SRI RAMANA MAHARSHI:
HIS LIFE AND TEACHINGS
By A. Devaraja Mudaliar
SRI Ramana Maharshi, as he is now known, was born on the
30 December, 1879, the day of the Ardra Darshan, held to be
sacred and auspicious since it commemorates the occasion
when Lord Shiva appeared before great saints like Gautama
and Patanjali. His father was one Sundaram Iyer of Tiruchuzhi,
a village about thirty miles South-East of Madurai. Sundaram,
a pleader of respectable status held in high esteem and love
by all alike, was married to Alagammal, a pious Hindu, devout
wife and generous hostess. The child was named
Venkataraman. After a few years of schooling at Tiruchuzhi
itself, Venkataraman studied for his first form at Dindigul and
for the higher forms at Madurai. He does not seem to have
attained any special distinction at school and is reputed to
have been given more to sports than to studies. Bhagavan
once told me, "They have been writing like that, but I was
really indifferent to studies and sports alike". He was
physically stronger than most of his companions at school.
There is nothing particular to record in his life till
November 1895. When one of his relatives spoke of his having
returned from Arunachala (another name for Tiruvannamalai),
the name for some unaccountable reason had a strange and
profound effect on him, evoking in him awe, reverence and
love combined -- though this was not the first time that he
had heard it. Bhagavan has told me, "From my earliest years,
the name Arunachala was `shining and sounding' within me.
There was sphurana of that name". I asked Bhagavan what
sphurana was and he said it conveyed the idea of both sound
and sight, a sound and sight not perceptible to the ears and
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eyes but only to the heart, the psychic heart. A little later he
came across the work Peria Puranam in Tamil, which recounts
the lives of a number of Tamil saints, and was deeply moved
by a perusal of it.
In June 1896, when he was sixteen years old, the most
important event in his life took place. A sudden and great fear
came over him that he was going to die, though he was then
in normal bodily health and strength. The shock of this sudden
and overwhelming fear of death led him to a very unusual
experience which is succinctly described by the Maharshi
himself thus:
The shock made me at once introspective or introverted. I
said to myself mentally, `Now death has come. What does it
mean? What is it that is dying? This body dies'. I at once
dramatized the scene of death. I extended my limbs and held
them rigid as though rigor mortis had set in. `Well then', said
I to myself, `this body is dead. It will be carried to the burning
ground and reduced to ashes. But with the death of this body,
am `I' dead? Is the body `I'? This body is silent and inert but
I feel the full force of my personality and even the sound `I'
within myself, apart from my body, so `I' am spirit, a thing
transcending the body'. All this was not a mere intellectual
process. It flashed before me vividly as living truth.
This experience, which might have lasted perhaps half an
hour, changed the boy completely for ever afterwards. He lost
interest in his studies, friends and relatives and even his food.
He would go frequently to the shrines of Meenakshi and
Sundareswara in the great temple in Madurai and spend long
hours in adoration before the images. He would occasionally
pray for the Lord's grace to flow into him and make him like
one of the sixtythree saints in Peria Puranam. But, for the
most part he would be lost in the divine bliss within him while
tears flowed from his eyes.
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Observing this change in the boy, his worldly-minded elders
and especially his elder brother would rebuke him now and then.
Finally on 29 August 1896, when he was studying in the sixth
form, things came to a head. The elder brother burst out, "To one
like this (i.e., one lost in contemplation), why this sort of life
(i.e., books, school and home)"? This touched young
Venkataraman's heart and he said to himself, "Yes, that is quite
true. What business have I here and with all these things"? and
he decided at once to leave his home and go to Arunachala. He
told his elder brother, "I must go to school now to attend a special
class". The elder brother replied, "Then take five rupees from
the box downstairs and pay my college fees". The young aspirant
took this as God's provision for his train fare to Arunachala. He
searched for Tiruvannamalai in an old Atlas and spotting the
place, thought that three rupees should be enough to take him
there. So he took only this sum and started for the railway station,
leaving in a prominent place a note in Tamil, which ran:
In search of my Father and in obedience to His command,
I have left this place. This (i.e., myself) is only entering
on a good enterprise; so none need feel grieved over this
event, nor need one spend any money in search of this.
Two rupees left herewith.
He arrived at the station much later than the hour the train
was due to leave. But providentially the train too was late and
so the boy was able to catch it. He had taken a ticket only to
Tindivanam, for according to the old Atlas Tiruvannamalai was
not on the railway line and the railway station nearest to it was
Tindivanam. But an aged Moulvi sitting in the compartment
enquired of the bright youngster where he was going and told
him of the recently opened Villupuram-Katpadi link line passing
through Tiruvannamalai. The Maharshi could not remember
having seen the Moulvi in the compartment at Madurai railway
station nor his entering it at any subsequent station. Anyhow
there he was to guide him. And following this Moulvi's advice
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the lad got down at Villupuram and after a few incidents of no
special interest reached a place called Arayaninalloor (Tirukoilur
railway station) on his way to Tiruvannamalai. Finding a
temple, viz. that of Atulyanatha Iswara, he entered it and sat in
dhyana [?] (meditation) in a mantapa dimly lit by a flickering lamp.
