As I saw HIM - part 6

May 17, 2009

THE MAHARSHI

January / February 1992Vol. 2 – No. 1

Produced & Edited byDennis HartelDr. Anil K. Sharma

As I Saw Him - Part 6

From Sri Ramana Reminiscences

G. V. Subbaramayya

Asked "How does a grihastha (householder) fare in the scheme of Moksha (liberation)?" the Maharshi said

"The obstacle is the mind. It must be got over whether at home or in the forest. Renunciation is always in the mind, not in going to the forest or solitary places, or giving up one's duties. The main thing is to see that the mind does not turn outward but inward."

G. V. Subbaramayya, a professor and poet, approached the Maharshi with childlike faith and spontaneous devotion - like an innocent child to his loving father.

He laid bare, without reserve, his sorrows, joys, devotion and defects, and the Maharshi reciprocated, keeping a close and gracious eye on all his affairs.

What follows is but a small, yet telling sample from his Sri Ramana Reminiscences.

MY FIRST PILGRIMAGE to Sri Ramanasramam was on June 8th, 1933. I travelled alone to Tiruvannamalai. I was at that time in great sorrow, having suffered my first bereavement the previous December, when my two-year-old son died suddenly.

For over two years I had been reading the works of Sri Bhagavan and other Ashrama literature. My main interest had been literary rather than philosophical. I had been struck with wonder at the style of the Telugu Upadesa Saram which, in its simplicity, felicity and classic finish, could equal that of the greatest Telugu poet Tikkana.

I had felt convinced that a Tamilian who could compose such Telugu verse must be divinely inspired, and I had wanted to see him. But my immediate quest at the time was for peace and solace.

In the morning I had darshan of Sri Bhagavan in the old Hall. As our eyes met, there was a miraculous effect upon my mind.

I felt as if I had plunged into a pool of peace, and with eyes shut, sat in a state of ecstasy for nearly an hour.

When I came to normal consciousness, I found someone spraying the Hall to keep off insects, and Sri Bhagavan mildly objecting with a silent shake of his head.

As I now heard Sri Bhagavan saying something, I made bold to ask him a question. "The Bhagavad Gita says that mortals cast off their worn-out bodies, just as one casts away the worn-out clothes and wears new garments. How does this apply to the deaths of infants whose bodies are new and fresh?" I asked.

Sri Bhagavan promptly replied: "How do you know that the body of the dead child is not worn-out? It may not be apparent; but unless it is worn-out it will not die. That is the law of Nature."

Immediately after lunch, I left the Ashrama even without taking leave of Sri Bhagavan. I came and went incognito, as an utter stranger.

After nearly three years, I again visited the Ashrama in the spring of 1936, this time with a note of introduction.

Sri Bhagavan, even before going through it, gave me a knowing nod and gracious smile and said, "Why the introduction ? You have come before; you are not new."

To add to my wonder I now felt as though my dead father had come back alive; the resemblance was so striking. My approach to Sri Ramana has ever since been that of a child to its parent, quite fearless free and familiar.

Some years ago I had been initiated into two mantras and was enjoined to repeat them a minimum number of times every day.

I had been doing it punctiliously, but now after entering the Ashrama, I had no mind to the mantras or do any kind of formal worship.

After a few days I was seized with the fear of incurring sin by failing to observe the instructions on my initiation.

So I put it to Sri Bhagavan himself, making a clean breast of my default. Sri Bhagavan smiled and said, "Just because you have done so much of japa, its merit has brought you here. Why should you now fear while enjoying the fruit of the japa?"

I had also at this time a more serious trouble. I had been practising breath control (pranayama) as taught by Swami Ramtirtha in his works.

There came a stage when I felt a terrible sensation as though my head would crack and break into pieces. Then I stopped doing it, but every day the sensation was recurring at the time of practice and the fear was growing that disaster was imminent.

So, at dead of night, when Bhagavan was alone, I approached him with my tale. He said laughing,

"What! Again you are seized with fear! These are the usual experiences of people who do yogic exercises without the immediate guidance of a Guru, but having come to me, why should you fear?" Then Sri Bhagavan added in an undertone: "Next time you get that sensation, you think of me and you will be all right." From that moment to this I have never felt it again.

"Be still and know that I am God"

During the Christmas of 1936, I attended Sri Bhagavan's Jayanti celebration for the first time. Many Western visitors had come. One of them, Mr. Maurice Frydman, a Polish Jew of subtle intellect, plied Sri Bhagavan with ingenious pleas for practical guidance for Self-realisaton. Sri Bhagavan followed his arguments with keen interest but kept silent all the time.

When pressed to say something, Sri Bhagavan only quoted from the Bible, "Be still and know that I am God," and added "The Lord said 'know' and not, 'think' that I am God."

We understood Sri Bhagavan as meaning that all these arguments were spun by the intellect, the stilling of which was the only way to Realisation.

Another visitor, Mr. Duncan Greenless, said, "Bhagavan, while we are in your presence, a certain halo of purity and peace seems to surround us. It continues for some time after we leave. Then it disappears and the old stupidities return. Why is it so?"

Sri Bhagavan replied, "It is all the work of the mind. Like the battery it wears out and has to be recharged. But when mind control is perfect, there will be no further trouble."

Availing myself of a short holiday in February 1937, I again went to the Ashrama to submit my translation of Sri Kavyakantha's Gitamala in person. As I entered the Hall and was prostrating, to my consternation, my five year old daughter, Lalita, went very near to Sri Bhagavan and asked him, "What is your name, Sir?" Sri Bhagavan replied with a counter-query, "What is your name?My name is Lalita," said she, and repeated her question, "What is yours, please?" Now Sri Bhagavan pointing to himself with His right hand on the right side of his chest said, "What! don't you know ME?" She at once answered, "Oh yes! I simply asked for fun." At this Sri Bhagavan burst into laughter.

Lalita's leave-taking was a most moving scene. As she knelt down, Sri Bhagavan who was then squatting after his breakfast, tapped her on the back with his stick saying, "This is to keep you in mind lest you should forget." Then he lifted her and hugged her to his breast. He told the people then present, "The speciality of this child is this: she has no sense of newness or strangeness, all beings and all things she takes as her own."

One day, having just read a biography of the late Ammani Ammal, sister of the late Dr. T. M. Nair, Sri Bhagavan spoke highly of her learning, philanthropy and devotion. In her last illness, she wired to Sri Bhagavan praying for a peaceful end. Just when Sri Bhagavan was perusing her letter, she expired in her home. As Sri Bhagavan was narrating this incident, he was so moved that he shed tears.

My long stay this time made the departure a wrench for me, and my feeling found vent in some Telugu verses which I composed on the way and posted to the Ashrama. In the opening verse I wrote, "Leaving Thy feet and going to my place, alas! I feel like the new daughter-in-law leaving her mother's home and starting to go and settle in her mother-in-law's place." The Ashrama reply stated, "Your letter with the 'padyam' full of your feelings was perused by Sri Bhagavan." The very next time I returned to the Ashrama, Sri Bhagavan greeted me saying, "Lo! the new daughter-in-law has come back to her mother's home! You people treat her as becomes her." I have realised that these gracious words were not mere fun, but truly described Sri Bhagavan's attitude towards me at all times.

It was pure, parental love.