The Bee Sting

My sister was again left with my aunt at Tiruvannamalai. She would visit Bhagavan daily and
play there. Once there was a cry from the garden and Bhagavan said, "It is Shantabai's voice,"
and sent someone to fetch her. My sister was reeling with pain. She came to Bhagavan crying
and said that a bee had stung her hand. Bhagavan took her hand and caressed it. Immediately
the pain of the sting vanished. Being innocent the child told Bhagavan, "Why did you make
me cry so long? If you had wanted it you could have stopped it then and there." My Aunt
who was there at the time was shocked at the audacity of my sister's complaint. However,
Bhagavan smilingly asked what she had done to the bee before it stung her? She said that she
was pelting stones at the mangoes and one of the stones disturbed the bee. Bhagavan
smilingly said to her, "You see, the stone you threw hurt the bee and so it stung you. So
hereafter never harm anyone." Young as she was she understood what Bhagavan meant and
thereafter never hurt any living being. Later, whenever she recalled this incident, she felt
grateful to Bhagavan for giving her this lesson on non-violence.

~ account by Chakkubai Srinivasan, recorded at Sri Ramanasramam. For full story, please go
to Chakkubai Srinivasan's Account

~~~

On Kartika day in 1931, when K. Venkataraman was about 11 years old, he was staying with
his grandmother Echammal. Finding her busy with the sraddha ceremonies for her late
husband, he took her permission to go to the temple for puja.

Before going into the Sanctum Sanctorum, he decided to have his bath inside the temple
compound. He went down the steps and entered the water carefully, as he did not know how
to swim, but despite his care, he slipped and went down deep into the water. With great effort
he was able to come to the surface several times and shout for help, yet no one took any
notice of him.

After his third unsuccessful attempt, he sank deep into the water, without any hope of
survival. Suddenly he saw a very bright light inside his head in the midst of which Sri
Bhagavan's face shone. This phenomenon came in a flash, and disappeared immediately. A
little later he felt something catch his ankles and he experienced a similar flash in exactly the
same manner and intensity as before. By then he was unconscious.

When he awoke as if from a deep sleep he found himself on the steps of Siva Ganga tank.
After looking around carefully and reassuring himself that he was really alive, he asked
people around him how he had come there. He was told that an old man who was doing
pradakshina of Kambathu Ilayanar had run down the steps, jumped into the tank, brought him
out of the water and laid him down, and then had gone away as swiftly as he had come.
Venkataraman then quickly had his puja performed and went straight home, without
mentioning a word about it to his grandmother.

The next morning they went together to the Ashram as usual and prostrated before Sri
Bhagavan. Bhagavan looked at them and asked how deep Siva Ganga tank was. The lad
could not understand the import of question, and ran out of the hall silently. It was only later
in life that he realised that his saviour had been none other than Sri Bhagavan himself. It is
true that Sri Bhagavan shunned occult powers as an obstacle to pure sadhana but it is also
true that Sri Bhagavan is all grace and compassion and never fails his devotees.

Another incident he recalls happened about a year later when he had come from his father's
home to stay with Echammal for his school vacation. One morning at the Ashram he noticed
that almost everyone had copies of a new book which he found was Suddhananda Bharati's
biography of Sri Bhagavan, Sri Ramana Vijayam, fresh from the press, and presented it to all
inmates. Disappointed at not getting a copy, he went to Chinnaswamy to ask for one. After
Chinnaswamy refused to give him one, he went where Sri Bhagavan was and stood weeping.
Bhagavan asked why he was crying and Venkataraman told him what had happened.
Bhagavan then sent an attendant to the book stall for a copy of the book. After writing
"Ramanan" on the flyleaf, he handed it the boy, who was filled with joy and thanked him for
it. Sri Bhagavan then observed: "Oho! You are all joy now and your weeping vanished so
soon." Venkataraman then went out of the Hall to tell Chinnaswamy that he had got what he
wanted from the hands of Sri Bhagavan himself.

~ from Surpassing Love and Grace

When my brother Adam was about four years old he was sucking a sweet when he came
running into the hall to tell Bhagavan something. Bhagavan asked him if he was enjoying his
sweet and Adam, without a thought, took it out of his mouth and offered to put it into
Bhagavan’s hand. There was a gasp of shock from the orthodox individuals around, but
Bhagavan understood the spirit in which the offering was made and smiled at Adam. He said
something along the lines of “No, no, you keep it.” Completely unbothered Adam popped the
sweet back in his mouth and went on with what he wanted to say ...
 Sri Ramana and Adam Osborne

I was a little girl of around eight years of age.  I was playing on the hill when Bhagavan came
walking down with a number of people around him. Looking at him I was filled with such an
overwhelming feeling of love that I burst out with:

“Bhagavan, I love you so much.” There were coos of approval from those around and I
thought that they were approving of me without knowing how naughty I could be. I didn’t
want unearned praise so I hastily added:

“Of course I love the monkeys too.” Gasps of shock naturally followed. The wonderful thing
about being around Bhagavan was that one knew that he could see into our hearts. Bhagavan
knew exactly what I meant and he just laughed and walked on.

~ Katya Osborne, from The Mountain Path, Sept 2004

The single most powerful memory of those days in my personal experience of Bhagavan
occurred one day when I accompanied my mother to the ashram. I was about 5 years old at
the time. Bhagavan was sitting on a small pial (raised platform) in the thatched room
adjoining the Old Hall. The place is where Bhagavan's samadhi is now. The platform faced
east whereas in the Old Hall Bhagavan faced south. My mother prostrated before Bhagavn in
the traditional way and I who was standing next to her, suddenly climbed on her back, and sat
there as if riding a horse or an elephant. My mother became very angry and tried to push me
down. But Bhagavan, seeing my innocent mischief, smiled and enjoyed the fun. He bade my
mother not to scold or push but stay in that prostrated posture for a few seconds more. When
I recollect this incident I become enthralled at the memory of his beautiful, smiling
countenance. He loved children and their playful mischief.

~ D. Rajaram, The Mountain Path,  June, 2003

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi and Creatures

Lakshmi  the cow first came to Sri Ramana December, 1926. Lakshmi was 6 months old.

One day the cow Lakshmi came to the Hall. She went straight to Bhagavan, put her head on
Bhagavan’s shoulder and wept. Bhagavan sat very quietly and gently stroked her head. “Why
are you so sad?” he would whisper in her ears. “Who has hurt you? Cheer up, my dear, stop
crying. I am here to befriend you.” Lakshmi stopped crying, gave Bhagavan a few licks and
went away, comforted.

The Bhagavan I Knew by Voruganti Krishnayya

As told to G. Vankatachalam. Translated from Telugu by Surya Prasad
Ramana Smrti Souvenir

Jackie the dog

~~~

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.

Tales of Bhagavan
Ramana Smrti Souvenir
Translated from Telugu by Surya Prasad
 Sri Ramana Maharshi with cheetah cubs

18th January, 1946

About a year ago, some person who was rearing two
baby cheetahs brought them into Bhagavan's presence. When
they were fondled and given milk, not only did they move
freely amongst the people in the hall, but they got on to the
sofa with Bhagavan's welcome and slept soundly thereon.

One of the Ashram devotees took a photo of that unusual

group. From about 1 p.m. to 3 p.m. Bhagavan confined
himself to one end of the sofa keeping the cubs on the sofa
in the same position all the time. They woke up afterwards
and were there till about 4 p.m., moving about freely in the
hall. Once again, before Bhagavan went up the hill at the
usual time, photos were taken with the cheetah cubs on the
sofa and also on the table in front of the sofa. They were
published in the Sunday Times later.

The wonder of it was that even the cheetah cubs lay

down happily on the sofa, overpowered by sleep induced by
the touch of Bhagavan's hands. While they were there, the
squirrels came and ate nuts and the sparrows came and ate
broken rice, as usual. In olden days, when animals and birds
of all sorts moved about together without enmity in any place,
people used to think that it was perhaps a Rishi Ashram.

~ Suri Nagamma, Letters from Sri Ramanasramam

~~~

Once a monkey tried to bring her new born baby through a window near Ramana’s couch.
The attendants were preventing her. Ramana chided them as follows, “Don’t all of you bring
your newborn babies to me? She also wants to do so. Why should you prevent her?”

~ A R Natarajan, Timeless in Time

~~~

When Bhagavan was staying in the Old Hall, he was literally surrounded by squirrels. They
would run all over his couch, on his body, and even under his pillows. Ramana had to be
extremely careful before he sat or leaned lest some squirrels be crushed by the weight of his
body.

~ A R Natarajan, Timeless in Time

~~~

On June 17, 1948, Lakshmi fell ill. The following morning June 18 it looked as if her end
was near. At about 10 o’clock in the morning Ramana went to her. He found her breathing
hard and she was lying prostrate. Taking her head into his arms, stroking her neck, Ramana
fixed his gaze in her eyes. Her breathing became steady immediately. Tears began to trickle
from her eyes. Ramana’s eyes too overflowed as he looked at her with great love. How could
those nearby hold by their emotions? He asked tenderly, “Amma (mother), do you want me
to be near you? I must go now as people are waiting for me in the hall. But wherever I may
be, I am always with you.” Then he placed his hand on her head as though giving diksha. He
put his hand over her heart also and then caressed her, placing his cheek against her face.
When he convinced himself that her heart was pure, free from all vasanas entailing rebirth
and centred solely on him, he took leave of her and returned to the hall. Her eyes were calm
and peaceful. She was conscious up to the end and left the body at 11:30 a.m. quite
peacefully.

On her tomb was engraved an epitaph by Ramana which makes it quite clear that she attained
liberation.

~~~
 

D.: Does one who has realized the Self lose the sense of ‘I’?
R.: Absolutely.

D.: Then there is not difference between yourself and myself, that man over there, my
servant. Are all the same?

R.: All are the same, including those monkeys.

D.: But the monkeys are not people. Are they not different?

R.: They are exactly the same as people. All are the same in One Consciousness.

~ A R Natarajan, Timeless in Time

~~~

At Skandasramam 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.

~ from At The Feet of Bhagavan

~~~

At about 4 p.m. Sri Bhagavan, who was writing something intently, turned his eyes slowly
towards the window to the north; he closed the fountain pen with the cap and put it in its
case; he closed the notebook and put it aside; he removed his spectacles, folded them in the
case and left them aside. He leaned back a little, looked up overhead, turned his face this way
and that and looked here and there. He passed his hand over his face and looked
contemplative. Then he turned to someone in the hall and said softly: "The pair of sparrows
just came here and complained to me that their nest had been removed. I looked up and found
their nest missing." Then he called for the attendant, Madhava Swami, and asked: "Madhava,
did anyone remove the sparrows' nest?"

The attendant, who walked in leisurely, answered with an air of unconcern: "I removed the
nests as often as they were built. I removed the last one this very afternoon."

M: That's it. That is why the sparrows complained. The poor little ones! How they take the
pieces of straw and shreds in their tiny beaks and struggle to build their nests!

Attendant: But why should they build here, over our heads?

M: Well-well. Let us see who succeeds in the end. (After a short time Sri Bhagavan went
out.)

~~~

Can a cracked egg be hatched?

It was the early hours of the morning in the Hall of Sri Bhagavan. He had had His bath, and
now went to the farther end of the Hall to take His towel that hung from a horizontally
suspended bamboo, at one end of which a sparrow had built her nest and laid therein three or
four eggs.

In the process of taking His towel Sri Bhagavan's hand came against the nest, which shook
violently, so that one of the eggs dropped down. In this way the egg was cracked; Sri
Bhagavan was taken aback, aghast. He cried out to Madhavan, the personal attendant. "Look,
look what I have done today!" So saying, He took the cracked egg in His hand looked at it
with His tender eyes, and exclaimed: "Oh, the poor mother will be so sorrow-stricken,
perhaps angry with me also, at my causing
the destruction of her expected little one! Can the cracked eggshell be pieced together again?
Let us try!"

So saying, He took a piece of cloth, wetted it, wrapped it around the broken egg, and put it
back in the mother's nest. Every three hours He would take out the cracked egg, remove the
cloth, place the egg on His roseate palm, and gaze at it with His tender eyes for minutes
together.

What was He really doing at this time? How can we say? Was He sending with those
wonderful looks of gentle Grace life-giving beams into the cracked egg, putting ever newer
warmth and life into it? That is a mystery none can solve. Yet He kept on saying: "Let the
crack be healed! Cannot this be hatched even now? Let the little one come from this broken
egg!"

This anxious concern and tenderness of Sri Maharshi continued from day to day for about a
week. So the fortunate egg lay in the nest with its wet bandage cloth, only to be fondled by
Sri Maharshi with divine touch and benign look. On the seventh day, He takes out the egg,
and with the astonishment of a schoolboy announces: "Look what a wonder! The crack has
closed,
and so the mother will be happy and will hatch her egg after all! My God has freed me from
the sin of causing the loss of a life. Let us wait patiently for the blessed young one to come
out!"

A few more days pass, and at length one fine morning Bhagavan finds the egg has been
hatched1 and the little bird has come out. With gleeful smiling face radiant with the usual
light, He takes the child in His hand, caresses it with lips, stroking it with His soft hand, and
passes it on for all the bystanders to admire. He receives it back at last into His own hands,
and is so happy that one little germ of life has been able to evolve in spite of the unhappy
accident to it in the embryo.

from At The Feet of Bhagavan

~~~

Mudaliar Swami, son of the lady who brings bhiksha every day to Sri Bhagavan, related the
following interesting incident:

During the time Sri Bhagavan was staying in Virupaksha Cave, Sri Bhagavan and Mudaliar
Swami were walking together behind the Skandasramam site. There was a huge rock about
15 feet high; it was a cleft, a girl (a shepherdess) was standing there crying. Sri Bhagavan
asked the reason of her sorrow.

She said, "A sheep of mine has slipped into this cleft; so I am crying." Sri Bhagavan
descended into the cleft, took the sheep on his shoulders, climbed up to the surface and
delivered the sheep to her.

