Ramana Maharishi

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Excerpts from Bhagavan Ramana

"The Life of Sri Ramana Maharshi"
 
1. A Life Time-line

THE Scriptures tell us that it is as difficult to trace 
the path a sage pursues, as it is to draw a line marking 
the course a bird takes in the air while on its wings. 
Most humans must be content with a slow and 
laborious journey towards the goal. But a few are born adepts, 
flying non-stop to the common home of all beings: 
he Supreme Self. 

Mankind takes heart when such a sage appears, 
and though unable to keep pace with him, 
feels uplifted by his presence and has a foretaste 
of the felicity before which worldly pleasures pale into nothing. 
Countless people who went to Tiruvannamalai 
during the lifetime of Maharshi Sri Ramana had this experience. 
They saw in him a sage without the least touch of worldliness, 
a saint of matchless purity, a witness 
to the eternal truth of Vedanta. 
It is not often that a spiritual genius of Sri Ramana's magnitude 
visits this earth. But when such an event occurs, 
all humanity benefits and a new era of hope opens before it.

2. Birth

About thirty miles south of Madurai is a village--Tiruchuli 
by name--with an ancient Siva temple about which 
two great Tamil saints, Sundaramurti and Manikkavacakar, have sung. 
In this sacred village there lived in the latter part of the nineteenth century 
an uncertified pleader, Sundaram Aiyar with his wife Alagammal. 
Piety, devotion and charity characterised this ideal couple. 
Sundaram Aiyar was generous even beyond his means. 
Alagammal was an ideal Hindu wife. On the 30th of December 1879, 
to them was born Venkataraman--
who later came to be known to the world as Ramana Maharshi.

It was an auspicious day for Hindus, the Ardradarsanam day. 
On this day every year the image of the Dancing Siva, 
Nataraja, is taken out of the temples in procession to 
celebrate the divine grace of the Lord who made 
His appearance before such saints as Gautama, Patanjali, 
Vyaghrapada, and Manikkavacaka. In the year 1879, 
on the Ardra day, the Nataraja Image of the temple 
at Tiruchuli was taken out with all the attendant ceremonies--
and just as it was about to re-enter, Venkataraman was born.

 
3. Early Years

There was nothing markedly distinctive about Venkataraman.s early life. 
He grew up just an average boy. He was sent to an elementary 
school in Tiruchuli, and then for a year.s education to a school in Dindigul. 
His father died when he was twelve years old. This necessitated 
moving to Madurai with the family to live with his paternal uncle, Subbaiyar. 
There he was sent to Scott.s Middle School and then to the American 
Mission High School. He was not at all serious about his studies, 
an indifferent student. But as he was a healthy and strong lad, 
his schoolmates and other companions were afraid of his strength. 
Any time some of them had any grievance against him, 
they would dare play pranks with him only when he was asleep. 
In this extremely deep sleep, he was rather unusual: 
he would not know of anything that happened to him during sleep. 
He would be carried away or even beaten without his waking up in the process.

4. Arunachala

It was apparently by accident that Venkataraman heard about Arunachala 
when he was sixteen years of age. One day an elderly relative called 
on the family in Madurai. The boy asked him where he had come from. 
The relative replied 'From Arunachala'. The very name 
'Arunachala' acted as a magic spell on Venkataraman, 
and with evident excitement he put his next question, 
'What! From Arunachala! Where is it?' And he got the reply 
that Tiruvannamalai was Arunachala.

Referring to this incident later, 
the Sage says in one of his hymns to Arunachala:

'Oh, great wonder! 

As an insentient hill it stands.
Its action is difficult for anyone to understand.
From my childhood it appeared to my intelligence 
that Arunachala was something very great.
But even when I came to know through another 
that it was the same as Tiruvannamalai 
I did not understand its meaning.

When, stilling my mind, 
it drew me up to it,
and I came close, 
I found that it was the Immovable.' 

