How I Came to the Maharshi

V.Kameshwara Rao

I had a dream one night many years back in which a saintly old man with a short white beard blessed me with his benign and radiant smile and beckoned me to him. Sunrise put an end to sleep and dream alike and I woke to find myself back in the dull routine of life. I went into the kitchen to tell my wife of my happy experience, but I could not identify the saint I had seen. Could it be Ramana Maharshi, about whom I had read in a book called ‘Self-Realization’ ? I asked a friend of mine who often went there whether he would take me with him and he agreed. We set off that very day, arriving at Tiruvannamalai next morning.

I found the Ashram a quiet place with a few cottages and a meditation hall. We went straight into the hall and there on a couch sat the Maharshi, the saint of my dream, clad only in a loincloth. I felt that I was in the presence of a god. I fell prostrate before Bhagavan (for this was the name my friend used in addressing him). A group of silent men and women were seated on the floor on either side of him. Close to him an elderly bearded man was sitting binding a small book by hand.

Bhagavan asked me whether I had had my coffee, so I went out and had a bath and breakfast. When I got batk I found that Bhagavan himself was stitching the book. I wondered why he should do it, and then I noticed how carefully he worked at it and showed the bearded man how to do it. God is all perfection. When a man realizes Godhead he also attains perfection, he also pays full attention to every detail. That was the thought that came to me when I saw Bhagavan binding a book.

When we went for lunch Bhagavan sat facing two groups of devotees, Brahmins to his right and non-Brahmins and non-Hindus to his left. I heard him tell the server that the rice was not well cooked. I was told that he himself was a good cook and had often worked in the Ashram kitchen.

As a government servant I had to pass an examination in a second language within a prescribed period. © The term was only a few months off. I decided to take it in Tamil, although I knew very little of the language. I was a bit worried about it, so I told an older devotee that I would like to have Bhagavan’s blessings for my success. He took me to Bhagavan late in the evening and I prostrated and told Bhagavan my trouble and asked for his blessing. He replied 'parava illai', ‘don’t worry’, which made me feel very happy. He advised me to take the little book ‘Nan Yar’ (‘Who am I’) printed in English, Tamil and Telugu (my own language) and read it with the help of a Tamil tutor.

I woke early next morning and felt happy, waiting till S&prise should enable me to buy the books at the Ashram bookstall. The night I first dreamed of Bhagavan sunrise seemed to come too soon, but now I could hardly wait for it.

Bhagavan passed outside the cottage where I was staying next morning. I went and prostrated before him and asked his permission to leave. He gave it but asked why I was in such a hurry. My friend expressed a doubt whether I should be able to go that day, in view of what Bhagavan had said; but I had to get back. So after I had bought the books we went to the station in the Ashram bullock-cart. When we got there, however, I was told that there was a two-day strike on the railway, so we went back and told Bhagavan. He smiled. Two days later I again asked for leave to go and he said ‘Very well’. This time we walked to the station and a cart followed us with our baggage. When we arrived the train was already in but the cart was not yet in sight, so I thought I would surely miss the train. But Bhagavan had said ‘very well’ so I felt I should stop the train and indeed travel ‘very well’. I therefore went to the station master and told him that this was my second attempt to leave the Ashram and asked him to detain the train for a few minutes till my baggage arrived, and he agreed.

Once I was in the train I fell to pondering. When Bhagavan had asked me why I was in a hurry to leave I couldn’t leave although I tried. When he gave the all clear the train was stopped to take me. It worked both ways. He had also assured me of success in my Tamil test although I knew scarcely a word of the language and the test was to be held in a few months. I felt that it was hardly worth while engaging a tutor, but experience told me that Bhagavan was dependable. The train journey was sufficient proof. So when I got home I engaged a tutor and stayed at home during the summer recess of the lawcourts, reading ‘Who am I?’ in Tamil. The written test came along. I had to translate an English speech into Tamil, and somehow I passed. Then there was the more frightening oral test in Madras, but it was made very easy and I passed that too.