Mudaliar Swami says that it was a very remarkable feat for any human being.

from Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi

~~~

Once the Maharshi set out on giripradakshina  with his disciples by a short-route across the
hill. He asked Jacki to go down the hill to the town. Accordingly, Jack left and was sighted
by the Maharshi on its way down. Midway on their walk the Maharshi changed course and
walked down the hill. As they were descending, Jack was returning from the town. The
Maharshi then directed Jack to go back to the ashram. Though reluctant to leave Bhagavan's
company, as an obedient fellow, Jack went back to the ashram. Jack was soft and austere in
his ways. His daily routine was like this: early in the morning he would visit a devadasi's
(temple dancer's) house for breakfast and then go to a priest's house to accompany him to the
shrine at Guha Namassivaya. After that he would go to Virupaksha cave for Bhagavan's
darshan and later to a resting place nearby. Around 9.30 in the morning he would visit the
shrine at Guha Namassivaya for prasadam and get back to his place of rest. Again by evening
he would visit the devadasi's house for food. After supper he would go to a math to keep
company with the priest. To the extent possible he would spend his time in
the vicinity of Arunachaleswara, much like a yogi.

~ from Ramana Leela   

From a Great Darkness

What does Sri Bhagavan mean to me? After many years of experiencing his grace I can now reply, "He is
everything to me. He is my Guru and my God." I can say this with confidence because, had I not had the good
fortune of seeing him and thereafter getting into closer contact with him, I would have been still groping in the
dark. I would still have been a doubting Thomas.
How did it all begin? When I was eighteen I read a lot of books by Swami Vivekananda and Swami Rama
Tirtha. This reading generated a desire in me that I should also become a sannyasin, like the authors of these
books. Their writings also implanted in me the ideal of plain living, high thinking, and a life dedicated to
spiritual matters. Somehow, my desire to become a sannyasin was never fulfilled, but the ideal of a dedicated
life made a deeper and deeper impression on my mind. At the age of twenty I had the good fortune of contacting
Mahatma Gandhi. His ideals won my heart and for several years I faithfully tried to put them into practice.

I was doing my duty to the best of my ability and leading, as best I could, a pure and dedicated life until the age
of thirty-eight. Around that time skepticism began to assail me and my mind became a home for all kinds of
doubts. I began to doubt the ideals of Gandhiji; I began to doubt sadhus and sannyasins; I doubted religion, and I
even began to doubt the existence of God.

It was in this darkest period of my life that I first heard of Sri Ramana Maharshi. At that time I seemed to be
heading swiftly towards total skepticism. The world appeared to me to be full of injustice, cruelty, greed, hate
and other evils, the existence of which logically led me to a strong disbelief in God. For, I argued, did He truly
exist, could anything dark or evil ever have flourished? Doubt upon doubt assailed me like dark shadows which
dogged my footsteps. I had, as a consequence, lost whatever little reverence I might have had for sadhus and
sannyasins. I found myself slowly but surely losing my interest in religion. The very word itself eventually
became a synonym in my mind for a clever ruse to delude the credulity of the world. In short, I began to live a
life lacking optimism and faith. I was not happy in my disbelief, for my mind took on the aspect of turbulent
waters, and I felt that all around me there was raging a scorching fire which seemed to burn up my very entrails.

It was about that time that Chhaganlal Yogi met an old friend on the train who had recently visited
Ramanashram. His friend described his visit with great enthusiasm and tried his best to convince
Chhaganlal that Ramana Maharshi was an authentic sage. Then his friend gave him a pinch of
vibhutti, holy ash from Ramana Maharshi's ashram, but such was his skepticism and cynicism that he
let the precious ashes fall from his fingers onto the floor of the train. But in parting his friend gave
him a book about the Maharshi which Chhaganlal read and was intrigued by, yet he still felt a great
skepticism. Despite his cynicism, he could not get the Maharshi out of his mind. Finally after reading
other books and repeatedly writing to the ashram, he decided to visit and find out for himself.

At first I was terribly disappointed because nothing seemed to strike me in the way I had expected. I found Sri
Bhagavan seated on a couch, as quiet and unmoving as a statue. His presence did not seem to emanate anything
unusual, and I was very disappointed to discover that he displayed no interest in me at all. I had expected
warmth and intimacy, but unfortunately I seemed to be in the presence of someone who lacked both.

From morning till evening I sat waiting to catch a glimpse of his grace, of his interest in me, a stranger who had
come all the way from Bombay, but I evoked no response. Sri Bhagavan merely seemed cold and unaffected.
After pinning such hopes on him, his apparent lack of interest nearly broke my heart. Eventually, I decided to
leave the ashram, knowing full well that if I did, I would be more skeptical and hard-headed that before.

The Veda parayana was chanted every evening in Sri Bhagavan's presence. It was considered to be one of the
most attractive items in the daily program of the ashram, but in my depressed state it fell flat on my ears. It was
the evening of the day that I had decided to leave. The sun was setting like a sad farewell, spreading a darkness
over both the hill and my heart. The gloom deepened until the neighborhood disappeared into the blackness of
the night. In my sensitive state the electric light which was switched on in the hall seemed like a living wound
on the body of the darkness. My mind, which was deeply tormented, felt that the psychic atmosphere in the hall
was stuffy and choking. Unable to bear it any longer, I walked outside to get a breath of fresh air. A young man
called Gopalan came up to me and asked me where I had come from.

"Bombay," I replied.

He asked me if I had been introduced to the Master, and when I replied that I had not, he was most surprised. He
immediately led me to the office, introduced me to the Sarvadhikari and then proceeded with me to the hall
where he introduced me to Sri Bhagavan. When he heard my name Sri Bhagavan's eyes turned to me, looked
straight into mine and twinkled like stars. With a smile beaming with grace he asked me if I were a Gujerati. I
replied that I was. Immediately he sent for a copy of the Gujerati translation by Sri Kishorelal Mashruwala of
Upadesa Saram, a few copies of which had only just arrived. He then asked me to chant the Gujerati verses from
the book.

"But I am not a singer," I answered, hesitating to begin. But when it became clear that I was expected to
perform, I got over my initial hesitation and began to chant verses from the book. I had sung about fifteen when
the bell for the evening meal rang. All the time I was chanting I could feel Sri Bhagavan keenly observing me. It
seemed that the light of his eyes was suffusing my consciousness, even without my being conscious of it. His
silent gaze brought about a subtle but definite transformation in me. The darkness, which a few minutes before
had seemed heavy and unbearable, gradually lightened and melted into a glow of well-being. My erstwhile
sadness completely disappeared, leaving in my heart an inexplicable emotion of joy. My limbs appeared to have
been washed in an ocean-tide of freedom.

That evening I sat close to Sri Bhagavan in the dining room. In my exalted state the food I ate seemed to have an
unusual and unearthly taste. I quite literally felt that I was participating in some heavenly meal in the direct
presence of God. After having such an experience I, of course, abandoned all thought of leaving the ashram that
night. I stayed on for three days longer in order to widen the sacred and extraordinary experience which had
already begun, an experience of divine grace which I felt would lead me in the direction of spiritual liberation.

During the three days of my stay in the proximity of the Divine Master, I found my whole outlook entirely
changed. After that short period I could find little evidence of my old self, a self which had been tied down with
all kinds of preconceptions and prejudices. I felt that I had lost the chains which bind the eyes of true vision. I
became aware that the whole texture of my mind had undergone a change. The colors of the world seemed
different, and even the ordinary daylight took on an ethereal aspect. I began to see the foolishness and the
futility of turning my gaze only on the dark side of life.

In those few days Sri Bhagavan, the divine magician, opened up for me a strange new world of illumination,
hope and joy. I felt that his presence on earth alone constituted sufficient proof that humanity, suffering and
wounded because of its obstinate ignorance, could be uplifted and saved. For the first time I fully understood the
significance of 'darshan'.

While I lay in bed in the guest room of the ashram, the encounter which had taken place on the train in Bombay
replayed itself in my mind. I recalled the blind audacity which had prompted me to drop the thrice-holy vibhuti
in contempt onto the floor of the railway carriage. Today, even one speck of such vibhuti is a treasure to me.

"O Master," I thought to myself, "what a miracle of transformation! Why did it take half a lifetime before I
could meet you? Half a lifetime of blundering, of failing and falling. But I suppose, my Master, that you would
say that time is a mental concept. For I feel that in your sight your bhaktas have, throughout all time, always
been with you and near you.

As these thoughts were passing through my mind, I slowly fell into a deep sleep. The next morning I arose in a
rejuvenated state; there was a new vigor in my limbs and an awareness that my heart was permeated with light.
On the third day of my visit I sadly took leave of Sri Bhagavan. I was still human enough, still caught in the
sense of time and space, for the parting to leave me with a feeling of aching and emptiness in the heart. But
there was no despair. Something assured me that I would be returning to the feet of the Master sooner than I
could imagine.

Chhaganlal V. Yogi

An Astounding Astrologer
Sri Venkateswara Sarma (Sastrigal Mama) was an exceptional and astounding astrologer. From childhood he
exhibited a rare genius in this field. While still very young, his extraordinary intelligence enabled him to master
the most abstruse and difficult branch of astrology. All, including his guru, declared him as the wisest student.

Prasna is an astrological science based on a perfect fruition between mathematics and intuition. With just some
meager information from the questioner, which includes only the first word of the question, a Prasna astrologer
can, within seconds, draw up mentally a horoscope. This requires great mathematical precision and perfection.
Having drawn the horoscope within his mind, and in a flash also having studied it, the astrologer will have to
wait, prayerfully. Then, from the depths of his inner intuition words gush forth, forming the astrological
predictions for the questioner. As this Prasna process is not merely based on mathematical horoscopes, it
culminates in intuitional revelation, and the predictions are said to be amazingly accurate and correct to the
minutest detail. Sri Sastrigal Mama was highly proficient in this system of astrology.

He once described it to me by citing this example: One day a merchant came to his house while he was engaged
offering worship in his puja room. His wife informed him that one Nagappa Chettiar was waiting on the
verandah and that he seemed worried about some urgent matter. Not willing to interrupt his worship, and by
merely listening to the name and the few details given by his wife, Sri Sastrigal Mama, within a minute, began
giving the following prediction:

"Tell Nagappa Chettiar that he has come to inquire about his lost, costly diamond ring. He suspects his servant.
Assure him that no one has stolen it. In his gardn, near the well, there are two rows of plantain trees. On one
side there are only two trees; on the other there is a cluster of trees. Let him search under the two trees and the
diamond ring will be found there. While he was cleaning his clothes on the washing stone the ring slipped off
his finger and fell to the ground."

Nagappa Chettiar returned home and found the ring exactly where Sri Sastrigal Mama had said, and because of
this and similar astounding predictions Sri Sastrigal Mama became quite famous. He also became convinced
that the Prasna branch of astrology was the most perfect science.

At the height of his career he heard about Sri Ramana Maharshi. When he first saw Sri Bhagavan's picture he
was immediately captivated and traveled to Arunachala to see the Sage. He climbed up to Skandashram, where
Bhagavan then resided. On the very first look that the Maharshi gave him, Sri Sastrigal Mama became his slave.
He had a strong desire to stay with the Maharshi permanently, renouncing everything he held dear. Yet, there
was still his lifelong attraction to the science of astrology. He felt distracted by it and did not know how to
proceed.

One day, gathering courage, he approached Sri Maharshi in all humility and said, "Bhagavan, is not astrology
the best and most accurate of all sciences?"

In silence Bhagavan looked at him deeply for some time. Then, slowly but firmly, he replied: "The science of
the Self is superior to all other sciences."

It was the peak period in Sri Sastrigal Mama's life. For every prediction he was richly rewarded and was
consequently acquiring immense wealth. Nevertheless, the words from the Master convinced him immediately
to renounce his lucrative profession and pursue the science of the Self. His wife too fully supported him in this
decision. The remainder of their life they lived in utter poverty at the holy feet of the Sat-Guru, under the
protective shade of the Sacred Mountain, Arunachala.

V. Ganesan

Who Will Show Me The Way? - Shantammal

 At the instance of Sri Muruganar, Shantammal came to the Ashram from Ramnad in 1927. She
worked in the kitchen and her devotion to Sri Bhagavan was total. Since she served all with love,
everyone at the Ashram loved her, and wherever she stayed people surrounded her to listen to her
expositions describing her life with Sri Bhagavan.

When my brother's brother-in-law was transferred from Ramnad to a neighboring village, his wife could not go
with him, so he sent for me to cook for him. I was then a widow 40 years old. One morning I sat in front of the
fire and looked at the rice boiling and various thoughts came to my mind: "Shantamma, what is the matter with
you? Why are you doing all this? You already lost your husband and your three sons. Your daughter you loved
dearly and served her, along with her husband. You spent all your money on them. Then your daughter died and
so did her child. Then you gave your love to your brother's daughter and her husband and all your money too,
and now you are here cooking for your brother's wife's brother. Is it for this that you were born? Must you
always entangle yourself with somebody or other? Who is this man to you? Why should you cook for him?
What is the meaning of all this endless cooking? If you go on wasting your life like this, what will become of
you in the end?"

It was as if a light had flooded my entire being. I went to my brother's son-in-law, told him that I was leaving on
pilgrimage for Rameshwaram and got into the train.

During the journey in the train and at Rameshwaram one question was all the time in my mind: "Where can I
find the one who will lead me to salvation, who will show me the way to God?"

At Rameshwaram I stayed with a lady who was reading scriptures to pilgrims in the temple and helped her in
the household work. She advised me to read the book Kaivalyam. That book was available with one
Nagaswami, whom I knew well. I found him and asked him to lend me the book.

"Why do you need Kaivalyam?" he asked.

"To know the path to liberation."
"Will books lead you to salvation ?"
"What else can I do ?"
"Do you really want to know the way ?"
"Yes, I do."
"Have you no other desire than that ?"
"None."
"Is that the truth, the very truth ?" Thrice he asked.
"Yes, yes."
He carefully searched my face. "All right, come on the full-moon day."

On that day he taught me the Mahamantra and gave me instructions on how to use it. For months on end I was
engrossed in my spiritual practices and forgot my very existence. When I became somewhat conscious of my
surroundings, I would serve Nagaswami. But he died within a year and I returned to Ramnad. I was reading holy
books, explaining them to other ladies and practicing my mantra. Thus nine years passed and I was already fifty
years old.

Muruganar, a native of Ramnad, gave up worldly life at

an early age and was known to me to be a disciple of
Sri Ramana Maharshi. Once I saw Bhagavan's photo
with him and felt a very strong urge to go and see him.
I was very poor and it took me a year to collect the
money needed.

In 1927, three other ladies and I went to

Tiruvannamalai. By that time Bhagavan had come
down from the hill and was living in a hut near his
mother's samadhi. We rented a place in the town, had a
bath and went to see him. He was seated on a cot in a
grass-thatched shed. Muruganar was by his side. As
soon as I saw him I knew he was God in human form. I bowed to him and said, "The dream of my life has come
true. Today I am blessed. Grant that my mind does not trouble me anymore."

Bhagavan turned to Muruganar and said: "Ask her to find out whether there is such a thing as mind. If there is,
ask her to describe it."

I stood still, not knowing what to say. Muruganar explained to me, "Don't you see? You have been initiated in
the search for the Self."

