Ramana Maharshi devotee Varanasi Subbalakshmi shares her experiences

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Varanasi Subbalakshmi rendered useful service in the Ashrama kitchen during

the lifetime of Sri Bhagavan. Her chosen God was Lord Viswanath of Benares.

However, when she was going to Benares for good she had a dream in which

Lord Viswanath told her to return to Arunachala, saying that Bhagavan Ramana

was the embodiment of Rama,Krishna, Siva and all other Gods.

 

 

I LOST MY HUSBAND when I was sixteen. I went back to my mother's house and

lived there as a widow should, trying to pray to and meditate on God. My

mother's mind too was devoted to the spiritual quest and religion was the

main thing in her life.

 

Once we went on a pilgrimage to Kaveri Pushkaram and on our way back we

stopped at Arunachala.

 

There we were told that a young Brahmin saint had been living on the hill

for the past ten years.

 

The next morning we went up the hill along with others with whom we were

travelling. At Mulaipal Tirtha we cooked our food, ate and had some rest.

Then we went further and found the young Swami near Virupaksha Cave. There

was a brick platform at the entrance of the cave and he was sitting on it.

 

As soon as I saw him, I was at once convinced that God Arunachala Himself

had come in human form to give salvation to all who approached Him.

 

He was about thirty at the time, and wonderful to look at; he was bright and

shining like burnished gold, his eyes were blooming and clear, like the

petals of a lotus. He looked at us for a long time.

 

The peak of Arunachala was towering over our heads, the huge towers of the

temple were below and an immense silence surrounded the Swami.

 

Then the ladies started whispering. One wanted to pray for a child for her

daughter-in-law who was barren, but another was saying that the Swami was

too exalted for such worldly matters. Finally the Swami was told of the

young wife's sorrow. He smiled and lifted his folded hands to the sky as if

saying : " All happens by the will of the Almighty. "

 

We returned to Nellore and the impression of that visit faded away. I did

not even dream at that time that my life would be spent at the feet of the

Swami.

 

When I was thirty-one I went to Rameshwaram on a pilgrimage and on my return

journey I stopped at Tiruvannamalai. I learned that the Swami was then

living at the foot of the hill. That afternoon we went to see him at his

Ashrama. There was a thatched shed over his mother's samadhi and a tiled

hall for meeting the Swami. He was seated on a couch and about a dozen

devotees were on the bare floor. We sat in silence for ten minutes and

returned to the town.

 

Bhagavan's presence gave me the experience of inner silence and mental

stillness, but away from him I could not regain it and I spent a year vainly

trying to free myself from all thought. Some friends were going to see Sri

Aurobindo's Ashrama at Pondicherry and they took me along. They were to stay

there for a week. I was not much impressed and went for a short visit to

Ramanasramam.

 

A learned Shastri whom I knew appeared in my dream and asked me: " Where was

the need for you to go to Pondicherry? Entrust yourself to Bhagavan Sri

Ramana Maharshi. He is God Himself. He will surely lead you to salvation. "

 

But even such a clear dream was not enough. I cherished a plan of going to

Benares and spending my life there in holy austerities. I decided to go to

Bhagavan, learn from him how to meditate, and then leave for Benares for

good. My friend Parvatamma decided to join me in the spiritual adventure.

Accordingly we went to Tiruvannamalai and rented a house. In the afternoon

we took cashew nuts and sugar candy as an offering to Bhagavan and went to

the Ashrama. We placed our offerings on a stool before him and sat down. The

cow Lakshmi happened to be lying near Bhagavan's sofa. She got up and began

to chew our precious offerings. Bhagavan looked on and said nothing. His

attendant, Madhava Swami, did not even look. We thought it might be impious

to disturb the cow, but soon I got exasperated and exclaimed, " Please remove

the cow ! " Madhava Swami replied: " Why? I thought you offered those sweets

to Lakshmi ! "

 

What is Atma?

 

The next day at noon I was again at Ramanasramam. His midday meal over,

Bhagavan was reclining on the sofa and explaining a verse from the Bhagavad

Gita to Sri Ramiah Yogi. As no one else was in the hall, I gathered courage

and asked: " What is Atma?

 

Is it the limitless ether of space or the awareness that cognizes

everything? "

 

Bhagavan replied:

 

" To remain without thinking 'this is Atma' and 'that is Atma', is itself

Atma. "

 

He looked at me and I felt my mind melt away into nothing. No thought would

come, only the feeling of immense, unutterable peace. My doubts were

cleared.

 

Every day I would visit Bhagavan and listen to his talks with the devotees.

