In Profile

Numerous devotees who visited Bhagavan back in the day never shared their experiences outside family circles. Their stories, passed down through generations, continue to inspire children and grandchildren. Dr. Vaidyanathan’s story is one such case. Though he was in Bhagavan’s presence only briefly in 1923, the experience was so memorable that informed his whole life and his family urged him to recount it repeatedly.

Born the second son of a wealthy family in December 1910, Vaidyanathan was named after the Kula Daivam. His father, A.R.Aiyer, owned property opposite the Kapaleeswarar Temple Pond in Mylapore as well as in his native Ganapati Agraharam. A man of integrity, A.R.Aiyer was awarded the title of Rao Bahadur.

The family enjoyed considerable comforts, including a saloon car for railway travel. Distinguished visitors often came to their home, including Sri Sarada Devi Ma, the consort of Sri Ramakrishna, during her visit to South India.

As a boy in a prominent household, Vaidyanathan was surrounded by servants and all the comforts of a well-to-do life. However, tragedy struck in 1924 when Vaidyanathan’s father died suddenly. His mother, Lakshmi, was devastated. A.R.Aiyer had been the only child of his parents and only his old mother was still alive, his father having passed away years earlier. Vaidyanathan’s mother, Lakshmi had a big family with father, mother, brothers, and sisters. After the thirteenth-day ceremony, Lakshmi fell ill during her protracted illness, her father brought papers for her to sign. Unknowingly, she signed away her property to her relatives, who then claimed everything after her death. The judge recognized the fraud and even exclaimed from the court bench, “I have seen many kinds of fraud, but this is the first time I’m seeing grandparents cheating their own grandchildren”. Nevertheless, the judge had to rule based on the evidence, resulting in the children losing everything. Vaidyanathan, his siblings, and their elderly paternal grandmother, were left destitute.

Fortunately, a friend of A.R.Aiyer took them in and supported them until the children could graduate from high school. Vaidyanathan became a pharmaceutical salesman, traveling extensively across India. Though this eased the financial burden, the betrayal by his relatives left him questioning the existence of God. With tremendous grief, he ever pondered, “Where is this God who allows such injustice?”

In 1923, before the family disaster, the direct glance of Bhagavan fell on Vaidyanathan, and he received prasadam directly from the Master’s hands. At thirteen, his uncle Seshu Iyer took him to Ramanasramam, where they met Bhagavan early one morning. This happened shortly after Bhagavan had moved down from Skandasramam to his mother’s samadhi. In those days, the kitchen was only a thatched hut and they went directly there upon arrival to find Bhagavan sitting in front of the fire, stirring the contents of a large vessel. When Bhagavan saw the boy and his uncle, he said, “Come here and taste this. See if it tastes okay and if there is enough salt.” So saying, Bhagavan took some of the contents from the top edge of the vessel, and holding it in his palm, blew onto it. It was upma Bhagavan was holding, and he was blowing on it so as to cool it to an edible temperature. Then he made a small ball out of the upma and gave it to Vaidyanathan. The boy was thrilled, hungry from his travel, and ate it with great relish. They stayed on for two days before returning to Madras.

In the aftermath of losing his father the following year, Vaidyanathan turned his back on tradition and worshipping an ‘unjust’ God, But the encounter with Bhagavan helped him endure and despite losing his parents and home, and experiencing family betrayal, he did not become bitter. Instead, he resolved to serve others and made the decision to enter the medical profession. After saving money from his pharmaceutical job, he joined Stanley Medical College. Post-graduation, he met an elderly gentleman, Doraiswamy, who was looking for a groom for his widowed daughter. The girl, it seems, had been given in marriage when she was nine years old, according to the norms of those times, but before she could formally ‘go to her husband’s house’ (after puberty), her husband died. That was a great calamity in those days and, according to custom, the girl would never wed again. But when her father approached the young doctor and requested him to marry his daughter, Vaidyanathan readily agreed despite her widowhood, as he no longer abided by religious customs and rituals. The happy couple raised eight children.