Although I was all mixed up, I remembered to honor Bhagavan by singing a poem from "Ramanastuthi
Panchakam." It says: "Your spiritual splendor fills the universe with its perfume. Attracted by it numberless
beings turn their face to you. I too grew restless and sought you eagerly. Where is He? Where is He? I enquired,
and now I have come to you." Bhagavan asked me how I had come to know the song. Muruganar explained that
he had given me a copy of the book.

We stayed for forty days. We would cook some food, sharing the expenses, and take it to the Ashram. Bhagavan
would taste it and the rest was given to the devotees. In those days, Bhagavan's brother, Chinnaswami, was
cooking for the Ashram. Some provisions were sent from the town by various devotees and the supply was very
precarious. Often there were no curries or sambar, only plain rice and a piece of pickle. The Kartikai festival, for
which Arunachala is famous, was going on. From three in the morning until twelve at night there were people
coming and going. Bhagavan had to be protected by a bamboo fence.

I wanted to stay on until Bhagavan's birthday, but the other three ladies had to return, so I went to Bhagavan to
take his leave. He asked me to wait a day longer, for the newly-printed Upadesa Saram was to be released. The
next day he gave me a copy with his own hands. The thought of leaving him broke my heart and I wept bitterly.
Very kindly he said, "No, don't cry. You are going to Ramnad, but you are not leaving Arunachala. Go and
come soon."

I spent a year at Ramnad the way I did before. Bhagavan's birthday was nearing and I felt eager to go back. I
had not even the money to buy a ticket, yet I resolved to start on Saturday, come what may. On Friday the
invitation arrived. Later I came to know that Bhagavan had mentioned my name to the dispatchers. Bhagavan's
picture was on the invitation and I took it to the ladies in the Ramnad Palace. They gave me thirty rupees to
attend the Jayanti. It was the experience of every devotee that if they were determined to visit him, all obstacles
would somehow vanish.

This time Bhagavan was on a sofa in a newly- built hall. He was explaining something from Ulladu Narpadu to
Dandapani Swami. When he saw me his first question was: "Have you a copy of this book? I asked them to post
one to you." How my Lord remembers me by name and how loving is his personal attention to my needs! What
have I, an ignorant woman, done to deserve such kindness? How can I afford to keep away from him?

I stayed at the Ashram as if it were my own home. At night I would sleep in some devotee's house, but from
dawn to dusk I would help in the Ashram chores. The birthday celebrations were over, the guests were leaving,
and naturally I felt that I too would have to go. But how could I leave Bhagavan? One day I gathered courage
and told Bhagavan about my deep urge to stay on: "As long as I am with you, Bhagavan, my mind is at peace.
Away from you I am restless. What am I to do?"

He said, "Stay here until your mind gets settled. After that you can go anywhere and nothing will disturb you."

How could I remain? I was too poor to stay in the town. The Ashram was poor too. Often there was not enough
food for all. How could I ask them to take me in? Why should they? Anyhow, I had decided not to return to
Ramnad. I would not leave the feet of my Guru. If only by some miracle I could stay in the Ashram. And the
miracle happened that very minute! When I was going towards the dining hall, I overheard Chinnaswami and
Ramakrishnaswami talking to each other. Chinnaswami, then our cook, was not well and had to leave for
Madras for treatment. "Would Shantamma kindly agree to stay and cook, if asked?" I heard him say. Kindly
agree when I was dreaming of it! How merciful was Bhagavan! I was to stay for two months...and stayed
forever.

I was put in charge of the cooking and Bhagavan would come often to help. Could I dream of greater happiness?
He would get everything ready and tell me what to cook and how. With him near me I was tireless. No amount
of work was too much for me. I did not even feel I was working. I worked with God! I was silently wondering at
my great good fortune of being allowed to live and work in such a Great Presence!

One day, when I was still new in the kitchen, I served Bhagavan with a few more
pieces of potato than the rest. Bhagavan noticed it and got very angry with me. He
turned his face away and would not look at those who were serving food. I could
not make out the cause of his anger and wondered who it was who had offended
him. The women who worked in the kitchen would collect around him to take
leave of him in the evening after the work was over. Usually he would exchange a
few words with us, inquire who was accompanying us, whether we had a lantern,
and so on. That evening he gave me a sign to come near.

"What did you do tonight ?"

       "I don't know, Swami, have I done something wrong?
"You served me more curry than others."
       "What does it matter? I did it with love and devotion."
"I felt ashamed to eat more than others. Have you come all this way to stuff me
with food? You should always serve me less than others."
       "But, Bhagavan, how can I treat you worse than others?"
"Is this the way to please me? Do you hope to earn grace through a potato curry?"
       "Out of my love for you I committed a blunder.
       Forgive me, Bhagavan, I shall respect your wishes."
"The more you love my people, the more you love me," said Bhagavan, and the
matter was closed. A good lesson was learned and never forgotten.

Shantammal

At that period of the Ashram's life, Bhagavan used to be unusually active, working both in the kitchen and
outside. He would clean grain, shell nuts, grind seeds, stick together the leaf plates we ate from, and so on. We
would join him in every task and listen to his stories, jokes, reminiscences and spiritual teachings. Occasionally
he would scold us lovingly like a mother. All Vedanta I learned from him in easy and happy lessons. At every
hour and place, at each task, the work was from him or for him and thus between us an unending link was
forged. He was always in the center. It was easy for us to keep our minds on him. It was impossible to do
anything else, for we had to refer to him all the time. All initiative and responsibility were his. He would attend
to everything. Whatever trouble cropped up during cooking or in daily life, we had only to mention it to him and
he would set it right. Everything we did, every problem we faced, was made use of in teaching the art of total
reliance on him.

As soon as Chinnaswami became the Sarvadhikari (general manager) of the Ashram, he was full of zest and
declared that henceforth adequate meals were to be served in the Ashram, even if it meant buying and storing
foodstuffs. Bhagavan used to make fun of him: "Well, store up, go on storing. Have rice from Nellore, dhal from
Virudupatti, all the best and the costliest." The Ashram was growing, the number of visitors increasing, and
prepared food was needed at all hours, so the Sarvadhikari was allowed to have his way.
Shantammal, Ramana Smrti Souvenir

How Sundarammal Came to the Ashram

During April, 1953, Sundarammal arrived [at Arunachala] to spend forty-eight days in retreat in a hut close to
that of Lakshmi Devi, for whom she had a great admiration. We were thus living very close to each other, but
apart from the customary greetings, neither she nor I made any attempt to get into conversation.

One day, towards the end of her retreat, she invited me and some other sadhus to share a meal at her cell. It was
the Telugu New Year's Day. It was then, before the meal began, that she told me her story.

She belonged to a wealthy Telugu family of Madras. She married young but very soon lost her husband. As a
widow, she continued to live at home, surrounded by the love of her parents and brothers. She rarely went out,
and when she did, it was always with her father. One day he took her to the neighboring temple to hear a talk
given by a sadhu. This sadhu was a devotee of the Maharshi. He told his audience about the sage's 'conversion',
his disappearance from the world [leaving Madurai], his resort to the mountain of Arunachala, and the rest.
Sundarammal was deeply moved. She begged her father to allow her to accompany some pilgrims to
Arunachala. He refused, but promised that he would soon take her there himself.

But the promise was not fulfilled. Sundarammal passed the time thinking of Ramana and praying to him. She
soon lost her appetite and was unable to sleep. But her father always had some specially urgent work which
prevented him from taking her to Tiruvannamalai.

One afternoon, about four o'clock, she seemed to see Ramana coming down the mountain and approaching her.
"Sundarammal, have no fear!" he said to her. "It is I. Enough of this weeping and not eating or sleeping. Come, I
am expecting you." Her heart was filled with joy. Once more she appealed to her father, and once more he put
off the pilgrimage to another day.

Some weeks later, she was alone one night in her room, weeping and calling on the Maharshi. Then, quite worn
out, she fell asleep. Suddenly she felt a blow on her side and awoke with a start. It was about three o' clock in
the morning. There was the Maharshi standing by the head of her cot. "Come," was all he said.

She followed him downstairs, crossed the hall and came out on the verandah. Hardly had she reached it when to
her alarm she found herself alone. The Maharshi had disappeared. She sat down uneasily.

Soon a rickshaw appeared and the rickshaw puller said: "Is this Number 12, and are you Sundarammal? An old
sadhu told me to come here and take you to the bus. Get in." Sundarammal thought quite simply, "It is
Bhagavan, the Maharshi," and got into the rickshaw.

At the bus stand she and the rickshaw puller were both surprised not to find the old sadhu. However, she asked
for the Tiruvannamalai bus and got in.

Somewhere on the way her bus passed another one from which someone alighted and then entered the
Tiruvannamalai bus. "Are you Sundarammal?" he asked. "Yes, I am," she replied. "Good. Bhagavan has sent me
to look for you."

In the evening she reached Tiruvannamalai and retired for the night in one of the large halls kept for pilgrims.
She prepared a cake to offer to Bhagavan and fell asleep full of joy.

The next morning she went to the Ashram and fell at the feet of Bhagavan. "Here you are at last," he said to her.
Some days later her brothers arrived, unable to understand how this child, who by herself had never set foot
outside her home, could have managed to reach Tiruvannamalai. But Sundarammal was so deeply absorbed that
she never even saw her brothers, either in the hall or at midday in the dining hall. Only in the evening were they
able to approach her. They told her how upset everyone was at home and begged her to return. If she wanted,
they would build her a hermitage in the garden. But nothing moved her and the brothers even spoke of taking
her home by force. "If you do, I will throw myself into a well," she said. Her brothers had to yield, but they soon
returned with their father. They found her in a cottage near the Ashram and arranged for her continued stay there
as well as they could.

During the fifteen years that remained of the Maharshi's life, she never left Tiruvannamalai even for a day.

This was the story that Sundarammal told me that morning—Sundarammal who could never speak of God
without her voice breaking with emotion and her eyes filling with tears.

Swami Abhishiktananda

Sampurnamma's Story

To the poet the Maharshi was an inspired poet; to the scholar, an endless ocean of knowledge; to the
Yogi, a supreme adept established in Divine Union. Everyone who approached him with humility
and faith, saw something of themselves reflected back, with greater insight and clarity. It is no
wonder that those uneducated but spiritually mature women who served him by cooking in the
kitchen saw him as a flawless cook who taught the highest wisdom in simple kitchen chores.
Sampurnamma diligently served Bhagavan in the kitchen for many years and still lives in Sri
Ramanasramam today. She can be seen in the Ashrama with cane in hand, walking slowly with short
steps, bent, and wearing a well-used white sari which is draped over the top of her head. When you
speak to her, a beautiful smile lights up her face. In reminiscences from an interview, Sampurnamma
tells us her story.

Bhagavan was born in the village next to ours and my people knew him from his earliest childhood. When he
became a great saint with an Ashrama at Tiruvannamalai, my relatives used to go there often, for they were
quite devoted to him. I was busy with my household and was not interested in going with them. When my
husband died, I was in despair and thought life not worth living. My people were urging me to go to
Ramanasramam to get some spiritual guidance from Bhagavan, but I was not in the mood to go anywhere.

In 1932 my sister and her husband, Narayanan, were going to see Bhagavan and I agreed to go with them. We
found Bhagavan in a palm leaf hut built over his mother's samadhi (place of burial). Some devotees and visitors
were with him and all were having their morning coffee. Dandapani Swami introduced me to Bhagavan, saying:
"This is Dr. Narayanan's wife's sister." As soon as I was introduced, Bhagavan gave a happy smile and said,
"Varatoom, varatoom. (She is welcome, she is welcome.)" When I was able to sit for long hours in Bhagavan's
presence my mind would just stop thinking and I would not notice the time passing. 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
would sit, immersed in a strange state in which the mind would not have a single thought and yet which would
be completely clear. Those were days of deep and calm happiness. My devotion to Bhagavan took firm roots
and never left me.

I stayed for twenty days. When I was leaving, Bhagavan got a copy of Who am I? and gave it to me with his
own hands. When I returned to my village I was restless. I had all kinds of dreams. I would dream that a pious
lady would come to take me to the Ashrama, or that Bhagavan was enquiring after me and calling me. I longed
to go again to Ramanasramam. My uncle was leaving for Arunachala and I eagerly accepted his offer to take me
with him. On my arrival I was asked to help in the kitchen because the lady in charge of cooking had to leave
for her home. I gladly agreed, for it gave me a chance to stay at the Ashrama and to be near Bhagavan.

Bhagavan as Cook, how he ate

In the beginning I was not good at cooking. The way they cooked in the Ashrama was different from ours. But
Bhagavan was always by my side and gave me detailed instructions. His firm principle was that health depended
on food and could be set right and kept well by a proper diet. He also believed that fine grinding and careful
cooking would make any food easily digestible. So we used to spend hours on grinding and stewing. He would
sit in the middle of the kitchen, watching and offering suggestions. He paid very close attention to proper
cooking. I would give him food to taste while it was cooking, to be sure that the seasoning was just right. He
was always willing to leave the Old Hall to give advice in the kitchen. Amidst pots and pans he was relaxed and
free. He would teach us numberless ways of cooking grains, pulses and vegetables, the staples of our South
Indian diet. He would tell us stories from his childhood, or about his mother, her ways and how she cooked. He
would tell me: "Your cooking reminds me of Mother's cooking. No wonder, our villages were so near." I think
Bhagavan must have learned cooking from his mother, for if I made some dish very well, while testing it he
would exclaim, "Ha, you have made this dish just like Mother used to make it." And whenever my going home
was mentioned he would say: "Oh, our best lady cook wants to go away."

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 savory, everything together- and gulp it down carelessly
as if he had no taste in his mouth. When we would tell him that it was not right to mix such nicely made up
dishes, he would say: "Enough of multiplicity. Let us have some unity."

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 to listen to every word of his and to carry it out faithfully. 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.

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 tin. I asked him why he gave himself so
much trouble for a grain of rice. He said: "Yes, this is my way. Everything is in my care and 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 a feast was being prepared for his birthday. Devotees sent food in large quantities: some sent rice, some
sugar, some fruits. Someone sent a huge load of brinjals and we ate brinjals day after day. The stalks alone made
a big heap which was lying in a corner. Bhagavan asked us to cook them as a curry! I was stunned, for even
cattle would refuse to eat such useless stalks. Bhagavan insisted that the stalks were edible, and we put them in a
pot to boil along with dry peas. After six hours of boiling they were as hard as ever. We were at a loss what to
do, yet we did not dare to disturb Bhagavan. But he always knew when he was needed in the kitchen and he
would leave the Hall even in the middle of a discussion. A casual visitor would think that his mind was all on
cooking. In reality his grace was on the cooks. As usual he did not fail us, but appeared in the kitchen. "How is
the curry getting on?" he asked.

"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. Bhagavan challenged the
diners to guess what vegetable they were eating. Everybody praised the curry and the cook, except Bhagavan.
He swallowed the little he was served in one mouthful like a medicine and refused a second helping. I was very
disappointed, for I had taken so much trouble to cook his stalks and he would not even taste them properly. The
next day he was telling somebody: "Sampurnamma 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."

It was clear that Bhagavan did not want me to treat him differently from others and would set me right by