Quickly following the incident, which attracted Venkataraman's 
attention to Arunachala, there was another happening that also 
contributed to the turning of the boy's mind to the deeper values of spirituality. 
He chanced to lay his hands on a copy of Sekkilar's Periyapuranam, 
which relates the lives of the Saiva saints. He read the book and was 
enthralled by it. This was the first piece of religious literature he read. 
The example of the saints fascinated him; and in the inner recesses 
of his heart, something responded favourably. Without any apparent 
preparation, a longing arose in him to emulate the spirit of 
renunciation and devotion that constituted the essence of saintly life.

 
5. The Great Awakening

The spiritual experience that Venkataraman was now wishing devoutly 
for came to him soon, and quite unexpectedly. It was about the middle 
of the year 1896; Venkataraman was seventeen then. One day he 
was sitting up alone on the first floor of his uncle's house. 
He was in his usual health -- there was nothing wrong with him. 
But a sudden and unmistakable fear of death took hold -- 
he felt he was going to die. Why this feeling should have come to 
him he did not know. The feeling of impending death, however, 
did not unnerve him. He calmly thought about what he should do. 
He said to himself, 

'Now, death has come. 
What does it mean? 
What is it that is dying? 
This body dies'. 

Immediately thereafter he lay down, stretching his limbs out and 
holding them stiff as though rigor mortis had set in. 
He held his breath and kept his lips tightly closed, so that to 
all outward appearance his body resembled a corpse. 
Now, what would happen? 
This was what he thought: 

"Well, this body is now dead. 
It will be carried to the burning ground and there burnt and 
reduced to ashes. 
But with the death, of this body am I dead? 
Is the body I? 
This body is silent and inert. 
But I feel the full force of my personality 
and even the voice of the 'I' within me, apart from it. 
So I am the Spirit transcending the body. 
The body dies but the Spirit 
that transcends it cannot be touched by death. 
That means I am the deathless Spirit". 

As Bhagavan Sri Ramana narrated this experience later on 
for the benefit of his devotees it seemed as though this was 
a process of reasoning. But he took care to explain that this was not so. 
The realization came to him in a flash. He perceived the truth directly.
'I' was something very real, the only real thing. 
Fear of death vanished once and for all. From then on, 
'I' continued like the fundamental sruti note that underlies and 
blends with all the other notes. Thus young Venkataraman found 
himself on the peak of spirituality without any arduous or prolonged sadhana. 
The ego was lost in the flood of Self-awareness. All of a sudden 
the boy that used to be called Venkataraman had flowered into a sage and saint.

There was noticed a complete change in the young man's life. 
The things that he had cared for earlier completely lost their value. 
The spiritual values, which he had ignored till then, became the 
only objects of attention. School-studies, friends, relations -- 
none of these had now any significance for him. He grew utterly 
indifferent to his surroundings. Humility, meekness, 
non-resistance and other virtues became his adornment. 
Avoiding company, he preferred to sit alone, all absorbed in concentration 
on the Self. He went to the Minakshi temple every day and experienced 
exaltation every time he stood before the images of the gods and saints. 
Tears flowed from his eyes profusely. 
The new vision was constantly with him. 
His was the transfigured life.

 

6. Leaving Home

Venkataraman's elder brother observed the great change that had 
come upon him. On several occasions he rebuked the boy for his 
indifferent and yogi-like behaviour. About six weeks after the 
great experience came the crisis. It was the 29th of August 1896. 
Venkataraman's English teacher had asked him, as a punishment 
for indifference in studies, to copy out a lesson from Bain's Grammar 
three times. The boy copied it out twice, but stopped there, 
realizing the utter futility of that task. Throwing aside the book 
and the papers, he sat up, closed his eyes, and turned inward in 
meditation. The elder brother who was watching Venkataraman's 
behaviour all the while went up to him and said: 
"What use is all this to one who is like this?" 
This was obviously meant as a rebuke for Venkataraman.s 
unworldly ways including neglect of studies.

