From the dawn of creation and across the rolling ages, Arunachala has stood as the supreme centre of silent initiation. The Hill, drawing unto itself souls parched for spiritual knowledge, gathers them to its bosom and imparts its own majestic silence — establishing them in the Self. The Arunachala Puranam proclaims: “Upon the northern peak abides a vast Banyan tree, beneath whose shade sits Siva as a Siddha Yogi. Its branches stretch to cover the whole universe, and its immense leaves awaken wonder in the hearts of men and celestials alike.”

This Siddha Yogi, Lord Dakshinamurthi, is described as the youthful Guru seated beneath the Banyan, facing the South, encircled by four aged disciples. His teaching flows not through words, but through silence. Yet in that silence, their doubts dissolve. And what is the dispelling of doubt but the vanishing of the separate self? “Their doubts dispelled means they lost their individual identities.”¹

That very Sivam, descending in compassion, assumed for a time a human form — resplendent as the splendour of stillness, radiating the spell-binding silence of Arunachala, yet shedding love as freely as the Hill itself. Abiding as the Teacher of teachers (guro guruṇām), He shone before the world as Bhagavan.

A youthful monarch among ascetics, a true Yogiraja, Bhagavan was often encircled by disciples venerable in years, such as Sivaprakasam Pillai, Gambhiram Seshayya, and B.V. Narasimha Swami. The greatest of mysteries, surpassing all others, is to abide as the Self. He, ever shining as the Self, embodied that supreme mystery, whereby his aged disciples tasted the highest experience.

If those graced by Dakshinamurthi were but four, in Bhagavan’s presence legions of devotees — ripe souls drawn from every corner of the earth — have borne witness again and again to the wonder that is the mere stillness of Awareness, in which Bhagavan was utterly absorbed. He dissolved their doubts and conferred upon them the direct taste of svanubhava. Nor was this grace limited to humankind alone; for even the four-footed and the winged, too, received his silent benediction. He was in perfect identity with Siva, taking up residence on the southern side of the Hill. Bhagavan is “abiding in the effulgence of Arunachala shines as Dakshinamurthi” says Jagadeeswara Sastri.²

The fact that he was always seated, like Lord Dakshinamurthi, facing the south, even if seemingly by accident, earned him the epithet “one with face turned towards South.”³ In another instance, the Maharshi, seated in Padmasana, decked in kaupina, face full of bliss, and Heart ever radiating the effulgence of Being and Pure Awareness, was hailed as “the equal of Dakshinamurthi.”⁴ He was also addressed as “Preceptor Universal” Visvaguru⁵, by no less a personality than Kavyakantha Ganapati Muni who exclaimed, “He is verily the Truth expounded by the recondite symbol of silence shown by Siva as Dakshinamurthi to Sanaka and others.”⁶

The power that flowed from Bhagavan’s very Being and Awareness — from the Lord of the Self and of all existence — often gave people an inner awakening, opening the eye of true understanding. This real initiation is called silence.

Bhagavan’s teaching was like the silence of the star-filled sky: the language of Grace rising from the deepest core of Being. It belonged to a realm beyond words — like the thunder of jnana (wisdom) — pure, divine, and the very source of the mind and of all languages.

True Brahma Vidya — the knowledge of the Self — can never be fully learned from books or words; it is best imparted through silence. Bhagavan himself was like a living scripture of silence, silently transmitting the Knowledge and direct Experience of the Self, just as Dakshinamurthi once did. Thus, he came to be extolled as, “One who through silence reveals the Self.”⁷ During his ‘mouna,’ if his eyes came to rest on some, it resulted in a tremendous power accruing to those devotees.

His very presence was like the rising sun, filling everything around with light and sacredness. The peace that radiated from him gave people a direct taste of the Self in the form of silent initiation. What seemed rare and difficult to attain — even for great sages of old like Suka — was shown by Sri Bhagavan to be natural and possible for everyone. Shining as the giver of jnana, he revealed the Truth simply by being the Truth.

