finds himself in a different place after

he wakes up. He has been blissfully ignorant of the occurrences

on the way, but the journey has been finished. Similarly with

the Self of a person. The ever-wakeful Self is compared to

the traveller asleep in the cart. The waking state is the moving

of the bulls; samadhi is their standing still (because samadhi

means jagrat-sushupti, that is to say, the person is aware but

not concerned in the action; the bulls are yoked but do not

move); sleep is the unyoking of the bulls for there is complete

stopping of activity corresponding to the relief of the bulls

from the yoke.

193

HEALING GRACE

By M. V. Ramaswami Iyer

IN the year 1907 I went to Tiruvannamalai to have darshan

of Bhagavan. I climbed up to the Virupaksha cave. In order to

safeguard Bhagavan from the intruding pilgrims of the

Kartikai festival, one Krishnayya kept guard at the gate of

the cave. So I had to wait outside till Bhagavan came out. He

soon came out and went away without even glancing at me. I

followed and overtook him. He stopped and looked at me.

Words poured out of my mouth, “I am suffering, beset with

many diseases. Have mercy on me”. He replied, “I am neither

a physician nor a magician. What can I do or tell you”. Anguish

welled up from the depths of my heart, and I said, “I came

because I heard of your greatness. Will not my good luck be

as great”? He looked at me for a long moment and said, “Go

home, have courage. No harm will come to you”. And he

waved his hand in a peculiar way. Somehow it gave me hope.

Soon I settled at Tiruvannamalai and thus began my daily

visits to Bhagavan, sometimes staying for the night with

him. One day Bhagavan was sitting all alone in front of

Virupaksha cave. A strange emotion got hold of me and I

asked him in English, “My Lord, Jesus and other great souls

have come down to earth to save sinners like me. Is there

hope for me”? Bhagavan seemed moved by my cry of

distress. He came closer and said in a quiet voice, “Yes,

there is hope, there is hope.”

When I returned home a song welled up in my mind and I

wrote it down. Since then I wrote songs by Bhagavan’s grace.

When I brought my first song to Bhagavan and recited it before

him, he gave me some instructions in prosody and illustrated

them with examples from great Telugu poets. Since them I

wrote songs and poems without much thought or effort all the

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years until Bhagavan’s samadhi. Then the spring dried up,

for it was not a gift I brought with me. It was all His grace.

My physical ailments tormented me so much that on a

festival day I was plunged in deep dejection. When Echammal

brought some special food in the evening, all except me went

to the nearby waterfall to have their meal. Everything was

pleasant and joyous but my mind was full of darkness and my

body full of pain. Bhagavan sent Vasudeva Sastri to call me.

I said that the rich food did not agree with me and that I had

to stick to my diet. As I spoke my head turned towards

Bhagavan as if impelled by some superior force and I saw

him beckon to me. I went near and sat down. I was served

various dishes. I had no courage to eat and was sitting gloomily

when Bhagavan said, “Eat”. All fear gone, I started eating

and had my first hearty meal in many years. That night I had

a sound sleep.

In the morning I felt strong and healthy. My dyspepsia had

disappeared completely and my heart overflowed with

gratitude. Bhagavan’s grace continued to manifest in my life

and helped me overcome all family problems. When I was

transferred to Berhampore I was afflicted with boils on my

legs. The pain was terrible and all medication failed. I had a

fixed idea that only Arunachala could help me. One day I was

surprised to find two Brahmins from Tiruvannamalai standing

at my door. When I asked who knocked they replied,

‘Arunachala’. They were on their way to the North and had

been asked by Bhagavan to break journey at Berhampore and

meet me. When they saw my pitiable condition they made a

paste of tamarind mixed with some fragrant gum and smeared

my legs with it. The next day there was no trace of boils. It

was then that I composed the song Saranagati in praise of the

Holy Feet of Bhagavan, my only refuge. This famous song

has often been sung by devotees for invoking the grace of

Bhagavan.

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MY LIFE MY LIGHT

By Varanasi Subhalakshmiamma

ONCE we went on a pilgrimage to Kaveri Pushkaram and on

our way back we stopped at Arunachala. We were told that a

young Brahmin saint was living on the hill for the past ten years.

The next morning we went up the hill along with the others. We

found the young swami near Virupaksha cave. As soon as I saw

him I was convinced that God Arunachala Himself had come in

human form to give salvation to all who approached him.

The next time I visited Bhagavan he was living at the foot

of the hill. He was seated on a couch and about a dozen devotees

were sitting on the bare floor. We sat in silence for ten minutes

and returned to the town. Bhagavan’s presence gave me the

experience of inner silence and mental stillness, but away from

him I could not regain it and I spent a year vainly trying to free

myself from all thought. But soon I got a chance to visit

Tiruvannamalai. I met Bhagavan the same day. The next day

after the midday meal Bhagavan was explaining a verse from

the Bhagavad Gita to Sri Yogi Ramaiah. As no one else was in

the hall, I gathered courage and asked, “What is Atma? Is it the

limitless ether of space or the awareness that cognizes

everything”? Bhagavan replied, “To remain without thinking

this is Atma and that is Atma, is itself Atma”. He looked at me

and I felt my mind melt away into nothing. No thought would

come, only the feeling of immense, unutterable peace.

