Part I - Ramana Maharshi Devotee Sub-Registrar Narayana Iyer

[Guest guest]

Narayana Iyer was a devotee who came to scoff, but remained as a worshipper.

Before he met Bhagavan he was an out and out sceptic with no religion in

him. He considered sannyasins and sadhus to be impostors and parasites and

felt that no one, however great, had the right to accept the homage of

others. But a chance meeting with Bhagavan wrought a complete transformation

in this doubting Thomas and turned him into a staunch devotee.

 

Dr Ramakrishna Iyer was his friend, philosopher and guide. Like Narayana

Iyer, this doctor was also working in Chetpet. He was well acquainted with

Bhagavan, being the son of Lakshmi Ammal of Tiruchuzhi, one of Bhagavan’s

childhood playmates. He invited Narayana Iyer to go with him to

Tiruvannamalai during the Deepam festival, and his invitation was accepted,

even though Narayana Iyer disliked crowds and temple festivals had no

attraction for him; he agreed on the condition that he would neither come

inside the ashram nor prostrate to the swami if perchance he met him.

 

Circumstances forced him to accompany his friend into the ashram. As they

were coming inside, a person clad only in a white loin cloth, a towel on his

shoulder, a kamandalu [water pot] in one hand and a walking stick in the

other stopped in his walk in the opposite direction when he saw them. He

spoke kindly to the doctor and enquired about his mother and brother. Though

Iyer guessed that this must be the Maharshi, he did not look up, thinking

that, after all, he was a complete stranger to him. On being introduced as

the Sub-registrar of Chetpet, out of courtesy he looked up. Let us hear him

now in his own words:

 

‘What a wonderful face and what a welcoming smile! Bewitching, fascinating

and a powerful look too! In a moment I was at his feet on the gravel

ground…. He is not bogus…. looks genuine…. but has he solved the mystery

of

life, of the universe that we see around us? If not, I withdraw my homage

and go my way…. I tried to find out if he had written any books. I got a

copy of Ulladu Narpadu [Reality in Forty Verses] in Tamil. It had just been

published.’

 

As he tried to read the first stanza he was confounded and filled with

dismay at the repeated use of the word ulladu, which seemed too closely

packed. The pure language, embodying the essence of absolute reality, would

drive even pundits of Tamil prosody to despair. Someone nearby said that the

Maharshi himself would explain the forty verses that night. In anxious and

eager suspense Narayana Iyer waited for the night.

 

A solemn stillness pervaded the air. There was absolute silence. The

Maharshi read the first stanza. The mere reading of it made the meaning as

clear as clarity itself. Stanza by stanza he read and explained in a voice

so sweet and melodious, it seemed to come from a transcendent being.

 

The climax came when he said, after explaining a verse, ‘God cannot be seen

with our eyes and known by our senses. This is what is meant by saying, “To

see God is to be Godâ€.’

 

It flashed upon Narayana Iyer instantly that if He whom all religions

acclaim as God were to appear before him in flesh and blood, here He is.

Successive waves of bliss flooding from within shook his frame. He went out

to compose himself.

 

He says, ‘I came, he saw, he conquered’.

 

The spell was thus cast. Henceforth Bhagavan was his God. Bhagavan was the

way and the support on the way as well.

 

To Narayana Iyer the content of Ulladu Narpadu became a vedic truth and its

verses veritable mantras. He took to chanting them as japa. From then on

nothing could stop him from frequenting the ashram.

 

His job entailed frequent transfers; he was successively posted to Arani,

Polur, and Shankagiri (Salem) for varying periods. However, there was no let

up in his regular visits. Never a Sunday passed without Narayana Iyer

arriving at the ashram. He always had some delectable snacks with him which

were prepared by his wife Lalitha Iyer, who believed that she was cooking

delicacies for God. These were savoured by everyone as Bhagavan would never

accept anything unless there was enough for all. Very often Iyer would bring

omappodi, [a snack made of gram flour and spices] which Bhagavan appears to

have been quite fond of, and occasionally he would bring other items in

quantities that would suffice for all in the hall.

