THE MAHARSHI 3-4/1997

[Guest guest]

By an Eye Witness by Dr. T. N. Krishnaswami

The 47th anniversary of the Maharshi's Mahasamadhi will be observed on Tuesday, April 14th. Dr. T. N. Krishnaswami, the author of the following article, was the individual who took the vast majority of the photographs we have of the Sage. Below he describes the Maharshi's last days and how it influenced the direction of his life.

I had the rare privilege of being allowed to stay with the Maharshi during the last days. Knowing full well that his end was near, I was inquisitive to watch and see if he would leave any message for us. Would he not speak words of solace? Would he not leave behind some directions for us? It was sad indeed to look at the suffering of the body. But the mystery was his attitude to it. He described all the pain and suffering as though the body belonged to someone else. The question arose whether he was suffering or not. How could he describe the pain and suffering so accurately and locate it in the body and yet remain unaffected by it? "There is a severe intolerable headache," he said as he was going into a slow uremia and his kidneys were failing. The Maharshi never described the symptoms in a subjective manner.

On the evening of the last day, the Maharshi asked to be propped up in a sitting posture. He tried to assume a semi-padmansana posture. His breathing was getting labored and heavy. The attending doctor put the oxygen to his nose. Those around stood sad, with baited breath. The Maharshi brushed aside the oxygen tube. There was a chorus of "Arunachala Siva" from outside the room. The gathering stood dumbfounded. Would death dare to touch him? No, it is impossible. A miracle would happen.

The atmosphere was tense with emotion, fear and expectation. There was some weeping. Very gently the Maharshi seemed to gasp a little and the body became still. Synchronized with the Maharshi's last breath, a meteor was seen to trail across the sky. We could scarcely realise what had happened. He had left us once and for all. No more the beatific smile to greet us. No more the graceful form to adorn the Ashram. The Maharshi had deserted us! Were we now to turn our backs on the Ashram and go home disappointed?

This gave me a severe jolt. I was shocked. Had I missed the opportunity of a lifetime to imbibe the teaching of the Enlightened One? I had done nothing in the direction of spiritual sadhana. Had I wasted all my time taking photographs while I should have engaged myself in trying to understand and practice his teachings in his very presence? "No," I said to myself, "this cannot be true. I was sure that I had obtained some grace from the Maharshi." He was somehow still here; only we have to learn to feel his presence. We would never be forsaken for he had himself assured us that he was not going away.

Then I turned to studying his teachings. I began to see light in them. Some of the sentences touched me and made me feel that I was in his presence, listening to him. I took heart. The more I read, the more intimate the Maharshi became to me. His teaching pulsated with life; I began to understand it and it mixed with my being and became my own.

- Ramana Pictorial Souvenir, 1967

Living in His Presence

The author of the following article is an American devotee living in Europe. She has been visiting Sri Ramanasramam regularly for the last fourteen years and attended last year's celebrations marking the Centenary anniversary of the Maharshi's arrival at Arunachala. She requested to be referred to as MT only.

I was very happy to be among the devotees who gathered at Sri Ramanasramam for the Centenary Celebration of Sri Bhagavan's arrival at Arunachala. I did not take an active role in the celebrations nor did I participate in the yatra from Madurai to Arunachala, although I was invited to join. Somehow, I felt that I should not move from Arunachala, and there was no rational explanation.

In the days prior to the celebration, I got into a routine of going around the hill (giri pradakshina), sitting in the Samadhi Hall, the Old Hall, or visiting the Sri Arunachaleswara Temple in the town. I watched as the Ashram workers built the pandal where the function would be held, and the other temporary structures to feed the 4,000 visitors that were expected on that day. Sometimes I helped in the kitchen cutting vegetables and splitting the banana leaves on which the food is served.

A temporary thatched extension to the dining room was erected, and groups of Indian men and women sat in circles cutting vegetables with a traditional cutting utensil that had a sharp, upright blade mounted on a wooden base. There were literally mountains of vegetables to be cut for the sambar and curry. The volunteers played cassettes of Sanskrit stotras which helped to turn the work into meditation. A meditative atmosphere prevailed even as we chatted gaily. And of course, I always kept in mind that Sri Bhagavan himself used to go into the kitchen and take an active role in preparing food for his devotees.

