A Biography By ARTHUR OSBORNE - RAMANA MAHARSHI

and swimming, that appealed to him. His one asset, so far asschool goes, was an amazingly retentive memory which coveredup laziness by enabling him to repeat a lesson from hearing itonce read out.The only unusual thing about him in his boyhood yearswas his abnormally deep sleep. Devaraja Mudaliar, a devotee,relates in his diary how he described it in a conversation at theAshram many years later on seeing a relative entering the hall.“Seeing you reminds me of something that happenedin Dindigul when I was a boy. Your uncle, PeriappaSeshayyar, was then living there. Some function was goingon in the house and everyone attended it and then in thenight went to the temple. I was left alone in the house. Iwas sitting reading in the front room, but after a while Ilocked the front door and fastened the windows and wentto sleep. When they returned from the temple no amountof shouting or banging at the door or window would wakeme. At last they managed to open the door with a keyfrom the house opposite, and then they tried to wake meup by beating me. All the boys beat me to their heart’scontent, and your uncle did too, but without effect. Iknew nothing about it till they told me in the morning. . . The same sort of thing happened to me in Maduraalso. The boys didn’t dare touch me when I was awakebut if they had any grudge against me they would comewhen I was asleep and carry me wherever they liked andbeat me as much as they liked and then put me back tobed and I would know nothing about it till they told menext morning.”Sri Bhagavan attributed no significance to this except soundhealth. Sometimes also he would lie in a sort of half-sleep atnight. It may be that both states were foreshadowings of the4

spiritual awakening: the deep sleep as the ability, albeit still darkand negative, to abandon the mind and plunge deep beyondthought, and the half-sleep as the ability to observe oneselfobjectively as a witness.We have no photograph of Sri Bhagavan in his boyhoodyears. He has told us in his usual picturesque style, full of laughter,how a group photograph was taken and he was made to hold aheavy tome to look studious, but a fly settled on him and just asthe photograph was taken he raised his arm to brush it off.However, it has not been possible to find a copy of this andpresumably none remains.The first premonition of dawn was a foreglow fromArunachala. The schoolboy Venkataraman had read no religioustheory. He knew only that Arunachala was a very sacred placeand it must have been a presentiment of his destiny that shookhim. One day he met an elderly relative whom he had known inTiruchuzhi and asked him where he was coming from. The oldman replied, “From Arunachala.” And the sudden realizationthat the holy hill was a real, tangible place on earth that mencould visit overwhelmed Venkataraman with awe so that he couldonly stammer out: “What! From Arunachala? Where is that?”The relative, wondering in his turn at the ignorance ofcallow youth, explained that Arunachala is Tiruvannamalai.Sri Bhagavan referred to this later in the first of his EightStanzas to Arunachala.“Hearken! It stands as an insentient hill. Its action ismysterious, past human understanding. From the age ofinnocence it had shone in my mind that Arunachala wassomething of surpassing grandeur, but even when I came toknow through another that it was the same as TiruvannamalaiI did not realize its meaning. When it drew me up to it,stilling the mind, and I came close I saw it stand unmoving.”5

This took place in November 1895, shortly before hissixteenth birthday by European computation, his seventeenthby Hindu. The second premonition came soon after. This timeit was provoked by a book. Again it was a wave of bewilderingjoy at perceiving that the Divine can be made manifest on earth.His uncle had borrowed a copy of the Periapuranam, the lifestories of the sixty-three Tamil Saints. Venkataraman picked itup and, as he read, was overwhelmed with ecstatic wonder thatsuch faith, such love, such divine fervour was possible, that therehad been such beauty in human life. The tales of renunciationleading to Divine Union inspired him with awe and emulation.Something greater than all dreamlands, greater than all ambition,was here proclaimed real and possible, and the revelation thrilledhim with blissful gratitude.From this time on the current of awareness whichSri Bhagavan and his devotees designate ‘meditation’ beganto awaken in him. Not awareness of anything by any one,being beyond the duality of subject and object, but a state ofblissful consciousness transcending both the physical andmental plane and yet compatible with full use of the physicaland mental faculties.Sri Bhagavan has told with a characteristic simplicity howthis awareness began to awaken in him during his visits to theMeenakshi Temple at Madura. He said, “At first I thought itwas some kind of fever, but I decided, if so it is a pleasant fever,so let it stay.”6