 

Once when Shantammal enquired of Bhagavan whether she could prepare some

snacks in the ashram, Bhagavan replied, ‘Tomorrow is Sunday. Narayana Iyer

will be arriving and will surely be bringing something to eat.’

 

Such was the certainty of his arrival and of the snacks that came with him.

 

In those days [the early thirties] the area surrounding the ashram was very

bare, with no trees or shrubs. The Mother’s Temple was yet to be

constructed. Anyone approaching the precincts of the ashram could be easily

seen from the old hall. Once, between two successive weekend visits by

Narayana Iyer, the ashram administration, feeling that Bhagavan needed some

rest in the afternoon after lunch, imposed a restriction that no one would

be allowed to disturb him between 12 noon and 2 p.m. Neither Bhagavan nor

Narayana Iyer was aware of this new decree. The following Sunday afternoon,

as usual, Iyer arrived with omappodi in hand. As he approached the hall

those strategically positioned to deflect the would-be visitors until 2 pm,

the new receiving hour, apprised him of the rule. Iyer, though still at a

great distance from Bhagavan, made his customary prostration from where he

was, retraced his steps and waited until the appointed hour.

 

At 2 p.m. he came before Bhagavan. Bhagavan had spied him on his arrival and

noted his subsequent disappearance.

 

As soon as he entered the hall Bhagavan asked him, ‘Didn’t you come at 1

o’clock? I saw you arriving through the window and was expecting you to come

to the hall at any moment. But you didn’t come. Did you have to go

elsewhere?’

 

Narayana Iyer, who had no idea that Bhagavan was not supposed to know of the

new arrangement, replied in all innocence, ‘My train arrived late and I

could come only at 1 o’clock. I was informed that Bhagavan nowadays rests in

the afternoons and is not to be disturbed until 2 p.m. That’s why I have

only come in now.’

 

Bhagavan listened without any comment, other than his customary, ‘Oh! Is

that so?’

 

The next day after lunch, instead of going into the hall, Bhagavan sat

outside the hall. The attendant very hesitantly suggested that he go inside,

as it was becoming very hot.

 

Bhagavan said, ‘Nobody is allowed to enter until 2 p.m. Is there also a rule

that I should not sit here until two?’

 

Then Bhagavan, the very embodiment of compassion added, ‘People come from

far-away places by various means, suffering innumerable hardships in order

to get here. How can they be sure of the exact time of their arrival? When

they come after all that trouble, how fair is it to deny them ready access?’

 

Hearing this, the management immediately revoked the new rule.

 

In due course, owing to the profound grace of Bhagavan, Narayana Iyer was

posted to Tiruvannamalai itself. He was the first in a long line of devotees

to have had the rare privilege of establishing a residence near the ashram

in order to be in the holy presence of Bhagavan on a regular basis. His

entire sadhana comprised of simply remaining with Bhagavan whenever

possible, in the hall or in the kitchen, cutting vegetables, grinding

chutney and preparing breakfast in the wee hours of the morning. On any

given morning the trio of G. V. Subbaramayya, Kalyana Sundaram Iyer of the

bookstall and Narayana Iyer, would be found with Bhagavan.

 

One year, due to an unusual spell of drought, the ashram faced severe water

scarcity on the eve of Jayanthi. The devotees, organising themselves into a

long chain, passed vessels filled with water from hand to hand from the

Agasthya Teertham in Palakothu to the kitchen. Narayana Iyer very

enthusiastically participated in this collective endeavour.

 

An extensive area of twenty grounds [one acre] was the site of Narayana

Iyer’s residence where he grew a variety of fruit trees and fodder for his

cow. Whatever wild creatures found in that area were left to themselves.

Occasionally, he had snakes caught and released in isolated spots on the

mountain.