Venkataraman did not give any reply. He admitted to himself that 
there was no use pretending to study and be his old self. 
He decided to leave his home, and he remembered that there was 
a place to go to, viz. Tiruvannamalai. But if he were to express his intention 
to his elders, they would not let him go. So guile had to be used. 
He told his brother that he was going to school to attend a 
special class that noon. The brother thereupon asked him to take five 
rupees from the box below and pay it as his fee at the college where he was studying. 
Venkataraman went downstairs; 
his aunt served him a meal and gave him the five rupees. 
He took out an atlas, which was in the house and noted that the nearest 
railway station to Tiruvannamalai mentioned there was Tindivanam. 
Actually, however, a branch line had been laid to Tiruvannamalai itself. 
The atlas was an old one. Calculating that three rupees would be enough 
for the journey, Venkataraman took that much and left the balance with 
a letter at a place in the house where his brother could easily find them, 
and made his departure for Tiruvannamalai. This was what he wrote in that letter:

"I have set out in quest of my Father in accordance with his command. 
This (meaning his person) has only embarked on a virtuous enterprise. 
Therefore, no one need grieve over this act. And no money need be 
spent in search of this. Your college fee has not been paid. Herewith rupees two.. 
 


7. The Journey

There was a curse on Venkataraman's family -- in truth, it was a blessing -- 
that one out of every generation should turn out to be a mendicant. 
This curse was administered by a wandering ascetic who, it is said, 
begged alms at the house of one of Venkataraman's forbears, and was 
refused. A paternal uncle of Sundaram Aiyar's became a sannyasin; 
so did Sundaram Aiyar's elder brother. Now, it was the turn of 
Venkataraman, although no one could have foreseen that the curse 
would work out in this manner. Dispassion found lodging in 
Venkataraman's heart, and he became a parivrajaka.

It was an epic journey that Venkataraman made from Madurai to 
Tiruvannamalai. About noon he left his uncle's house. He walked to 
the railway station which was half a mile way. Fortunately the train was 
running late that day; otherwise he would have missed it. He looked up 
the table of fares and came to know that the third-class fare to Tindivanam 
was two rupees and thirteen annas. He bought a ticket and kept with 
him the balance of three annas. Had he known that there was a rail-track 
to Tiruvannamalai itself, and had he consulted the table of fares, 
he would have found that the fare was exactly three rupees. 
When the train arrived, he boarded it quietly and took his seat. 
A Maulvi, also travelling, entered into conversation with Venkataraman. 
From him Venkataraman learnt that there was train service to 
Tiruvannamalai, and that one need not go to Tindivanam, 
but could change trains at Viluppuram. This was a useful piece of information. 
It was dusk when the train reached Tiruchirappalli. Venkataraman 
was hungry; he bought two country pears for half an anna; and strangely 
enough even with the first bite his hunger was appeased. 
About three o'clock in the morning the train arrived at Viluppuram. 
Venkataraman got off the train there with the intention of completing 
the rest of the journey to Tiruvannamalai on foot.

At daybreak, he went into the town and was looking out for the 
signpost to Tiruvannamalai. He saw a signboard reading 'Mambalappattu' 
but did not know then that Mambalappattu was a place en route toTiruvannamalai. 
Before making further efforts to find out which road he was to take, 
he wanted to refresh himself, as he was tired and hungry. He went up to 
a hotel and asked for food. He had to wait till noon for the food to be ready. 
After eating his meal, he proffered two annas in payment. The hotel 
proprietor asked him how much money he had. When told by Venkataraman 
that he had only two and a half annas, he declined to accept payment. 
It was from him that Venkataraman came to know that Mambalappattu 
was a place, on the way to Tiruvannamalai. Venkataraman went back 
to Viluppuram station and bought a ticket to Mambalappattu for which the 
money he had was just enough.

It was sometime in the afternoon when Venkataraman arrived 
at Mambalappattu by train. From there he set out on foot for 
Tiruvannamalai. About ten miles he walked, and it was late in the evening. 
There was the temple of Arayaninallur nearby, built on a large rock. 
He went there waited for the doors to be opened, entered and sat down 
in the pillared hall. He had a vision there - a vision of brilliant light 
enveloping the entire place. It was no physical light. It shone for some 
time and then disappeared. Venkataraman continued sitting in a mood 
of deep meditation, till he was roused by the temple priests who were 
wanting to lock the doors and go to another temple three quarters of 
a mile away at Kilur for service. Venkataraman followed them, 
and while inside the temple he got lost in samadhi again. 
After finishing their duties the priests woke him up, but would not give 
him any food. The temple drummer who had been watching the rude 
behaviour of the priests implored them to hand over his share of the temple 
food to the strange youth. When Venkataraman asked for some drinking 
water, he was directed to a Sastri.s house, which was at some distance. 
While in that house he fainted and fell down. A few minutes later he rallied 
round and saw a small crowd looking at him curiously. He drank the water, 
ate some food, and lay down and slept.

