“Those who take refuge at the lotus feet of the supreme Lord of Mercy ... seeking Thy benign grace ... abide happy, sunk in the ocean of bliss.”
— Sri Ramana Maharshi, Necklet of Nine Gems, v.3

I am indebted to my Satguru, Sri Sainathuni Sarath Babuji, whose depth of love and knowledge launched me on a thrilling voyage of discovery of the fullness of Bhagavan. This article draws greatly from his satsangs and unpublished biographical work, Ramana the Maharshi.

Sri Ramana Maharshi and the path of Self-enquiry – these two are almost synonymous and Bhagavan’s name will be forever associated with that practice. He is generally regarded as a peerless jnani and a masterful exponent of advaita and Self-enquiry, and Arunachala is said to be the centre of that practice. However, to view this as the totality of Bhagavan and Self-enquiry as the only way he advocated is to do him a disservice, and to deprive ourselves of some of the beauty and riches of his gift to us – for Bhagavan shows us so much more.

Undoubtedly Bhagavan was a jnani of the highest order, but he was also a consummate bhakta – and far too great to confine himself to one path. He fully recognized that different seekers require different methods according to the individual’s need and nature. Thus we find Bhagavan giving advice on diet, lifestyle, posture, worship, attitudes to work and family life, as well as on pranayama and yoga, and answering questions on texts, scriptures, and various spiritual practices. If Bhagavan, our master, did not limit himself exclusively to Self-enquiry, then need we do so? It is the purpose of this article to question whether, in our zest to follow the practice of Self-enquiry, we have inadvertently overlooked other aspects of his wonderful life and teachings, equally powerful, sublime and beneficial to the seeker.

A HIGHER POWER

Not only were Bhagavan’s teachings not limited to one practice, but he valued what could not be practised, and pointed out that grace is the key. When questioned as to whether he himself did any sadhana replied, “I know no such period... I had no rules of meditation or contemplation.” He often spoke about the significance of surrender and reassured devotees that everything would come to them through the grace of the sadguru and would unfold according to the will of Ishvara. In one dialogue, Bhagavan said that instructions are necessary only for those who do not believe in the guidance of God, and that those who seek freedom from misery are told that God guides everything and they need not worry about what happens. “If they are of the best type,” he says, “they at once believe it and firmly abide by faith in God.” When Prajananda wrote asking to become Bhagavan’s disciple, Bhagavan indicated that all that was needed was faith and love towards the Guru. Therefore, according to Bhagavan, the “best type” of sadhaka is one who can hand over the reins to Guru (or God or Self which, he said, were all synonymous) and leave him to do the work. It is interesting to note here, that with regard to his own case, Bhagavan stated, “The fact is I did nothing. Some higher power took hold of me and I was entirely in its hand.”

THE LONGING FOR BHAKTI

Before probing further into the role of practice and Self-enquiry, let us first take a closer look at the part Self-enquiry played in Bhagavan’s own realization and how he spoke of it with his visitors and devotees. When we read Bhagavan’s description of that famous event in a small room in Madurai over one hundred years ago, it is clear that the enquiry – “Who is it that dies? Is it this body? What is it that remains? Is it me? What is this thing I call ‘I’ anyway?” – lasted only a few moments. Similarly, the fear of death passed quickly, the same day. Bhagavan said he would lose himself “in the all-absorbing concentration on myself, on the spirit, current or force (avesam) which constituted myself,” and that it remained with him ever after.