Deep in my mind there was the same rock-like stillness, immensely solid and

yet strangely vibrant.

 

Several times I was invited to work in the Ashrama, but the Ashrama ways

were not orthodox enough for me. One day Bhagavan's own sister asked me to

take her place in the Ashrama, for she had to leave for some time. I could

not refuse. At that time Santammal was the chief cook and my duty was to

help her. To my great joy Bhagavan was in the kitchen with us most of the

time. He taught me to cook tastily and neatly.

 

I would spend all day in the Ashrama and in the evening I would go to the

town to sleep, for there was no sleeping accommodation for women in the

Ashrama.

 

Once Bhagavan said:

 

" You widows do not eat vegetables like drumsticks and radish. Diet

restrictions are good to strengthen the will.

 

Besides, the quality of food and the manner of eating have an influence on

the mind. "

 

I was very happy to work in the kitchen directly under Bhagavan's

supervision; yet I wanted to go home. The Ashrama ways were too unorthodox

for me. And there was too much work. I did not want to work all day long. I

wanted to sit quietly and meditate in solitude.

 

I Leave the Ashram

 

So I left again for my village and I went away for about a year. I divided

my time between idleness and meditation. Yet my heart was at the Ashrama. I

would tell myself: " Where is the need of running about. Is not Bhagavan here

and everywhere? " But my heart was calling me to Bhagavan. Even when I was

pleading with myself, that in the Ashrama there would be no time for

meditation, my heart would say: " Working in the kitchen by his side is far

better than meditation. " At home I had all the leisure I wanted, but it

seemed to me that I was wasting my time.

 

Later I learned that that was the time Bhagavan used to remember me very

often. Once they were preparing pongal (pulse with rice and black pepper) to

celebrate Bhagavan's monthly birth-star (Punarvasu) and Bhagavan told

Santammal:

 

" Subbalakshmi is far away yet she worries whether pongal is cooked here

today or not. "

 

On some other festival day Bhagavan announced:

 

" Subbalakshmi will turn up; keep some pongal for her. "

 

That very day I arrived at the Ashrama.

 

His great love for me, a worthless devotee, bound me firmly to his feet.

Again and again I wanted to leave the Ashrama, but he held me for my good,

more powerfully than I held on to him.

 

Whenever I was collecting courage to tell Bhagavan about my desire to leave,

he would seem to read my thoughts and forestall me by giving me something

special to do. I felt I had too much to do and that my life was being

wasted. One day Bhagavan was looking at me intently and said:

 

" It looks as if you are still hankering after meditation. "

 

I replied: " What have I got except endless work in the kitchen? " Bhagavan

said with deep feeling:

 

" Your hands may do the work but your mind can remain still.

 

You are that which never move Realize that and you will find that work is

not a strain.

 

But as long as you think that you are the body and that the work is done by

you,you will feel your life to be an endless toil.

 

In fact, it is the mind that toils, not the body.

 

Even if your body keeps quiet, will your mind keep quiet too?

 

Even in sleep the mind is busy with its dreams. "

 

I replied: " Yes, Swami, it is as natural for you to know that you are not

your body as it is for us to think that we are the body. I had a dream

recently in which you were explaining this very point. I was dreaming that I

was working in the kitchen and you were having your bath in your usual place

behind the bamboo mat partition.

 

You asked:

 

'Who is it?'

 

I replied: 'Who shall I say I am?'

 

You said:

 

'Exactly so, you are nothing of which something can be said.'

 

Now, just remember that was my dream and it was quite clear. Why can't I

remember always that I am not the body? "

 

" Because you haven't had enough of it, " he smiled.

 

 

Do Not Torture The Body

 

I used to fast quite often, as advised in some scriptural texts. In one of

the books, I read: " He who wants to know himself and yet pays attention to

his body is like a man who trusts a crocodile to take him across a river. "

 

I showed the text to Bhagavan and he explained:

 

" It does not mean that you should starve.

 

You need not torture the body.

 

It only means not giving the body more than it needs.

 

With your mind, hold on to enquiry and just keep the body going so that it

does not become a hindrance.For this, pure and fresh food,simply prepared

and taken in moderation,is a great help. "

 

Another day I asked Bhagavan's permission to put on the sannyasin's orange

robes and beg for my food. He said:

 

" Will coloured clothes give you renunciation?

 

First learn what sannyasa means. "

 

Once five or six devotees sat down before Bhagavan and sang a hymn in praise

of the Guru. He got up in the middle of the recitation and went away,

saying:

 

" Prayers and praises will not take one far.