While he was absorbed in dhyana [?] he suddenly found the entire
place filled with a bright light. In wonder the young devotee
looked in the direction of the garbhagriha (the innermost
shrine), to see if the light proceeded thence. But he found no
such source for the light which in any case, disappeared soon.
The place where this vision was vouchsafed to the young swami
was the very spot where the celebrated saivite saint
Tirugnanasambandar had a vision of Lord Arunachala, also in
the form of light. The saint had installed a linga of Lord
Arunachala which is still being worshipped.
From Arayaninalloor, the young boy eventually reached
Tiruvannamalai on the morning of 1st September, 1896 and
went straight to Lord Arunachala at the temple. Though he
arrived at the temple at this unusual hour after the morning
puja, all the doors leading to the innermost shrine were open1
and he walked straight up and said, "Father, I have come
according to Thy command, Thy will be done". The burning
sensation in the body which he had been feeling for some
days also ceased after he had thus reported his arrival. After
spending some time in dhyana [?] there he came out. Leaving
the temple he went into the town, returned with his hair shaved
off and only a cod piece for cloth.
He originally took up residence in the temple's thousand
pillared hall. To avoid disturbance from crowds who were
attracted by the unusual spectacle of so young a person sitting
in such deep meditation, he had to shift from place to place
both inside and outside the temple. Not less than three years
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were passed in maintaining absolute silence and in deep and
all-absorbing meditation during which the young ascetic had
lost all consciousness of the body. When he was sitting in the
shrine of Pathala Lingam in a dark corner of the thousand
pillared hall, it was discovered that his seat and thighs had
been badly bitten by insects, that blood and pus were issuing
from the wounds, and yet he sat in meditation, unaware of
what was happening to the body.
Admirers gathered round and managed to keep the physical
body alive. One such admirer, Annamalai Thambiran, began
to worship the young swami, as if he were an image in a
temple, with offerings of fruit and flowers and burning of
camphor. The first day of this strange worship passed without
a protest. But when the man came there again the following
day bringing food as usual and intending to repeat his worship,
he found on the wall nearby the following words in Tamil
written in charcoal, "This (food) is service enough for this
(body)". It thus became clear that the youthful swami was
literate. This knowledge was utilised later by another admirer,
a taluk head accountant of the place, who did satyagraha and
forced the swami to put down in writing that his name was
Venkataraman and that he hailed from Tiruchuzhi.
The news eventually reached his relations and uncle Nelliappa
Iyer came and sought to take the swami back to his place. There
was absolutely no response. Later, the mother and elder brother
came and tried their best to take the swami back home. Again
there was no response of any sort. But finally on the entreaty of
a devotee the swami wrote in Tamil on a piece of paper:
The Ruler of all controls the fate of souls, in accordance
with their past deeds, their prarabdha karma. What is
destined not to happen will not happen. Whatever is
ordained will happen do what one may to prevent it. This
is certain. Stillness then is best.
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So, the mother and brother went back. And Brahmana
Swami, as he had come to be called, stayed on beside the hill,
though shifting from one spot to another there.
In 1907, Kavyakantha Ganapathi Muni, a renowned
Sanskrit poet and scholar who had been strenuously carrying
on spiritual sadhana [?] for some years, became a devout follower
of Brahmana Swami; and it was he and his disciples who
started the vogue of referring to the youthful swami as
Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi.
Bhagavan Ramana lived in and around the big temple for
about a year, in a suburb about a mile to the east of the temple
for about two years, and then around and in Virupaksha cave
on the hill of the holy beacon for nearly fifteen years. After
that he stayed for six years in an Ashram called Skandasram
built for him by a band of enthusiastic devotees led by one
Kandaswami. The place was rocky and covered with prickly
pear bushes. No one could have imagined it was possible to
raise a house there. But such was the ardent love and tireless
labour of the devotees that the impossible became possible.
Bhagavan has told me that it was after this Kandaswami that
the place came to be called Skandasram.
While Bhagavan was living in Virupaksha cave, he was
joined by his mother, who began cooking. Till then Bhagavan's
devotees used to beg in the streets for food and whatever was
received was divided by all those who happened to be at the
Ashram at that moment. Bhagavan's residence changed to
Skandasram in 1916. The mother was with him there and passed
away in May 1922. Her body was buried at the spot where the
shrine of Matrubhuteswara stands now. Bhagavan used to go
now and then to visit the Samadhi. One day in December 1922,
he went there as usual but had no urge at all to return to
Skandasram. So Bhagavan lived there for more than
twentyseven years till his Mahasamadhi in April 1950. Around
the Samadhi of the mother have come up the cluster of buildings
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which we call Sri Ramanasramam. He was accessible to all,
and lived, moved and talked like any of us. He seemed to live
in the world and yet his real being was not in it. He lived without
any sort of attachment to his surroundings. This state of being
has been compared in the books to the state of a man who is
sound asleep in a cart. Whether the cart moves or rests or has
the bullocks changed, it is all the same to the man who is
sleeping within. The jnani [?], whose `I' has been annihilated,
whose mind or ego has been killed and who has gone to sleep
in his self, i.e. who has merged in the Self, is not affected by
what he may or may not do in this life.