In his presence, the state of Brahman could be felt in its full glory. At such times, devotees often had many kinds of experiences — visions, inner sounds, or even a deep state beyond name and form — all arising effortlessly through the power of his silent presence. Thus Muruganar sings, “By his mere presence he bestowed the experience of state of samadhi to devotees even without any sadhana.”⁸

His glance of grace revealed the Hill of bright Awareness. One could divine the meaning of Eternity and Bliss by merely looking into his eyes. Natanananda records, “Standing in front of the glance of the guru, the tyrannical ego ghost was burnt to ashes like cotton encountering fire.”⁹ Muruganar affirms “With a single glance of grace, in the blink of an eye, this granite heart was transformed into pure gold, as if by magic.”¹⁰ Manifesting outwardly as the Guru and inwardly as pure consciousness, he uprooted the illusory mind and revealed the true Self — the state of resting in the Heart, silent and still like a bell without a clapper. His gaze shaped the seekers even as they looked upon him.

Bhagavan, ever seated in silence, was always surrounded by eminent disciples, learned scholars, poets, mahatmas, ascetics, mature souls, earnest seekers, and pure-hearted devotees who were not yet spiritually advanced. “Silence is a perfect upadesa best suited for the most advanced seeker.”¹¹ Out of compassion, and as his own act of sacrifice, he spoke and imparted the Advaitic Truth like Sankara.

In doing so, he united the silent teaching of the Primal Guru with Sankara’s clarifying word — without the latter’s long wanderings — adapting perfectly to the need of the time. Swami Natanananda declares: “the One Dakshinamurthi who appeared below the Banyan tree and also at Kalady now abides on the slopes of Arunachala in the form of wisdom and grace.”¹²

It was while listening to Bhagavan’s commentary on the Dakshinamurthi Stotram that his uncle, Nelliappa Iyer, recognized his nephew’s greatness and overcame the disillusion he had felt earlier, after having been told that this boy was utterly ignorant.¹³

Little did he know that he was the one who in the words of Muruganar “shinest as the form of the Primal Guru for the entire tribe that speaks on the Supreme Transcendent.”¹⁴ What more: “The hoary sastras and commentaries of elders are but a special preface for Thy book of Silence.”¹⁵

Bhagavan was the living commentary on the timeless gospel of eloquent silence. To abide in that silence — which is Truth, Bliss, and Peace — is to dwell in the Self. The very quest for this silence is the enquiry, ‘Who am I?’ His words flowed like a sacred river of wisdom — a true jnana-ganga. Moreover, of his speech: “a ringing bell with mouna as its clapper; he drives home the teachings of jnana like an incorporeal voice emanating from the heavenly sphere. Words of Siva-jnana were uttered in ringing tones.”¹⁶ The well-known Vedic pronouncement declares: “One who is blessed by a spiritual preceptor knows the Truth.”¹⁷ But Bhagavan as a young boy realised the Self without a guru. Indeed, this proves that he was the Primal Preceptor, Lord Dakshinamurthi.

The promise Lord Siva once gave to Saint Tirujnanasambandhar, while appearing as an old man, was that Tiruvannamalai—the center of one’s own true Being—is never far away, since He comes from there daily and guides seekers on the right path. This was both a prophecy and a timeless allegory. In the same way, Sri Bhagavan Ramana, as Dakshinamurthi, showed that the ultimate goal is not distant — he led humanity home through the direct and safe path of Self-inquiry (vichara). Always abiding as the Supreme Reality, the boundless Pure Awareness that exists and shines everywhere and at all times, Bhagavan was seen as the personal Guru by countless devotees. For the Guru is none other than the embodiment of Dakshinamurthi. Thus it is said, “Obeisance to Sri Dakshinamurthi who is the form of God, Guru and Atman who is all-pervading like the sky.”¹⁸

Thus, Bhagavan was none other than the spotless Siva, beyond all qualities. One devotee, firmly convinced that Sri Bhagavan was in fact the Siddha Purusha — Lord Dakshinamurthi of the Hill—once sought confirmation of this truth directly from Bhagavan himself. He recollected, “Sri Bhagavan was listening with a smile but suddenly he became stiff and silent with an awe-inspiring face. And then, as if to assert this incident, Bhagavan looked at the devotee with the usual smile beaming with benevolence.”¹⁹

Sri Viswanatha Swamy recorded the following²⁰ narration by Bhagavan, “Innumerable are the visions I have had on this Hill. I have seen beautiful groves of trees and fine places inside it. Once I saw a large tank and a big congregation of rishis and yogis seated on a plain ground around it. Every face was familiar and so were the surroundings. A dais was there and I went up and sat on it with my right hand held up in chinmudra. It seemed like my place and my usual pose.” Thus he indeed was, and remains, the Siddha Purusha of eternal fame and Dakshinamurthi to many.