Next morning he woke up. It was the 31st of August 1896, 
the Gokulastami day, the day of Sri Krishna's birth. Venkataraman resumed 
his journey and walked for quite a while. He felt tired and hungry. 
So he wished for some food first, and then he would go to Tiruvannamalai, 
by train if that was possible. The thought occurred to him that he 
could dispose of the pair of gold earrings he was wearing and raise 
the money that was required. But how was this to be accomplished? 
He went and stood outside a house, which happened to belong to one Muthukrishna Bhagavatar. 
He asked the Bhagavatar for food and was 
directed to the housewife. The good lady was pleased to receive the 
young sadhu and feed him on the auspicious day of Sri Krisna.s birth. 
After the meal, Venkataraman went to the Bhagavatar again and 
told him that he wanted to pledge his earrings for four rupees in order 
that he may complete his pilgrimage. The rings were worth about twenty 
rupees, but Venkataraman had no need for that much money. 
The Bhagavatar examined the ear-rings, gave Venkataraman the money 
he had asked for, took down the youth.s address, wrote out his own 
on a piece of paper for him, and told him that he could redeem the rings 
at any time. Venkataraman had his lunch at the Bhagavatar's house. 
The pious lady gave him a packet of sweets that she had prepared 
for Gokulastami. Venkataraman took leave of the couple, tore up the 
address the Bhagavatar had given him--for he had no intention of 
redeeming the earrings--and went to the railway station. As there was 
no train till the next morning, he spent the night there.


 8. Advent At Arunachala

On the morning of the 1st of September, 1896, he boarded the train 
to Tiruvannamalai. The travel took, only a short time. Alighting from the train, 
he hastened to the great temple of Arunacalesvara. All the gates 
stood open - even the doors of the inner shrine. The temple was then empty 
of all people - even the priests. Venkataraman entered the sanctum 
sanctorum, and as he stood before his Father Arunacalesvara 
he experienced great ecstasy and unspeakable joy. 
The epic journey had ended. The ship had come safely to port.

The rest of what we regard as Ramana's life - this is how we shall call 
him hereafter - was spent in Tiruvannamalai. Ramana was not formally 
initiated into sannyasa. As he came out of the temple and was walking 
along the streets of the town, someone called out and asked whether 
he wanted his tuft removed. He consented readily, and was conducted 
to the Ayyankulam tank where a barber shaved his head. 
Then he stood on the steps of the tank and threw away into the water 
his remaining money. He also discarded the packet of sweets given 
by the Bhagavatar's wife. The next to go was the sacred thread 
he was wearing. As he was returning to the temple he was just wondering 
why he should give his body the luxury of a bath, when there 
was a downpour which drenched him.

 
9. Life in Tiruvannamalai

The first place of Ramana's residence in Tiruvannamalai was the great temple. 
For a few weeks he remained in the thousand-pillared hall. 
But he was troubled by urchins who pelted stones at him as he 
sat in meditation. He shifted himself to obscure corners and even to 
an underground vault known as Patala-lingam. Undisturbed he used to 
spend several days in deep absorption. Without moving he sat in samadhi, 
not being aware of even the bites of vermin and pests. But the mischievous 
boys soon discovered the retreat and indulged in their 
pastime of throwing potsherds at the young Swami. 
There was at the time in Tiruvannamalai a senior Swami 
by name Seshadri. Those who did not know him took 
him for a madman. He sometimes stood guard over the young Swami, 
and drove away the urchins. At long last he was removed from the pit 
by devotees without his being aware of it and deposited in the vicinity 
of a shrine of Subrahmanya. From then on there was some one or 
other to take care of Ramana. The seat of residence had to be 
changed frequently. Gardens, groves, shrines - these were chosen to keep 
the Swami. The Swami himself never spoke. Not that he took any vow of 
silence; he had no inclination to talk. At times the texts like Vasistham 
and Kaivalyanavanitam used to be read out to him.