On this particular visit to the Ashram I was more socially inclined as the circumstances did not favor having much privacy. I enjoyed meeting with fellow devotees, learning about their joys and pains and sharing some of mine. Sri Bhagavan continuously enfolds us in the aura of his presence. We only have to dive deep in the heart. What is going on externally is not the essential. There is a quiet current of peace that prevails, and we can hold fast to it.

Early mornings are particularly special at the Ashram. Some mornings I would set out for giri pradakshina, but most often I would go before dawn to the Samadhi Hall, sit in the back and become absorbed in Sri Bhagavan's presence. The whole place is charged with that presence as devotees start to slowly walk around the samadhi in perfect silence or sit down in various places in the hall. As the Centenary Celebrations approached, the number of devotees increased significantly. The magnet of Sri Bhagavan's grace continues to draw us to him as honey draws bees to the flower.

There is something very special in this transition period between darkness and daylight (sandhi), as if all the tendencies of the mind (samskaras) are drawn into the Self and the whole creation lies suspended for a moment in this latent state. At the center is Sri Bhagavan's samadhi emanating grace. When the pujari begins to chant Sri Ganapati Muni's "Chatvarimshat," forty verses in homage to Sri Ramana, it seems as if all the creation is offered to the lotus feet of Bhagavan, allowing the "I-I" to shine forth even in the midst of activity. The milk offering is made after a short puja, and devotees take the light, apply kumkum and vibhuti and then file silently around the samadhi. Just before going out the door towards the dinning room, as the bell rings for breakfast, another pujari pours a spoonful of milk into our open hands - the day begins.

Whether I am in the Samadhi Hall, on the pradakshina road or in the Sri Arunachala Temple in these early morning hours, this feeling of a new beginning dedicated to Sri Bhagavan is the same. There is a great feeling of oneness.

Just before the Centenary Celebration began the iron grille was removed from in front of Sri Bhagavan's samadhi. There was much banging and clanging for several days, but the result was well worth it. The samadhi is now fully open to delight our eyes with only a stone railing around it and a beautiful copper gate in front to mark off the limits.

The program started on Monday the 26th of August with the chanting of Yajur Veda in the morning and afternoon. The music program was a wonderful opportunity for us to listen to Sri Bhagavan's compositions in both Sanskrit and Tamil, some of which like "Upadesa Saram" we have the good fortune to hear during the Sanskrit and Tamil parayana carried out daily at the Ashram. This was a special occasion and the devotional fervor was at a peak. We were also able to listen to the "Sri Ramana Suprabatham" written by a visiting swami and sung by the devotees, the Ribhu Gita, Sri Ramana Gita, Sat Darsanam and others.

The chanting and music taking place one week before the Centenary day roused great feelings of devotion. I was particularly moved by the Indian lady devotees who sang Sri Muruganar's beautiful Sri Ramana Sannidhi Murai in the New Hall outside the Mother's temple. I was lucky to have someone translate parts of it very discretely at my side. The spiritual emotions culminated in the Thevaram songs sung by the Oduvars from the Sri Arunachaleswara Temple accompanied by a violin and a drum. How to express the feelings? I was transfixed as these singers brought the ancient Tamil devotional hymns alive and stirred us in the depths of our being. I looked at the faces of some of the old devotees sitting there in rapture and felt chills running through me.

The ceremony at the pandal opened with the lighting of the Kuthuvilakku by Swami Ramanananda, formerly Sri Venkataraman who has served Sri Bhagavan and the Ashram tirelessly for most of his life. When his son, Sri V. S. Ramanan (Sundaram), gave the inaugural address, his voice shook with emotion, mirroring the feelings that we all shared. I listened to some of the program and alternately went into the kitchen to help. I felt very much at home.