refusing to touch the very thing I was so proud of and eager to serve.

Sampurnamma

Subbalakshmi Taken To Her Goal

The next day at noon I was again at Ramanasramam. His midday
meal over, Bhagavan was reclining on the sofa and explaining a
verse from the Bhagavad Gita to Sri Ramiah Yogi. 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. My doubts were cleared.

Every day I would visit Bhagavan and listen to his talks with the
devotees. Deep in my mind there was the same rock-like stillness,
immensely solid and yet strangely vibrant.

Several times I was invited to work in the Ashrama, but the

Ashrama ways were not orthodox enough for me. One day
Bhagavan's own sister asked me to take her place in the Ashrama,
for she had to leave for some time. I could not refuse. At that time
Shantammal was the chief cook and my duty was to help her. To
my great joy Bhagavan was in the kitchen with us most of the time.
He taught me to cook tastily and neatly. I would spend all day in
the Ashrama and in the evening I would go to the town to sleep, for
there was no sleeping accommodation for women in the Ashrama.

Once Bhagavan said: "You widows do not eat vegetables like drumsticks and radish. Diet restrictions are good
to strengthen the will. Besides, the quality of food and the manner of eating have an influence on the mind." I
was very happy to work in the kitchen directly under Bhagavan's supervision; yet I wanted to go home. The
Ashrama ways were too unorthodox for me. And there was too much work. I did not want to work all day long.
I wanted to sit quietly and meditate in solitude.

So I left again for my village and I went away for about a year. I divided my time between idleness and
meditation. Yet my heart was at the Ashrama. I would tell myself: "Where is the need of running about. Is not
Bhagavan here and everywhere?" But my heart was calling me to Bhagavan. Even when I was pleading with
myself, that in the Ashrama there would be no time for meditation, my heart would say: "Working in the kitchen
by his side is far better than meditation." At home I had all the leisure I wanted, but it seemed to me that I was
wasting my time.

Later I learned that that was the time Bhagavan used to remember me very often. Once they were preparing
pongal (pulse with rice and black pepper) to celebrate Bhagavan's monthly birth-star (Punarvasu) and Bhagavan
told Shantammal: "Subbalakshmi is far away yet she worries whether pongal is cooked here today or not." On
some other festival day Bhagavan announced: "Subbalakshmi will turn up; keep some pongal for her." That very
day I arrived at the Ashrama.

He was the very embodiment of wisdom and kindness, though he did not mind our faults and mistakes; he made
us follow his instructions to the letter. We had to do the same task again and again until it was done to his
complete satisfaction. Did he do it for himself? Of what use was it to him? He wanted to prove to us that we
could do things right, that only lack of patience and attention causes all the mess. He sometimes seemed too
severe, even harsh, to make us do something correctly, for he knew what we did not know - that we can act
correctly if we only try. With experience came confidence, and with confidence the great peace of
righteousness.

In daily life he avoided all distinction. At work and at food he was one of us. But in the hall, seated on the sofa,
he was the great Lord of Kailas, the Holy Mountain. Whenever Bhagavan would enter or leave the hall, we
would all get up respectfully. One could see that he did not like so many people being disturbed because of him.

He wanted us to learn well the lesson that God is present in every being in all his glory and fullness and must be
given equal reverence. He was tireless in hammering this lesson into our minds and hearts, and 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 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 our being, not even knowing the depth and scope of his influence. It is only now,
after so many years, that we can see the meaning of the orders, prohibitions, scoldings and storms that we had to
endure. At that time we understood so little and just obeyed, because we felt that he was God. Even that feeling
we owed to his grace, for from time to time he would let us see him as he really was, the Lord Almighty, and not
the human frame to which we were accustomed.

We were women, simple and uneducated. It was our love for him, a reflection of his love, that chained us to his
feet and made us stay. For him we gave up hearth and home and all our earthly ties. We only knew that we were
safe with him, that in some miraculous way he would take us to our goal. He himself was our goal, our real
home. More than that we did not know or care. We were even slow to learn the lesson of equality to man and
beast which he was so anxious to teach us first. To us he alone existed. The radiant form of Ramana was enough
for us. We did not know that it was not enough, that a human soul must learn to embrace the universe and
realize its own presence in every living being. We would concentrate too much on him and resent his
compelling us to enlarge our little circle. His sometimes harsh treatment would bewilder us and make us cry.
Now we see that it was love that suffered as it laboured.

Yogis control themselves severely for long to reach the state to which Bhagavan would take us by making us
work near him in the kitchen. The small tasks of daily life he would make into avenues to light and bliss.
Whoever has not experienced the ecstasy of grinding, the rapture of cooking, the joy of serving iddlies to
devotees, his devotees, the state when the mind is in the heart and the heart is in him and he is in the work, does
not know how much bliss a human heart contains.

Although physically he is no more with us, he still directs us, as in the past. He will not let go his hold on us
until we reach the Other Shore. This is our unshaken faith. We may not always be conscious of his guidance, but
we are safe in his hands.

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.
With his eyes he served his devotees the food of the spirit, with his hands - the bread of life.

Subbalakshmi

Gods Visit In The Forms of Beggars

During the Kartikai Festival beggars from all over South India would collect at
Tiruvannamalai in vast crowds and they would flock to the Ashram for an assured
meal. Once they became so unruly that the attendants refused to serve them. The
matter was discussed among the workers and it was decided to abandon the
distribution of food to beggars.

That night I had the following dream: Bhagavan's Hall was full of devotees. On
the sofa appeared a small creature which gradually grew until it became a huge,
bright-red horse. The horse went round the Hall, sniffing at each devotee in turn. I
was afraid he would come near me, but the horse went to Bhagavan, licked him all
over the body and disappeared. Bhagavan called me near and asked me not to be
afraid. A divine perfume emanated from him. He said: "Don't think it is an
ordinary horse. As soon as the flags are hoisted at Arunachaleshwara Temple for
the Kartikai festival, gods come down to partake in the celebrations. They join the
crowd and some mix with the beggars at the Ashram gate. So never stop feeding
sadhus and beggars at festivals." I told the dream to Chinnaswami Swami, and that
day he ordered seven measures of rice to be cooked for the beggars.

Shantammal

Of Animals
Once a little deer found her way to Bhagavan and would not leave him. She would go with him up the hill and
gambol around him and he would play with her for hours. About a year later she ran away into the jungle and
some people must have pelted her with stones, for she was found severely wounded with her legs broken. She
was brought to the Ashrama. Bhagavan kept her near him, dressed her wounds and a doctor set her broken
bones. One midnight the deer crept onto Bhagavan's lap, snuggled up to him and died. The next day Bhagavan
told me that the deer had died. I said: "Some great soul came to you as a deer to gain liberation from your
hands." Bhagavan said: "Yes, it must be so. When I was on the hill, a crow used to keep me company. He was a
rishi in a crow's body. He would not eat from anybody's hand but mine. He also died."

Once a garuda, a white-breasted eagle, which is considered holy in India, flew into the Hall and sat on the top of
a cupboard near Bhagavan. After awhile it flew around him and disappeared. "He is a siddha (a saint endowed
with supernatural powers) who came to pay me a visit," said Bhagavan most seriously.

Sampurnamma

At about 4 p.m. Sri Bhagavan, who was writing something intently, turned his eyes slowly towards the window
to the north; he closed the fountain pen with the cap and put it in its case; he closed the notebook and put it
aside; he removed his spectacles, folded them in the case and left them aside. He leaned back a little, looked up
overhead, turned his face this way and that and looked here and there. He passed his hand over his face and
looked contemplative. Then he turned to someone in the hall and said softly: "The pair of sparrows just came
here and complained to me that their nest had been removed. I looked up and found their nest missing." Then he
called for the attendant, Madhava Swami, and asked: "Madhava, did anyone remove the sparrows' nest?"

The attendant, who walked in leisurely, answered with an air of unconcern: "I removed the nests as often as they
were built. I removed the last one this very afternoon."

M: That's it. That is why the sparrows complained. The poor little ones! How they take the pieces of straw and
shreds in their tiny beaks and struggle to build their nests!

Attendant: But why should they build here, over our heads?

M: Well-well. Let us see who succeeds in the end. (After a short time Sri Bhagavan went out.)

At food time Bhagavan would ask to be served very little and he would carefully clear the plate of the last grain
of food before getting up. Although he never asked us to do the same, I asked him: "If we clear our dining
leaves so scrupulously, the dogs, cats, monkeys, rats and the ants will starve." Bhagavan answered: "Well, if you
are so compassionate, why not feed the animals before taking food yourselves? Do you think they relish your
scrapings?

Krishna Bhikshu, Sri Ramana Leela

A dog used to sleep next to Bhagavan, and there were two sparrows living at his side in the Hall. Even when
people tried to drive them away they would come back. Once he noticed that the dog had been chased away. He
remarked: "Just because you are in the body of a human you think you are a human being, and because he is in
the body of a dog you think him a dog. Why don't you think of him as a Mahatma, and treat him as a great
person. Why do you treat him like a dog?" The respect he showed to animals and birds was most striking. He
really treated them as equals. They were served food first like some respected visitors, and if they happened to
die in the Ashrama, they would be given a decent burial and a memorial stone. The tombs of the deer, the crow
and the cow Lakshmi can still be seen in the Ashrama near the back gate.
Who knows in how many different forms - animal, human, and divine beings visited this embodiment of the
Almighty! We, common and ignorant women knew only the bliss of his presence and could not tear ourselves
away from the Beloved of all, so glorious he was. It has been sixty years, I think, since I came. The days I spent
with Bhagavan are memorable days indeed. Somehow, in my old age, I am pulling on with Bhagavan in my
heart and his name on my tongue.

Sampurnamma

Magic of the Sun Mantra

Learning to Tolerate Great Heat

Many years later, when Jagadisha Sastri and I were walking down a street together in Bombay, it occurred to me
that I had never seen him wear any kind of footwear. The black tar roads of the city got very hot in the summer
and I found it hard to believe that anyone could walk comfortably without wearing sandals or shoes. I turned to
him and asked, "Sastriji, your feet must have got burned a lot walking on these roads, isn't that so?" "No, no," he
answered, "I have already got ravi raksha (protection from the sun) from Bhagavan. I may walk in any amount
of heat but nothing ever happens to me."

I naturally asked, "How did you get this ravi raksha?"

By way of an answer, Sastriji told me a long story. "One day, right in the middle of the afternoon, Bhagavan
took his kamandalu, got up and told me, 'Jagadisha, come with me to walk about on the mountain.'

"'But it's so hot,' I protested. 'How can we move about in such weather?' I argued like this because I wanted to
escape from the trip. "Bhagavan found my excuse unsatisfactory. 'You can move about in just the same way that
I move about,' he said.

"'But my feet will burn!' I exclaimed. I didn't have any footwear with me and I didn't relish the idea of walking
about over the burning rocks. "'Will my feet not burn as well?' replied Bhagavan, obviously feeling that this was
not a serious obstacle. Bhagavan never wore any kind of footwear. He could walk on the toughest terrain in any
weather without feeling the least discomfort. "'But yours is a different case,' I answered, alluding to the fact that
Bhagavan never needed footwear.

"'Why? Am I not a man with two feet, just like you?' asked Bhagavan. 'Why are you unnecessarily scared?
Come on! Get up!'

"Having realized that it was useless to argue any more, I got up and started walking with Bhagavan. The
exposed stones had become so hot because of the severe heat of the sun that walking on them made my feet
burn. For some time I bore the suffering, but when it became unbearable I cried out, 'Bhagavan, my feet are
burning so much! I cannot walk one more step. Even standing here is difficult. On all sides it is raining fire!'
"Bhagavan was not impressed. 'Why are you so scared?' he asked. "'If I remain in this terrible heat for any more
time,' I replied, 'my head will crack open because of the heat and I will definitely die!' I was not joking. I really
was afraid of dying.

"Bhagavan smiled and said in a very quiet and deep voice, 'Jagadisha, give up your fear and listen. You must
have the bhavana (mental conviction and attitude) that you are the sun. Start doing japa (internal repetition) of
the mantra Suryosmi (I am the sun) with the conviction that it is really true. You will soon see the effect of it.
You yourself will become Surya Swarupa, that is, you will have the characteristics of the sun. Can the sun feel
the heat of the sun?'
"I followed this instruction of Bhagavan and started doing japa of this sun mantra because there was no other
way to be saved from the burning heat. In a short time I began to feel the effect of the japa. The severity of the
heat lessened and eventually I began to experience, instead of the severe heat, a pleasing coolness. As the
burning sensation diminished I found that I was able to walk quickly alongside Bhagavan. By the time we had
both reached Skandashram I found that my feet were not at all burnt as I had continued the mantra japa right up
till the end of the walk. "Later, I was astonished to discover that the effect of chanting this mantra was
permanent. Though I no longer chant it, I have never again suffered from the heat of the sun. I can now walk in
the summer on the tar roads of a city like Bombay with bare feet."

Chhaganlal V. Yogi

When I cooked, Bhagavan would come to the kitchen to taste the food and see whether the
seasoning was just right. Once he said: "The Maharajas employ special taste experts and
pay them huge salaries. I wonder what will be my pay.

"I am a beggar, Bhagavan, and all a beggar can offer is her life," I said, and Bhagavan
nodded lovingly.

Shantammal

Meeting Devotees Needs

Another time, I came to Bhagavan on my way to Madras where I wanted to try for a job. When I got up after
prostrating, Bhagavan asked me, "Males can go anywhere and eke out a livelihood, but what arrangements have
you made for your wife and children?" I replied, "I have provided for them." I stayed for a few days with
Bhagavan and then went away to Madras. A few days later my elder brother visited Bhagavan and Bhagavan
made kind enquiries of him whether my wife and children were getting on well, without any hardship. My
brother told him, "He left some money when he started for Madras. All that has been exhausted now and they
are suffering great hardship," and went away to Madurai.

When, after making some efforts for a job at Madras, I returned to Bhagavan he said, "You told me you had
provided for your wife and children. Your elder brother told me they are undergoing hardship." I did not reply,
for Bhagavan knows all and is also all powerful. I again went to Madras, and finding my efforts for a job there
were in vain, returned to Bhagavan and stayed with him for some time.

During that time, one night, when I was sleeping outside on a double cot that was lying there, Bhagavan
suddenly came and sat near my feet. Seeing this I got up. Bhagavan asked me, "What is the matter with you?
Are you restless and not getting sleep because of your family troubles? Would it be enough for you if you get
rupees 10,000?" I kept silent.

Once when Bhagavan and I were going round the hill he said, "There are herbs on this hill which could
transmute base metals into gold." Then also I kept silent.

Bhagavan used often to joke with me and laugh asking "Oh! Are you suffering very much?" He then told me,
"When a man sleeps he dreams he is being beaten and that he is suffering terribly. All that would be quite real at
that time. But when he wakes up he knows it was only a dream. Similarly when Jnana dawns, all the miseries of
this world would appear to be merely a dream."

In a few days, I returned to Madurai and through a friend got a manager's job in a motor company. Later, I was
also appointed as an agent for the sale of buses in Ramnad and Madurai by another company, with a
commission of 5 percent on all sales effected by me. From this and in other ways I got rupees 10,000; and I
spent them on the marriages of two of my daughters and for clearing off debts. I never used to mention my
