Letters from Sri Ramanasramam, by Suri Nagamma

On hearing it, Bhagavan said, “There is a big story about this
song,” and at my request he was pleased to narrate it.

“In the early days when Mother came to stay with me
in Virupaksha Cave, there was no cooking. If Echamma or
anybody else brought her any food she used to eat it, clean
the vessels and then go to bed. That was all. One day she
thought I had nothing special to eat and as I was fond of the
twin appalams, she thought it would be a good idea to make
some for me. Being well experienced, she could not refrain
from making them. Without my knowledge she asked the
Mudaliar old lady, Echamma and some others to get
everything ready and one evening she set out, saying that
*Appalam in Tamil, Poppadam in Malayalam, Appadam in Telugu, is a
very thin, round cake made of black gram flour fried crisp.

she was going to the village. I wanted to see where she was
really going, and so when she left, I waited silently under
the tree outside. She thought I did not know anything. She
went to several houses, collected all the required things in a
big vessel and returned. I closed my eyes and pretended
complete ignorance. She put them away carefully in the cave
till all the visitors left. After nightfall, I had my usual meal
and lay down pretending to sleep. Leisurely, she took out
the wooden roller, wooden seat, loose flour and the balls of
paste and commenced making appalams. There were about
two to three hundred to be made. She could not prepare
them all single-handed. I knew the job. So she quietly began
telling me, ‘My boy, please help me with it.’ I got the
opportunity I was waiting for. If I were lenient in this, she
would start something else. I wanted to put a timely stop to
it. I said, ‘You have renounced everything and have come
here, haven’t you? Why all this? You should rest content
with whatever is available. I won’t help you. I won’t eat them
if you prepare them. Make them all for yourself, and eat
them yourself.’ She was silent for a while and again started
saying, ‘What, my dear son, please help me a little.’ I was
adamant. She continued to call me again and again. Feeling
it was no use arguing any more, I said, ‘All right. You make
these appalams; I will make another kind’, and I started
singing this ‘Appalam Song’. She used to sing a rice song,
soup song and other such songs, all with Vedantic meanings.

None appears to have written an appalam song. So I felt I
should compose one. She was very fond of songs. So she felt
that she could learn another song. By the time the
preparation of the appalams was over, my song also was
finished. ‘I will eat this appalam (the song about the appalams),
and you eat those that you have made,’ I told her. That
happened sometime in 1914 or 1915.”
“What a big story! I wrote it in brief in this essay. This
won’t do,” I said. “Why all this in that essay?” asked Bhagavan.

I said I would write all this in my “Letters” (to my brother)
and Bhagavan agreed to it. He was then reminded of some
other incident, and said, “Some time after the ‘Appalam Song’
was composed, we all set out one day on giri pradakshina.

Someone said, ‘Swamiji! Please tell us the meaning of the
“Appalam Song”’. I started explaining thus: ‘Take the words
‘thanugani pancha kosa kshetramunnada (in the body with the
five elements)’ — there are many authorities about the ‘pancha
kosa kshetra’ in the Bhagavad Gita and other Vedantic texts. I
quoted them all. Similarly for every word there are many
authorities. I gave them all, explaining their meanings and
significance. We finished our round of the hill, returned to
the Virupaksha Cave and sat down. I was still explaining. All
the essence of the Vedanta is incorporated in that one song. If
properly commented upon, it would make a big volume by
itself.”
I said, “It would have been good if somebody had
recorded all that when Bhagavan explained. Who can
comment upon the song as Bhagavan does! Why not
somebody record it even now?”
“That is all very well!” he said laughing. After hearing
all the commentary, I said, “I am not satisfied with this article
and so I will not send it to Griha Lakshmi.” Bhagavan said,
“Just as you please,” and resumed his talk, “Though I was
remonstrating with my mother, she slowly started cooking,
first a vegetable, then soup, and so on. We went to
Skandasramam afterwards. She used to wander all over the
hill, gather something or other, and say, ‘He likes this
vegetable and that fruit’. She took no notice of my
remonstrations. Once, while she was coming to the jungle at
this side, her saree got in a thorny bush. It was only then
that this path was cleared of all bushes and the like. She said
she would not leave me and go anywhere else. If she went
anywhere, she was afraid that she might die there. She was
particular that she should die in my arms. When Alamelu
(Bhagavan’s younger sister) built a new house in their village
near Manamadurai, she begged mother just to go over there
and see the house. She said it was enough if she (mother)
just set her foot in it. But she never went. She declined
because she was afraid that in case she fell ill there, there
might not be trains running properly at that time to bring
her back here and in that case, she might not die in her son’s
arms. She used to say, ‘Even if you were to throw away my
dead body in these thorny bushes I do not mind but I must
end this life in your arms.’” As he was saying that, his voice
began to falter through emotion. My eyes got moist. I said,
“Renunciation should be as firm as that with everybody.”
“Yes, yes!” he said and was silent. Because she said, “Even if
you were to throw away my body in these thorny bushes,”
we now see that the place of her burial is adorned by a temple
fit to be worshipped by kings and emperors.