A little less than six months after his arrival at Tiruvannamalai Ramana 
shifted his residence to a shrine called Gurumurtam at the earnest request 
of its keeper, a Tambiranswami. As days passed and as Ramana's fame 
spread, increasing numbers of pilgrims and sight-seers came to visit him. 
After about a year's stay at Gurumurtam, the Swami - locally he was known 
as Brahmana-swami - moved to a neighbouring mango orchard. 
It was here that one of his uncles, Nelliyappa Aiyar traced him out. 
Nelliyappa Aiyar was a second-grade pleader at Manamadurai. 
Having learnt from a friend that Venkataraman was then a revered 
Sadhu at Tiruvannamalai, he went there to see him. He tried his 
best to take Ramana along with him to Manamadurai. But the young 
sage would not respond. He did not show any sign of interest in the visitor. 
So, Nelliyappa Aiyar went back disappointed to Manamadurai. 
However, he conveyed the news to Alagammal, Ramana's mother.

10. Mother's Plea

The mother went to Tiruvannamalai accompanied by her eldest son. 
Ramana was then living at Pavalakkunru, one of the eastern spurs of 
Arunachala. With tears in her eyes Alagammal entreated Ramana to 
go back with her. But, for the sage there was no going back. 
Nothing moved him -- not even the wailings and weepings of his mother. 
He kept silent giving no reply. A devotee who had been observing 
the struggle of the mother for several days requested Ramana to write 
out at least what he had to say. The sage wrote on a piece of 
paper quite in an impersonal way thus : "In accordance with the 
prarabdha of each, the One whose function it is to ordain makes each to act. 
What will not happen will never happen, whatever effort one may put forth. 
And what will happen will not fail to happen, however much one may seek 
to prevent it. This is certain. The part of wisdom therefore is to stay quiet."

Disappointed and with a heavy heart, the mother went back to 
Manamadurai. Sometime after this event Ramana went up the hill 
Arunachala, and started living in a cave called Virupaksa after a saint 
who dwelt and was buried there. Here also the crowds came, and among 
them were a few earnest seekers. These latter used to put him 
questions regarding spiritual experience or bring sacred books for 
having some points explained. Ramana sometimes wrote out his answers 
and explanations. One of the books that was brought to him during this 
period was Sankara's Vivekacudamani which later on he rendered into 
Tamil prose. There were also some simple unlettered folk that came to 
him for solace and spiritual guidance. One of them was Echammal who 
having lost her husband, son, and daughter, was disconsolate till the 
Fates guided her to Ramana's presence. She made it a point to visit the 
Swami every day and took upon herself the task of bringing food for him 
as well as for those who lived with him.

After her return to Manamadurai, Alagammal lost her eldest son. 
Two years later, her youngest son, Nagasundaram paid a brief visit to Tiruvannamalai. 
She herself went there once on her return from a 
pilgrimage to Varanasi, and again during a visit to Tirupati. On this occasion 
she fell ill and suffered for several weeks with symptoms of typhoid. 
Ramana showed great solicitude in nursing her and restoring her to health. 
He even composed a hymn in Tamil beseeching Lord Arunachala to cure 
her of her disease. The first verse of the hymn runs as follows : 
'Oh Medicine in the form of a Hill that arose to cure the disease of all 
the births that come in succession like waves! Oh Lord! It is Thy duty 
to save my mother who regards Thy feet alone as her refuge, by curing 
her fever.' He also prayed that his mother should be granted the vision 
divine and be weaned from worldliness. It is needless to say that both the 
prayers were answered. Alagammal recovered, and went back to Manamadurai.