family troubles to Bhagavan, nor ask Him for anything. He was himself looking after me and my family, so why
should I make any requests for this or that in particular? I left everything to him. I used to tell Bhagavan
frequently, "I have entrusted my body, possessions, soul, all to Bhagavan. The entire burden of my family is
hereafter yours. I am hereafter only your servant, doing only your behests. I am a puppet moved by your
strings." Bhagavan used to laugh and say "Oh, Oh." It never occurred to me to ask him for any wealth.

Yogi Ranganathan

When I first came to Bhagavan, I saw a bright light, like the sun, and
Bhagavan was in the midst of it. Later on I used to see a light between my
eyebrows. Once I saw a big light come out from Bhagavan's head and fill the
hall. In that light everything disappeared, including Bhagavan. Only the
feeling of 'I' was floating in the luminous void.

Shantammal

Beauty of a Devotee's Soul

Passages from the Diary of a Pilgrim to Sri Ramanasramam

January 8, 1983 - Our trip to Madras

The pleasant taxi ride which Paul, Ganesan and I were enjoying on the way to Madras became a nightmare
when at Chingleput our driver took a drink of some narcotic. However, good fortune was the final result of our
misfortune for we were forced by circumstance to spend the night in the home of the President's [Sri T. N.
Venkataraman's] daughter, Lakshmi.

Lakshmi's sublime devotion to Sri Bhagavan made a sweet and very deep impression on me. She was elated and
enraptured to be visited by Bhagavan's devotees. The devotion with which she one-pointedly served all and the
way she later kept me up during the night to talk of Bhagavan deeply inspired me. Her dedicated and devoted
presence uplifted us all immensely.

I entered Lakshmi's kitchen and saw on her shrine the two cutting knives I had brought to India. "I brought these
for you," I said.

Looking at me with her deep, dark eyes she replied, "Your presence is the greatest gift for us." Extremely
fatigued, I looked away and she caught my eyes again, "Do you understand?" she said most tenderly, pressing
my arm with her hand.

Lakshmi served dinner in the traditional manner: she remained standing and waited on all, refusing to eat
herself. She seemed to know the want of each. Her food was delicious and mild. It had the mark of being
prepared by a devotee, for it was so light and pleasing.
At night Lakshmi and I stayed up to share some of our experiences before falling asleep. She seemed never to
tire of offering little services! She placed water by my side just in case I became thirsty in the middle of the
night; she offered to rub my temples with oil, thinking I must have had a headache after our going about Madras
during the day in the heat. In fact, while I thought I was drifting off to sleep I heard her voice: "Oh, how I feel
like staying up with you to talk! Please, tell me something about yourself, your Ashrama and Bhagavan!" I
opened my eyes and found her leaning close to me in the dark!

Lakshmi was nine years old when Bhagavan left the body and is the eldest sister of the family. "Bhagavan must
have been like a father for you," I said.

"Bhagavan was everything to us," she exclaimed, her eyes shining in the dark, "even though we were playful
children, he was our mother, father, brother, sister, grandfather - everything!"

"I must have been an Indian in my former birth," I mused, "because when I am here with devotees like you I feel
so happy and light."

"Where is India and where is America?" she cried out, putting her face nearer to mine, "We are all only with
Bhagavan, wherever we may be!"

That night Lakshmi confided openly about the hardship she and all her sisters experienced on leaving Sri
Ramanasramam after their marriages. Maybe in the end they will all return there, I thought.

The next morning she insisted that I sit with her again in the kitchen as she prepared dosais for us. Though her
cooking was so light and delightful she apologized for it and said, "I am not at all talented."

She served us with so much kindness and love that upon our leaving I saw her eyes rimmed in tears. In her life I
could see and feel a cool, gentle breeze of devotion issuing out from a heart filled with the holy presence of
Bhagavan. Only by Bhagavan's grace can we meet such pure and humble souls.

Evelyn Kaselow Saphier

Ramdas Sees All As God

In the course of one of these stories Ramdas told me how he came to Arunachala and saw Bhagavan. When he
was a mendicant and was traveling to all the holy places, he heard of Arunachala. He had also heard of Ramana
Maharshi, but to see him was not the main purpose of his visit to Tiruvannamalai. Soon after reaching there he
came to Ramanasramam and stood before the Maharshi, who was then sitting on a raised platform. Ramdas said
that he felt Bhagavan's grace pouring out through his eyes and filling him. After having Bhagavan's darshan he
went up on the hill and resided in a cave and performed continuous round-the-clock japa. He said that by doing
this constant japa he lost his mind and after two weeks the universal vision of God appeared to him. In other
words, he saw everything as God. Since that day, he said, he has been living in Ram.

Ramdas had received the Ram Mantra from his father and he was one of those few great souls who could
execute his sadhana to completion without the help of a physical guru.

Recollections of N. Balaram Reddy

Is There Time or Space For Me?
After the breakfast was finished, I purchased a photo of Sri Ramana from the book stall of the ashram. I desired
to get it from the hands of the sage himself. Carrying it in my hands I went into the hall and prostrated to Sri
Ramana, who was seated in jagrat state. There was no one else in the hall on that occasion. That was a surprise
to me. I told him that I had purchased his photo and that I desired to receive it from his hands. Having said so, I
gave the photo to him. He graciously stretched his hands and took it from me and looked at it for half a minute
without saying any word by word of mouth. He was pleased to give it back to me. I received it with great
satisfaction.

Then, I wanted to obtain his blessings before I left the ashram. So, I went near him once again and stood for a
minute looking at him. I addressed him and said in English, "Bhagavan, I have enjoyed great peace in your
presence. Permit me to return to Bangalore. May I know if I can receive your help when I reach Bangalore? I
pray for your benediction." The benevolent sage was till then reclining on the sofa. He dramatized the parting
scene. He sat up vertically on the sofa and with a kind but loud tone he said in English as follows: "What? Is
there time, place or distance for me?" After putting this question to me, he reclined on the pillows of the sofa
and closed his eyes. His words and gestures were charming, instructive and benevolent. They indicated
perpetual compassion and love of all who pray for his aid. His gracious words are ringing in my ears, even after
thirty-four years.

T. S. Anantha Murthy, The Life and Teachings of Sree Ramana Maharshi

Rajapalayam Ramani Ammal - Part I

Drawn to the Feet of Ramana

My chosen deity in childhood was Lord Krishna. From my youth I had very pleasant dreams and
would sometimes see Lord Krishna or other familiar deities in these dreams. But at the age of sixteen
or seventeen I once saw a strange sage-like person coming down a hill and was captivated by his
grandeur. I later came to realize that this sage was Sri Bhagavan. After having that vision of
Bhagavan in my dream, a certain fear that had gripped me for some time all of a sudden
disappeared. My relatives and others noticed this and commented how I was now moving about
freely. This was Bhagavan's first influence on me.

Also, at the age of sixteen I was reading the Jnana Vasishta. While reading it I experienced that I was
enveloped in jyoti, a bright white light. I thought that if this is what happens just by reading it, how
much more wonderful would it be if we practiced dhyana and the other spiritual injunctions taught
in the book. I used to be thrilled simply by reading those ancient Tamil scriptures. But it wasn't until I
was twenty before I got hold of a book on Bhagavan.

Kumaraswami Raja, the Chief Minister of Madras, who was a cousin of mine, brought me Bharati's
biography of Bhagavan, Ramana Vijayam, in 1946. Mrs. Kumaraswami Raja was very fond of me, and
though other relatives prohibited me from reading spiritual books, she used to stealthily supply me
with them. The day she sent this book over with a boy, I was sitting in the house with a friend, a
headmistress, who though Christian, was sincerely interested in our religion. The boy who brought
the book said, "Mami said to hand this book to you." I got up and went up to the gate to receive it.
The moment I touched the book I lost body consciousness. My whole body became stiff.

I somehow managed to return and sit next to my friend. Noticing my plight, she commented that I
shouldn't read such books that make me forget myself. Everyone was complaining about this same
thing, for in those days most of the time I would be sitting quietly, alert to my spiritual aspirations.
All thought that I was simply idle with no work to do.

With difficulty I opened Ramana Vijayam to the first page and was met by the photo of the young
Ramana. I became speechless. My friend, who was somewhat alarmed at my condition, had to leave
and I somehow saw her off. With great reverence I took the book and started reading it. As I read,
my eyes kept closing involuntarily, and I was drawn within, which I later came to know was
meditation. Bhagavan taught me meditation in this way.

After reading this book, I felt I should leave home and go meet Ramana Maharshi. It is my family
custom that women never even leave the house, not to mention leaving the town. That vairagya, or
desperate determination to leave my house for spiritual fulfillment, was implanted in me by this
book; and I am sure it was by the direct influence of Sri Bhagavan himself. Because of my intense
desire to go and see Bhagavan, my younger brother was moved to help me. He is a very pious
person, with a soft nature. With his help I secretly left home and reached Tiruvannamalai and the
holy feet of Sri Bhagavan. But after reaching there, I was overcome with a sense of guilt for running
away from home. This feeling of guilt, and a sense of bringing ill fame to the respected Rajagopalan
family, was uppermost in my mind when I first came into Bhagavan's presence. I felt depressed
because of this.

When I arrived I went to the office to inquire where Bhagavan was. I was told that Bhagavan was
near the well. When I came near the well, I saw a thatched shed next to it and all I could see in it was
a flaming fire. I thought to myself, "I asked for directions to go to Bhagavan and they have sent me to
a sacrificial place where there is a fire." It was only after a few minutes that I saw Bhagavan's comely
form emerge from those flames. Even when I had the Jyoti Darshana I was blaming myself, thinking
that I had this delusion of seeing a fire instead of Bhagavan because I was foolish enough to come
out into the hot sun. It was only afterwards I realized Bhagavan had bestowed upon me this great
boon of Jyoti Darshana.

Next I heard Bhagavan saying to me, "You have now come home. Why don't you sit down?" Coming
from a family where women never go out, and having never gone out myself, I did not know how to
behave in company. When Bhagavan said "You have now come home. You can sit down," I sat down
right in front of him and not in the place reserved for women. For three days I kept sitting in front of
him and all the while the feeling of guilt for running away from home was haunting me. I kept sitting
in front of Bhagavan, not knowing how to act or ask questions, or anything else.

On the third day I heard Bhagavan telling someone: "I also ran away from my home, and at the
railroad station I was so frightened that anyone could have identified me as a runaway, caught hold
of me and sent me home. I ran away like a thief." When Bhagavan narrated this, it completely wiped
out all my guilt feelings from that moment onwards. This was an act of pure grace directed towards
me. It is very strange that by those few words Bhagavan entirely removed any residual fear in me.
Bhagavan later said that sometimes you have to do a wrong thing to achieve the ultimate right thing.
He even commented that there is nothing wrong in a woman running away at the tender age of
twenty to come here.
 Once a sannyasi came and stayed in the Ashram for three weeks. On the last day he
came near Bhagavan and said: "Swami, I am satisfied in every way with my stay in
the Ashram. Now I pray, fill my heart." Bhagavan got up and held the sannyasin's
hands. They stood thus for a long time. Then the sannyasi prostrated before
Bhagavan and said: "Now I am blessed." With that he departed. Thus would
Bhagavan give enlightenment with a word, a look, a touch or in deep silence.
Eternal Bhagavan, Shantammal

Rajapalayam Ramani Ammal - Part II

Story of Harijan Lady

I once remember a Harijan lady who for the past twenty-five years was gathering honey to send to
Sri Bhagavan. On every occasion she was unable to bring the honey herself and had to send it with
someone. After waiting for twenty-five years, she finally found the opportunity to come. The poor
lady was in tattered clothes, standing before Bhagavan. Her eyesight was poor and I still vividly recall
the unusual way she looked at Sri Bhagavan, calling out "Oh Darling, where are you? I want to see
you." Bhagavan in all his graciousness said, "Grandmother, look this way. I am here." Looking at the
honey she had brought with her, he said to me, "They are Brahmins, they won't eat this. We will
share it, and eat it."

It is often said, Bhagavan did not give direct Upadesa (spiritual teaching), but what else is all this?
Although Bhagavan repeatedly pointed out human frailty, people were not prepared to rectify
themselves. As if talking to himself, he looked at this poor old woman in ragged clothes and said,
"Poor lady, she must be hungry. And where will she go for clothes? Who will offer her food and
clothes?" Upon hearing this, Ondu Reddiyar got up and said, "We will give her food and also see that
some clothes are purchased." Then Reddiyar took the woman to the Dining Hall and fed her
sumptuously. He also sent someone to town to buy her a sari. As the old woman had no money, she
had walked a great distance to come here. Bhagavan knowing this, said in an impersonal way,
"Would anyone be interested in getting her a bus ticket?" Reddiyar again came forward and said,
"We will provide her with a bus ticket and see her off." When this lady returned from the Dining Hall
she was touching the ground, and then touching her eyes. That is a way of prostration and
thanksgiving.

It is noteworthy that whenever the poor or untouchables came, Bhagavan took a very personal
interest in them, which was a moving sight to see.

"There never was and never will be a time when all are equally happy or rich or wise or healthy.
In fact none of these terms has any meaning except in so far as the opposite to it exists. But that
 does not mean that when you come across any one who is less happy or more miserable than
yourself, you are not to be moved to compassion or to seek to relieve him as best you can. On
the contrary, you must love all and help all, since only in that way can you help yourself. When
you seek to reduce the suffering of any fellowman or fellow-creature, whether your efforts
succeed or not, you are yourself evolving spiritually thereby, especially if such service is
rendered disinterestedly, not with the egoistic feeling 'I am doing this', but in the spirit 'God is
making me the channel of this service; He is the doer and I the instrument'."

On two successive days, in answer to questions from visitors, Bhagavan said in effect what I have
summarised above.

Devaraja Mudalier

Bhagavan Elucidates Meaning of Dakshinamurthy Hymn

When T.K. Sundaresa Iyer was a boy of twelve he first visited the Maharshi on the Hill in 1908. That
first meeting bonded him to Bhagavan for the remainder of his life and, consequently, he was a
witness to many marvelous events in his Guru's presence. Here is one such incident on a holy
Sivaratri night in Sri Ramanasramam, as recorded in his book, At the Feet of Bhagavan. It was
Sivaratri Day. The evening worship at the Mother's shrine was over. The devotees had their dinner
with Sri Bhagavan, who was now on his seat; the devotees at His feet sitting around him. At 8:00
p.m. one of the sadhus stood up, did pranam (offered obeisance), and with folded hands prayed:
"Today is the Sivaratri Day; we should be highly blessed by Sri Bhagavan expounding to us the
meaning of the Hymn to Dakshinamurthy (stotra)." Says Bhagavan: "Yes, sit down." The sadhu sat,
and all eagerly looked at Sri Bhagavan; Sri Bhagavan looked at them. Sri Bhagavan sat in his usual
pose, no, poise. No words, no movement, and all was stillness! He sat still, and all sat still, waiting.
The clock went on striking, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, one, two and three. Sri Bhagavan sat and they
sat. Stillness, calmness, motionless-not conscious of the body, of space or time. Thus eight hours
passed in Peace, in Silence, in Being, as It is. Thus was the Divine Reality taught through the speech
of Silence by Bhagavan Sri Ramana-Dakshinamurthy.

At the stroke of 4:00 a.m. Sri Bhagavan quietly said: "And now have you known the essence of the
Dakshinamurthy Hymn?" All the devotees stood and made pranam to the holy form of the Guru in
the ecstasy of their Being.

Ramana Maharshi: "Language is only a medium for communicating one's thoughts

to another. It is called in only after thoughts arise; other thoughts arise after the 'I'-
thought rises; the 'I'-thought is the root of all conversation. When one remains
without thinking one understands another by means of the universal language of
silence."
In Search of the Divine World
When studying the Upanishads in my early days, I always visualized the divine abode in the sun god