Several times I was invited to work in the kitchen, but I felt

that the Ashram ways were not orthodox enough for me. One

day Bhagavan’s own sister asked me to take her place in the

Ashram kitchen as she had to leave for some time. I could not

refuse. Though I was very happy to work in the kitchen directly

under Bhagavan’s supervision I wanted to go home. I left and

after a year returned to Ramanasramam to discover that I

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belonged there. Yet I would feel restless, thinking that I should

spend my time in meditation. One day Bhagavan looked at me

intently and said “It looks as if you are still hankering after

meditation”. I replied, “What have I got except endless work

in the kitchen”? Bhagavan said with deep feeling, “Your hands

may do the work but your mind can remain still. You are that

which never moves. Realise that and you will find that work is

not a strain. But as long as you think that you are the body and

that the work is done by you, you will feel your life to be an

endless toil. In fact it is the mind that toils, not the body. Even

if your body keeps quiet, will your mind keep quiet? Even in

sleep the mind is busy with its dreams”.

Regarding the need to fast as enjoined by scriptural texts

Bhagavan explained, “It does not mean that you should starve.

You need not torture the body. It only means not giving the body

more than it needs. With your mind, hold on to enquiry and just

keep the body going so that it does not become a hindrance. For

this, pure and fresh food, simply prepared and taken in moderation

is a great help”. Once I prepared curds and served it to Bhagavan

alone while all the others were served buttermilk. The moment

he saw the curds on his leaf he looked at me. That look scorched

me to the very depths of my soul! When we went to take leave of

him in the evening he turned away his face from me. He stopped

taking buttermilk. I suffered agonies and remorse for disobeying

Bhagavan. At last I got a chance to ask for his forgiveness and

prayed that he should start having his buttermilk again. He said,

“No, no, why do you worry? I happened to have a cold and is not

buttermilk bad for colds”? That very afternoon Echammal brought

some curds and Bhagavan said, “Tell Subbalakshmi not to suffer.

I shall have my buttermilk”.

Once five or six devotees sat down before Bhagavan and

sang a hymn in praise of the Guru. He got up in the middle of

the recitation and went away, saying, “Prayers and praises

will not take one far. It is the merciful look of the teacher that

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bestows true knowledge”. I felt elated. But the next day he

said, “Unless one becomes a six-month old baby, there is no

hope for him in the realm of Self-knowledge”. My heart sank.

Although I lived in the presence of Lord Arunachala Himself,

I was far from becoming an infant.

I made a habit of offering him a few dry grapes whenever I

came from the town. He disliked all formal devotion. One day

when I gave him the grapes, he started scolding us, “Why all

this show of respect and devotion? Who taught you all this

hypocrisy? Can’t you just be natural? What is needed is a heart,

pure and sincere. How can you please me with a show”? It

went on for quite a long time. Addressing Muruganar, he

complained that our devotion was shallow and its expressions

cheap. He told some stories about false disciples, “They take

their Guru in procession and parade him before the crowd. When

they have done with him, they dig a pit and ask him, ‘Will you

get into the pit yourself or shall we push you in’”? That day

even Muruganar was afraid to do the usual prostrations to

Bhagavan, who continued, “When people come here they are

quite sincere, but as soon as they settle down they become the

masters of this place. The swami must do their bidding and

ignore their mischief; in return for their prostrations the swami

has to put up with all the mess they create around him. They

think it is his duty to carry them on his head”.

During the meal I would pour rasam (soup) into

Bhagavan’s hands. He would sip it slowly and when his palms

were empty I would fill them again. One day he asked me to

pour rasam over the rice and go. He would not cup his hands

as before. I thought I had offended him in someway and asked

Santammal to find out the reason. Bhagavan told her, “When

she serves me, she makes others wait”. Despite my

remonstrations he never took rasam again in his palms.

Bhagavan wanted us to learn well the lesson that God is

present in every being in all his glory and fullness and must be

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given equal reverence. He would ruthlessly sacrifice the little

comforts we so loved to provide for him, as soon as he noticed

a trace of preference. The law that what cannot be shared must

not be touched was supreme in his way of dealing with us.

Separative and exclusive feelings are the cause of the ‘I’ and

therefore the greatest obstacles in the realization of the One.

No wonder he was exterminating them so relentlessly.

One day I saw him grinding black gram. We always felt

ashamed when we saw him working, but when we offered to

take over, he would get cross and stop coming to the kitchen,

which would make us sad; for in the hall he belonged to

everybody but in the kitchen he was our own. That day I

summoned courage and asked him to let me grind the gram.

