MY FIRST PILGRIMAGE to Sri Ramanasramam was on June 8th, 1933. I travelled alone
to Tiruvannamalai. I was at that time in great sorrow, having suffered my first
bereavement the previous December, when my two-year-old son died suddenly.
For over two years I had been reading the works of Sri Bhagavan and other
Ashrama literature. My main interest had been literary rather than
philosophical. I had been struck with wonder at the style of the Telugu Upadesa
Saram which, in its simplicity, felicity and classic finish, could
equal that of the greatest Telugu poet Tikkana. I had felt convinced that a
Tamalian who could compose such Telugu verse must be divinely inspired, and I
had wanted to see him. But my immediate quest at the time was for peace and
solace.
In the morning I had darshan of Sri Bhagavan in the old Hall. As our eyes met,
there was a miraculous effect upon my mind. I felt as if I had plunged into a
pool of peace, and with eyes shut, sat in a state of ecstasy fornearly an hour.
When I came to normal consciousness, I found some one spraying the Hall to keep
off insects, and Sri Bhagavan mildly objecting with a silent shake of his head.
As I now heard Sri Bhagavan saying something, I made bold to ask him a question.
"The Bhagavad Gita says that mortals cast off their worn-out bodies, just
as one casts away the worn-out clothes and wears new garments. How does this
apply to the deaths of infants whose bodies are new and fresh?" I asked.
Sri Bhagavan promptly replied: "How do you know that the body of the dead
child is not worn-out? It may not be apparent; but unless it is worn-out it will
not die. That is the law of Nature."
Immediately after lunch, I left the Ashrama even without taking leave of Sri
Bhagavan. I came and went incognito, as an utter stranger.
After nearly three years, I again visited the Ashrama in the spring of 1936,
this time with a note of introduction. Sri Bhagavan, even before going through
it, gave me a knowing nod and gracious smile and said, "Why the
introduction? You have come before; you are not new." To add to my wonder I
now felt as though my dead father had come back alive; the resemblance was so
striking. My approach to Sri Ramana has ever since been that of a child to its
parent, quite fearless free and familiar.
Some years ago I had been initiated into two mantras and was enjoined to repeat them a minimum number of times every day. I had been doing it punctiliously, but now after entering the Ashrama, I had no mind to the mantras or do any kind of formal worship. After a few days I was seized with the fear of incurring sin by failing to observe the instructions on my initiation. So I put it to Sri Bhagavan himself, making a clean breast of my default. Sri Bhagavan smiled and said, "Just because you have done so much of japa, its merit has brought you here. Why should you now fear while enjoying the fruit of the japa?"
I had also at this time a more serious trouble. I had been practising breath
control (pranayama) as taught by Swami Ramtirtha in his works. There came a
stage when I felt a terrible sensation as though my head would crack and break
into pieces. Then I stopped doing it, but every day the sensation was recurring
at the time of practice and the fear was growing that disaster was imminent. So,
at dead of night, when Bhagavan was alone, I approached him with my tale. He
said laughing, "What! Again you are seized with fear! These are the usual
experiences of people who do yogic exercises without the immediate guidance of a
Guru, but having come to me, why should you fear?" Then Sri Bhagavan added
in an undertone: "Next time you get that sensation, you think of me and you
will be all right." From that moment to this I have never felt it again.
During the Christmas of 1936, I attended Sri Bhagavan's Jayanti celebration for
the first time. Many Western visitors had come. One of them, Mr. Maurice
Frydman, a Polish Jew of subtle intellect, plied Sri Bhagavan with ingenious
pleas for practical guidance for Self-realisaton. Sri Bhagavan followed his
arguments with keen interest but kept silent all the time. When pressed to say
something, Sri Bhagavan only quoted from the Bible, "Be still and know that
I am God," and added "The Lord said 'know' and not, 'think' that I am
God." We understood Sri Bhagavan as meaning that all these arguments were
spun by the intellect, the stilling of which was the only way to Realisation.