 
11. Mother's Return

But not long after she returned to Tiruvannamalai; a little later followed 
her youngest son, Nagasundaram who had in the meanwhile lost his 
wife leaving a son. It was in the beginning of 1916 that the mother 
came, resolved to spend the rest of her life with Ramana. Soon after 
his mother's arrival, Ramana moved from Virupaksa to Skandasramam, 
a little higher up the hill. The mother received training in intense spiritual life. 
She donned the ochre robe, and took charge of the 
Ashrama kitchen. Nagasundaram too became a sannyasin, 
assuming the name Niranjanananda. 
Among Ramana's devotees he came to be popularly 
known as Chinnaswami (the Younger Swami). In 1920 the mother grew 
weak in health and ailments incidental to old age came to her. 
Ramana tended her with care and affection, and spent even sleepless 
nights sitting up with her. The end came on May 19, 1922, which 
was the Bahulanawami day, in the month of Vaisakha. The mother's 
body was taken down the hill to be interred. The spot chosen was at 
the southernmost point, between Palitirtham Tank and the 
Daksinamurti Mantapam. While the ceremonies were being performed, 
Ramana himself stood silently looking on. Niranjanananda Swami 
took his residence near the tomb. Ramana who continued to 
remain at Skandasramam visited the tomb every day. After about 
six months he came to stay there, as he said later on, not out of his 
own volition but in obedience to the Divine Will. Thus was founded 
the Ramanasramam. A temple was raised over the tomb and was consecrated 
in 1949. As the years rolled by the Ashrama grew steadily, and people 
not only from India but from every continent of the world came to 
see the sage and receive help from him in their spiritual pursuits.

 
12. Early Disciples

In 1903 there came to Tiruvannamalai a great Samskrit scholar and 
savant, Ganapati Sastri known also as Ganapati Muni because of the 
austerities he had been observing. He had the title Kavya-kantha 
(one who had poetry at his throat), and his disciples addressed him 
as nayana (father). He was a specialist in the worship of the Divine Mother. 
He visited Ramana in the Virupaksa cave quite a few times. Once in 
1907 he was assailed by doubts regarding his own spiritual practices. 
He went up the hill, saw Ramana sitting alone in the cave, and 
expressed himself thus : "All that has to be read I have read; even 
Vedanta sastra I have fully understood; I have done japa to my 
heart's content; yet I have not up to this time understood what tapas is. 
Therefore I have sought refuge at your feet. Pray enlighten me as 
to the nature of tapas." Ramana replied, now speaking, "If one 
watches whence the notion 'I' arises, the mind gets absorbed there; 
that is tapas. When a mantra is repeated, if one watches whence that 
mantra sound arises, the mind gets absorbed there; that is tapas." 
To the scholar this came as a revelation; he felt the grace of the sage 
enveloping him. He it was that proclaimed Ramana to be Maharshi and 
Bhagavan. He composed hymns in Samskrit in praise of the sage, 
and also wrote the Ramana-Gita explaining his teachings.

Ramana's first Western devotee was F.H.Humphreys. He came to India 
in 1911 to take up a post in the Police service at Vellore. Given to the 
practice of occultism, he was in search of a Mahatma. 
He was introduced to Ganapati Sastri by his Telugu tutor; and Sastri 
took him to Ramana. The Englishman was greatly impressed. Writing 
about his first visit to the sage in the International Psychic Gazette, 
he said : 'On reaching the cave we sat before him, at his feet, and said 
nothing. We sat thus for a long time and I felt lifted out of myself. 
For half an hour I looked into the Maharshi's eyes, which never changed 
their expression of deep contemplation.... The Maharshi is a man 
beyond description in his expression of dignity, gentleness, self-control 
and calm strength of conviction.' Humphry's ideas of spirituality changed 
for the better as a result of the contact with Ramana. He repeated his visits 
to the sage. He recorded his impressions in his letters to a friend in 
England which were published in the Gazette mentioned above. In one 
of them he wrote, 'You can imagine nothing more beautiful than his 
smile.' And again, 'It is strange what a change it makes in one to have 
been in his Presence!'

 

13. Friend of Animals

It was not all good people that went to the Ashrama. Sometimes bad 
ones turned up also - even bad sadhus. Twice in the year 1924 thieves 
broke into the Ashrama in quest of loot. On the second of these occasions 
they even beat the Maharshi, finding that there was very little for them to 
take. When one of the devotees sought the sage's permission to punish 
the thieves, the sage forbade him, saying : "They have their dharma, we 
have ours. It is for us to bear and forbear. Let us not interfere with them." 
When one of the thieves gave him a blow on the left thigh, he told him : 
"If you are not satisfied you can strike the other leg also." After the thieves 
had left, a devotee enquired about the beating. The sage remarked, 
"I also have received some puja," punning on the word which means 'worship' 
but is also used to mean 'blows'.