Mr. Raghavachariar once expressed his wish to see Bhagavan’s true form. As he gazed at Bhagavan in silence, Bhagavan’s physical form gradually disappeared, leaving only empty space, followed by a whitish cloud. At that time, Bhagavan was seated on a pial with a picture of Dakshinamurthi on the wall beside him. As Raghavachariar continued to look into his eyes, the wall itself seemed to vanish, leaving only emptiness. Then, within that space, a whitish cloud slowly took the outline of Maharshi and of Dakshinamurthi. Silvery lines began to shape their forms, and soon the eyes and features were traced in lightning-like brilliance. These lines expanded until the entire figure of Bhagavan and Dakshinamurthi shone forth, radiant with an overwhelming and unendurable light. When he reported this incident to Bhagavan, he said, “Ganapati Sastri had a similar experience. You may consult him.”²¹ Thus, Kapali Sastri sings,

“Is he another Shankara, Prince of preceptors
Or else Lord Shambhu with Sakthi indrawn?
Him the Lord some call Primal Being
Yet, others proclaim Him the Being
Centered in the orb of worlds and sphere?²²

T.K. Sundaresa Iyer recounts how, on one Sivaratri night, a sadhu requested Bhagavan to explain the Dakshinamurthi Stotra. Bhagavan asked the sadhu to sit, and then remained in his natural, serene poise. No words were spoken, no movement arose—only stillness prevailed. As the hours passed, everyone sat motionless, unaware of body, space, or time. “Thus eight hours passed in peace, in silence, in Being as IT is. Thus was the Divine Reality taught through the speech of silence by Bhagavan Sri Ramana Dakshinamurthi.”²³ Muruganar thus extolled Bhagavan: “May He who abides as Lord Dakshinamurthi live ever and anon.”²⁴

Bhagavan once narrated to Muruganar the story of how the four venerable sages, beholding the greatness of Lord Siva, sat at His feet and asked profound and searching questions about the nature of Reality and the means of realizing it. Delighted by their sincerity, wisdom, and maturity, Siva, filled with compassion and fatherly love, gave them fitting answers. Yet as He replied, more doubts arose, and this dialogue continued for an entire year. At last, seeing that their questioning and ignorance could have no end, the Lord merged into supreme silence. In that silence, the disciples too dissolved into the Self—the Supreme Silence.

On hearing this account, Muruganar remarked that no scripture had ever recorded the Lord speaking in such a way. To this, Bhagavan firmly retorted, ‘But this is how it happened’ (அது அப்படித்தான் ஓய் – adu appaḍittāṉ ōy). From the authority and certainty of these words, Muruganar realized that Sri Ramana was none other than Lord Dakshinamurthi Himself.

Silence is the highest teaching. What years of conversation cannot reveal can be known instantly in silence. The way Bhagavan’s deep inner stillness worked—dispelling doubts and granting spiritual experience—was beyond human understanding.²⁵

One story provides a striking example: A Kashmiri man and his attendant came to visit Bhagavan. The man, who knew no language other than Kashmiri, came to Bhagavan one night and spoke rapidly in his tongue. Bhagavan simply looked at him with grace and remained silent. After a while, the man bowed and left. The next morning, his master complained to Bhagavan, saying it was unfair that Bhagavan had not told him he spoke Kashmiri so well. He explained that his attendant had posed all his questions and received answers in his own language. Bhagavan himself revealed that he had not uttered a word.²⁶

On another occasion, the Sankaracharya of Puri came to see Bhagavan for the first time. Neither spoke; the entire hall was filled with perfect silence, like the still waters of a great lake. Then Bhagavan’s face began to shine, radiant like the light of countless suns. Perceiving this brilliance, the faces of all present lit up like blossoming lotuses. The Acharya, an elderly man compared to the youthful Bhagavan, raised a doubt about Avachchaya Yoga. Bhagavan explained, but the Acharya could not grasp it. Bhagavan then held his gracious gaze upon him for half an hour. The Acharya’s eyes closed by themselves, his hair stood on end, and tears streamed down his face. Immersed in unspeakable bliss, he finally raised both hands above his head, acknowledging the truth of the ancient saying: ‘The Guru’s sermon of silence clears the doubts of his disciples’ (Gurosthu mouna vyakhyanam sishyastu chinnasamsayaha).”²⁷