To my astonishment he got up and said, “Yes, finish it. I was

waiting for you to come”. When I finished grinding and went

back to the kitchen I saw him boiling pumpkin in a huge

cauldron. The day was hot, the fire and the steam rising from

the cauldron were hot and Bhagavan was bathed in

perspiration. So it was to save me from this tiresome work

that Bhagavan invited me to grind for him! The stew was

boiling vigorously and a piece of pumpkin fell on Bhagavan’s

finger. The next day we saw a big blister and when somebody

asked about it he replied, “Oh, it is only a ring. I wanted some

jewellery”. Thus I learned not to interfere.

Nothing brought to the Ashram could be wasted, not even

when it was obviously useless. In this Bhagavan was adamant.

A pious offering was Arunachala’s own property and had to

be looked after. Even the water in which bitter gourd was

boiling could not be thrown away. With salt added it would

be taken to the cows.

One had to live and work with him to know what a great

teacher he was. Through the trifles of daily life he taught us

Vedanta in theory and practice. He led us with absolute wisdom

and infinite kindness and we were changed to the very root of

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our being, not even knowing the depth and scope of his

influence. Sri Krishna in his mercy became a cowherd to teach

simple milkmaids the way to salvation. Similarly Bhagavan,

the same supreme being in another form, took to cooking in

order to save a few ignorant women.

The Lost Sheep

Poovan, a shepherd, says that he knows Sri Bhagavan since

thirty years ago, the days of Virupakshi cave. He used at times

to supply milk to the visitors in those days.

Some six years ago he had lost a sheep, for which he was

searching for three days. The sheep was pregnant and he had

lost all hopes of recovering her, because he thought that she

had been set upon by wild animals. He was one day passing

by the Asramam, when Sri Bhagavan saw him and enquired

how he was. The man replied that he was looking out for a

lost sheep. Sri Bhagavan kept quiet, as is usual with Him.

Then He told the shepherd to help in lifting some stones, which

he did with great pleasure. After the work was finished, Sri

Bhagavan told him, “Go this way”, pointing the footpath

towards the town. “You will find the stray sheep on the way”.

So he did and found the lost sheep with two little lambs.

He now says, “What a Bhagavan is this! Look at the force

of his words! He is great! He never forgets even a poor man

like me. He remembers my son Manikkam also with kindness.

Such are the great ones! I am happy when I do any little work

for Him, such as looking to the cows when they are in heat”.

From Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, No.296,

16th December 1936.

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THE BHAGAVAN I KNOW

By Voruganti Krishnayya

A strong, desire to meet Sri Ramana Maharshi was born in

my heart after my unforgettable meeting with Nayana —

Kavyakantha Ganapati Sastri. During my first visit to

Ramanasramam I spent three days with Bhagavan. He was a

great Mahatma but his ways were very simple. Most of the

cooking was done by him in those days. The Ashram lived

from hand to mouth and usually only rice and vegetable soup

were prepared. When I was about to leave I asked the

Maharshi, “Bhagavan kindly show me a good path”.

“What are you doing now”? he asked.

“When I am in the right mood, I sing the songs of Tyagaraja

and I recite the holy Gayatri. I was also doing some

pranayama but these breathing exercises have upset my

health”.

“You had better stop them. But never give up the advaita

drishti (non-dual vision)”.

At that time I could not understand his words.

I went to different places and I found that people placed

conditions for my spiritual progress. Only Bhagavan asked

for nothing, found fault with nothing. In truth there was

nothing in me that entitled me to his grace. But it did not

matter with Bhagavan. He wanted me, not my goodness. It

was enough to tell him, ‘I am yours’, for him to do the rest. In

that way he was unsurpassed. Those who gave themselves to

him and trusted him and did his bidding were overwhelmed

by his immense solicitude and kindness.

In 1930 I visited Ramanasramam for the second time and

stayed a month. Our life was very simple at that time. Bhagavan

would talk quite freely with us every night after food. The

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devotees would ply him with questions on philosophy and

metaphysics. In the evening he would sit on a wooden cot near

the well and gaze at Arunachala in deep silence. His face would

glow with an inner radiance which would appear to increase

with the deepening darkness. We sat all around him, either

silently or singing songs. The silence and peace at those hours

were quite remarkable. At night after dinner all the inmates of

the Ashram would collect around Bhagavan and then he was

our own, telling stories, answering questions, dispelling doubts,

laughing and joking. We never knew how late it was until

Madhavaswami would go behind Bhagavan and give us signs

that it was time to allow Bhagavan some rest.

Once I asked him, “You told me to repeat the Gayatri. It is

too long. Also I am expected to know its meaning and to

meditate on it”. Bhagavan said, “Who asked you to bother

about the meaning and all that? I have only asked you to see

who is repeating the Gayatri, or who is the japi”. Bhagavan

did not limit his teaching to the one question ‘Who am I?’.

He invariably adjusted his advice to the needs of the devotee.