and was performing the practices enjoined in certain texts. Even later, after settling at the abode of
Sri Maharshi, I continued this practice (upasana). It proved very hard to succeed in this process and I
had to undergo very trying experiences, so I referred the whole matter to Bhagavan. "So you want to
go to the divine world?" asked he. "That is what I am trying to obtain; that is what the scriptures
prescribe," I answered. "But where are you now?" the Master asked. I replied, "I am in your
presence." "Poor thing! You are here and now in the divine world, and you want to obtain it
elsewhere! Know that to be the divine world where one is firmly established in the Divine. Such a
one is full (purna); he encompasses and transcends all that is manifest. He is the substratum of the
screen on which the whole manifestation runs like the picture film. Whether moving pictures run or
not, the screen is always there and is never affected by the action of the pictures. You are here and
now in the divine world. You are like a thirsty man wanting to drink, while he is all the time standing
neck deep in the Ganga. Give up all efforts and surrender. Let the 'I' that wants the divine world die,
and the Divine in you will be realised here and now. For it is already in you as the Self, not different
from the Divine (Brahman), nameless and formless. It is already in you, so how are you to obtain that
which ever remains obtained?"

"The Self (atman) in you is surely not different from US." Thus spoke Bhagavan.

T.K.Sundaresa Iyer, At the Feet of Bhagavan

 Teachings of the Maharshi
The jiva itself is Shiva;
Shiva Himself is the jiva.
It is true that the jiva is no other than Shiva.
When the grain is hidden inside the husk, it is called
paddy; when it is de-husked, it is called rice. Similarly, so
long as one is bound by karma one remains a jiva; when
the bond of ignorance is broken, one shines as Shiva, the
Deity. Thus declares a scriptural text.
Accordingly, the jiva which is mind is in reality the pure
Self;
but, forgetting this truth, it imagines itself to be an
individual soul
and gets bound in the shape of mind.

From: Self Inquiry, A Discussion with Sri Ramana Maharshi

There Will Be a Great War

Mercedes de Acosta:
A Search in Secret India (Paul Brunton's book) had a profound influence on me. In it I learned for the
first time about Ramana Maharshi, a great Indian saint and sage. It was as though some emanation
of this saint was projected out of the book to me. For days and nights after reading about him I could
not think of anything else. I became, as it were, possessed by him. I could not even talk of anything
else. Nothing could distract me from the idea that I must go and meet this saint. From this time on,
although I ceased to speak too much about it, the whole direction of my life turned toward India. I
had very little money, far too little to risk going to India, but something pushed me towards it. I went
to the steamship company and booked myself one of the cheapest cabins on an Indian ship, the S. S.
Victoria, sailing from Genoa to Bombay toward the beginning of October.

In Madras I hired a car, and so anxious was I to arrive in Tiruvannamalai that I did not go to bed and
traveled by night, arriving about seven o'clock in the morning after driving almost eleven hours. I
was very tired as I got out of the car in a small square in front of the temple [Arunachaleswara
Temple]. The driver explained he could take me no farther.

I turned toward the hill of Arunachala and hurried in the hot sun along the dust-covered road to the
abode about two miles from town where the Sage dwelt. As I ran those two miles, deeply within
myself I knew that I was running toward the greatest experience of my life. When, dazed and filled
with emotion, I first entered the hall, I did not quite know what to do. Coming from strong sunlight
into the somewhat darkened hall, it was, at first, difficult to see; nevertheless, I perceived Bhagavan
at once, sitting in the Buddha posture on his couch in the
corner. At the same moment I felt overcome by some
strong power in the hall, as if an invisible wind was
pushing violently against me. For a moment I felt dizzy.
Then I recovered myself. I was able to look around the
hall, but my gaze was drawn to Bhagavan, who was sitting
absolutely straight in the Buddha posture looking directly
in front of him. His eyes did not blink or in any way move.
As he sat there he seemed like a statue, and yet
something extraordinary emanated from him. I had a
feeling that on some invisible level I was receiving spiritual
shocks from him, although his gaze was not directed
toward me. He did not seem to be looking at anything,
and yet I felt he could see and was conscious of the whole
world.

After I had been sitting several hours in the hall listening to the mantras of the Indians and the
incessant droning of flies, and lost in a sort of inner world, (a devotee) suggested that I go and sit
near the Maharshi.

I moved near Bhagavan, sitting at his feet and facing him. Not long after this Bhagavan opened his
eyes. He moved his head and looked directly down at me, his eyes looking into mine. It would be
impossible to describe this moment and I am not going to attempt it. I can only say that at this
second I felt my inner being raised to a new level - as if, suddenly, my state of consciousness was
lifted to a much higher degree. Perhaps in this split second I was no longer my human self but THE
Self. Then Bhagavan smiled at me. It seemed to me that I had never before known what a smile was.
I said, "I have come a long way to see you."

There was silence. I had stupidly brought a piece of paper on which I had written a number of
questions I wanted to ask him. I fumbled for it in my pocket, but the questions were already
answered by merely being in his presence. There was no need for questions or answers.
Nevertheless, my dull intellect expressed one.

"Tell me, whom shall I follow - what shall I follow? I have been trying to find this out for years by
seeking in religions, in philosophies, in teachings." Again there was silence.

After a few minutes, which seemed to me a long time, he spoke. "You are not telling the truth. You
are just using words - just talking. You know perfectly well whom to follow. Why do you need me to
confirm it?" "You mean I should follow my inner self?" I asked. "I don't know anything about your
inner self. You should follow THE Self. There is nothing or no one else to follow."

I asked again, "What about religions, teachers, gurus?"

"Yes, if they can help in the quest of the Self. But can they help? Can religion, which teaches you to
look outside yourself, which promises a heaven and a reward outside yourself, can this help you? It
is only by diving deep into the spiritual Heart that one can find the Self." He placed his right hand on
his right breast and continued, "Here lies the Heart, the dynamic, spiritual Heart. It is called Hridaya
and is located on the right side of the chest and is clearly visible to the inner eye of an adept on the
spiritual path. Through meditation you can learn to find the Self in the cave of this Heart."

It is a strange thing but when I was very young, Ignacio Zuloaga said to me, "All great people function
with the heart." He placed his hand over my physical heart and continued, "See, here lies the heart.
Always remember to think with it, to feel with it, and above all, to judge with it." But the Enlightened
One raised the counsel to a higher level. He said, "Find the Self in the real Heart." Both, just at the
right moment in my life, showed me the way.

I definitely saw life differently after I had been in his presence, a presence that just by merely
"being" was sufficient spiritual nourishment for a lifetime. There was a change - a transformation of
my entire consciousness. And how could it have been otherwise? I had been in the atmosphere of an
egoless, world-detached, and completely pure being. I sat in the hall with Bhagavan three days and
three nights. Sometimes he spoke to me; other times he was silent and I did not interrupt his silence.
Often he was in samadhi. I wanted to stay on there with him but finally he told me that I should go
back to America. He said, "There will be what will be called a 'war', but which, in reality, will be a
great world revolution. Every country and every person will be touched by it. You must return to
America. Your destiny is not in India at this time."

Before leaving the ashram, Bhagavan gave me some verses he had selected from the Yoga Vasishta.
He said they contained the essence for the path of a pure life.

"Steady in the state of fullness,

which shines when all desires are given up,
and peaceful in the state of freedom in life,
act playfully in the world, O Raghava!"

"Inwardly free from all desires,

dispassionate and detached, but outwardly active in all directions,
act playfully in the world, O Raghava!"

"Free from egoism, with mind detached as in sleep,

pure like the sky, ever untainted,
act playfully in the world, O Raghava!"
 "Conducting yourself nobly with kindly tenderness,
outwardly conforming to conventions, but inwardly renouncing all,
act playfully in the world, O Raghava!"

"Quite unattached at heart but for all appearance acting as with attachment,
inwardly cool but outwardly full of fervour,
act playfully in the world, O Raghava!"

I sorrowfully said farewell to Bhagavan. As I was leaving he said, "You will return here again." I
wonder. Since his physical presence has gone I wonder if I shall. Yet often I feel the pull of
Arunachala as though it were drawing me back. I feel the pull of that sacred hill of which he was so
much a part and where his mortal body lies buried.

Mercedes de Acosta, Here Lies the Heart

How to Pray for Others

I once asked Bhagavan how to pray for other people. He answered, "If you are
abiding within the Self, there are no other people. You and I are the same. When I
pray for you I pray for myself and when I pray for myself I pray for you. Real prayer
is to abide within the Self. This is the meaning of Tat Twam Asi - That Thou Art.
There can be no separation in the Self. There is no need for prayer for yourself or
any person other than to abide within the Self."
Mercedes de Acosta
From M.G. Shanmugam's Personal Diary
When we were living at Darapuram and I was seven years old, I was initiated into Linga puja. Such
traditional upbringing gradually involved me in the study of the Sastras, doing japa, bhajan, saguna
and nirguna dhyana (form and formless meditation) and regular puja three times a day. During this
period I also had three gurus. I came to the conviction that the highest human attainment was the
state of Jivanmukti (full enlightenment whilst still in the body). I was then at Tiruchengode (1921-
1925) studying in college. When I was 18 years old, I fervently prayed that I should meet a
Jivanmukta and receive his blessings.

My prayers were soon answered! My father, a police officer, was transferred to Tiruvannamalai. I
came to know of Bhagavan Ramana living there. I gave up my studies and rushed to Arunachala. At
Katpadi, while traveling in the train towards Tiruvannamalai, I had a remarkable vision of Bhagavan.
Thus my Sadguru came to me and absorbed me even before l could have His physical darshan!

When I arrived at the Ashrama, Bhagavan gave me a warm welcome with a benign smile. As He was
seeing me for the first time, His two spontaneous utterances surprised me. Like an affectionate
mother, He asked me, "When did you come?" and "How is your right hand?" My right hand was
badly fractured when I was 14-years-old and though it healed up the hand remained bent and short.
I used to cover it up with full sleeves and even my friends did not know of this serious deformity.
How did Bhagavan know about it? And what affectionate concern He showed! After Bhagavan
inquired about it, my sense of inferiority because of the defect totally disappeared. More than all
this, He asked me to be seated in front of Him. Gazing at Him I sat down and I do not know what
happened to me then. When I got up two hours had elapsed. This was an experience I had never had
before and I have always cherished it as the first and foremost prasad and blessing received from my
Sadguru. That day I understood the purport of the statement, "The Sadguru ever gives unasked!"
That moment I knew I had been accepted into His Fold. This strong bond He allowed me to enjoy
until His Mahasamadhi, and even after.

Daily I would go to him by two in the afternoon and return home only at 8 p.m. My father, who was
a staunch devotee, was instrumental in constructing, in a remarkably short time, the Old Hall where
Bhagavan was to stay for more than twenty years. Bhagavan would quote from Ribhu Gita, Kaivalya
Navaneetam, Jnana Vasishta and other Advaitic texts and explain to me their greatness. All the while
I was aware I was in the blissful presence of a Brahmajnani, so highly extolled in all our scriptures.

He was a sarvajna (all-knower). I got many proofs of it, though I never demanded them. Daily
pocket-money of three annas was given to me by my father. I bought for that amount sambrani
(incense) which was burnt in the presence of Bhagavan. One day I did not get the three annas, so I
could not buy the sambrani. I Therefore refrained from going to Bhagavan that day. The next day
when I went, Bhagavan graciously remarked: "Yesterday you did not come because you could not
get sambrani. Veneration in the heart is enough."

"My father was suddenly transferred to Vellore. None of us, particularly myself, wanted to leave
Tiruvannamalai since darshan of Bhagavan would then be denied. We ventilated our grievance to
Bhagavan. He gave me a benign smile. A few days after, strangely, the transfer order was cancelled!
 Attachment Decreases with Meditation

Many times I complained to Bhagavan that I was not making any appreciable
progress, bemoaning the persistence of desires. Bhagavan replied making light of my
trouble:

"It will all go, all in time. You need not worry. The more dhyana (meditation) one
performs the more will these desires fall away."

Rajapalayam Ramani Ammal - Part III

How Ramana Reads People's Minds and Puts Them at Ease

I should narrate how my first Giri Pradakshina (sacred peregrination around Arunachala Hill) took
place. I was not accustomed to walking at all, but whenever people came to tell Bhagavan that they
were going on a Giri Pradakshina, I longed to go too. One day Venkataramayya and others were
going round the hill, and in this group there were two devotees who were over eighty years old. I did
not say anything to Bhagavan, but was all the time praying that I should be included in that party.
Immediately Bhagavan said to Venkataramayya "Take this girl - the one seated there - with you."

Bhagavan didn't stop there, for he even said, "She will walk very slowly. Will that be all right?" Then
Bhagavan turned towards me and said, "These are our own people. Are you prepared to go with
them?" Looking at me, he simply said, "Go!"

The Pradakshina took almost six hours. At Adi Annamalai I could move no more. I requested the
group to proceed without me, and told them I will reach the Ashrama later. But they said, "How
could we leave you when Bhagavan entrusted you to us? Even if it takes you another day to
complete the Pradakshina, we will stay with you. Only with you can we reenter the Ashrama."

I was again feeling very guilty when we finally arrived. I was thinking that others take three to four
hours to complete the Pradakshina and I have taken six hours, wasting not only my time, but theirs
too. I felt that they were all older than me, and a younger person, like me, had caused them so much
inconvenience. When I entered the Ashrama my heart was heavy with this feeling. With great
difficulty we entered into the presence of Bhagavan and as soon as I sat down, Bhagavan started
narrating how the Pradakshina should be done by walking as slow as a royal queen in her ninth
month of pregnancy. "So there is nothing wrong in what she did," he concluded. After this, many
times I used to go around the hill all alone.

Put Full Faith in the Guru

Once a visitor said: "I have been coming to you, Swami, many times, hoping that something
 will happen and I shall be changed. So far I do not see any change in me. I am as I was: a
weakling of a man, an inveterate sinner." And he started weeping piteously.

"On this road there are no milestones," replied Bhagavan. "How can you know which
direction you are going? Why don't you do what the first-class railway passenger does? He
tells the guard his destination, locks the doors and goes to sleep. The rest is done by the
guard, If you could trust your guru as much as you trust the railway guard, it would be quite
enough to make you reach your destination. Your business is to shut the door and windows
and sleep. The guard will wake you up at your destination."

Krishna Bhikshu, Sri Ramana Leelas

Saved from Drowning by Bhagavan

K. V. Mama's mother died when he was only an infant, and it was her dying wish that he should be
raised by Echammal in Tiruvannamalai. Echammal, whose life in the world was a succession of
tragedies, went and brought the motherless child directly to Bhagavan and placed the boy in his
hands. "On seeing the babe, tears trickled from my eyes," Bhagavan later said, recalling the occasion.

The Maharshi looked after that child and protected him from harm. To illustrate this we need only
relate the following story told to us by K. V. Mama:

"Once when I was a young boy, a friend and I were in the Arunachala Temple. As it was very hot we
went to the tank in the temple and began splashing and playing in the water. I inadvertently went
into the water over my head and began sinking. I came to the surface a few times but was unable to
stay afloat. My friend got scared seeing me in distress and ran off. Just before I went under for the
last time I remember distinctly seeing Bhagavan's face, and then everything went blank - I became
unconscious.

When I later regained consciousness I found that I was lying on a step just near the tank. I asked
someone nearby how I got out of the water. I was told that an old man had come and pulled me out,