 

It is the merciful look of the teacher that bestows true knowledge. "

 

I felt elated. Had I not received his merciful glances? But the next day he

was saying:

 

" Unless one becomes a six month old baby there is no hope for him in the

realm of self-knowledge. "

 

My heart sank. Although I lived in the presence of Lord Arunachala Himself,

I was far from becoming an infant.

 

Why Should You Doubt?

 

Another time Bhagavan was telling us stories from the lives of devotees of

bygone ages. I questioned him: " It is written that God appeared before the

devotee and shed His grace on him while he was still in his mother's womb.

Can it be true? "

 

To that Bhagavan replied:

 

" Why should you doubt? Will doubt profit you?

 

Only your devotion will suffer.

 

Those stories are as real as your telling me that you are present here and

now. "

 

Bhagavan was one day reading and explaining Tirupugazh in Tamil to

Alamelammal of Madura.

 

I did not know Tamil and I could only look on. I saw a change in Bhagavan. A

light was shining from within him. His face was radiant, his smile was

beaming, his eyes were full of compassion. His words reverberated in the

mind and were instantly and deeply understood.

 

All my being was carried upwards on a current of strange vibrations. The

memory of this experience is ever present in my heart.

 

A great joy has remained with me that I was privileged to sit at the feet of

the Divine Being.

 

It was ever like this with him.

 

Whoever went to him, he would go down to his level; his words and gestures,

even the intonation of his voice, would adapt themselves to the make-up of

the people around him. With children he was their playmate, to family people

- a wise counsellor, to pundits - a well of knowledge, to yogis - the God of

will, the God of victory. He saw himself in them and they saw themselves in

him and their hearts would be bound to his feet in everlasting love.

 

All who came to see him would be charmed by his love and kindness, beauty

and wisdom, and the overwhelming sense of unity he radiated like fire

radiating heat.

 

To some he would grant a special vision, invisible to others; with some he

would openly discourse.

 

Crowds would gather round him and each one would see him differently. Even

his pictures differ. A stranger would not guess that they are all of the

same person.

 

Grant Me Salvation, Swami

 

One afternoon a lady from Kumbhakonam sat near Bhagavan and exclaimed: " How

glad I am that I have met you, Swami. I have craved to see you for a long

time, Swami. Not that I want anything, Swami. Only please be kind and grant

me salvation, Swami. " With that she got up and went away.

 

Bhagavan had a hearty laugh.

 

" Look at her - all she wants is salvation.

 

Give her salvation, she wants nothing else. "

 

I said: " Is it not what we all want? "

 

He replied:

 

" Is salvation something to be handed over on request?

 

Do I keep bundles of salvation concealed about me, that people should ask me

for salvation?

 

She said 'I do not want anything.'

 

If it is sincere, that itself is salvation.

 

What is there I can give and what is there they can take? "

 

Somebody brought a bell to be rung at the arati ceremony and it was put into

Bhagavan's hands. He tried its sound in various ways and laughed:

 

" God wants us to make a fire of our past evil deeds and burn our karma in

it.

 

But these people burn a copper worth of camphor and hope to please the

Almighty.

 

Do they really believe that they can get something for nothing?

 

They do not want to bend to God,they want God to bend to them.In their greed

they would swallow God,but they would not let him swallow them.

 

Some boast of their offerings.

 

What have they got to offer ?

 

The idol of Vinayaka (Ganesha) is made of jaggery.

 

They break off a piece of it and offer it to Him.

 

The only offering worthy of the Lord Is to clear the mind of thoughts and

remain steady in the peace of Self. "

 

In the early days, when I joined the Ashrama, Bhagavan used to help in

grinding lentils, peeling vegetables and even lending a hand in cooking. He

would get up long before daybreak to join the kitchen staff at their work.

We ladies would arrive by sunrise, and Bhagavan would see that all was ready

for our arrival and we would often find a part of our work already done.

 

To forestall him we would come by five; he would come at four; we would come

then at three. When he saw that we were left without sleep, he stopped

entering the kitchen before sunrise and gave us time to sleep.

 

He was the very embodiment of wisdom and kindness, though he did not mind

our faults and mistakes,

 

He made us follow his instructions to the letter.

 

We had to do the same task again and again until it was done to his complete

satisfaction. Did he do it for himself? Of what use was it to him?

 

He wanted to prove to us that we could do things right,

 

that only lack of patience and attention causes all the mess.

 

He sometimes seemed too severe, even harsh, to make us do something

correctly, for he knew what we did not know that we can act correctly if we

only try.

 

With experience came confidence, and with confidence the great peace of

righteousness.