It is a priceless privilege to have been a contemporary of
such a great saint and seer. It would indeed be a great tragedy
if earnest seekers failed to take advantage of this presence in
our midst while people from distant lands, almost from the
ends of the earth, have gained much from association with
him and a study of his life and teachings. It has been laid
down in our books that immeasurable spiritual gain awaits
those who practise in the presence of a Self-realized Being.
Book learning, observances, rites and rituals, japa, tapas or
yoga, pilgrimages to sacred shrines and holy waters -- none
of these can equal the association with a real jnani in helping
one's progress in the spiritual path.
We may now proceed to the central and the only teaching
which the Maharshi imparted for all seekers to try and learn
and experience for themselves.
That which shines within each one of us as `I am' is the
Self. This is the sole reality and all else is simply an
appearance. In the Bible too it is said clearly and emphatically
that God told Moses, `I AM THAT I AM'. Verses thirteen and
fourteen of Exodus, Chapter III sum up the message of the
Maharshi, viz. that `I am' is the name of God and the
consciousness `I am' which each has within himself is the
voice of God or the Self.
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The Maharshi tells all earnest seekers of the truth:
At every stage and for everything you say `I', `I'; you say, `I
want to know this', `I feel this', `I think this', and so on. Ask
yourself who this `I' is, whence this `I' thought proceeds, what
is its source; keep your mind firmly fixed on this thought to the
exclusion of all other thoughts, and the process will lead you
sooner or later to the realisation of your Self.
The method is simply this: you ask yourself `Who am I?'
and try to keep your whole mind concentrated on getting an
answer to that question. True, various thoughts will arise
unbidden within you and assault you and try to divert your
attention. For all these thoughts, however, the `I' thought is the
source and sustenance. So, as each thought arises, without
allowing it to go on developing itself, ask who gets this thought.
The answer will be `I'. Then ask yourself, "Who is this `I' and
whence"? The Maharshi says, "Don't be discouraged by the
variety and multitude of the thoughts which seek to distract
you. Follow the above method with faith and hope and you
will surely succeed". And he gives an illustration:
You besiege a fort. As one soldier after another comes out,
you cut each down with your sword. When you have thus killed
the last soldier, you capture the fort. Till all thoughts are
destroyed they will keep coming out. But kill them all with the
sword, `Who am I?', and finally the fortress will be yours. It is
not by simply muttering the words `Who am I?' to oneself that
one can gain the end. A keen effort of the mind, complete
introversion of all the faculties, total absorption in the quest
wherefrom the `I' springs -- all this is needed for success.
In one of his verses the Maharshi says:
Plunge deep into yourself, in the inner most depths of your
heart, as the pearl diver holding speech and breath plunges
deep into the waters and so secure with mind alert the
treasure of the Self within.
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Sri Bhagavan is, however, not at all opposed to any of the
other well-known methods, such as the karma [?], bhakti [?] or raja yogas
, or to mantra japa, ceremonial worship, temple-going,
observance of rituals, or any of the different ways chosen by
devotees to attain God. He advises each to follow the method
which appeals to him best, or which he finds the easiest. He
assures us that all pilgrims treading different paths will reach
the same goal, which he insists is the realisation of Sat-Chit-
Ananda, the One without a second. All learned discussions
about advaita, dvaita or visishtadvaita he regards as futile
and unprofitable. For his view is that if the mind's activity is
really reduced to nothing it will then get merged in the Self
and the Self will take charge thereafter.
Let us all learn and practice this straight and simple Maha
Yoga and attain peace and bliss!
Control of the Mind
"Other than inquiry, there are no adequate means for mind-
control. If through other means it is attempted the mind will
appear to be controlled, but will again rise up. Through the
control of breath also, the mind will become quiescent, but
only so long as the breath remains controlled; and with the
movement of breath, the mind also will start moving and will
wander as impelled by residual impressions. The source is
same for both mind and breath. Thought, indeed, is the nature
of the mind. The thought `I' is the first thought of the mind;
and that is egoity. It is from that whence egoity originates
that breath also originates. Therefore, when the mind becomes
quiescent, the breath is controlled, and when the breath is
controlled, the mind becomes quiescent. But in deep sleep,
although the mind becomes quiescent, the breath does not
stop. This is because of the will of God, so that the body may
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be preserved and others may not take it as dead. In the state
of waking and in samadhi, when the mind becomes quiescent
the breath is also so. Breath is the gross form of mind. Till the
time of death, the mind keeps the breath in the body; when
the body dies the mind takes the breath (prana [?]) along with it.
Therefore, breath-control is only an aid for mind-control
(manonigraha); it will not bring about annihilation of the mind
(manonasa). Like breath-control, meditation on some form
of God, repetition of mantras, diet-regulation, etc., are but
aids for rendering the mind quiescent for the time-being".
-- Sri Bhagavan in WHO AM I??
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