2A WAKENINGAKENINGTHIS CURRENT of awareness, fostered by continual effort,grows ever stronger and more constant until finally it leadsto Self-realization, to sahaja samadhi, the state in which pureblissful awareness is constant and uninterrupted and yet withoutimpeding the normal perceptions and activities of life. It is rareindeed for this communion to be attained during the life onearth. In the case of Sri Bhagavan it occurred only a few monthslater and with no quest, no striving, no conscious preparation.He himself has described it.“It was about six weeks before I left Madura for goodthat the great change in my life took place. It was quitesudden. I was sitting alone in a room on the first floor of7

my uncle’s house. I seldom had any sickness, and on thatday there was nothing wrong with my health, but a suddenviolent fear of death overtook me. There was nothing inmy state of health to account for it, and I did not try toaccount for it or to find out whether there was any reasonfor the fear. I just felt ‘I am going to die’ and began thinkingwhat to do about it. It did not occur to me to consult adoctor or my elders or friends; I felt that I had to solve theproblem myself, there and then.“The shock of the fear of death drove my mindinwards and I said to myself mentally, without actuallyframing the words: ‘Now death has come; what does itmean? What is it that is dying? This body dies.’ And I atonce dramatised the occurrence of death. I lay with mylimbs stretched out stiff as though rigor mortis had set inand imitated a corpse so as to give greater reality to theenquiry. I held my breath and kept my lips tightly closedso that no sound could escape, so that neither the word‘I’ nor any other word could be uttered. ‘Well then,’ Isaid to myself, ‘this body is dead. It will be carried stiff tothe burning ground and there burnt and reduced to ashes.But with the death of this body am I dead? Is the body‘I’? It is silent and inert but I feel the full force of mypersonality and even the voice of the ‘I’ within me, apartfrom it. So I am Spirit transcending the body. The bodydies but the Spirit that transcends it cannot be touchedby death. That means I am the deathless Spirit.’ All thiswas not dull thought; it flashed through me vividly asliving truth which I perceived directly, almost withoutthought-process. ‘I’ was something very real, the only realthing about my present state, and all the conscious activityconnected with my body was centred on that ‘I’. From8

that moment onwards the ‘I’ or Self focused attention onitself by a powerful fascination. Fear of death had vanishedonce and for all. Absorption in the Self continuedunbroken from that time on. Other thoughts might comeand go like the various notes of music, but the ‘I’continued like the fundamental sruti note that underliesand blends with all the other notes.1 Whether the bodywas engaged in talking, reading or anything else, I wasstill centred on ‘I’. Previous to that crisis I had no clearperception of my Self and was not consciously attractedto it. I felt no perceptible or direct interest in it, muchless any inclination to dwell permanently in it.”Thus simply described, without pretension or verbiage, thestate attained might seem no different from egotism, but that isdue only to the ambiguity in the words ‘I’ and ‘Self ’. Thedifference is brought out by the attitude towards death, for onewhose interest is centred in the ego, the ‘I’ as a separate individualbeing, has a dread of death which threatens the dissolution ofthe ego, whereas here the fear of death had vanished forever inthe realization that the ‘I’ was one with the universal deathlessSelf which is the Spirit and the Self of every man. Even to saythat he knew he was One with the Spirit is inadequate, since itsuggests a separate ‘I’ who knew this, whereas the ‘I’ in him wasitself consciously the Spirit.Years later the difference was expounded by Sri Bhagavanto Paul Brunton, a Western seeker.21The monotone persisting through a Hindu piece of music, like the threadon which beads are strung, represents the Self persisting through all theforms of being.2This and the other quotations from Paul Brunton given in this book arebased on his A Search in Secret India, published by Rider & Co., London,and reproduced by the Ashram with his permission.9

BRUNTON:What exactly is this Self of which you speak? Ifwhat you say is true there must be another selfin man.SRI RAMANA: Can a man be possessed of two identities, twoselves? To understand this matter it is firstnecessary for a man to analyse himself. Becauseit has long been his habit to think as others think,he has never faced his ‘I’ in the true manner. Hehas not a correct picture of himself; he has toolong identified himself with the body and thebrain. Therefore I tell you to pursue this enquiry,‘Who am I?’You ask me to describe this true Self to you.What can be said? It is That out of which thesense of the personal ‘I’ arises and into which itwill have to disappear.BRUNTON:Disappear? How can one lose the feeling of one’spersonality?SRI RAMANA: The first and foremost of all thoughts, theprimeval thought in the mind of every man, isthe thought ‘I’. It is only after the birth of thisthought that any other thoughts can arise atall. It is only after the first personal pronoun,‘I’, has arisen in the mind that the secondpersonal pronoun, ‘you’, can make itsappearance. If you could mentally follow the‘I’ thread until it led you back to its source youwould discover that, just as it is the first thoughtto appear, so it is the last to disappear. This is amatter which can be experienced.You mean that it is possible to conduct such aBRUNTON:mental investigation into oneself?10

SRI RAMANA:BRUNTON:SRI RAMANA:BRUNTON:SRI RAMANA:Certainly. It is possible to go inwards until thelast thought, ‘I’, gradually vanishes.What is then left? Will a man then become quiteunconscious or will he become an idiot?No; on the contrary, he will attain thatconsciousness which is immortal and he willbecome truly wise when he has awakened to histrue Self, which is the real nature of man.But surely the sense of ‘I’ must also pertain tothat?The sense of ‘I’ pertains to the person, the bodyand brain. When a man knows his true Self forthe first time something else arises from thedepths of his being and takes possession of him.That something is behind the mind; it is infinite,divine, eternal. Some people call it the Kingdomof Heaven, others call it the soul and others againNirvana, and Hindus call it Liberation; you maygive it what name you wish. When this happensa man has not really lost himself; rather he hasfound himself.Unless and until a man embarks on this questof the true Self, doubt and uncertainty will followhis footsteps through life. The greatest kings andstatesmen try to rule others when in their heartof hearts they know that they cannot rulethemselves. Yet the greatest power is at thecommand of the man who has penetrated to hisinmost depth. . . . What is the use of knowingabout everything else when you do not yet knowwho you are? Men avoid this enquiry into thetrue Self, but what else is there so worthy to beundertaken?11