laid me down on the step and then went away. Somehow I survived the ordeal. After nearly
drowning, I went to the ashram and sat in the hall without telling anyone what had just happened.
Bhagavan turned in my direction and said with a gentle smile on his lips, "Did you have a nice swim?"
I put my head down, as I felt extremely guilty and thought that everyone was watching me. Who else
was it than Bhagavan who saved me?"

Bhagavan Ramana's All Knowing State

 Kunju Swami was very young when he first came to Bhagavan. At times Kunju Swami and
a friend, for fun, would see how many times they could run from Skandashram to
Virupaksha Cave and back. Chinnaswami would object: "This boy is so irresponsible! It is
his duty to bring us food from the town - what if he falls and breaks a leg!" Bhagavan
would tenderly say, "It is not he who is doing it... It's his age that is doing it!" In speaking
of a misdeed, the strongest word Bhagavan would use was "mischief".

Kunju Swami described Bhagavan's state of mind as all-knowing, yet without an element
of personal will; that is, he did not "read" minds nor would he give any indication or
display of this ability. It was simply his natural state. The thoughts and past deeds of all
were immediately apparent to him. About this facet Bhagavan once commented, "It is
true I know the innermost thoughts of you all, but if I brought them all to light would any
of you stay here?" Kunju Swami narrated this with a laugh.

Bhagavan's complete and total disregard for siddhis set him apart from virtually all other
saints, Kunju Swami noted. It seems on one occasion Bhagavan said he had experienced
his body dissolving into the five elements, yet called it back. "There has never been a
saint so unique as Bhagavan, who remained so human, so simple and so ordinary to all
appearances," Kunju Swami exclaimed in ecstasy, "and I don't think there could ever be
another one like him again!"
Evelyn Kaselow Saphier

Bhagavan's Presence Within All

Sri Bhagavan recalled an incident about a little girl who used to live in Ramana Nagar. She had
observed people bringing food and offering it to Sri Bhagavan and then distributing it to the people
in the hall. One day she approached Sri Bhagavan hesitatingly, and upon asking he found out that
she had wrapped a few papads in her dress, having got them from her kitchen at home. Sri Bhagavan
and the girl shared the papads. The next day she repeated the act by bringing fruits from her garden.
After sharing the fruits with her, He asked her if there was a picture of him in their house. The girl
said that they had one. Sri Bhagavan asked her to henceforth offer the food to the picture and eat it
herself and think that he ate it.
Srimati Kanakammal

A Muslim Devotee
Dr. Syed was a Muslim scholar and a great devotee of Bhagavan. His wife too became a devotee
without losing her faith in the ways and conventions of the Muslim religion. She would not appear
before other men. Stealthily she would come to the Ashrama, hide herself in one of the rooms and
implore her husband to ask Bhagavan to come to see her. It was a most unusual request, but such
was Bhagavan's grace and compassion that even this was granted. Mrs. Syed would at first keep
silent, rather than talk to Bhagavan through her veil; then later she would talk to him without a veil.
But it took a long time for her to venture into the Hall without a veil and sit there like everybody
else.

Dr. Syed and his wife used to stay in a rented house outside the Ashrama and cook their own food.
One day she felt a very strong desire to invite Bhagavan to their house for food. She nagged her
husband, but he did not have the courage to request something so unusual. Meeting his wife outside
the Hall was unusual enough, and twice he had asked Bhagavan to consent to it; that Bhagavan
should go to their house for food seemed unthinkable. But the intrepid lady went on pressing her
husband until he became more afraid of her than of the enormity of her request and hinted her wish
to Bhagavan, who smiled and kept quiet. She would not give up. 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
Bhagavan was going up the hill, Dr. Syed and his wife stood before him and told him her desire.
Bhagavan just laughed and went up the hill.

When they returned home in the evening, there was quite a row in their house, she accusing him
that he had not asked Bhagavan in the proper way. At last he had enough of it all and said to her:
"How am I responsible? The truth of the matter is that your devotion is deficient. That is the reason
why Bhagavan refused." These words of his must have touched her deeply and she sat in meditation
throughout the night. She wanted by sheer intensity of prayer to bring Bhagavan to dinner. 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 Ashrama 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 Prabuddhananda and the third was myself.

She told of her vision to Dr. Syed, who invited all the three for food in his house, telling us that we
could not possibly refuse. We were astonished and asked him the reason. Dr. Syed told us the whole
story. We were all Brahmins and, although we were delighted to represent Bhagavan at the feast,
we were afraid of what the Ashrama Brahmins would say. For a Brahmin to eat in a Muslim's house
is a serious breach of convention.

Dr. Melkote was in the guest room near the flower garden. I went to him and asked him, "What are
you thinking about?"
"I am thinking of the dinner at Syed's place."
"Are you going ?"
"I wonder. They are Muslims."
''If we go, we are bound to get into a lot of trouble."
"Yes, they may turn us out of the Ashrama."
"Then are you going ?"
"I am going," said Dr. Melkote. "I am taking it as Bhagavan's direct order. Otherwise, how could Mrs.
Syed pick us? How could she know our names and faces so as to show us to her husband?"
"Prabuddhananda can go, for he is a sannyasi and can eat anywhere. Besides, he is not afraid of the
Ashrama authorities, for he cooks his own food. But we are taking serious risks," I said. "Well," said
Dr. Melkote, "we are going, and Bhagavan will attend to the risks."

In spite of these brave words Dr. Melkote was perplexed. We were to dine in a Muslim's house. Even
if the food were vegetarian, what about the kitchen and vessels? What do Muslims know about the
Brahmin rules and habits concerning cleanliness? How would we explain our going to a Muslim
house for food? Why should we trust the vision of some Muslim lady? Could we really say that we
were merely obeying Bhagavan's orders? Who would believe us? Surely not the Ashrama Brahmins!
And what an assortment we three made! One was a Kanarese householder, the other an Andhra
bachelor, the third a Bengali sannyasi!

The next day when the bell for dinner was rung, we three went before Bhagavan and bowed.
Bhagavan did not ask us the reason, he merely looked at us. Instead of going to the dining hall with
others we marched out of the Ashrama, passing before Chinnaswami who - O wonder! - did not ask
us why we were going out without taking food.

Mrs. Syed got up early in the morning, swept the kitchen and washed the vessels carefully herself.
She would not allow the servant girl to enter the kitchen. She had been scolded repeatedly by her
relatives and the Muslim Moulvis for her devotion to a Hindu saint. She told them that while she
used to say her prayers she would see the Prophet standing by her side. Since she met Bhagavan,
the Prophet had disappeared and Bhagavan was coming to watch her pray. So great was her
devotion!

After getting everything quite clean, she lovingly prepared dish after dish, and when we arrived, we
found the food excellent. After the meal she offered us betel with her own hands.

When we were returning to the Ashrama, Dr. Melkote had tears in his eyes. He said: "I come from
Hyderabad and I know well the Muslim ways and customs. A Muslim lady will give betel leaves with
her own hands to nobody except her husband or a fakir (a saint). In her eyes we were fakirs, the
forms Bhagavan took to go to her place."

When we returned to the Ashrama 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's house. How wonderfully
does Bhagavan protect those who obey him!
From Ramana Smrti Souvenir

Sin of Being Born a King

Once the Maharaja of Mysore visited the Ashram. He would not visit Bhagavan in the Hall and asked
for a private interview. We were perplexed, for Bhagavan never allowed such a thing. Whatever had
to be said was said in public, by letter, or in the mind. Finally, it was decided to bring the Maharaja in
when Bhagavan was having his bath. The Maharaja entered the bathroom and we were all standing
outside. Trays and trays of costly presents and all kinds of sweets and dainties were offered at
Bhagavan's feet. For ten minutes the Maharaja just stood looking and then prostrated before
Bhagavan. Tears flowing from his eyes actually made Bhagavan's feet wet. He sobbed for some time
and went away.

A few days later the Maharani of Travancore also came to the Ashram. When Bhagavan was sitting
alone in the dining hall after lunch, I asked him: "The Maharani was here. What did she do?"

"She asked many questions and went away."

"And the Maharaja of Mysore?"

"Oh, he is a ripe fruit," said Bhagavan, and with great feeling he re-enacted the scene. We could
almost see the Maharaja's eagerness, his humility and sadness. The Maharaja had told him: "They
made me a Maharaja and bound me to a throne. For the sin of being born a king I lost the chance of
sitting at your feet and serving in your glorious presence. I cannot stay here and I do not hope to
come again. Only these few minutes are mine. I
can only pray for your grace."
Shantammal, Eternal Bhagavan

Major Chadwick's Dream Incident

Sadhu Arunachala (Major Alan Chadwick):

"We are such stuff As dreams are made of and

our short life Is rounded by a sleep."

Shakespeare really did know what he was

talking about and it was not just poetic
effervescence. Maharshi used to say exactly the
same.

I suppose I questioned Bhagavan more often on

this subject than any others, though some
doubts always remained for me. He had always warned that as soon as one doubt is cleared another
will spring up in its place, and there is no end to doubts.

"But Bhagavan," I would repeat, "dreams are disconnected, while the waking experience goes on
from where it left off and is admitted by all to be more or less continuous."

"Do you say this in your dreams?", Bhagavan would ask. "They seemed perfectly consistent and real
to you then. It is only now, in your waking state that you question the reality of the experience. This
is not logical."

Bhagavan refused to see the least difference between the two states, and in this he agreed with all
the great Advaitic Seers. Some have questioned if Shankara did not draw a line of difference
between these two states, but Bhagavan has persistently denied it. "Shankara did it apparently only
for the purpose of clearer exposition," the Maharshi would explain.

However I tried to twist my questions, the answer I received was always the same: "Put your doubts
when in the dream state itself. You do not question the waking state when you are awake, you
accept it. You accept it in the same way you accept your dreams. Go beyond both states and all
three states including deep sleep. Study them from that point of view. You now study one limitation
from the point of view of another limitation. Could anything be more absurd? Go beyond all
limitation, then come here with your doubts."

But in spite of this, doubt still remained. I somehow felt at the time of dreaming there was
something unreal in it, not always of course, but just glimpses now and then.

"Doesn't that ever happen to you in your waking state too?" Bhagavan queried. "Don't you
sometimes feel that the world you live in and the thing that is happening is unreal?" Still, in spite of
all this, doubt persisted.

But one morning I went to Bhagavan and, much to his amusement, handed him a paper on which
the following was written:

"Bhagavan remembers that I expressed some doubts about the resemblance between dreams and
waking experience. Early in the morning most of these doubts were cleared by the following dream,
which seemed particularly objective and real:

Indent "I was arguing philosophy with someone and pointed out that all experience was only
subjective, that there was nothing outside the mind. The other person demurred, pointing out how
solid everything was and how real experience seemed, and it could not be just personal imagination.

"I replied, 'No, it is nothing but a dream. Dream and waking experience are exactly the same.'

"'You say that now,' he replied, 'but you would never say a thing like that in your dream.'

"And then I woke up."

From the Call Divine, March 1954

N Balaram Reddy, My Reminiscences

Giving to Others is Grace to Yourself

One night last year I had a marvelous dream. In a big choultry on a hill-top I saw Sri
Bhagavan and Sri Sankaracharya of Kanchi Kamakoti Pitham seated before me. My
heart overflowed with joy to see the two great Souls together. Sri Sankaracharya
enquired how far I had advanced in my study of Sanskrit. Sri Bhagavan replied to him
saying that my Sanskrit knowledge was up to the mark. Thereupon Sri Sankaracharya
recited a 'Rik' from the Vedas and asked me to translate the rik. I did it to his
satisfaction. Then Tirtham (Holy Water) was brought in a vessel. Sri Bhagavan first
took a spoonful and passed it to Sri Sankaracharya who also tasted another spoonful
and handed it to me to distribute among the vast crowd of devotees that filled the
hall. I went round and as I served the last person, I found that the last drop of Tirtham
was gone. Then I brought back the empty vessel. Sri Sankaracharya asked me whether
I had taken the Tirtham myself, I replied "No." Then Sri Bhagavan observed "It does
not matter. Distribution to others is Prasad (Grace) to yourself."
 Bhagavan was familiar with, and had respect
for, the classical English works. He had read
many English books and would daily read an
English newspaper. W. Y. Evans-Wentz had
given Bhagavan copies of his published
books, and of these books Bhagavan liked
best Tibet's Great Yogi, Milarepa. He once
requested me to read it.

Non Reality of Time and Space - Lila's Story

The Maharshi was often questioned about death and reincarnation. He would sometimes answer:
"Let us know first who we are" or "The birth of the 'I-thought' is one's own birth, its death is the
person's death. After the 'I'-thought has arisen the wrong identity with the body arises. Thinking
yourself the body, you give false values to others and identify them with bodies. Just as your body
has been born, grows and will perish, so also you think the other was born, grew up and died."

In so many ways Bhagavan tried to bring home to us the true nature of the Self, which is eternal,
unborn and free. When an illogical sequence in an apparent death and rebirth was brought to his
attention, he would often cite Lila's story from the Yoga Vasishta.

For example:

An elderly gentleman, formerly a co-worker with B. V. Narasimha Swami and author of some
Vasishtadvaita work, visited the place for the first time. He asked about rebirths, if it is possible for
the linga sarira (subtle body) to get dissolved and be reborn in two years after death.

Ramana Maharshi responded: "Yes. Surely. Not only can one be reborn, one may be twenty or forty
or even seventy years old in the new body though only two years after death."

In another documented case of reincarnation, a boy who is seven years now recalls his past births.
Enquiries go to show that the previous body was given up 10 months ago.

The question arises how the matter stood for six years and two months previous to the death of the
former body. Did the soul occupy two bodies at the same time?

Sri Bhagavan pointed out that the seven years is according to the boy; ten months is according to the
observer. The difference is due to these two different upadhis (limiting adjuncts). The boy's
experience extending to seven years has been calculated by the observer to cover only 10 months of
his own time. In order to explain this phenomenon, Sri Bhagavan again referred to Lila's story in Yoga
Vasishta.
Another example:

A lady arrived with her brother, a woman companion and a burly bodyguard. When she came into
the hall she saluted Maharshi with great respect and feeling, and sat down on a wool blanket in front
of Sri Bhagavan. Sri Bhagavan was then reading Trilinga in Telugu on the reincarnation of a boy. The
boy is now thirteen years old and reading in the Government High School in a village near Lucknow.
When he was three years he used to dig here and there; when asked, he would say that he was
trying to recover something which he had hidden in the earth. When he was four years old, a
marriage function was celebrated in his home. When leaving, the guests humorously remarked that
they would return for this boy's marriage. But he turned round and said: 'I am already married. I
have two wives.' When asked to point them out, he requested to be taken to a certain village, and
there he pointed to two women as his wives. It is now learnt that a period of ten months elapsed
between the death of their husband and the birth of this boy.

When this was mentioned to the lady, she asked if it was possible to know the after-death state of
an individual.

Sri Bhagavan said, 'some are born immediately after, others after some lapse of time, a few are not
reborn on this earth but eventually get salvation in some higher region, and a very few get absolved
here and now.'

Sri Bhagavan once again cited Lila's story from Yoga Vasishta an excerpt of which appears below.

____________________________________________________________

Lila asked:
O Goddess, you said that it was only eight days ago that the holy man had died; and yet my husband
and I have lived for a long time [in the present birth]. How can you reconcile this discrepancy? (The
"holy man" was reincarnated as Lila's present husband, who had now again just died).

Saraswati said:
O Lila, just as space does not have a fixed span, time does not have a fixed span either. Just as the