From one point of view this whole test seemed to me useless, since there was no likelihood of my ever serving in Tamilnad, but from another point of view it was a very necessary experience, since it confirmed my faith in Bhagavan. I could only judge him on my own level and in the light of my own experience, even if it was nothing more than a train journey or a Tamil test.

In February 1949 my eldest son had a severe attack of smallpox. After a few days the doctor warned me that many people were dying of it and the chances of recovery were slight. I sat at the boy’s bedside reading religious poems so as to keep his mind on God, since he was not expected to live. Then, on February 4th, the idea suddenly came to me to ask Bhagavan for his blessings, as we were in great distress. So I wrote to him:

Early next morning my sister, who had been taking her turn sitting by the boy during the night, told my wife and me that she had had a vision of Ammavaru (the spirit of smallpox) leaving our house and asking her to take care of the boy. She gathered from that, in accordance with popular belief, that the boy would recover and no one else in the house get the disease. A few hours later a friend came in and gave me some sacred ashes from Sri Ramanasramam. Another good omen. We all began to feel hopeful. On the 8th I received the following letter from the Ashram :

The letter thrilled me, but how did Bhagavan know that my son had smallpox ? Why ask? How could I know how Bhagavan knew ? Anyway, my son survived and is in good health.

I continued to be curious how smallpox came to be mentioned in the Ashram letter. Some elderly persons suggested that the moment Bhagavan saw my letter he received a mental picture of my son bedridden with smallpox. Later, however, Sri Bhagavatula Annapurnayya Sastri of Tenali gave an explanation that appealed more to me. “Was it necessary for you to write to Bhagavan in order for him to know what was happening in your house? Is he not all-pervading and all-knowing ? But he does not interfere unless asked to and called upon. If a man is singing in Bombay and you want to hear him you must switch on the radio. If you don’t, the radio will not receive his song and you will not hear it, although he is singing just the same. Similarly if you want Bhagavan’s blessings you must establish contact with him in the right way.”

My faith in Bhagavan increased enormously as a result of this, because it was a matter of life and death for my boy and he gave him life.

On 17th March 1949 a big ceremony was held at the Ashram for the consecration of the temple over the shrine of Bhagavan’s mother. I decided to go and to take my family and my mother with me. I applied for two days casual leave, made all arrangements and came home at 2 p.m. A car was waiting at the door to take us to the station. Suddenly I felt that I should not go. My wife and mother naturally protested, but it was no use. Our baggage was taken out of the car. Every one was annoyed about it but I merely said: “Perhaps Bhagavan doesn’t want me to see this function. I too am sorry but I can’t help it.”

At about nine o’clock that evening I received a telegram that the only son of my third sister was dangerously ill with meningitis. and that I should send my mother there at once. I put her on the train together with the sister who had looked after my own son when he had smallpox. On arrival this sister wrote me a frantic letter saying that the case of my nephew was hopeless and that the only chance of saving him, if at all, was to invoke the blessings of Bhagavan. So on March 30 I again wrote to him. The following reply was received with the next day’s date :

Your letter of the 30th instant was received and placed before Sri Bhagavan. May Sri Bhagavan’s blessings be on the child and his parents. Herewith prasadam enclosed.

My nephew recovered. We understood then why I suddenly had to cancel my journey to Tiruvannamalai. If we had gone the telegram would not have reached me, my mother and sister would not have gone in time, and I should not have written to ask Bhagavan for his blessings. Hence my erratic decision, prompted by something unknown to me at the time.

Came the fateful year 1950 when Bhagavan left his body. Physically he is no more with us. But he remains forever in our hearts. There are thousands of humble folk like me who received from beloved Bhagavan things they could never return. Nor was any return expected. God fulfils human needs so that man may develop divine discontent. It is human nature to get and forget ; it is divine nature to give and forgive.

Man is God’s child. Just as a parent satisfies the childish needs of a child, even though they may be ultimately, unnecessary, so does God satisfy the immediate though temporary needs of man so as to stimulate a desire for the ultimate and eternal need – the need to attain Godhead. Arthur Osborne wrote in ‘The Incredible Sai Baba’ that Baba used to say:

“I give people what they want in the hope that they will begin to want what I want to give them.”^[1]