Morning Reading, 10 Sep 2019

by Dennis

We received the following article very late in August (1946). In the covering letter, the “self-styled devotee” vouches for the truth of his writing. To save himself from some embarrassment, he has tried to hide himself behind an assumed title. We know him well. But we do not want to embarrass him either. This much, however, we must say, he is one of the contributors to this Souvenir and his article stands along with those of other devotees in the previous pages of this Volume. Really, the writer of “Sri Ramana’s Wondrous Grace” is a true devotee of Sri Bhagavan. Below is his letter and then comes his article which, we are sure, will deeply interest the reader, who is the final judge for deciding things for himself.

Dear Sir,

I am sending you herewith an article. If it meets with your approval, it may be included in the Souvenir Volume. As I have described here some experiences which should not be divulged to anybody else, I cannot publish my name. Kindly excuse me for this. I declare that the statements made are all true to my knowledge.

Whether you publish it or not, I request you to kindly place the article before Sri Bhagavan, so that He may remember me and take thought of me.^[1]

With Pranams to Sri Bhagavan,
  Yours sincerely
  A self-styled devotee.

It was on a cold afternoon of December that I found myself boarding the Madras Mail with a view to visit Sri Ramanasramam. For a couple of years previous to this, the intention of going on a pilgrimage to Sri Ramanasramam had been lurking in my mind now and then. A few months back, a strong urge came, and I made all arrangements for starting for the Ashram. Suddenly the news came that the East Coast was being bombed by the Japanese. I was dissuaded from going there at that time. A sense of frustration came over me, and the desire to go there sank within, leaving a vague resolve to visit the Ashram in December. December came, the expectation again floated in my mind but there was no agitation in it, as previous frustrations had made the mind somewhat resigned. However, a day was fixed and all arrangements were made for my departure. I was undecided and left everything to circumstances, and circumstances so moulded themselves that I found myself boarding the train for Madras on the next day.

The journey was uneventful. Though there was the usual war-time congestion in the trains, I was comfortably seated and also found sleeping accommodation at night. On the afternoon of the second day of the journey I picked up a companion; he expressed his intention to visit Ramanasramam to pay his respects to Maharshi and so we travelled together.

We reached Madras on the afternoon of the third day. On enquiry we were informed that a train would be just leaving the Egmore station for Villupuram, from where we would have to change for Tiruvannamalai, our destination. It was about midnight when we alighted at Villupuram. After some time the train came. It was not crowded at all and we two occupied one small compartment in it.

Ever since I came to know of Maharshi the thought of Arunachala had always been in my mind but it did not give rise to any strong emotion up till now. Only, the mind was in a gloomy mood. When we were a few stations from Tiruvannamalai the thought of a rebuff at the Ashram became very strong and roused a correspondingly strong emotion in me. As I was unobserved, my one companion being fast asleep and there being nobody else in the compartment, I gave free vent to my emotion.^[2] After some time it spent itself and the mind became resigned. The train now stopped at Tiruvannamalai. I roused my companion, who was still sleeping and we set our feet on the sacred soil of Tiruvannamalai.

It was already dawn and we came out of the station. The Hill of Arunachala now caught our eyes. Silent and majestic it stood there, as if immersed in deep meditation. We saluted the Jyotirlingam and drove direct to the Ashram.

It happened to be the annual Birthday of Maharshi. Bhaktas were preparing to celebrate the day on a large scale. Huge preparations were being made for feeding a few thousand people and a big pandal was erected for the purpose.

At the farther end of the first quadrangle a small enclosure was erected and a seat was arranged there for Maharshi. Leaving a small space in front of the enclosure for the passage of pilgrims, the whole of the quadrangle and the adjoining verandah were crowded with visitors.

Maharshi took his seat within the enclosure. Pilgrims came in a line, prostrated themselves before him, paid their respects and then passed out of the quadrangle. A continuous stream of people passed in this way for a couple of hours. I was all along anxious to catch his eyes but could not do so. When the crowd became thinner, I got up, walked up to the enclosure and took....

....

Next morning I attended the usual prayers. I did not experience anything abnormal during the meditation period. Discussions generally take place when they assemble in the hall after breakfast. Maharshi also answers questions from earnest seekers. That morning also discussions were going on. As they were talking mostly in Tamil (a language not known to me) my attention was not attracted till I found some people turning their heads and laughing at me. On enquiry I learnt that they were discussing the subject-matter of my first letter to Maharshi. Evidently, he had spoken something to them regarding this letter. Though made a laughing-stock, I was still glad to find that he had at last taken notice of me. I took part in the discussions and, as I was in the back row, some distance away from them, they asked me to come nearer so that there might not be any difficulty in following each other, and I obeyed. I was thus brought very near Maharshi’s seat. Our discussions over, I heard Maharshi say, “He is concentrating on the reflection and complains that he cannot see the original.” It struck me forcefully. What did he mean by reflection and what was the original? I shut my eyes and tried to find out the meaning. Immediately after, I felt a pull in the region of the heart, similar to what I felt two days previously but much stronger in intensity. My mind was completely arrested, stilled, but I was wide awake. Suddenly, without any break in my consciousness, the “I” flashed forth! It was self-awareness, pure and simple, steady, unbroken and intensely bright, as much brighter than ordinary consciousness as is sunlight brighter than the dim light of a lamp. In ordinary consciousness the “I”-sense dimly remains in the background,as a matter of inference or intuition,the whole of the consciousness being occupied by the object. Here, “I” came to the foreground, occupied, or rather became, the whole consciousness and intensely existed as pure consciousness, displacing all objects. I was, but I was neither the subject nor the object of this consciousness. I WAS this consciousness, which alone existed. There were no objects. The world was not, neither the body nor the mind, no thought, no motion; time also ceased to exist. I alone existed and that I was consciousness itself, self-luminous and alone, without a second.... Suddenly, and again without any break in my consciousness, I was brought back to my normal, ordinary consciousness.

A great miracle had been performed in broad daylight in the presence of so many people, without their knowing it.....

....

The experience left a very cheerful mood in me. I felt completely carefree. The thought of home or of bombing did not trouble me any further and I thought of staying in the Ashram for a few days more. But man only proposes. Just after the night meal was over a certain gentleman came to me and said that he had already arranged a conveyance for me and a carriage was waiting for me at the gate to take me to the station! I was a little offended. Who asked him to bring a carriage? I had given up the idea of leaving the Ashram to-day. But why should I blame him? He was present on the previous night when I asked for a carriage and saw my plight at not being able to start home for want of a carriage. In order that the same thing might not happen again he had very kindly taken upon himself the duty of helping me by arranging for a carriage. How could he be aware of the change which had come over me? Moreover, he was only an instrument. I therefore said nothing to him. He took me to Maharshi, introduced me to him and explained to him that I was leaving for home. I prostrated myself before Maharshi, took leave of him and started for the station. The previous day I had decided to go but was compelled to stay; this day I decided to stay but was compelled to go! Mysterious are His ways!