 

Prior to constructing the house, Iyer took the plans to Bhagavan to have

them blessed. After careful perusal Bhagavan observed, ‘The plan is all

right, but where is the well?’

 

Though Iyer had a location in mind, it was not marked on the blueprint. This

turned out to be a benediction as Bhagavan selected the site and marked the

exact location. Later, one could see what a blessing it was; not only was

the water as sweet as tender coconut water, but the well never ran dry and

was thus a source of succour for the entire neighbourhood in times of severe

drought.

 

His wife was a truly sattvic woman, given to dharmic ways and scrupulously

adhering to the sastraic injunctions pertaining to a housewife. She shared

her husband’s ways and views completely. Though born in a rich family, she

had no pretensions or airs about her. Simple, carefree and unattached, she

ran the household with a contented mind and to the satisfaction of the

entire family, making optimum use of the resources available to her. The

children, like the mother, were an uncomplaining lot and were content in

doing what they were told to do by their father.

 

Iyer’s one passion was to chant Ulladu Narpadu unceasingly. Neither

conventional vedic duties nor extravagant ritualistic observances had any

attraction for him. The constant chanting of Ulladu Narpadu was all the

religious observance known to him. It would start right from the morning.

 

Dyed in brahminical custom, Narayana Iyer looked forward to his invigorating

cup of morning coffee. The person who milked the cow used to turn up at 5.00

a.m., announcing his arrival by ringing his bicycle bell. Iyer, who would

invariably be chanting Ulladu Narpadu loudly, would open the gate for him.

The day would, therefore, begin with Ulladu Narpadu, a routine so

predictable and punctual, the neighbour opposite him, an Andhra lady,

remarked that she could safely set her clock by his recitation in the

morning. His chanting continued throughout the day while he watered the

plants or gave the cow a bath.

 

If ever he were to hear a voice raised in argument among the children, he

would simply raise his voice and chant even louder. It was a wonder to see

the children immediately quietened, as if the mesmerising spell of this

powerful mantra made them aware of Bhagavan’s very presence.

 

Kanakammal stayed in Iyer’s compound, occupying a small cottage for nearly

ten years. He looked upon me as his own daughter. He always made himself

aware of my requirements when he procured groceries for his own household

and would always meet my needs.

 

Narayana Iyer and Venkataratnam used to narrate to Kanakammal whatever

transpired in the hall during the nights and on days when Kanakammal was

unable to attend.

 

Subsequently Iyer was posted to Polur, but he did not move his residence

from Tiruvannamalai. Instead, he cycled to the station, left his cycle

there, took the train to Polur and again cycled to his office from there.

His return in the evening was by the same route, but like an arrow he would

speed his way directly to the ashram in order to be with Bhagavan. He was

like a calf rushing to its mother. By then it would usually be 9:00 p.m.

 

One evening, as Iyer came from the station, Bhagavan enquired whether he had

eaten his dinner.

 

‘Not yet Bhagavan.’

 

Bhagavan, compassion incarnate, was filled with concern and said, ‘It is

already so late. Poor Lalitha will be waiting for you. Just think how late

it will be for her to go to bed after serving you dinner, eating herself and

then completing the domestic chores. From now on go home first, have your

dinner and then come to the ashram.’

 

Thus ordered by Bhagavan, and also moved by his compassion, Iyer reached his

house and exclaimed to his wife, ‘How fortunate you are to be so graciously

remembered by Bhagavan, despite remaining within the house. From now on I

will have my dinner straight away when I come home from the station. Please

have it ready then.’

 

Sri Bhagavan had his head shaved once a month on the full moon day. Natesan

was the barber who used to do this service. Bhagavan sat on a stool and

Natesan would stand and shave him. Once Sri Bhagavan suggested to Natesan in

all seriousness that it would be more comfortable for the barber to sit on

the stool while he himself would sit on the floor!

 

It was past 8.30 one night when I came to the Ashram on one of my visits.

Everyone had retired to rest after the night meal. I went to the office.