Dr.Vaidyanathan set up a successful medical practice in Matunga, Bombay, becoming one of the leading South Indian doctors there. Despite his loss of faith in God, he remained compassionate and charitable, treating many patients for free and donating generously to charity, saying he knew what poverty felt like.

He frequently hosted visitors from Ramanasramam, including T.N.Venkataraman, Ganesan Anna, Mani Anna, and Somasundaram, a senior devotee from Bombay who used to come each week to hand over books to Vaidyanathan. In 1967 Arthur Osborne came to the house. Osborne smiled looking at a photo of Ramana sitting on a tiger skin hung in the main hall. When Vaidyanathan went to Tiruvannamalai a little later, Osborne presented him with a picture replica of the one kept on Bhagavan’s sofa in the old meditation Hall. While doing so, Osborne told Vaidyanathan, “He will guide you and answer you”. The tiger skin photo was replaced by this one in the family home.

Dr.Vaidyanathan’s wife also had a deep connection with Sri Bhagavan. Her father, Doraiswamy, had served Bhagavan in Tiruvannamalai. When Doraiswamy was a boy, he had given ‘oil baths’ to Sri Seshadri Swamy. After his graduation, he wanted to move to Bombay but was scared to broach the subject with his father. He went to Bhagavan instead, sat in his presence silently asking the question in his heart. When he felt that he had gotten a reply, he got up from his place and then stumbled on a coin. He took the coin up in his hands and just then, saw Bhagavan who nodded in assent to the Bombay plan. Doraiswamy kept this coin as a sign of Bhagavan’s grace till the end of his life in 1954. Dr.Vaidyanathan often re-enacted the scene of Bhagavan blowing on the upma, wiping away tears from his eyes with his tundu. This first encounter with Bhagavan inspired him throughout life, providing strength to overcome the adversities of his youth.

Later when he was travelling one foggy evening in the Himalayas on a rickety bus in the front seat next to the driver, for some reason Vaidyanathan felt that Bhagavan was telling him to pull the hand brake He did so, startling the driver as the bus jerked to a halt. The driver shouted at him, but then suddenly realized the bus was on the edge of a gorge and if it had travelled one foot further, it would have tumbled down a precipice. Again, tears would be wiped off with his tundu, when in later years Vaidyanathan narrated this account.^[1]

Following Vaidyanathan’s demise in October 1973, Mrs. Vaidyanathan wrote to Lucia Osborne, then editor of The Mountain Path: Her letter was published in the journal and reads as follows:

Last September (1973) just a month before his death, Dr.Vaidyanathan had a vivid dream. He told me he climbed a mountain and on top there was a mantapa. There he saw Bhagavan seated on a wooden swing with a crowd of people, men and women, seated around him all silent. As my husband prostrated before Bhagavan, Bhagavan said smilingly: “Oh! So, you have come. We have been wondering why you had not come. Good. Come sit here by my side.” And he indicated a place next to him on the swing. My husband hesitated to sit in such proximity with Bhagavan but urged by Bhagavan he sat down. Bhagavan put his hand on his shoulder, patted him with affection and asked, “Are you tired? Will you have something to drink?” My husband replied in the negative. Then Bhagavan took him to a nearby well, made him take a bath, gave him vibhuti and asked an elderly man there, “Sastrigal! Shall we begin?... He is now ready.” The old man looked at the clock and said, “No, there is still time. I think we shall do it later.” Whereupon Bhagavan told my husband to go now and come back later. Just then he woke up and realised it was all a dream. He felt thrilled!

Now it is all over and I remain here thinking of him, waiting to finish the duties to the children (he has left undone). Patiently, peacefully, I am waiting my turn. In the three years since his first major heart-attack, he prepared me so well for this that now I feel it is all the will of providence and I should face it with courage.

– Mrs.Vaidyanathan^[2]