This dramatic and transforming experience was expressed in Bhagavan as a kind of indefinable longing. His mood became withdrawn and pensive. He tried to give an explanation for his behaviour that would satisfy his family and told them that he had an unbearable headache. “But,” he said, “it was not a headache but an inexpressible anguish which I suppressed at the time.” He also commented later that the event of his awakening started two new “habits” in him: introspection, and a tendency to weep whenever he stood before the images of the sixty-three Tamil Saivite saints (Nayanmars), and the deities (Shiva, Meenakshi, Nataraja) in the big temple in Madurai. Until then, he had occasionally visited the temple with his playmates, but had not felt any emotional response. Now, however, he would go almost every day and stand before the images, which triggered in him a spontaneous upwelling of emotion. “Without feeling pain or pleasure, tears would flow.” He also prayed, not for anything in particular, he said, but he longed for the grace and blessings of Ishvara. There was, however, one specific thing he would pray for, ardently and tearfully: the same bhakti as the sixty-three saints. He tells us that he yearned for that kind of bhakti and that, “Going to school, books in hand, I would be eagerly desiring and expecting that God would suddenly appear before me in the sky; and so I would be looking up at the sky. What sort of progress could such a one make in his studies at school!” It is to be remembered that all this came after his death experience. The sequence of events and Bhagavan’s description of them clearly show that this was a unique spiritual experience, rather than any kind of intellectual conceptualization or the result of any practice.

If we pause for a moment here, we cannot help but be touched by the beauty and poignancy of the situation. There is wonder at the might of the grace which struck the young Venkataraman like a thunderbolt and claimed him as its own. At the same time there is the image of the teenager, till then seemingly quite normal and enjoying the usual schoolboy activities, suddenly swept off his feet by an overwhelming and life-changing experience, possessed by something that was compellingly fascinating (that “higher power” or avesam), yet for which he had no words and for which apparently there was nobody who he could turn to for an explanation or guidance. In addition, the boy had to endure hostility from his schoolmates and older brother towards his abstracted demeanour, as well as waves of intense longing.

ARUNACHALA DREW ME TO HIM

After about six weeks of struggle, stung by a comment from his brother, Bhagavan immediately resolved to leave home for Arunachala, which had held a strong attraction for him since he was a young boy. He felt that his brother’s taunts were a call from his divine father. As he wrote in his farewell note, “In obedience to his command, I am going in search of my father.” But it was not his own father he was seeking. It was rather that he had undergone a transformation that had changed him forever and had awakened him to the presence of something immense, mysterious, and great; that “something great” he called the father. This was his personalized way of expressing whatever it was that had possessed him for the last six weeks, and his urge to make it more concrete and go deeper into that experience. To him, Arunachala was the concrete form of this inner experience and an outward symbol of what he had realized. He simply had to be united with it. In Madurai, he was unable to interest himself any longer in mundane or domestic matters, and until he arrived at the feet of the object of his love that for which he had felt sphurana for as long as he could remember – he remained restless and, as he said, suffering inexplicable anguish.

When Bhagavan finally arrived in Tiruvannamalai, it was like a home-coming for him. He hurried straight to Arunachaleswara Temple, where all three compound doors were open, as also the inner sanctum, yet curiously there was not a single other devotee present. Arunachaleswara welcomed its son with immediate darshan. Later, it blessed him with a natural abhishekham in the form of a brief shower of rain.

We might say that Bhagavan’s arrival at the feet of his divine father, Arunachala, was, in a sense, the culmination of his own enquiry into his identity: “Who am I? – Ah, I am the loving son of That, Arunachala.” Arunachala had pulled him all his young life and he was now able to fulfil that pull by staying in his proximity. He expressed his identity in various ways: he called Arunachala his beloved, his bridegroom, his Guru, his father, his mother, Shiva, his lodestone, and the remainder of his life was spent in unending expression of this love. Bhagavan first lived at the foot of the Hill, then on it, then again at its base. He frequently walked around the hill on giripradakshina, he climbed all over it as if unable to caress it enough – in fact, he once claimed that there was not an inch of the Hill he had not explored. Even in his last days when his body was weak and wracked by rheumatism and sickness, he insisted on strolling on his beloved Hill as long as he could walk. He wrote exquisite poems of adoration to Arunachala and he attributed his own attainment solely to its grace. As Bhagavan lay on his sick-bed, shedding his grace on devotees to the last, he spent his final moments in the body listening to the chanting of “Arunachala-Shiva”, tears of emotion trickling down his cheeks.

Was this not a great love affair? If Bhagavan had realized the Self solely through Self-enquiry, what need would there have been for him to come to Arunachala? He could have stayed more comfortably in his home and avoided distressing his family by his sudden disappearance. If he came only to honour the Hill and pay tribute to Lord Arunachaleswara, why did he stay on? During the more than fifty years he spent there, why would Bhagavan not leave the Hill even for one single day?