Chinnaswamy was sitting in his place talking to some Ashramites. When he saw

me enter he said, “Narayana Iyer, don’t go near Sri Bhagavan’s couch.He is

resting on the veranda near the well. He had a fracture of his collar bone

and a plaster has been put on it. He should not be disturbed. Prostrate at a

distance and come away noiselessly.†I was shocked to hear the news. If any

other reason had been given it could have restrained me, but the mention of

a ‘fracture’ made me eager and anxious to see Sri Bhagavan.

I went on tiptoe and prostrated quietly. He evidently saw me and said,

“Narayana Iyer, come, sit by my side on the couch.Only then can I see you

and talk. Otherwise the bandage they have put might be disturbed and there

might be pain.†Implicitly I obeyed when he said this, notwithstanding my

fear of Chinnaswamy’s reaction if he should happen to see me there. He said,

“I was going up the steps. A dog was chasing a squirrel. I barred its way by

putting my walking stick in front of it. The stick slipped and I fell down

and got hurt on the collar bone. They say it is a fracture and the native

bone-setter of the village, an old devotee, was sent for. He has put this

bandage with some green leaves and black gram paste and I am enjoined not to

move lest it be disturbed.â€

 

He narrated the incident as though it was someone else’s body that was

injured and was suffering!

 

As Bhagavan’s mahanirvana approached, Narayana Iyer never moved away from

the vicinity of Bhagavan. He was a witness to all that went on during those

precious last days. At that time Bhagavan’s water pot [kamandalu] and

walking stick were in his room as he could not use them anymore. Iyer sensed

that several people had secret designs on them, wanting to take them away

and preserve them as private, sacred relics. After the mahasamadhi of

Bhagavan, abhishekam, alankaram and arathi were performed and the holy body

was taken in procession in a small ratha around the Mother’s Temple. Iyer

took this opportune moment, picked up the walking stick and kamandalu, and

slowly walked ahead of the ratha up to the samadhi chamber where Bhagavan’s

body would be enshrined. A small hand spun cloth bag encasing Bhagavan’s

earthly frame was filled with vibhuti and camphor according to scriptural

procedure. It was then reverently lowered into the samadhi chamber. Iyer

himself descended into the chamber and placed Bhagavan’s walking stick and

kamandalu on either side of the body. The samadhi pit was then slowly filled

in. Anyone who nurtured hopes of acquiring Bhagavan’s meagre possessions as

relics was disappointed.

 

In the aftermath of Bhagavan’s mahanirvana Iyer did not give up his earlier

routine of having Bhagavan’s darshan daily. He had darshan of Bhagavan at

the samadhi shrine and continued to visit the old hall. The Iyers stayed on

in Tiruvannamalai, as did Chadwick who, for a time, took up residence in the

Iyer compound in a small thatched-roof cottage until he was invited by the

ashram management to move back there again. Iyer and Chadwick were spiritual

companions, their uniting bond being the love and devotion they both had for

Bhagavan.

 

Later, when all their children had settled in Madras, the Iyers, who were

beginning to feel their age, also moved there to be near their children and

grandchildren.

 

Narayana Iyer and his wife were grihasta asrama [householders] and followed

that dharma meticulously. Yet mentally both had donned ochre robes. Their

lives, the way they lived, was a penance [tapas] that required no other

spiritual practice. Wherever Iyer went, his continued recitation of Ulladu

Narpadu made the air around him vibrant with the holy presence of Bhagavan,

compelling an inner response from all.

 

Sources:

 

1)

http://sri-ramana-maharshi.blogspot.com/2008/07/remembering-sub-registrar-naraya\

na-iyer.html

2) Surpassing Love and Grace Book

 

--

à°“à°‚ నమో భగవతే à°¶à±à°°à±€ రమణాయ

à°ªà±à°°à°¶à°¾à°‚తౠజలసూతà±à°°à°‚

à°ªà±à°°à±‡à°®à±‡ శాశà±à°µà°¤à°®à±