THE OMNISCIENT RAMANA

July 11, 2005

THE MAHARSHI

March/April 2004Vol. 14 - No. 2

Produced & Edited byDennis HartelDr. Anil K. Sharma

THE OMNISCIENT RAMANABy M. R. Venkataraman

I HAD the great fortune to have daily ‘darshan’ of Bhagavan during the last few years of His mortal life, for I studied in Tiruvannamalai. My father, the late Dr. M. R. Krishnamurthy, had on an impulse relinquished his medical practice to be of service to him.

My mother, Subbulakshmi Ammal, was equally devoted to the Bhagavan. She used to prepare snacks and take them to Ramanasramam as an offering to the sage and for distribution among the devotees present in the meditation hall. After school hours, I used to visit the Ashram in the company of my parents. During the last few months of Bhagavan’s life when he was seriously ill, my father stayed on for night duty and I was sometimes his silent companion.

It was the actual experience of many devotees that Bhagavan was aware of even their unspoken thoughts and he would respond to them in a manner that was truly amazing. This was because a life-link comes to be established between disciple and Guru, like the one between parents and children and among brothers and sisters, which Bhagavan himself had hinted at. This characteristic of Bhagavan was brought home to me in a telling incident that shall remain etched in my memory and the purpose of this article is only to share that experience with others.

In Tiruvannamalai town, our residence was on Avarangattu Street and four doors away lived an old lady whom we called ‘Mudaliar Patti’ (not to be confused with Alangartanni Ammal of Karaikal who was also known by the same name). I was studying in standard nine (it was called ‘form four’ in those days).

One evening when I returned from school I heard this ‘Patti’ telling my mother, “Do you know that Brahmana Swami1 did most of his alms-taking on this street of ours during his early days on the hill? He was given to silence in those days. He would stand in front of our house and clap his hands in order to draw our attention. We used to keep a stock of sour porridge (‘pulithakuzhu’) always in our house. I would take a bowlful of this and pour it into the cupped hands of the Swami. He would drink the porridge with relish and walk away without even wiping his hands!”

I did not believe this story and told my mother that ‘Mudaliar Patti’ was spinning a yarn. “Bhagavan would never have taken food from her hands,” I said.

The next thing I knew was a stinging slap on my back. It was from my mother who was livid with anger. “How dare you sit in judgment over any action reported of a realized soul like Bhagavan? Are we not ordinary mortals who should know our place? Let this be the first and last time of sacrilege on your part!” I was chastened by the ferocious intensity of my mother’s bhakti.

The next day was a holiday and I accompanied my mother to the Ashram as she took a vessel of ‘omappodi’ (fried South Indian savory) for distribution there. Sachidanandam, an attendant of Bhagavan who we knew well, was on duty in the meditation hall.

As Bhagavan sampled this snack brought by mother, he spoke to her, “Subbulakshmi, only today did Sachidanandam tell me that you used to give bhiksha to him in the early days and that he would receive the mixed rice in his towel. Noticing the sambar dripping through, it seems you bought for him a copper thooku that had a lead coating inside. Well, he had at least a towel to start with but I had no such luxury in my begging days.”

Bhagavan went on to reminisce, “You know Mudaliar Patti, who is a neighbour of yours now. I would stand in front of her house and clap my hands, whereupon she would bring a bowl of sour porridge. She would pour it gently into my cupped hands. After consuming it I would walk away without even wiping my hands.”

This revelation was too much for me; standing at my mother’s side, I started sobbing aloud. Turning to me, Bhagavan asked my mother in a compassionate tone, “What happened? Why is the boy weeping all of a sudden?”

My mother replied grimly, “Only last evening Mudaliar Patti was relating to me the same incident about sour porridge. This fellow doubted the veracity of the account. Now that Bhagavan himself has confirmed it in detail, he is feeling the burden of his guilt. Let him weep by way of ‘prayaschitham’ (atoning penance).”

At the end of the sobbing, I felt relieved and my mind became extremely light.

Fifty years have gone by, but even now as I recollect and relive the experience, I am overcome with the same sensation of supreme peace. That is a blessing which goes to prove that Bhagavan Ramana is still a living presence to all those who have the devotion and diligence to come into his energy field.

– From The Hindu, 16 April, 2004

- - - - - - - - 1. Bhagavan was called Brahmana Swami soon after arriving in Tiruvannamalai.