Another visitor, Mr. Duncan Greenless, said, "Bhagavan, while we are in
your presence, a certain halo of purity and peace seems to surround us. It
continues for some time after we leave. Then it disappears and the old
stupidities return. Why is it so?" Sri Bhagavan replied, "It is all
the work of the mind. Like the battery it wears out and has to be recharged. But
when mind control is perfect, there will be no further trouble."
Availing myself of a short holiday in February 1937, I again went to the
Ashrama to submit my translation of Sri Kavyakantha's Gitamala in person. As I
entered the Hall and was prostrating, to my consternation, my five year old
daughter, Lalita, went very near to Sri Bhagavan and asked him, "What is
your name, Sir?" Sri Bhagavan replied with a counter-query, "What is
your name?" "My name is Lalita," said she, and repeated her
question, "What is yours, please?" Now Sri Bhagavan pointing to
himself with His right hand on the right side of his chest said, "What!
don't you know ME?" She at once answered, "Oh yes! I simply asked for
fun." At this Sri Bhagavan burst into laughter.
Lalita's leave-taking was a most moving scene. As she knelt down, Sri Bhagavan
who was then squatting after his breakfast, tapped her on the back with his
stick saying, "This is to keep you in mind lest you should forget."
Then he lifted her and hugged her to his breast. He told the people then
present, "The speciality of this child is this: she has no sense of newness
or strangeness, all beings and all things she takes as her own."
One day, having just read a biography of the late Ammani Ammal, sister of the
late Dr. T. M. Nair, Sri Bhagavan spoke highly of her learning, philanthropy and
devotion. In her last illness, she wired to Sri Bhagavan praying for a peaceful
end. Just when Sri Bhagavan was perusing her letter, she expired in her home. As
Sri Bhagavan was narrating this incident, he was so moved that he shed tears.
My long stay this time made the departure a wrench for me, and my feeling found
vent in some Telugu verses which I composed on the way and posted to the
Ashrama. In the opening verse I wrote, "Leaving Thy feet and going to my
place, alas! I feel like the new daughter-in-law leaving her mother's home and
starting to go and settle in her mother-in-law's place." The Ashrama reply
stated, "Your letter with the 'padyam' full of your feelings was
perused by Sri Bhagavan." The very next time I returned to the Ashrama, Sri
Bhagavan greeted me saying, "Lo! the new daughter-in-law has come back to
her mother's home! You people treat her as becomes her." I have realised
that these gracious words were not mere fun, but truly described Sri
Bhagavan's attitude towards me at all times. It was pure, parental love.
One morning Sri Bhagavan quoted from a journal the following
sentence:"Where psychology ends, philosophy begins" and added his own
remark, "Where philosophy ends spirituality begins."
I was asked to translate into Telugu an article on Sri Bhagavan by his English
devotee, Major A. W. Chadwick. It was suggested that I might try to put the same
ideas in Telugu poetry. In the inspiring presence of Sri Bhagavan, I composed
sixteen verses in two hours, and at the instance of Sri Bhagavan, I read them
out in the Hall. When I came to the fifteenth verse which stated: "On this
occasion (Shasti-Purti) as we gather at the feet of Sri Bhagavan, we should
neither discuss philosophy nor estimate our individual progress in spirituality,
but simply pour our hearts out for his gracious condescension in living with us
and befriending us these sixty years," my voice choked with emotion, and
failed, Sri Bhagavan also shed tears. With great difficulty I somehow completed
the reading.
A. Devaraja Mudaliar, a prominent lawyer and intimate devotee, asked how Sri
Bhagavan could observe distinction among his devotees. "For instance,"
added Sri Mudaliar, "shall we be wrong if we say that Subbaramayya is shown
a little more favour than others and is made to act as the High Priest of the
Order?" Sri Bhagavan smiling, replied, "To me there is no distinction.
Grace is flowing like the ocean ever full. Everyone draws from it according to
his capacity. How can one who brings only a tumbler complain that he is not able
to take as much as another who has brought a jar?"