He would say, “Sooner or later the question ‘Who am I?’ will

have to be faced. All that leads to this question is good. By

itself nothing else is fully effective, for Self-knowledge comes

only through Self-enquiry, but other methods purify the mind

and help it to see its own limits. When the mind comes to the

end of its resources and stands baffled before the unanswerable

question, then a higher power takes charge of the mind and

the Self stands revealed”.

Once a visitor started weeping suddenly and cried out that

he was a horrible sinner who could not reform himself. He

asked Bhagavan if there was any hope for him and declared

that Bhagavan was his Guru and as his Master he must save

him. On his insistence Bhagavan told him that fees were due

to the Master. The man said he would give him all his merit

and whatever good he had done. Bhagavan told him that was

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not enough and demanded his sins too. The man was aghast

and refused to offer his sins. But Bhagavan was adamant. He

said, “Either give me your sins along with your merits, or

keep both and don’t think of me as your Master”. Finally the

visitor surrendered and declared that he was giving away all

his sins and their results to Ramana. Bhagavan said, “From

now on there is no good or bad in you. You are just pure, Go

and do nothing, neither good nor bad. Remain yourself, remain

what you are”. A great peace fell over the man and over us

all. He was never seen in the Ashram again.

This was not an isolated incident. To everyone who

deplored his sins Bhagavan said, “What do you know about

yourself? What do you know about good and evil except what

is in your mind? When you see that the mind invents

everything, all will vanish. The good will vanish, the evil will

vanish and you will remain as you are”. Thus Bhagavan was

most tender with people who thought themselves for some

reason or other to be miserable sinners, and went to him torn

by repentance.

Bhagavan’s grace and compassion for his devotees was

evident in impossible situations. For instance Dr Syed a great

Muslim scholar and his wife were devotees of Bhagavan. Mrs

Syed continued to follow her faith in the ways and conventions

of the Muslim religion. She would hide herself in one of the

rooms and implore her husband to ask Bhagavan to come and

see her. It was an unusual request but such was Bhagavan’s

grace and compassion that even this was granted. One day

Mrs Syed felt a deep desire to invite Bhagavan to their house

for food. Syed was not brave enough to utter his wife’s prayer

to Bhagavan. It was unthinkable. But his wife did not leave

him in peace. Unable to resist her pressure Dr Syed hinted

her wish to Bhagavan who smiled and kept quiet. She was

certain that Bhagavan would grant her wish if the matter were

put before him in the proper spirit and form. At last, while

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Bhagavan was going up the hill, Syed and his wife stood before

him and told him her desire. Bhagavan just laughed and went

up the hill.

Disappointed, both Doctor and Mrs Syed started a row in

their house, each accusing the other that the request was not

made in the proper manner. Finally Dr Syed told her, “The

truth of the matter is that your devotion is deficient. That is

the reason why Bhagavan refused”. She was deeply affected

by those words and she sat in meditation throughout the

night. She wanted to bring Bhagavan to dinner by sheer

intensity of prayer. During the early hours of the morning

she must have dozed. Bhagavan appeared to her in a dream

or vision and told her, “Why are you so obstinate? How can

I leave the Ashram and come to your house for food? I must

dine along with others, or they won’t eat. Besides, as you

know, people are coming from distant places, facing a lot of

trouble to see me and to have food with me. How can I leave

all these guests and come to your place? Feed three devotees

of mine and it will be the same as feeding me. I shall be

fully satisfied.” In her vision she saw the three devotees

whom she had to invite. One was Dr Melkote, the second

Swami Prabudhananda and the third was myself. She told

Dr Syed about her vision and he invited all three of us for

dinner to his house. We had to accept the invitation when

we heard the whole story. At the same time we were assailed

by doubts and anxiety as it was a serious breach of

convention for us Brahmins to dine in a Muslim house. Dr

Melkote spoke brave words to me and said he took it as

Bhagavan’s direct order. Despite these brave words Dr

Melkote was perplexed. We were worried about the

cleanliness of the kitchen and the utensils, about the

authenticity of the dream, about the reaction of the Ashram

Brahmins and so on and so forth. The next day when the

bell for dinner rang we three went before Bhagavan and

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bowed. Bhagavan did not ask us the reason, but merely

looked at us. Instead of going to the dining hall with others

we marched out of the Ashram, passing in front of

Chinnaswami who, O wonder! did not ask us why we were

going out without taking food.

Mrs Syed had taken great trouble over the dinner. She

would not allow the servant girl to enter the kitchen. The food

was excellent, prepared with great love and devotion. After

the meal she offered us betel with her own hands. This was

something unusual, for a Muslim lady offers betel only to her

husband or a fakir. As Dr Melkote said, “In her eyes we were

fakirs, the forms Bhagavan took to go to her place”. When

we returned to the Ashram, we were astonished that nobody

enquired why we had not been present in the dining hall, where

we had gone or what we did in a Muslim house. How

wonderfully does Bhagavan protect those who obey him!