Sunday was the 1st of September and there was to be a Mahabhishekam at the Sri Arunachaleswara Temple at 3:30 A.M. to commemorate the arrival of Sri Bhagavan one hundred years ago. At 6:00 A.M. the 'yatra' devotees would be greeted at the railway station by Sri Ramanananda and Sri Sundaram. I set off for the temple at 2:30 A.M. by myself. I had wanted to do giri pradakshina first, but I felt that I should go directly to the temple. When I got there just before 3:30 A.M. the temple gates were shut. A few devotees were sitting outside the temple, and we all waited as more devotees started to arrive. Some had carried out giri pradakshina first. We started to sing Arunachala Siva and the outer gates were opened. We were stopped again by the inner gate being closed. As we stood outside, a brief shower fell on us and I could not help but think of Sri Bhagavan's being bathed in the same way, when as a boy he arrived at his Father's abode. The gates opened and the devotees flooded into the courtyard in front of the inner sanctum (garbha griha), the shrine of Sri Arunachaleswara.

We could see the shape of Arunachala rising above the gopurams of the temple. With great reverence and awe, I entered the garba griha along with the other devotees. Although I had entered this area of the temple many times and attended many pujas over the past fourteen years, I felt this particular time was unique. I thought of the young Brahmin boy from Madurai who had come to join his father one hundred years ago. Sri Bhagavan came to the abode of his father by himself. Today there was a huge crowd, but somehow I felt as if we were all reliving this moment as one being united in our devotion to Sri Bhagavan and Arunachala.

Great heat emanates from the Arunachaleswara Linga. With the crowd it was even more intense like undergoing extreme tapas. The priests performed the Mahabhishekam ceremony where the Arunachaleswara Lingam is washed and dressed. The priests apply various items to the Lingam, like saffron, honey, milk, curd, vibhuti, sandal paste etc. Large vessels of water are carried in and the priests pour the water over the Lingam. A curtain is then drawn, as the priests continue to dress and garland the Lingam and adorn him with special ornaments. Food is also offered behind the curtain. All the while the priests are chanting mantras in Sanskrit. When the curtain was drawn revealing Sri Arunachaleswara in his full glory, we were filled with great awe and devotion. The priest waved the lamps as the temple bell tolled. I cannot describe the intense joy I felt during those precise moments - however, those moments are eternal and their significance can be relived over and over again by turning within.

After the ceremony in the Sri Arunachaleswara Temple was completed, the flow of devotees moved to the shrine of Apeethakuchambika (Unnamulaiyamman), the consort of Arunachaleswara. The coolness of the Mother's shrine refreshed us. Again the priests performed Mahabhishekam, garlanded and dressed Mother behind the curtain, drew the curtain revealing her glory and waved the lights.

As I came out of the Mother's shrine, I saw the devotees who had just returned from the yatra in the inner courtyard of the temple. I don't remember clearly what happened, just that I was completely transported and I saw my feelings reflected on the faces of the returning pilgrims. Then I knew that we were all like streams flowing into the same ocean of Sri Bhagavan's grace as we joined together in this sacred spot.

I joined the pilgrims as they walked back to the Ashram singing Arunachala Siva. It was moving to see some of the older devotees who had undertaken the yatra without the slightest strain. The pilgrims were greeted warmly as they entered the Ashram gates. The Centenary program was starting and I stayed for part of it. However, I felt some force pulling me back to the Arunachaleswara Temple. I returned in a rickshaw.

I spent the rest of that day in the temple, sometimes in the shrine of Arunachaleswara and sometimes in the shrine of Apeethakuchambika. Each puja drew me further inward and there are no words to describe the immense joy. In the evening I joined some devotees taking food outside the Mother's shrine. I contemplated the ever-present Arunachala Mountain and thanked him from the depths of my heart.

It was fairly late when I got back to the Ashram. There had been a concert by a popular Tamil musician, but most everyone was gone by then. The kitchen, however, was still open and Sundaram was making sure that some remaining devotees had their food. I was happy to take some drinking water, as I was quite thirsty. I then retired to my room very, very happy (santosham).

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