world and its creation are mere appearances, a moment and an epoch are also imaginary, not real.
In the twinkling of an eye the jiva undergoes the illusion of the death-experience, forgets what
happened before that, and in the infinite consciousness thinks 'I am this', etc., and 'I am his son, I am
so many years old', etc. There is no essential difference between the experiences of this world and
those of another - all this being thoughtforms in the infinite consciousness. They are like two waves
in the same ocean. Since these worlds were never created, they will never cease to be: such is the
law. Their real nature is consciousness.

Even as in a dream there is birth, death and relationship all in a very short time, and even as a lover
feels that a single night without his beloved is an epoch, the jiva thinks of experienced and non-
experienced objects in the twinkling of an eye. And, immediately thereafter, he imagines those
things (the world) to be real. Even those things which he had not experienced nor seen present
themselves before him as in a dream.

This world and this creation is nothing but memory and dream. Distance, measures of time like a
moment and an age, all these are hallucinations. This is one kind of knowledge-memory. There is
another which is not based on memory of past experience. This is the fortuitous meeting of an atom
and consciousness which is then able to produce its own effects.

Liberation is the realisation of the total nonexistence of the universe as such. This is different from a
mere denial of the existence of the ego and the universe! The latter is only half-knowledge.

Liberation is to realise that all this is pure consciousness.

Bhagavan's Mysterious Assistance

Kunju Swami:
I approached the ticket counter at 5:30 p. m. to buy my ticket to Tiruvannamalai, but to my
amazement the clerk refused to sell me one! Nonplussed, I was standing transfixed when a kind
elderly man nearby informed me that the town of Tiruvannamalai is quarantined because of a
plague epidemic and so no tickets to that destination can be sold. He advised me to buy a ticket to
Tirukkoviloor, and to quietly get off at Tiruvannamalai when the train stops briefly to unload mail.
Tirukkoviloor is the next station after Tiruvannamalai. When asked for a ticket to Tirukkoviloor, the
ticket clerk asked me for additional money. I didn't have it. Crushed with unimaginable frustration, I
stood to one side thinking of Bhagavan and overcome by sorrow. When there was only a few
minutes left before the train to Tiruvannamalai was to arrive - wonder of wonders - the mystery of
Bhagavan's grace descended upon me! Between the two rails, just a short distance from where I
stood, a quarter-rupee coin lay glittering. I immediately picket it up and ran to the ticket counter. My
train arrived in the station the very moment I was handed the ticket to Tirukkoviloor. Thrilled with
the thought of Bhagavan's grace on my poor self, I got on the train and found a seat.

Seshadri Swami explained to Mudalier that

the science of the Self was very easy to
comprehend and that by neglecting it
Mudalier was incurring Brahma hatya, the
mortal sin of slaying a brahmin. Mudalier
got frightened and went to Maharshi in
whom he had more faith and reported this
remark.

“Well said,” replied Maharshi, “You are

indeed murdering Brahman by refusing to
understand that you are Brahman.”
Grace Poured Forth to Kanakamma from Ramana's Look
This incident took place when Bhagavan had moved into the new hall. During those days, the front
row closest to Bhagavan was reserved for important people, although Bhagavan did not know about
it. There was a specific unspoken seating arrangement and others who occupied those places would
even be asked to go and sit elsewhere. On this day, Rani Mazumdar and myself were sitting by the
window at the end of the hall when we noticed that the front row was empty. Rani suggested that
the two of us could sit there close to Bhagavan. I agreed. The front row would begin at the pillars
closest to Bhagavan's couch. No one could sit right beside the couch in order to give people room to
move about. On seeing the two of us, a telugu lady called Kameswaramma also came and sat next to
us in the front row. The three of us were directly facing Bhagavan.

As soon as we had settled there, Bhagavan began looking directly at me. Unable to bear the intensity
of his direct look, I immediately closed my eyes. How long I remained like that I do not know, but
sometime later, I opened my eyes and found Bhagavan seated motionless looking at me just as
before. Again I closed my eyes. Sometime later, Mauni Srinivasa Rao came with the day's mail.
Hearing Bhagavan talk to him, I opened my eyes. However, I was still in the same state that I was in
when my eyes were closed and whatever was happening didn't really register in my mind. After
attending to the correspondence, Bhagavan got up to leave for the cow shed. I got up along with
everybody else but again without any real awareness of my surroundings.

Kameswaramma, who was sitting next to me, hugged me and said, "Kanakamma, you are extremely
fortunate. Ever since you sat there, Bhagavan has been steadily looking directly at you up until the
Mauni came with the mail. You have got everything. Bhagavan has given you all that you need." So
saying, she hugged me close to her. But I was in no state to give a reply. I just told her, "Tears are
streaming down my eyes. I don't know what to say." The waves of peace coming over me kept me
from talking.

Srimati Kanakamma
 Teachings of the Maharshi
If anything comes your way, by reason of prarabdha
(destiny based on the balance sheet of past lives) you
can't help it. If you take what comes, without any special
attachment and without any desire for more of it or for a
repetition of it, it will not harm you by leading to further
births. On the other hand, if you enjoy it with great
attachment and naturally desire for more of it, that is
bound to lead to more and more births."

The only freedom man has is to strive for and acquire the
jnana which will enable him not to identify himself with
the body. The body will go through the actions rendered
inevitable by prarabdha and a man is free either to
identify himself with the body and be attached to the
fruits of its actions, or to be detached from it and be a
mere witness of its activities."

Professor N. R. Krishnamoorthy Aiyer - Part I

Blasted out of Materialism

The next day we had a meeting with Bhagavan. This was about the time he arrived at the present
site of Sri Ramanasramam (1922). There were no buildings at all, except for a small shed covering
the samadhi (grave) of the Mother.

Bhagavan was seated on a bench under the shade of a tree, and with him, lying on the same bench,
was the dog named Rose. Bhagavan was simply stroking the dog. I wondered, among us Brahmins
the dog was such an animal that it would defile all purity. A good part of my respect for the
Maharshi left me when I saw him touching that unclean animal - for all its apparent cleanliness and
neatness it was unclean from the Brahmin point of view. I had a question for the Maharshi. At that
time I was an agnostic. I thought nature could take care of itself, so where is the need for a Creator?
What is the use of writing all these religious books telling 'cock and bull' stories, which do not change
the situation.

I wanted to put to him straight questions: is there a soul? Is there a God? Is there salvation? All these
three questions were condensed into one:

"Well sir, you are sitting here like this - I can see your present condition - but what will be your future
sthiti?"

The word sthiti in Sanskrit means 'state' or 'condition'. The Maharshi did not answer the question.
"Oho," I thought, "you are taking shelter under the guise of indifferent silence for not answering an
inconvenient question!" As soon as I thought this the Maharshi replied and I felt as if a bomb had
exploded under my seat.
"Sthiti, what do you mean by the word sthiti!" he exclaimed.

I was not prepared for that question. "Oho, this man is very dangerous, very dangerously alive. I will
have to answer with proper care," I thought. So I said to myself, "If I ask him about the sthiti or
'state' of the body it is useless: the body will be burned or buried. What I should ask him was about
the condition of something within the body. Of course, I can recognize a mind inside of me." Then I
was about to answer "By sthiti, I mean mind," when it struck me what if he counter-questions with
"What is mind?" This I am not prepared to answer.

As all this was passing through my mind he was sitting there staring at me with a fierce look. I then
questioned within me, "What is mind? Mind is made up of thoughts. Now, what are thoughts?" I
landed in a void. No answer. I then realised that I could not present a question about a mind which
did not exist! Up to that point, the mind was the greatest thing that existed for me. Now I discovered
it did not exist! I was bewildered. I simply sat like a statue.

Two pairs of eyes were then gripping each other: the eyes of the Maharshi and my eyes were locked
together in a tight embrace. I lost all sense of body. Nothing existed except the eyes of the Maharshi.
I don't know how long I remained like that, but when I returned to my senses, I was terribly afraid of
the man. "This is a dangerous man," I thought. In spite of myself, I prostrated and got away from his
company.

Bhagavan on the Formless God Giving Rise to Form

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

Professor N. R. Krishnamoorthy Aiyer - Part II

Visions, Cosmic Consciousness, then Silence

My next visit to the Maharshi was in 1934 on a Jayanti Day. He was sitting on a raised platform under
a pondal (thatched roof), specially constructed in front of the Mother's Shrine. As the celebration
was going on, all the devotees were seated around him.
While sitting there, my eyes were intensely fixed upon the Maharshi and I saw his form assume
different manifestations. It first changed to the Avatar of Vishnu (Vahar Avatar). Then his form
changed into that of Ganesha, the elephant God. Next it suddenly changed and I saw Ramana and
Arunachala as one. Then I had the vision of the whole Arunachala Hill - the top of the Hill was
transparent and inside it I saw a Shiva Lingam, similar to what we see in temples.

Devotees were singing the Marital Garland of Letters. When they began singing the last couplet, "My
Lord let us exchange garlands - the devotee (the bride) garlands the Lord Arunachala (the groom),
and the Lord garlands the devotee," I suddenly saw garlands of flowers all over the pondal. The
Maharshi had a string of flowers garlanded around his neck, and all the devotees (including myself)
had a string of flowers around their necks. I saw a large garland around the Shiva Lingam on the hill
top. All these garlands were shining with a dazzling brilliance. This experience convinced me of the
existence of the deities mentioned in our ancient scriptures.

Later that evening in the Old Hall I sat at the feet of the Maharshi. He was reclining on the couch
gazing westward and I sat on the floor facing him. Our eyes fixed, one upon the other, were pinned
together for quite a long time. I then saw the form of the Maharshi take the shape of
Ardhanareswara.

Ardhanareswara is one aspect of Shiva - one half is the Mother and the other half is the Father; one
half of the form had a breast and the other had a trident. Around us the pundits were reciting
Sanskrit verses. As it went on, I began to witness certain changes in my body taking place. I saw a
pair of serpents rising from the base of my spine in a crisscross, spiralling manner. They rose to the
crown of my head and spread their hoods. One was red; the other blue. The whole cranium became
suffused with a bright light. My attention was fixed upon the point between my eyebrows where the
serpents' heads were pointed.

All of a sudden there was a splitting of the skull from the top front to the back. This was followed by
an upward gush of a reddish flame shooting out from the top of my head. While this was flowing
out, a stream of nectar issued from the single breast of the Ardhanareswara form of the Maharshi
and a second stream of nectar flowed out from the top of Arunachala. Both streams landed on my
head and sealed the break in my skull. When the skull was sealed I experienced a brilliant light, like
that of an arc lamp, and an indescribable joy and coolness filled my being. This light and joy
continued for several hours. During this time I didn't move about and I was unconscious of what was
going on around me.

You may have seen a light focused on to a concave mirror. Its light is reflected with a single beam
onto a point. Well, sometime about midnight all the light, like a concave mirror, was focused onto
the Heart. Then all the light drained into the Heart. The Kundalini was completely sucked into the
Heart and the Heart was opened - that is the seat of Arunachala Ramana.

The Heart is normally closed, but when it was opened (I never knew any of these things and never
read any theory. These are all practical experiences.) a flood of nectar gushed forth and drenched
every pore of my skin, drenched my whole physical system. It poured out and out, went on coming
out in a great flood. The whole Universe was filled with that Nectar. The wonder of it was that my
awareness was not in the body - my awareness was over the whole of the space filled with that
Nectar. The whole Universe was Nectar. I call it Nectar; you could call it Ether, something very
subtle, attached with awareness at every point. And everything living and non-living was like snow
flakes floating in that ocean of Nectar.
If you ask me what my body was, my body was the whole universe of Nectar, attached to awareness
at every point. No particular association from the one body from where it started - this body was like
every other body. By morning everything subsided, though the underlying experience remained. I
was totally unconscious of my body. I was moving around like an automaton, unaware of my body.
In that state I returned to Madurai where I was a physics professor.

This was during a Christmas vacation. For the next two weeks I remained in that state. With the
opening of college I was scheduled to give lectures and my relatives became rather concerned, for
my behavior had changed considerably.

I then returned to Ramanasramam with the intention of returning to my regular mundane condition
- I do not know what urged me to do this. I went and sat before the Maharshi in the Old Hall. He
gave no acknowledgment of my plight and sat, seemingly, unconcerned. After a long time I said to
myself, "Well, the son (Maharshi) seems indifferent to me. Let me go and seek refuge in my mother,
Alagammal." I came and sat in the Mother's samadhi room. It was then only a thatched room. I
picked up the book, Jnana Vasishta, and began reading it from beginning to end with the hope of
finding the solution to my dilemma. I continued reading without eating the whole day. In the
evening the answer came: a stanza in Jnana Vasishta said:

"Between two thoughts there is an interval of no thought.

That interval is the Self, the Atman. It is pure Awareness only."

In those days I was repeating the mantra 'Ram, Ram'. So I said to myself: "'Ram' - that is one
thought; and 'Ram', again-that is another thought. But in the interval between these two thoughts
there is silence. That Silence is the Self." And so, I came to the conclusion that if I go on repeating
'Ram, Ram' it will resolve itself into that Silence.

I was very happy. I rushed home and found I was my normal mundane self, teaching my classes in
the usual way. But all the time, even while the lectures were going on, 'Ram, Ram, Ram' went on
repeating in my Heart. For nine years it went on like that and then stopped of its own accord. It
ended in Silence.

_______________________________________________

____________________
 The conquest of the mind is the greatest of all conquests.
It is the Divine Himself who appears as world, individual
and the beyond. So abidance as the Divine at all times and
in all places will result in conquering the mind. Then will
you come to realize "All is the Divine; I am that Self;" and
you will attain the natural state.

Ribhu Gita

His Grace is Still With Us

One day when he was still convalescing in the dispensary, Chadwick and I were standing outside
nearby when one of Bhagavan’s attendants accosted us and inquired if we wanted to come in and
see Bhagavan. This was not the usual procedure of having a personal audience with Bhagavan while
he was ill; nevertheless, we jumped at the opportunity. Moving quickly into Bhagavan’s room, we
stood at his bedside and simply rested our eyes on him. No words passed between us, but I can
never forget those cool, compassionate eyes that opened and bathed us in peace and love.

This small event may seem insignificant to the onlooker. Yet, by that one look, soaked with
immeasurable peace and grace, we felt complete security and the confidence that his blessings
would always be with us. Even now, more than forty years after he left his body, I feel that this same
grace is flowing, enveloping me, guiding me. How can it be described in words?
The Recollections of N. Balaram

Today, I find people who have never seen Bhagavan physically, never heard his
voice or listened to his upadesa, sit in the Old Hall or the Samadhi Hall, oblivious of
themselves, often shedding tears, and going round the hall as if impelled by some
unseen force. What gives these people their experiences? As Bhagavan always said,
"Is this body Bhagavan?" When somebody expressed sadness at having to go back
home from the Ashram, Bhagavan said, "What am I to do? You say that this body is
Bhagavan. I say that it is not. Now, if you insist, what am I to do?" To others, he
would say, "Look! He says he is going to a place where I am not." These new
devotees of Bhagavan are proof of all he told us.
Srimati Kanakamma

"When the One is known as it is in Itself,

all that has not been known becomes known".

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