When the construction of the big temple over Bhagavan’s

mother’s Samadhi was about to be started, Bhagavan was

asked to give his permission and blessings for collection of

funds. He replied, “I am a hermit. I do not want money to be

collected in my name for the purpose of building temples. I

am not in need of temples, nor do I wish to see them built. If

you want a temple, do not go and beg for money. If funds

come unasked entirely on their own then go ahead”. Bhagavan

never asked for anything and did not like his name being used

for collecting money, however praiseworthy the purpose.

Thus there was never an incident or occasion when we

were not reminded of the supreme truth that only the Self

remains. Whether it was a matter of cooking or of kindness to

dumb animals and birds or a case of philosophic discussion,

Bhagavan always impressed upon us the unity of all Being.

TALES OF BHAGAVAN

Recounted by Chalam

1. This happened about two years before Bhagavan’s Maha

Nirvana. One morning Bhagavan was in the hall surrounded

by devotees from many lands. It was time for lunch and

everybody was hungry. Some were already in the dining hall,

waiting for Bhagavan to come. At that time Bhagavan was

suffering from severe rheumatism in his knees, which were

swollen and gave him severe pain; to get up he had to rub

them first to remove the stiffness and it would take some time.

At last he got up slowly from the sofa, and leaning on his

walking stick, was about to go through the doorway when he

noticed a village milkman, wrapped in a cotton shawl, with a

mudpot hanging on a strap from his shoulder. Bhagavan

stopped, looked at him and exclaimed, “Look, is it not

Chinnappaya”? “Yes, it is me, Swami,” the villager replied

with devotion and respect. Bhagavan asked him, “How are

you? Are you well? You have come to see me? Very well. But

what is in your pot? Have you brought some koolu (gruel)”?

“Yes Swami, I have brought some koolu”, replied the milkman

shyly. “Then come on, let me have it”. Bhagavan put away

his stick, cupped his two hands together and bent forward

holding his hands near his lips. The milkman started pouring

the porridge from his pot in a thin stream into Bhagavan’s

hands, as he sipped it with his chin between his wrists. The

poor man’s face was beaming with joy and Bhagavan was

drinking steadily, as if the grey porridge was nectar to him.

The dining hall was full of hungry and somewhat angry

people. One of them came out to see what could be the cause

of the delay in Bhagavan’s coming, and when he saw what

kind of lunch Bhagavan was taking, he exclaimed, “How

unfair, Bhagavan. We are all waiting for you and you are late

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for the sake of this peasant”! Bhagavan grew indignant. “What,

do you all think that I am here for your sakes only? Do I

belong to you? Did you care for me when I was on the hill?

Nobody wanted me then, only the shepherds, who would share

their koolu with me.” And he went into the dining hall followed

by the milkman and his pot.

2. On a moonlit night some devotees were going round the

holy Arunachala Hill, chanting the Vedas. Suddenly they saw a

leopard standing right in the middle of the road and looking at

them. The singers were paralysed with fear. They could neither

sing nor walk ahead or run away. The leopard looked at them

quietly for quite a long time and then slowly crossed the road

and disappeared into the jungle. The devotees thanked their

stars, completed their round of the hill and, after returning to

the Ashram, related their adventure to Bhagavan, who listened

carefully and said, “There was no reason for fear. The leopard

is a jnani who came down from the hill to listen to your chanting

the Vedas. He went away deeply disappointed because out of

fright you broke off singing. Why were you afraid”?

3. In front of the temple dedicated to Bhagavan’s mother a

magnificent hall was built and a gorgeous sofa carved from a

single block of black granite was placed in the hall for

Bhagavan to sit on. When all was ready he was requested to

move from the old hall to the new one. Bhagavan refused. A

stone statue of him was being carved and he said, “The stone

swami will sit on the stone sofa”. And it came true. Bhagavan

used the stone sofa very little and only for the sake of the

large gatherings which were brought by the news of his fatal

illness. When he was no more in the body, the statue was

enthroned in the new hall and there it is now.

4. Once somebody brought Bhagavan a wounded dove.

Bhagavan held it in his hands for some time and then asked

the devotees gathered in the hall, “Who will take good care

of this bird until it is quite well”? No offer came. Some time

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back the Maharani of Baroda had presented a white peacock

to the Ashram and everybody was eager to take charge of it.

Bhagavan looked around and started talking to the dove,

“What a pity you are not a peacock. You are a mere dove, a

useless little thing, not a costly bird presented by a Maharani.

Who wants you? Who will care for you”? The dove was kept

in the Ashram in a clumsy cage, became well and flew away.

But the lesson of universal compassion remained.

5. An old Telugu man with a long beard, an iron pot and

chopper for cutting wood made his abode in the Draupadi

temple. He would beg some food in the town, boil something

or other in his iron pot on a small fire of wood cut with his

chopper and eat it during the day. For hours together he could

be seen standing and looking at Bhagavan. He would spend

the night in the temple, which was dilapidated and abandoned

and surrounded by jungle. Once Chalam found him standing

all alone in front of the temple and gazing at Arunachala. “I

sleep here”, he said when Chalam asked him what he was

doing in the forsaken temple. “What, sleeping here all alone?