What Guhai Namasivaya says in Venba Tirattu of the Siddha Yogi – Dakshinamurthi namely “He entering through the eyes comes to remain in the Heart granting devotees what they desire. Severing the cycle of births and stilling the thought waves, He, the Lord of universe holds sway.” A picture of Bhagavan indeed.

Bhagavan himself declares, “A person’s bad karma will be considerably reduced in the presence of a jnani. His sannidhi, the most powerful force, can do wonders. It can save souls, give peace of mind and even liberation to ripe souls. Prayers are absorbed in his presence which saves and wards off karma and gives boon.²⁸

The silence in which one shines as the Self, recognizing ‘That’ as oneself and oneself as ‘That,’ is the truest transmission of the Atman. Bhagavan, like the primal teacher, was simply this pure ‘That.’ When a sincere heart turns inward in search of the Self, a silent prayer opens it to the stillness of the Divine. Silence transcends space and time; eternal silence is Self-knowledge, revealed as the infinitude of Being, the purity of Awareness, and the Bliss of complete fulfillment. Bhagavan, whether clothed in a body or free of it, abides forever as the ‘ever-luminous presence,’ untouched by time, body, mind, name, form, or space. His words, ‘Where can I go after dropping the body?’ stand as yet another affirmation of his eternal presence as Dakshinamurthi. Hence, the best hymn of Bhagavan is anusandhana of the Atman, meaning that it is the enquiry into the Self.

“Let us build an inner shrine for our Lord of Silence
For he who accepts the sacrifice of the frisky ram of the restless ego
And dwells in the Temple of the Heart
The only worship is thought-free Awareness.”

Even now, the silence of the Old Hall resounds with an unbroken fullness. If one sits in the Old Hall today, he will feel the living silence. In that profound hush, thoughts dissolve into pure consciousness, and the seeker realizes that the Guru, God, and Self are not different, but one indivisible Reality. Those who sit there feel their hearts stilled and minds washed clean by unseen grace. Arunachala whispers his wordless teaching. Each breath becomes a prayer, each moment a revelation. The silence he lived and taught still shines—timeless, vast, and boundless as the Self itself.

Introduction

In the first article of this series, we explored the importance of studying Advaita Vedanta. In subsequent articles, we examined key concepts, including jīva (individual self), nirguṇa Brahman (Brahman without attributes), jagat (world), and saguṇa Brahman (īśvara, or Brahman with attributes) and how the ultimate reality (Brahman) is devoid of distinctions and fundamentally one with the individual soul (ātman). In the previous article, we explored the concept of dharma. In this article, we delve into the concept of bhakti and its importance.

In this article, though we use the term bhakti, we actually refer to bhakti and śaraṇāgati interchangeably. They are closely related spiritual concepts, but they differ in practice and emphasis. Bhakti primarily refers to the path of loving devotion toward the divine, involving continuous acts of worship, singing, meditation, and service, for attaining union with God through personal effort and devotion. Śaraṇāgati, also known as prapatti or surrender, is the act of completely resigning one’s will and responsibilities to God, trusting fully in divine grace and protection. While bhakti requires sustained effort and practice throughout one’s life, śaraṇāgati involves a once-and-for-all surrender—neither accepting nor rejecting what is deemed favorable or unfavorable, but submitting entirely to God’s will. In some traditions, bhakti is considered the means and śaraṇāgati the culmination or the final step, wherein self-effort is given up entirely. This śaraṇāgati and inquiry (vicāra) are functionally identical in their culmination, as often emphasized by Sri Ramana Maharshi.