TAKING REFUGE – THE BEGINNING AND THE END

It is commonly held that Bhagavan’s state was complete after his “death experience”. Of course, this is true in one way, but in another way, it was a beginning rather than an end – the beginning of finding love, living in love, of falling into his true identity – and then the ongoing enjoyment of the expression of that identity with his divine father. It seems that Bhagavan lived in an ever-deepening, ever-expanding, experience of that. With every breath he inhaled his Beloved, drew closer and experienced it more and more, enjoying that experience until his very last breath.

If it is true that in poetry a person comes closest to revealing their soul, then even a cursory glance at Bhagavan’s poems would identify Arunachala as the core of his being. See the outpouring of love and ardour in the Five Hymns! How full of passion they are and how complete – could anybody express it in a better way or add anything further? They are almost the definitive word in devotional love poetry and emotional expression. And it is significant that these were the only works that Bhagavan wrote spontaneously, without being asked by devotees. The poems clearly indicate Bhagavan’s disposition for surrender to one’s object of love (Arunachala, in his case) and dependence on the grace of the Guru.

“Those who take refuge at the lotus feet of the supreme Lord of Mercy presiding over Arunachala – their minds free of attachment to riches, land and relatives, and to caste, and made ever purer by seeking Thy benign grace – these rid themselves of darkness, and in the steady light of thy ever-protecting grace, which shines like the golden rays of the rising sun, they abide happy, sunk in the ocean of bliss.”

Observe how Bhagavan reassures us: if we take refuge and seek grace, we will be happy and blissful. It is so simple! In Five Stanzas to Sri Arunachala, Bhagavan first acknowledges that meditation practices may bring us to fulfilment.

“Abandoning the outer world with mind and breath controlled, to meditate on thee within, the yogi sees your light, oh Arunachala, and finds delight in you.”

But in the last verse, Bhagavan leaves no room for doubt over what is the ultimate and what should be our highest goal:

“He who dedicates his mind to you, and seeing you always beholds the universe as your figure, he who at all times glorifies you as none other than the Self, he is the master without rival, being one with you, oh Arunachala, and lost in your bliss.”

When we investigate the daily life of this ‘master without rival’, we see that every moment was indeed an expression of his remarkable joy in and love for Arunachala – a ‘glorifying’ of his god. Thus, to me, Bhagavan’s greatest and most powerful teaching is his life itself, not the answers he was prompted to give to questions on philosophy and various practices, inspiring though they are. His love for Arunachala was revealed in his love for all and everything, including plant and animal life. We see him leading a life supremely carefree and happy. There was a majesty in his self-containment and dispassion, needing nothing and sharing everything. Bhagavan himself spoke about the exhilaration of living off alms, with no possessions. Of his early days on the Hill, he said, “I felt like a king, and more than a king.” When he tells Devaraja Mudaliar, “You cannot conceive of the majesty and dignity I felt while begging,” we too can sense the thrill of his blissful liberated existence.

LOVE...IN EVERYTHING YOU DO

Bhagavan never gave himself any airs or graces; he participated fully in ashram chores and was conspicuous for his refusal to allow the ashram authorities to give him any special treatment. What was good enough for him was good enough for all the devotees, and vice versa. His compassionate love showed itself in his round-the-clock accessibility and he had nothing of what we would call a personal life. All were received equally, and his consideration for animals is well-documented. “You cannot love God without knowing Him nor know Him without loving Him. Love manifests itself in everything you do,” said Bhagavan. In a continuous glorifying of his God and manifestation of love, Bhagavan would undertake the most mundane tasks with utter care and attention. With what focus would he prepare the lunchtime rasam, or carve a stick, or polish a cooking pot – diligence and dedication were not confined to discussions of lofty spiritual matters! Indeed, we may discern that Bhagavan’s entire life was one continuous flow of worship. Nor was Bhagavan always serious. On the contrary, he delighted his devotees with his wit and keen sense of humour. He enjoyed a joke and was himself a great story-teller and gifted mimic.