Are you not afraid”? exclaimed Chalam. The old man seemed

indignant. “Afraid of what? Bhagavan throws his light upon

me. All through the night I am surrounded by a blue radiance.

As long as his light is with me, how can I be afraid”? The

incident made Chalam deeply humble. Bhagavan’s love and

light was given in full measure to a poor old beggar, while

those who pride themselves on being his chosen disciples are

left high and dry because they have themselves to attend to.

6. A devotee wanted to take a photo of Bhagavan together

with Ganapati Muni. Bhagavan consented, and a carpet was

spread near the well, on which a sofa was put for Bhagavan to

sit on. Ganapati Muni sat down at his feet, but Bhagavan asked

him to sit by his side. Ganapati Muni was reluctant, but

Bhagavan lifted him up and made him sit on the sofa. The photo

was taken, and some prints were made and distributed among

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the devotees. The Ashram authorities came to know about it

when it was all over and, quite naturally, were indignant, for

sitting on the same level with one’s Guru was a serious breach

of custom, implying a claim for spiritual equality. The negative

and the prints had to be given up. But the man who had taken

the photo refused to surrender his copy. It did not bring him

any luck; shortly after he committed suicide. The question why

Bhagavan forced Ganapati Muni to sit on the sofa was never

answered. Maybe it was his way of bringing the deeply hidden

weaknesses of everybody to the surface.

7. We were sitting one morning in the hall in deep

meditation. Suddenly there was the sound of the tap-tap of a

stick. A tall blind Muslim was trying to find the entry to the

hall with his stick. I helped him to come inside. He asked me

in Urdu where Bhagavan was sitting. I made him sit right in

front of Bhagavan and told him, “You are now sitting just in

front of Bhagavan. You can salute him”. The Muslim told his

story. He lived near Peshawar and he was a moulvi (teacher)

of repute. Once he happened to hear somebody reading in

Urdu about Bhagavan and at once he felt that Bhagavan was

his spiritual father and that he must go to him. Blind as he

was, he took the next train and travelled thousands of miles

all alone, changing trains many times, till at last he reached

Ramanasramam. When asked what he was going to do next,

he said. “Whatever Bhagavan tells me, I shall do”. His

immense faith made me ashamed of myself. How little did

the man hesitate to place his life in the hands of a South Indian

swami. And what a mountain of doubts and hesitations I had

to wade through before I came to Bhagavan’s feet in earnest!

8. Echammal was one of Bhagavan’s earliest devotees. She

regularly brought food to him when he was living on the hill.

Her property went to help his devotees. She practised yoga

assiduously and died when in a yogic trance. When Bhagavan

heard the news, he said, “Oh, is it so”? After Echammal’s

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body was burnt, Shantamma came into the hall and told

Bhagavan that the cremation was over. He said, “Yes, it is all

right”. And he added after a while, “I warned her not to practice

yoga. She would not listen. Therefore she had to die

unconscious and not in full awareness”.

9. During Bhagavan’s last days, just after an operation, he

was kept in a room under doctor’s strict orders that he should

not be disturbed. A guard was placed to enforce the orders. A

sadhu arrived asking for an audience. The guard explained

the situation and assured him that his request could not

possibly be granted. The sadhu went to the office and pressed

for an audience, saying that he must leave the same day and

that he could not wait for Bhagavan’s recovery. The staff also

could do nothing against doctor’s orders. The sadhu sadly

started walking from the office towards the gate, when to his

amazement and great joy he saw Bhagavan standing on the

narrow veranda in front of his room. The sadhu came nearer

and they gazed at each other silently for about ten minutes.

The sadhu went his way and Bhagavan returned to the room.

10. People who expected the Supreme to be uniformly

monotonous, acting in an invariable and stereotyped way, could

not find their bearings when they had to deal with Bhagavan. He

never reacted twice in the same way. The unexpected with him

was inevitable. He would deny every expectation, go against

every probability. He seemed to be completely indifferent to

whatever was going on in the Ashram and would give an immense

amount of care to some apparently insignificant detail. He would

be highly critical of the Ashram manager’s passion for

improvement and expansion and yet take personal interest in the

work of the carpenters and masons. He would scold his younger

brother soundly, but would rebuke anybody who came to him

with some complaint against him. He did not even want to hear

about the money coming to the Ashram, but would read carefully

the incoming and outgoing letters. He would refuse his consent

to a certain work, but if it were done against his wishes, he would

earnestly cooperate. When asked to agree to the building of the

temple, he said, “Do as you please, but do not use my name for

collecting money”. Yet he would closely watch the progress of

the work and wander in the night among the scaffolding, with

his torch in one hand and his stick in the other. When the Sri

Chakra was placed in the sanctum of the temple, he went there

at midnight and laid his hands on it. He would deny all

responsibility for starting and developing the Ashram, would

refuse to claim it as his property, but signed a will creating a

hereditary managership for the Ashram. He would refuse all

treatment when asked, but would swallow any medicine that

was given to him without asking. If each well-wisher offered

his own remedy, he would take them all at the same time. He

would relish some rustic dish and would turn away from costly

delicacies. He would invite people for food, but when asked

for a meal he would plead his helplessness in the matter.