Advaita Vedānta is widely recognized as the pinnacle of Indian philosophical inquiry into the nature of ultimate reality. Its central proclamation is that the individual self (ātman) is none other than Brahman, the infinite, non-dual ground of being. Brahman, according to Advaita, is pure existence (sat), pure consciousness (cit), and pure bliss (ānanda), free of all limitations. The bondage of the individual (jīva) is not ontologically real but arises through avidyā (ignorance), which superimposes (adhyāsa) multiplicity upon the non-dual Self. Liberation (mokṣa) is attained not by producing a new state but by the removal of this ignorance, whereby one recognizes the ever-liberated nature of the Self.

The epistemic method prescribed by Advaita Vedānta, especially by Ādi Śaṅkarācārya, centers upon śravaṇa (attentive hearing of Vedāntic teachings), manana (rational reflection to remove doubts), and nididhyāsana (contemplative assimilation leading to direct realization). These culminate in ātma-vicāra (Self-enquiry), the penetrating investigation into the nature of the ‘I,’ whereby the false identification with body-mind is dissolved and the substratum of pure consciousness is revealed. In this sense, Advaita emphasizes jñāna-mārga—the way of knowledge—wherein viveka (discrimination) and vairāgya (dispassion) are indispensable disciplines for the seeker.

Because of this emphasis on jñāna, Advaita has often been interpreted as a strictly intellectual or gnoseological path. Other spiritual disciplines are relegated to secondary, preparatory functions. Within this framework, karma-yoga (selfless action) and bhakti-yoga (the path of devotion) are viewed as means of chitta-śuddhi (purification of mind), necessary for cultivating the stability and receptivity required for Self-knowledge, but not themselves considered direct means (sākṣāt-sādhanam) to liberation.

Yet, such a reading risks oversimplification, for the role of bhakti (devotion) within Advaita is far more subtle and profound. Śaṅkara himself, in addition to his rigorous commentaries (bhāṣyas) on the Upaniṣads, Bhagavad Gītā, and Brahma-sūtras, also composed devotional hymns (stotras) of deep fervor, such as the Bhaja Govindam, Sivananda Lahari and Saundarya Lahari. In these works, devotion is not presented as mere preliminary practice, but as a mode of direct engagement with the Divine. Moreover, in his Vivekachūḍāmaṇi, Śaṅkara defines supreme devotion (parā-bhakti) as “seeking after one’s own true nature,” equating it with the steadfast abidance in Brahman itself. This indicates that for Śaṅkara, jñāna and bhakti are not ultimately divergent, but converge in the same realization: love of God and knowledge of the Self are two expressions of the same non-dual truth.

Śrī Ramana Maharshi made this convergence explicit. Ramana frequently affirmed that the highest bhakti is identical with ātma-vichāra, for surrender (śaraṇāgati) to the Divine is functionally the same as the dissolution of the ego-sense in Self-inquiry. Thus, whether the aspirant frames the practice as inquiry into “Who am I?” or as total surrender to the Divine, the culmination is the same: the transcendence of individuality and the direct recognition of the Self as Brahman.

This synthesis highlights a crucial point: while jñāna is the immediate means of liberation, bhakti is not merely a preparatory adjunct but an intrinsic dimension of Advaitic practice. Devotion purifies the heart, loosens attachment, and softens the ego in ways that mere intellectual discrimination may not. It provides the affective and volitional complement to the cognitive clarity of jñāna. Where inquiry (vichāra) unmasks the illusory nature of duality, devotion (bhakti) dissolves the will to separateness in the fire of love. Both converge in the recognition that the Self and Brahman are one.

Thus, a fuller understanding of Advaita Vedānta must recognize that it is not a “dry” metaphysics or a merely intellectual pursuit. Properly understood, it is the harmonious union of jñāna and bhakti—knowledge and love, inquiry and surrender—leading the aspirant to the direct realization of non-duality. In this realization, all dualities of knower and known, seeker and sought, lover and beloved are transcended, leaving only Brahman, the fullness of being-consciousness-bliss.

Among the modern proponents of Advaita Vedanta, Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi stands out for his integrative approach, which harmonized bhakti and jñāna into a seamless spiritual path. This article explores the importance of bhakti in Advaita Vedanta, referencing key scriptural foundations and how Ramana Maharshi illuminated bhakti’s vital role in the non-dual quest.