IF YOU COULD TRUST YOUR GURU...

Thus, in Bhagavan we have a fully-rounded human being, living in love, inspired by a divine love, and radiating a divine love that touched the hearts and minds of thousands – and still does – yet leading a simple and natural life. Bhagavan shows us the way to be fully human, to realize our full ‘humanhood’; he is an example of a fully realized humanity. His life is an intimation of what is possible for each of us. By steady moment-to-moment example, as one who realized his full human potential, he shows us the way. His awakening was truly an awakening of the heart, in the fullest meaning of the word – his heart’s desire and his heart’s subsequent fulfilment.

So, what is the place of Self-enquiry in all of this? We have already seen that for Bhagavan it lasted just a few seconds. What about Bhagavan’s teachings – how do they apply to us? “Submit to me and I’ll strike the mind,” Bhagavan has promised. He even told us to be like the first-class railway passenger who tells the guard his destination, locks the doors, and then 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 doors and windows and sleep. The guard will wake you up at your destination.”

Despite this firm assurance from our Master, we find it difficult to really close the doors and sleep. We strive and get frustrated and anxious. The ego turns us into 2nd class passengers, unable to let go and trust the satguru to take us to our destination. As Bhagavan said, “The ego is a very powerful elephant which cannot be brought under control by anyone less than a lion – who is none other than the Guru.” Just as a mother gives her child some toy to keep it occupied so that she will not be hindered in her work of taking care of the child’s needs, the Guru prescribes some spiritual exercises so that we will not create new obstacles (vasanas) and hinder him in his work of shaping us to spiritual perfection. The practice of Self-enquiry can help to loosen the ego’s grip and is useful in bringing the wandering mind back to its source, where Bhagavan, the inner guru, can pounce on it and destroy it. As Bhagavan says in Eleven Verses, “What a wonder it is! Such a destroyer of lives is this magnificent Arunachala which shines in the heart.” And how does it work? – we don’t know! Even Bhagavan declares, “Its action is mysterious, past human understanding.” We only know that the moment we get to the Source, the enquiry ends.

MEANINGFUL SELF-ENQUIRY

Though this enquiry seems to be a simple and direct method, by itself it does not suit everyone. Bhagavan acknowledged this several times and said that Self-enquiry suits only mature souls. The trouble starts when we are all prone to list ourselves in this category, subconsciously or otherwise. One of the reasons for this may be the mistaken notion that Bhagavan taught and favoured only Self-enquiry, and that to follow Bhagavan is to be constantly reiterating, “Who am I?” so we stick to it rigidly, when our personality, or even our mood, is not really suited to it. This may lead to unspoken frustration with our spiritual progress.

Bhagavan told us, “Enquiry is not the only way. If one does sadhana with name and form, or japa, or any of the methods with determination and perseverance, one becomes THAT. According to the capacity of each individual, one spiritual practice is better than another and several shades and variations of them have been given. Everyone is born with the samskaras of their past lives. One method will be easy to one person and difficult to another. There can be no general rule.” There are many instances of Bhagavan encouraging seekers to stick to other forms of sadhana. Clearly, he never prescribed an all-purpose rule for his devotees.

In that case, why the common impression that Bhagavan taught only Self-enquiry? It is true that Bhagavan repeatedly said in reply to questions, “Know, or find out the questioner first.” However, if we examine the recorded dialogues, it is evident that Bhagavan did not relish being dragged into theoretical or academic discussions. Speculation on metaphysical concepts such as the origin of the universe, the occult, etc., did not appeal to him. Very pragmatically he would bring the questioner to their senses by saying, “First find out to whom the question arises,” or “First know the Self and everything will be known.” It was an effective technique of stopping the questioner in his or her tracks and turning them inwards to the source of Self. His close devotees were well aware of this and used to call it his Brahmastram (invincible divine weapon). Whenever they wanted an answer from Bhagavan they would first beg him not to use his Brahmastram; Bhagavan would laughingly agree and then give them the detailed explanation they were after.