Sometimes he would take a man to the kitchen and cook and

serve him with his own hands. He insisted that beggars should

be fed first, but would say that the Ashram was for visitors, not

for beggars. He would be tender with a sick squirrel and would

not outwardly show any feeling when an old and faithful devotee

was dying. A serious loss or damage would leave him

unconcerned, while he may shout warnings lest a glass pane in

a cupboard should break. Greatness, wealth, beauty, power,

penance, fame, philanthropy — all these would make no

impression on him, but a lame monkey would absorb him for

days on end. He would ignore a man for a long time and then

suddenly turn to him with a broad smile and start an animated

discussion. To a question about life after death he would retort,

‘Who is asking’? but to another man he would explain in great

detail what death was and what the state of mind was after

death. It was clear that all he did was rooted in some hidden

centre to which none of us had any access. He was entirely

self-directed, or rather, Self-directed.

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11. Once Bhagavan fell down and was injured. The Ashram

people wanted to call a doctor, but he would not allow it. A

woman in the hall started weeping. “Why do you cry”? he

asked. “I am sorry that you do not allow us to call for a doctor”,

she said. Bhagavan sighed, “Oh well, call in the doctor. In this

place I have no freedom”.

12. Bose and Yogi Ramaiah were accompanying Bhagavan

up the hill. While they were waiting for him to return, Yogi

Ramaiah told Bose that a cement platform would be useful

for Bhagavan to rest on. On his return Bhagavan was told of

the idea and he said, “Don’t. If you construct a platform,

somebody will erect a temple”.

13. Once Suryanarayana’s wife asked Bhagavan whether

he had ever seen God. He replied, “You see your Self just as

you see me”. Suryanarayana complained bitterly, “I am

spending every minute of my time in the repetition of your

name and yet I am without peace”. Bhagavan gently rebuked

him and said, “Come on, you do not expect me to hide your

peace under my pillow”!

14. Once a devotee asked Bhagavan, “Have you seen Shiva,

Nandi and Kailas?” Bhagavan replied, “No, never. But the

Self I see every moment”.

15. Somerset Maugham, the famous English writer, came

to the Ashram to meet Bhagavan. He fell ill, probably due to

heat, and Chadwick arranged a comfortable bed for him in

his room. Bhagavan heard about it and came to see Maugham.

They just looked at each other silently for about an hour. When

Bhagavan got up, Chadwick asked Maugham whether he

would like to ask anything. “What is there to speak about”?

he answered. “Yes, there is no need for words”, said Bhagavan,

who then returned to the hall. Maugham too departed soon.

16. Bhagavan was very ill. Hundreds of people had come

to see him, but he would not look at anybody. Nartaki was

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saying that Bhagavan looked at her each time she came.

Chalam asked her how it happened. She said, “Each time,

before coming to Bhagavan, I said within myself, ‘Bhagavan,

do look at me’. And he would always look at me”. Chalam

tried the same and it worked!

17. A man was telling Bhagavan that he learnt one type of

yoga under one master, some other type under a different

master and so on. The dinner bell started ringing. “Now learn

the yoga of eating under this master”, said Bhagavan, and

took the man to have his dinner.

18. A lady devotee prayed to Bhagavan, “My only desire

is that you may always be with us”. Bhagavan exclaimed, “Look

at her, she wants us all to turn into stones, so that we may sit here

forever”.

19. Bhagavan’s mother had a hard life when she came to

live by the side of her glorious son. She was a very orthodox

lady, full of prejudices, superstitions and possessive pride.

Bhagavan would be ruthless in destroying all that stood in the

way of her emancipation from ignorance and fear. He succeeded

wonderfully and gave his mother videha mukti (liberation at

the moment of death), which is by far the most common form

of realization with the majority of earnest aspirants.

One of her pet aversions was onions, which are taboo to

Brahmin widows. She would refuse to cook onions. Bhagavan

would show her an onion and say, “How mighty is this little

bulb, that it can stop my mother from going to heaven”! The

mother would cry her heart out in some corner. But he would

only say, “Cry, cry, the more you cry, the better”. It was supreme

love, eager to bestow the supreme good, and merciless with

every obstacle, however sacred or rooted in tradition.

20. A friend from Bombay came to have a look at the Ashram

and to find out what it was all about. He had little faith himself,

but wanted to know what exactly drew people to Bhagavan.