This whole sadhana took barely half an hour, and yet it isof the utmost importance to us that it was a sadhana, a strivingtowards light, and not an effortless awakening; for a Gurunormally guides his disciples along the path that he himself hastrod. That Sri Bhagavan completed within half an hour notmerely the sadhana of a lifetime but, for most sadhakas, of manylifetimes, does not alter the fact that it was a striving by Selfenquiry such as he later enjoined on his followers. He warnedthem that the consummation towards which it leads is notnormally attained quickly but only after long striving, but healso said that it is “the one infallible means, the only direct one,to realize the unconditioned, absolute Being that you really are”(Maharshi’s Gospel, Part II). He said that it immediately sets upthe process of transmutation, even though it may be long beforethis is completed. “But the moment the ego-self tries to knowitself it begins to partake less and less of the body in which it isimmersed and more and more of the consciousness of Self.”It is also significant that, although knowing nothing of thetheory or practice of sadhana, Sri Bhagavan did in fact usepranayama or breath-control as an aid to concentration. So alsohe did admit of it as a legitimate help towards attaining thoughtcontrol, although he discouraged its use except for that purposeand never actually enjoined it.“Breath-control is also a help. It is one of the variousmethods that are intended to help us attain one-pointedness.Breath-control can also help to control the wandering mindand attain this one-pointedness and therefore it can be used.But one should not stop there. After obtaining control ofthe mind through breathing exercises one should not restcontent with any experience that may accrue therefrom, butshould harness the controlled mind to the question ‘Whoam I?’ till the mind merges in the Self.”12

This changed mode of consciousness naturally produceda change in Venkataraman’s sense of values and habits of life.Things that had formerly been valued lost all attraction,conventional aims in life became unreal, what had beenignored exercised a strong compulsion. The adaptation of lifeto this new state of awareness cannot have been easy in onewho was still a schoolboy and who lacked all theoreticaltraining in spiritual life. He spoke to no one about it and forthe time being remained in the family and continued to goto school; in fact he made as little outer change as possible.Nevertheless, it was inevitable that his family should noticehis changed behaviour and resent some features of it. Thisalso he has described.“The consequences of this new awareness were soonnoticed in my life. In the first place, I lost what littleinterest I had in my outer relationship with friends andrelatives and went through my studies mechanically. Iwould hold an open book in front of me to satisfy myrelatives that I was reading, when in reality my attentionwas far away from any such superficial matter. In mydealings with people I became meek and submissive.Formerly if I was given more work than other boys I mightcomplain, and if any boy annoyed me I would retaliate.None of them would dare make fun of me or take libertieswith me. Now all that was changed. Whatever work wasgiven, whatever teasing or annoyance there was, I wouldput up with it quietly. The former ego that resented andretaliated had disappeared. I stopped going out withfriends to play games and preferred solitude. I would oftensit alone, especially in a posture suitable for meditation,and become absorbed in the Self, the Spirit, the force orcurrent which constituted me. I would continue in this13

despite the jeers of my elder brother who wouldsarcastically call me ‘sage’ or ‘yogi’ and advise me to retireinto the jungle like the ancient Rishis.“Another change was that I no longer had any likes ordislikes with regard to food. Whatever was given to me,tasty or insipid, good or bad, I would swallow with likeindifference.“One of the features of my new state was my changedattitude to the Minakshi Temple.1Formerly I used to go there very occasionally withfriends to look at the images and put the sacred ash andvermilion on my brow and would return home almostunmoved. But after the Awakening I went there almostevery evening. I used to go alone and stand motionlessfor a long time before an image of Siva or Minakshi orNataraja and the sixty-three Saints, and as I stood therewaves of emotion overwhelmed me. The soul had givenup its hold on the body when it renounced the ‘I-amthe-body’ idea and it was seeking some fresh anchorage;hence the frequent visits to the temple and the outpouringof the soul in tears. This was God’s play with the soul. Iwould stand before Iswara, the Controller of the universeand of the destinies of all, the Omniscient andOmnipresent, and sometimes pray for the descent of HisGrace upon me so that my devotion might increase andbecome perpetual like that of the sixty-three Saints. Moreoft

RAMANA MAHARSHI AND THE PATH OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE SRI RAMANASRAMAM Tiruvannamalai 2002 A Biography by ARTHUR OSBORNE Foreword by Dr. S. RADHAKRISHNAN Vice-President of India