 

In daily life he avoided all distinction. At work and at food he was one of

us. But in the hall, seated on the sofa, he was the great Lord of Kailas,

the Holy Mountain.

 

Whenever Bhagavan would enter or leave the hall, we would all get up

respectfully. One could see that he did not like so many people being

disturbed because of him.

 

He wanted us to learn well the lesson that God is present in every being in

all his glory and fullness and must be given equal reverence. He was

tireless in hammering this lesson into our minds and hearts, and he would

ruthlessly sacrifice the little comforts we so loved to provide for him, as

soon as he noticed a trace of preference.

 

The law that what cannot be shared must not be touched was supreme in his

way of dealing with us.

 

Separative and exclusive feelings are the cause of the " I " and therefore the

greatest obstacles in the realization of the One. No wonder he was

exterminating them so relentlessly.

 

Once Bhagavan had jaundice. He had to be put on a fruit diet, but he would

not eat fruit unless all ate, and in equal quantities too! Where could we

get such a lot of fruit? Yet he was adamant and would leave his share

untouched unless he saw an equal share on everybody's leaf-plate.

 

Those who say that a sick man needs special food and must not give trouble,

miss the point. Bhagavan was not sick. His body had jaundice, that was all. He

wanted to impress on our minds that under no condition must a man have a

greater share. Our learning this lesson was more important to him than the

cure of his jaundice.

 

To serve him at mealtimes was by itself a dangerous adventure.

 

Our womanly desire was to fill him to the brim. His rule was to clear the

plate no matter what or how much was served. Not a speck of food would be

left uneaten.

 

So we had to be watchful and serve much less than what we would like to. It

was not easy and we would often fail. He would scold us bitterly, or, what

was infinitely worse, would fall ill and suffer.

 

I cannot understand how he managed to produce an illness when a lesson was

needed, but our life with him was crisis after crisis.

 

He would take any amount of trouble to teach us the virtues necessary for

self-discovery. Our life in the Ashrama was a school of yoga, and a hard

school too. For book-knowledge was as nothing to him; only character and

genuine spiritual experience counted.

 

With time he ceased working in the kitchen, but we could still find him in

the dining hall. When all would leave after food, he would linger on his

seat and we would collect around him and chat and listen to his precious

words. He would teach us and guide us and we would forget the years that

passed and be again the happy crowd of yore.

 

Changed to the Very Root of Our Being

 

One had to live and work with him to know what a great teacher he was.

Through the trifles of daily life he taught us Vedanta in theory and

practice. He led us with absolute wisdom and infinite kindness and we were

changed to the very root of our being, not even knowing the depth and scope

of his influence.

 

It is only now, after so many years, that we can see the meaning of the

orders, prohibitions, scoldings and storms that we had to endure.

 

At that time we understood so little and just obeyed, because we felt that

he was God.

 

Even that feeling we owed to his grace, for from time to time he would let

us see him as he really was, the Lord Almighty, and not the human frame to

which we were accustomed.

 

We were women, simple and uneducated. It was our love for him, a reflection

of his love, that chained us to his feet and made us stay. For him we gave

up hearth and home and all our earthly ties.

 

We only knew that we were safe with him, that in some miraculous way he

would take us to our goal.

 

He himself was our goal, our real home. More than that we did not know or

care. We were even slow to learn the lesson of equality to man and beast

which he was so anxious to teach us first.

 

To us he alone existed. The radiant form of Ramana was enough for us.

 

We did not know that it was not enough, that a human soul must learn to

embrace the universe and realize its own presence in every living being.

 

We would concentrate too much on him and resent his compelling us to enlarge

our little circle. His sometimes harsh treatment would bewilder us and make

us cry.

 

Now we see that it was love that suffered as it laboured.

 

Yogis control themselves severely for long to reach the state to which

Bhagavan would take us by making us work near him in the kitchen.

 

The small tasks of daily life he would make into avenues to light and bliss.

 

Whoever has not experienced the ecstasy of grinding, the rapture of cooking,

the joy of serving iddlies to devotees, his devotees, the state when the

mind is in the heart and the heart is in him and he is in the work, does not

know how much bliss a human heart contains.

 

Although physically he is no more with us, he still directs us, as in the

past. He will not let go his hold on us until we reach the Other Shore. This

is our unshaken faith.

 

We may not always be conscious of his guidance, but we are safe in his

hands. Sri Krishna, in His mercy became a cowherd to teach simple milkmaids

the way to salvation.

 

Similarly Bhagavan, the same supreme Being in another form, took to cooking

in order to save a few ignorant women.

 

With his eyes he served his devotees the food of the spirit, with his hands

- the bread of life.

 

--

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