At this point we may feel that there is an apparent contradiction: on the one hand Bhagavan is saying that Self-enquiry is only for a few, for the mature, and on the other hand, he says that the best sadhaka is one who surrenders and depends solely upon the Guru’s grace, leaving everything to him. We may wonder whether such childlike dependence can ever be termed ‘mature’. The answer is a resounding “Yes!” Actually, it is the spiritually mature soul who realizes the futility of his or her own efforts, recognizes their helplessness, and learns to depend on the Grace that will be showered on them more and more. At this stage, the practice of enquiry may arise naturally and spontaneously, as it did with the mature soul called Venkataraman, at the extraordinarily tender age of sixteen. If the enquiry takes form in this way, then it will undoubtedly bear fruit and propel us towards our goal.

FINDING OUR OWN ARUNACHALA

Once Duncan Greenlees, a British devotee, was alone with Bhagavan in the hall. He was reading a book and Bhagavan asked him what it was. When Greenlees told him it was about Vedanta, Bhagavan retorted, “Read Milarepa!” (Bhagavan was referring to the biography of the Tibetan yogi, Milarepa, which the editor, Oxford don W. Y. Evans-Wentz, had recently presented to the ashram). This apparently small incident tells us much (for one thing, it was very unusual for Bhagavan to speak English). Milarepa is renowned as an extraordinary saint, who as a seeker was so severely tested by his Guru, Marpa, that it seemed practically like torture. However, perseverance and the longing to reach his goal triumphed – but only when backed by the grace of his Guru. It is as if Bhagavan is saying, “Get some juice into you! Understand what it is really like to live and suffer through love and to experience devotion for one’s Beloved and an intense desire for fulfilment; see how the realization comes only at the instant that the Guru bestows his grace!”

To his close devotees, Bhagavan would often recommend reading the lives of saints and he was fond of recounting stories of their lives (at such moments he would sometimes be moved to tears and unable to continue). Bhagavan said that the only sacred text he had read before coming to Tiruvannamalai was the Periapuranam – the lives of the sixty-three Saivite saints referred to above – and the Bible. Let us read the lives of saints, learn from their struggle and its resolution and go into it deeply. Let us not limit ourselves to a dry practice that shields us from truly experiencing life’s vicissitudes or feeling the highs and lows of this human existence, nor use sadhana as an excuse to cower from life. Don’t let’s worry about becoming divine, let us first try to become fully human.

Ramana himself said he never knew of any philosophy until he came to Arunachala. It was not a philosophy that drove him out of his house in Madurai and he had no longing or prayer to be released from samsara. “All that idea and talk of samsara and bondage I learned only after coming to this place and reading books”. It may have appeared that, for the first few years after arriving at Arunachala, Bhagavan mortified his body, (“seeming tapas” as Arthur Osborne aptly termed it), but Bhagavan tells us this was not the case. Rather, he was simply immersed in and enjoying the bliss that engulfed him. We have seen how, later, this was expressed in myriad ways in his daily life.

Let us take our cue from Ramana and try to discover what it is that triggers our own love and desire for union, what it is that inspires us. And when we find it, we should stop at nothing to foster it and allow it to rule our lives. The object may be Arunachala, it may be Bhagavan, our Guru, a deity, or any other form. Bhagavan said even an idealized form of beauty would do, but we should stick to it one-pointedly. Once that love, that passionate interest is triggered, there is no need for any other practice. Or rather, it is then that the real practice begins, the real sadhana.

Being a I class passenger is not so easy – can we sleep? Can we trust the conductor? Are we sure we are on the right train? Why is it going so slowly? Sometimes it even seems to stop or go backwards... we will occasionally be assailed by such doubts and even despair. But when we have such a magnificent example in the life of Bhagavan, when he has clearly shown us the way, and when we still have the palpable presence of his being, is it not perverse to turn away from this? By all means let us make use of whatever tools we can, including Self-enquiry, but the backdrop of all our activities should be the object of our love, the sruti note of our existence.

So let us take up the challenge and aim for the highest; to be, in Bhagavan’s words, masters without rival. Let us pray for the grace of Bhagavan that we may glorify Him at all times, see the whole universe as Him, and truly become one with our own Arunachala.

Courtesy: Mountain Path