THE MAHARSHI 7-8/1994

December 2, 2004

THE MAHARSHI

July / August 1994Vol. 4 - No. 3

Produced & Edited byDennis HartelDr. Anil K. Sharma

Living with the Master - Part V By Chhaganlal Yogi

This is the fifth and final chapter of Chhaganlal V. Yogi's remarkable reminiscences of Sri Ramana Maharshi. They were originally written and published in Gujerati. We express our appreciation to David Godman who skilfully edited the English translation.

Jagadisha Sastri

Jagadisha Sastri was a distinguished Sanskrit scholar whose association with Sri Bhagavan went back to the days when the latter lived in Virupaksha Cave. He told me the following two stories - neither of which has been recorded before - when I met him years later in Bombay.

In the early years of this Century, Jagadisha Sastri went to see Sri Bhagavan in Virupaksha Cave to listen to him giving a spiritual talk. Everyone was so engrossed in listening that no one was aware of the passage of time. As the talk did not end till well after midnight, Jagadisha decided to sleep in front of the cave instead of returning to town. This was considered a brave act because in those days there were still wild animals on the hill.

Around 2 a.m. Sri Bhagavan began to feel concerned about his safety. He went out of the cave and put a pinch of snuff up the nose of Jagadisha Sastri, who was snoring in deep sleep. Jagadisha woke up startled and began to sneeze uncontrollably. Sri Bhagavan laughed heartily and Jagadisha said the mountain reverberated with the noise of his laugh.

Once he had managed to stop laughing, Sri Bhagavan affectionately told Jagadisha, "You were sleeping so soundly. Don't you know that this is not a house but a hill? It is the home of wild animals and here their kingdom prevails. Suppose some tiger were to come here? What would happen to you? Go and sleep inside the cave."

Jagadisha told me that he was so sleepy at the time that he stumbled inside the cave and immediately fell asleep again. On hearing this story it did not surprise me that Sri Bhagavan had shown such concern towards one of his devotees. However, though I knew that he had laughed and joked and enjoyed playing games with devotees' children, I was astonished to hear that his humour had erupted in such a mischievous and childlike way in the middle of the night.

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 realised 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 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."

One day an old lady came into the hall at Sri Ramanasramam. After prostrating to Sri Bhagavan she placed a slip of paper in his hands. I guessed that it contained a prayer or doubt of some kind because it was the custom of many devotees to offer their prayers or place their doubts before Sri Bhagavan in this manner. However, in this particular case, it turned out to be quite a different matter.

This old woman lived in town in a dilapidated temple and she needed money to repair it. With this purpose in mind she had got someone to prepare a draft of an appeal for funds. In order to collect the required amount more easily, she had hit upon the idea of having the appeal signed by eminent persons of the town. She had come to the ashram because she wanted Sri Bhagavan's signature at the top of the appeal. This was the piece of paper which she had presented to him. Sri Bhagavan read it and then returned it to her without uttering a single word.

"My work will be done if you will only put your signature on this appeal," the old lady said, urging him to sign.

Sri Bhagavan replied by saying, "It is well known that I never sign anything." She would not accept his refusal. Repeatedly she pressed him to sign, but she could not make him change his decision.

Finally Sri Bhagavan told her, "Yes, yes, you want me to sign your appeal, but how can one sign who has no name? What name will one sign?"

The old woman was puzzled. What did Sri Bhagavan mean by saying that he had no name? Was not his name Sri Ramana Maharshi? Since everyone knew him by that name, why could he not write these three words on her paper? Because she could not understand the significance of Sri Bhagavan's reply, she persisted in pleading with him to sign. Sri Bhagavan remained unmoved and kept silent. After some time the old woman gave up her attempts and left the hall, without, of course, having obtained Sri Bhagavan's signature.

Sri Bhagavan's language was that of silence. The speech delivered through this medium was full of miraculous potency, as the following anecdote reveals.

When he was staying in Virupaksha Cave, a District Collector and a Deputy Collector came there for his darshan. After prostrating to Sri Bhagavan, the District Collector began to speak, narrating at length all the sadhanas he had done and all the spiritual literature he had read. At the end of his speech he confessed that in spite of all these activities peace was as far from him now as it had ever been.

As soon as he had finished, the Deputy Collector began to tell his own story, which was equally long. These two speeches took quite a long time to deliver, but Sri Bhagavan did not interrupt them even once. He continued to remain in silence even after the speeches had ended.

The senior Collector gave up waiting for a reply and delivered yet another long speech. Sri Bhagavan listened in silence and continued to remain in silence when the speech was over.

The officer, not surprisingly, was a little put out by Sri Bhagavan's unresponsiveness. He said in an aggrieved tone of voice, "We have been speaking to you for a long time, but you don't open your mouth at all. Please tell us something. Anything, however brief, will do."

Sri Bhagavan finally spoke to them saying, "All this time I have been speaking in my own language. What can I do if you won't listen to it?"

The Collector was an intelligent man, well versed in spiritual matters. He caught the meaning of Sri Bhagavan's cryptic reply. Suddenly overpowered with devotion, he fell down at the feet of Sri Bhagavan and chanted a Sanskrit verse from Sankaracharya's Sri Dakshinamurty Stotra:

"Look at the wonder under the banyan tree! While the disciples are old and grey-haired, the teacher is a blooming youth. And though the Master's speech is simple silence, the doubts of the disciples are all resolved!"

Both of the visitors then abandoned their speeches and questions, preferring instead to sit before Sri Bhagavan in silent meditation. They got the peace they had come looking for and departed fully satisfied.

The greatness of silence as a medium of instruction can be further illustrated by another dialogue on this subject which took place between Sri Bhagavan and a devotee. Though it took place on a different occasion, it can serve as a commentary on the encounter between Sri Bhagavan and the two officials.

Q: What is the fruit obtained by mouna (silence)?

B: Anta mouna is self-surrender only. That means living without the ego sense.

Q: What is the meaning of mouna?

B: The state which is beyond speech and thought is called mouna. This is dhyana (meditation) without mental activity. Dhyana means controlling the mind; deep dhyana means permanent speech.

Silence is eternal speech; that is, the perpetual flow of language. By speaking, this flow is broken because the words create an obstacle to that silent language.

People may listen to discourses for hours, and may feel happy doing so, but still not improve. But silence, the eternal speech, enhances the welfare of all humanity. Mouna only means 'proficiency in speech'. Oral discourses do not have the 'proficiency of silence'. Silence is the eternal, unobstructed flow of speech. That is the supreme language.

(Concluded

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