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He would get hold of this man and that and keep on asking all

sorts of questions. A Norwegian sadhu lived at that time near

the Ashram and we went one evening in search of him. He

lived in a small cubby hole, meant for a bathroom. He slept and

cooked his food there. It was wonderful to think that an educated

European had accepted this kind of life just to be near Bhagavan.

With his beard, long hair and weather-beaten face he looked

old, but in reality he was quite young. During his university

years he had studied comparative religion and thus was attracted

to India and to Indian philosophy. Even in Norway, whenever

he would meet an Indian he would question him eagerly, only

to discover that Indians on the whole knew very little of their

glorious heritage. This had only strengthened his desire to go

to India, meet the people who knew, and learn from them. He

tried hard and got a job as a lecturer in religion in one of the

North Indian colleges. He joined and in his spare time was

searching for a Guru. He was told that he could find one only

in the Himalayas. He roamed the mountains and at last he found

somebody who agreed to guide and instruct him. The Norwegian

was very reticent about his Guru and would tell neither name

nor place. But he gave up his job, joined his Guru in the

mountains, learnt sankhya yoga under him and was told to do

sadhana for four years and then come back. How was he to

live for these four years? Again he got a job, this time in

Bangalore. A fellow traveller in the train advised him strongly

to go and meet Bhagavan before he took up his duties. He broke

his journey, saw Bhagavan and could not leave. In Bhagavan’s

presence his sankhya sadhana became very vigorous and

speedy. He had no money and just stretched every copper. He

did not feel the need to return to the Himalayas. He said he

would go on till the goal was reached. We returned wondering

at Bhagavan’s mighty power which attracted all, however small

or great. Our Bombay friend felt that there might be something

in the Ashram beyond his ken and grew very humble.

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21. When Bhagavan was living on the hill, a big monkey

came one day when he was having his food, and sat near him.

Bhagavan was about to put a morsel of food into his mouth,

but when he saw the monkey he gave it the morsel. The

monkey took it, put it on the plate and gave Bhagavan a square

slap on the cheek. “What do you mean, you fellow? Why are

you angry? I gave you the first morsel”! exclaimed Bhagavan.

Then he understood his mistake. It was a king monkey and he

had to be treated in the right royal manner. Bhagavan called

for a separate leaf plate and a full meal was served to the

king, who ate it all with dignity and proudly went away.

POOSALAR

IN Tinnanur, an ancient town in Tondai district, there dwelt a

Brahmin, Poosalar by name. His mind forever fixed on Siva’s

feet, he grew in love and learning day by day and spent his all

in service to His devotees.

Wishing to build a temple to the Lord, he tried to raise

funds. But try as he might, he failed. In grief he pondered,

“What shall I do?” He resolved at last to raise within his heart

a temple to his Lord. From far and near he fetched in fancy,

little by little, stone and metal and other building material.

Skilled masons and sculptors too he engaged and instructed

in thought. And at an auspicious hour, he dug the ground and

laid the foundation stone. Devoted, busy, sleepless even by

night, he watched the temple grow, part by part and layer by

layer, gateway, tower and central shrine, all planned according

to the rules of Agama, and wrought in detail with the minutest

care. On top of the domed turret over the holy of holies he

installed a stone a cubit long. And so with hard, steady effort

of the mind, he completed the structure, plastered chinks with

lime, dug wells and tanks, put up the outer walls and fixed in

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his mind the auspicious day and hour for consecrating the

shrine and installing the Presence.

The Pallava King had built in the city of Kanchi a mighty

granite temple and appointed a day for the grand ceremony

of its consecration. But, on the night preceding, the Lord

appeared to the King in his dream and said, “Poosalar, my

friend, has laboured lovingly for many months and raised a

temple for me in his heart, and 1 must be there tomorrow at

its consecration. So postpone your temple ceremony to some

later day”.

The King awoke, eager to visit Tinnanur and greet this

favoured servant of the Lord. He reached the place and

enquired of the people, “Whereabouts is this temple built by

Poosalar”? But they all said, “We know of no such temple”.

Then he sent for the leading Brahmins of the town and asked

them, “Who is this pure and perfect man, this Poosalar”? They

answered, “A Brahmin of that name does dwell in this town.

We shall go and bring him, Sire”. But the King would have

none of it. Instead he went himself to the man’s house and

falling at his feet, asked, “Where is your famed temple? Today,

1 know, the Lord comes there to dwell. And at His bidding 1

too have come, to meet you and greet you on this day”.

Staggered by this speech, the Brahmin said, “If the Lord

pleases, the world shall know,” and told the King the story of

the building of the temple thought by thought. The King heard

it all, fell again at the good man’s feet, and marched back to

Kanchi, accompanied by his army with drums and trumpets.

Poosalar regularly performed the daily pujas in his ideal

temple in the prescribed manner and in the end attained the

feet of the Lord.

(Continued  ...)

My humble salutations to the lotus feet of Bhagavan Sree Ramana Maharshi
and also gratitude to Bhagavan’s great devotees   for the collection)