Understanding Bhakti and Its Place in Advaita

The term bhakti, derived from the Sanskrit root bhaj (“to share, to love, to partake”), is commonly rendered as devotion or loving dedication directed toward the Divine. In many devotional traditions, bhakti emphasizes a personal and relational bond with God, wherein the devotee surrenders to a deity conceived as ontologically distinct. Worship (pūjā), prayer, chanting (nāma-saṅkīrtana), and service (sevā) are regarded as its primary expressions.

Advaita Vedānta, however, offers a more radical vision. Rooted in the mahāvākyas of the Upaniṣads—such as tat tvam asi (“That thou art,” Chāndogya Upaniṣad 6.8.7), aham brahmāsmi (“I am Brahman,” Bṛhadāraṇyaka Upaniṣad 1.4.10), and ayam ātmā brahma (“This Self is Brahman,” Māṇḍūkya Upaniṣad 2) — it proclaims the essential identity of the individual Self (ātman) and the Absolute (Brahman).¹ From this standpoint, distinctions between devotee and deity belong only to the empirical (vyāvahārika) level of reality and are ultimately sublated in the non-dual realization of Brahman.

Yet, Advaita Vedānta does not dismiss bhakti. Rather, it reinterprets and integrates devotion within its non-dual framework. Śaṅkara defines supreme bhakti in his Vivekacūḍāmaṇi: sva-svarūpānusandhānaṁ bhaktir ity abhidhīyate—“Bhakti is said to be the constant meditation upon one’s own real nature.”² This striking definition relocates bhakti from external ritualism to inward absorption in the Self, thus aligning devotion with Self-knowledge (ātma-jñāna).

At the same time, Śaṅkara acknowledges conventional devotion (īśvara-bhakti) as an essential aid to liberation. In his Bhagavad Gītā Bhāṣya, he emphasizes that devotion to God, along with karma-yoga and meditation (upāsanā), purifies the mind (citta-śuddhi) and prepares the seeker for knowledge.³ Śaṅkara’s own devotional hymns, such as Bhaja Govindam and Saundaryalaharī, further illustrate that devotion was not a dispensable concession in his thought but an integral component of his prescriptions for sādhanā.

The Bhagavad Gītā itself, revered in both devotional and Advaitic traditions, affirms the convergence of bhakti and jñāna. In 18.55, Kṛṣṇa declares: bhaktyā mām abhijānāti yāvān yaś cāsmi tattvataḥ — “By devotion, one truly knows Me, what and who I am in reality.”⁴ Conversely, in 7.17, the jñānī-bhakta (the devotee of knowledge) is exalted as “My very Self” (ātmaiva me matam), suggesting that the culmination of bhakti is indistinguishable from Self-realization.

Advaitic sages reinforced this synthesis. Śrī Ramana Maharshi insisted that jñāna and bhakti are ultimately identical: inquiry (vicāra) into “Who am I?” and surrender (śaraṇāgati) to God both culminate in the dissolution of the ego.⁵ Similarly, the Ribhu Gītā repeatedly affirms that devotion to Śiva or to the Guru finds its fulfillment in recognizing the Self as non-different from Brahman.⁶

Thus, within Advaita Vedānta, bhakti assumes a graded role. Initially, dualistic devotion disciplines the mind, stabilizes the emotions, and cultivates humility. At this stage, God is approached as an external form (iṣṭa-devatā) worthy of reverence. As practice matures, the aspirant realizes that the personal deity is a symbol of the formless Absolute. Ultimately, bhakti is sublimated into sva-svarūpānusandhāna, where love ceases to be relational and becomes abiding recognition of the Self as Brahman.

In this light, bhakti and jñāna are not contradictory but complementary. jñāna dismantles the ignorance that sustains duality, while bhakti dissolves the sense of separateness through surrender. Both converge in mokṣa, liberation, which is nothing other than the immediate recognition of non-duality. As Śaṅkara and his successors affirm, the highest devotion is Self-realization itself—the abiding love of Brahman, the one without a second.

Ramana Maharshi’s Teachings on Bhakti and Advaita

Śrī Ramana Maharshi consistently emphasized that bhakti (devotion) and jñāna (knowledge) are not divergent paths but ultimately identical in their culmination. While his most well-known teaching centers upon the method of ātma-vicāra—the inquiry “Who am I?”—he made it equally clear that surrender (śaraṇāgati) or the way of devotion is an equally valid and effective approach to Self-realization.