The spirit of harmlessness that permeated the sage and his environs made 
even animals and birds make friends with him. He showed them the 
same consideration that he did to the humans that went to him. When he 
referred to any of them, he used the form 'he' or 'she' and not 'it'. 
Birds and squirrels built their nests around him. Cows, dogs and monkeys 
found asylum in the Ashrama. All of them behaved intelligently - 
especially the cow Laksmi. He knew their ways quite intimately. 
He would see to it that they were fed properly and well. And, when any 
of them died, the body would be buried with due ceremony.

 
14. Sri Ramanasramam

The life in the Ashrama flowed on smoothly. With the passage of time 
more and more of visitors came - some of them for a short stay and 
others for longer periods. The dimensions of the Ashrama increased, 
and new features and departments were added - a home for the cattle, 
a school for the study of the Vedas, a department for publication, 
and the Mother's temple with regular worship, etc. Ramana sat most 
of the time in the hall that had been constructed for the purpose as the 
witness to all that happened around him. It was not that he was not active. 
He used to stitch leaf-plates, dress vegetables, read proofs 
received from the press, look into newspapers 
and books, suggest lines of reply to letters received, etc. 
yet it was quite evident that he was apart from everything. 
There were numerous invitations for him to undertake tours. But he 
never moved out of Tiruvannamalai, and in the later years out of the 
Ashrama. Most of the time, every day, people sat before him. They sat mostly 
in silence. Sometimes some of them asked questions; and sometimes 
he answered them. It was a great experience to sit before him and to 
look at his beaming eyes. Many did experience time coming to a stop 
and a stillness and peace beyond description.

 
15. Last Days & Mahanirvana

The golden jubilee of Ramana's coming to stay at Tiruvannamalai was 
celebrated in 1946. In 1947 his health began to fail. He was not yet seventy, 
but looked much older. Towards the end of 1948 a small nodule appeared 
below the elbow of his left arm. As it grew in size, the doctor in charge 
of the Ashrama dispensary cut it out. But in a month's time it 
reappeared. Surgeons from Madras were called, and they operated. 
The wound did not heal, and the tumour came again. On further examination 
it was diagnosed that the affection was a case of sarcoma. The doctors 
suggested amputating the arm above the affected part. Ramana replied 
with a smile : "There is no need for alarm. The body is itself a disease. 
Let it have its natural end. Why mutilate it? Simple dressing of the affected 
part will do." Two more operations had to be performed, but the tumour 
appeared again. Indigenous systems of medicine were tried; and 
homeopathy too. The disease did not yield itself to treatment. The sage 
was quite unconcerned, and was supremely indifferent to suffering. 
He sat as a spectator watching the disease waste the body. But his eyes 
shone as bright as ever; and his grace flowed towards all beings. 
Crowds came in large numbers. Ramana insisted that they should be 
allowed to have his darsana. Devotees profoundly wished that the sage 
should cure his body through an exercise of supernormal powers. 
Some of them imagined that they themselves had had the benefit 
of these powers which they attributed to Ramana. Ramana had 
compassion for those who grieved over the suffering, and he sought 
to comfort them by reminding them of the truth that Bhagavan was not the body 
: "They take this body for Bhagavan and attribute suffering to him. 
What a pity! They are despondent the Bhagavan is going to leave them and 
go away - where can he go, and how?"

The end came on the 14th of April, 1950. That evening the sage gave 
darsana to the devotees that came. All that were present in the 
Ashrama knew that the end was nearing. They sat singing Ramana's 
hymn to Arunachala with the refrain Arunachala-Siva. The sage 
asked his attendants to make him sit up. He opened his luminous and 
gracious eyes for a brief while; there was a smile; tear of bliss trickled 
down from the outer corner of his eyes; and at 8-47 the breathing stopped. 
There was no struggle, no spasm, none of the signs of death. 
At that very moment, a comet moved slowly across the sky, reached the 
summit, of the holy hill, Arunachala, and disappeared behind it.