In response to questions on destiny, free will, and liberation, Maharshi explained⁷:

“There are only two ways to conquer destiny or to be independent of it. One is to inquire whose this destiny is and discover that only the ego is bound by it and not the Self. The other way is to kill the ego by completely surrendering to the Lord, realizing one’s helplessness and saying all the time, ‘Not I, but Thou, O Lord,’ giving up all sense of ‘I’ and ‘mine’ and leaving it to the Lord to do what He likes with you.”

In this teaching, Maharshi presents two complementary approaches: inquiry into the Self, which dissolves the ego through knowledge, and surrender to God, which annihilates the ego through love. Both converge in the same goal—the eradication of the false sense of individuality and the recognition of the Self as pure, undivided consciousness.

For Maharshi, the essence of bhakti lies not in ritual or emotionalism but in total surrender to the Divine will. This surrender (prapatti) is not transactional devotion motivated by desires for worldly gains or even liberation. Instead, he emphasized that true bhakti must be free of all expectation: no desire for reward, no demand for spiritual powers, not even the aspiration for mokṣa as a personal attainment.

Genuine devotion is the effacement of the ego and the abiding recognition that the Self and God are not-two. To surrender in this way is to say unceasingly: “Not I, but Thou,” until all sense of “I” and “mine” disappears.

This radical teaching transforms the very meaning of devotion. For Sri Ramana, bhakti is not directed toward a distant or separate deity, but toward the Self itself, which is none other than God. To love God is to love one’s own true Being, for there is no separation between the worshipper and the worshipped. Thus, devotion and knowledge meet as one—the heart’s surrender and the mind’s silence merging in the realization of the Self. In his words,⁸ “Bhakti is the same as vicāra (Self-inquiry).”

This statement encapsulates the non-dual synthesis at the heart of his teaching. Where conventional bhakti begins with duality—devotee and deity, lover and beloved—it matures into parā-bhakti, the highest devotion, which is identical with Self-knowledge. In such devotion, the heart is absorbed in its own source, and love is no longer relational but the spontaneous radiance of Being itself.

Maharshi often described the culmination of surrender as indistinguishable from Self-realization. To surrender entirely is to dissolve the ego into its ground, which is the Self. Likewise, to pursue inquiry is to penetrate the ego and discover its unreality, leaving only the Self. Whether the ego is annihilated by the fire of knowledge (jñāna) or by the grace of love (bhakti), the end is the same: the effortless abiding in pure awareness.

Importantly, Maharshi distinguished true surrender from mere outward gestures of devotion. External forms of worship, prayer, or ritual may purify the mind and prepare the aspirant, but unless they culminate in the death of the ego, they do not constitute complete bhakti. For him, the highest devotion is identical with the highest knowledge: love for the Self because the Self is God.

Thus, in Ramana’s vision, bhakti is not sentimental attachment to a form but the recognition of the Divine as one’s very essence. To love God is to love the Self, and to love the Self is to abide in God. Bhakti and jñāna, therefore, are not parallel paths that merely converge at the summit; they are two names for the same ascent. Devotion without duality is knowledge, and knowledge infused with surrender is love.

For modern seekers, Maharshi’s synthesis dissolves the apparent tension between the head and the heart, between philosophy and devotion. It affirms that whether one takes the way of inquiry or the way of surrender, what matters is the annihilation of ego and the discovery of the Self as the sole reality. In that realization, love and knowledge are revealed to be one.

Bhakti as Preparation and Support for Advaita Realization

In the practical discipline of Advaita Vedānta, bhakti serves multiple and complementary functions in preparing the aspirant for Self-knowledge (jñāna). First, devotion acts as a means of citta-śuddhi (purification of mind), softening the rigidity of the ego and rendering the intellect receptive to subtle teachings.⁹ Second, it provides a focal point—whether a deity, a guru, or a divine principle—thereby stabilizing the otherwise restless mind and emotions (manonigraha).¹⁰ Third, bhakti fosters the surrender of the ego, which is indispensable for breaking the false identification with the limited self; Śrī Ramana Maharshi repeatedly affirmed that surrender (śaraṇāgati) and inquiry (vicāra) are functionally identical in their culmination.¹¹ Fourth, devotional surrender invites anugraha (grace), which, according to Advaitic and Vedāntic traditions, is essential for the final breakthrough into realization; as the Kaṭha Upaniṣad (1.2.23) declares, “The Self is attained only by him whom the Self chooses—unto him the Self reveals Its own form.”¹² Finally, bhakti functions as an integrative discipline, harmonizing the heart and the intellect, so that emotional longing and rational discernment converge in a unified spiritual orientation.¹³ In this way, devotion eases the aspirant into the path of jñāna, for the inquiry into the Self requires a mind that is purified, steady, and inwardly surrendered.