 
16. Epilogue

Ramana Maharshi seldom wrote; and what little he did write in prose or 
verse was written to meet the specific demands of his devotees. 
He himself declared once : "Somehow, it never occurs to me to write a 
book or compose poems. All the poems I have made were on the 
request of someone or other in connection with some particular event.
" The most important of his work is The Forty Verses on Existence. 
In the Upadesa Saram which is also a poem the quintessence of 
Vedanta is set forth. The sage composed five hymns to Arunachala. 
Some of the works of Sankara like Vivekacudamani and Atma-bodha 
were rendered into Tamil by him. Most of what he wrote is in Tamil. 
But he wrote also in Sanskrit, Telugu, and Malayalam.

The philosophy of Sri Ramana - which is the same as that of Advaita-Vedanta 
has for its aim Self-realization. The central path taught in this philosophy 
is the inquiry into the nature of Self, the content of the notion 'I'. 
Ordinarily the sphere of the 'I' varies and covers a multiplicity of factors. 
But these factors are not really the 'I'. For instance, we speak of the 
physical body as 'I'; we say, 'I am fat', 'I am lean' etc. It will not take 
long to discover that this is a wrong usage. The body itself cannot say, 
'I' for it is inert. Even the most ignorant man understands the implication 
of the expression 'my body'. It is not easy, however, to resolve the 
mistaken identity of the 'I' with egoity (ahankara). That is because the 
inquiring mind is the ego, and in order to remove the wrong identification 
it has to pass a sentence of death, as it were, on itself. This is by no 
means a simple thing. The offering of the ego in the fire of wisdom is the 
greatest form of sacrifice.

The discrimination of the Self from the ego, we said, is not easy. 
But it is not impossible. All of us can have this discrimination if we 
ponder over the implication of our sleep-experience. In sleep 'we are', 
though the ego has made its exit. The ego does not function there. 
Still there is the 'I' that witnesses the absence of the ego as well as of the 
objects. If the 'I' were not there, one would not recall on waking from 
one's sleep-experience, and say; "I slept happily. I did not know anything". 
We have, then, two 'I's' - the 'pseudo-I' which is the ego and the true
 'I' which is the Self. The identification of the 'I' with the ego is so strong 
that we seldom see the ego without its mask. Moreover, 
all our relative experience turns on the pivot of the ego. 
With the rise of the ego on waking 
from sleep, the entire world rises with it. 
The ego, therefore, looks so important and unassailable.

But this is really a fortress made of cards. Once the process of inquiry starts, 
it will be found to crumble and dissolve. For undertaking this inquiry, 
one must possess a sharp mind - much sharper than the one required 
for unravelling the mysteries of matter. It is with the one-pointed intellect that 
the truth is to be seen (drsyate tu agraya buddhya). It is true that even 
the intellect will have to get resolved before the final wisdom dawns. 
But up to that point it has to inquire - and inquire relentlessly. 
Wisdom, surely, is not for the indolent!

The inquiry 'Who am I?' is not to be regarded as a mental effort to 
understand the mind's nature. Its main purpose is 'to focus the entire mind 
at its source'. The source of the 'pseudo-I' is the Self. What one does 
in Self-inquiry is to run against the mental current instead of running 
along with it, and finally transcend the sphere of mental modifications. 
When the 'pseudo-I' is tracked down to its source, it vanishes. Then 
the Self shines in all its splendour - which shining is called realization 
and release.

The cessation or non-cessation of the body has nothing to do with release. 
The body may continue to exist and the world may continue to appear, 
as in the case of the Maharshi. That makes no difference at all to the Self that 
has been realized. In truth, there is neither the body nor the world for him; 
there is only the Self, the eternal Existence (sat), the Intelligence (cit), 
the unsurpassable bliss (ananda). Such an experience is not entirely 
foreign to us. We have it in sleep, where we are conscious neither of the 
external world of things nor of the inner world of dreams. But that experience 
lies under the cover of ignorance. So it is that we come back to the phantasies 
of dream and of the world of waking. Non-return to duality is possible 
only when nescience has been removed. To make this possible is the aim 
of Vedanta. To inspire even the lowliest of us with hope and help us out 
of the Slough of Despond, is the supreme significance of such 
illustrious exemplars as the Maharshi.

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