Ramana Maharshi, surrounded by devotees of diverse spiritual temperaments, acknowledged these needs and often encouraged surrender and devotion according to the seeker’s disposition. Not everyone is naturally inclined to sharp self-inquiry alone; for many, bhakti acts as the bridge to deeper knowledge.

We will elaborate these aspects in the next article of this series.

5. Family Life

46. அறத்தாற்றின் இல்வாழ்க்கை ஆற்றின் புறத்தாற்றில்
போஒய்ப் பெறுவது எவன்?

aṛattāṭṛin ilvāzhkkai āṭṛin puṛattāṭṛil
pōoyp peṛuvadu evan?

Meaning

If one conducts his family life in accordance with virtue and duty-consciousness, what else can he hope to gain by going out of it (like taking sannyasa)?

[அறத்து ஆற்றின் இல்வாழ்க்கை ஆற்றின் = If one conducts his family life in accordance with virtue and duty-consciousness; புறத்து ஆற்றில் போஒய்ப் பெறுவது எவன் = what else can he hope to gain by going out of it]

Commentary

Leading a family life in accordance with virtue and duty-consciousness would pave the way for one’s evolution. If one is able to conquer their ego, which rises as reactions during interactions, he would be able to evolve fast in family life, which is full of interactions. If the family duties are fulfilled in the proper manner, then over the years, the karmas would all end and one would be able to come to the spiritual path and achieve the purpose of life.

Thus, we can see that everything is available in family life, including love, help and food, and it is possible to achieve even Liberation by being in samsara. Many of the rishis of the Vedic times, like Vasishta, Vyasa, Gautama, Atri, Agastya, etc., were all family men. Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar was himself a family man. By leading the life of a householder, these great saints were able to achieve the highest in life, which is Self-Realisation. Then what is the point in going out of family life and taking sannyasa?

Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi never encouraged anyone to take sannyasa for the sake of spiritual development or for gaining peace from the problems of family life. Bhagavan says, ‘Life in the family is difficult and painful, no doubt, but it is easier to become a jnani while living as a householder.’ This is what Bhagavan told his classmate Rangan who was facing a lot of troubles in his family life and wanted to take sannyasa.

Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar is also opposed to the idea of taking sannyasa for the sake of spiritual development. In fact, evolution is faster in samsara than in sannyasa. In family life, due to affection for others, we tend to adjust and control our negative emotions. We respect and listen to our elders. This is beneficial as it reduces the ego which rises as different emotions. This happens only so that we can check and overcome them. It is like how when the soldiers coming out from a fort that is under siege are shot and killed by the enemy forces, the fort will eventually be conquered. Similarly, when the ego is conquered whenever it rises, we would be able to enter the Heart (fort) and unite with the Self and achieve Liberation.

In family life, due to numerous interactions and situations in day-to-day life, the ego rises in so many ways — affection, attachment, agitation, anger, frustration, quarrels, jealousy, etc., and if we are alert, we will be able to enquire and cut off our reactions and make our mind positive. In this manner, the ego will weaken, paving the way for our faster spiritual development. This is not possible in a bachelor’s life due to fewer interactions with others.

Also, in family life, one has the comfort of getting good food and all the facilities, and one will be able to concentrate on their spiritual development better. When we grow old, our children who have been brought up with values by us would surely take care of us, and we would be able to engage in spiritual practice without any care. If we take up sannyasa, we have to depend on others for food, clothing and shelter, and this would be a burden on the mind, and we will not be able to concentrate on our sadhana effectively. Thus, remaining in samsara, if we slowly reduce our attachments and involvements, we would be able to evolve and fulfil the purpose of life, and we do not have to retire to seclusion in an ashram or a cave in old age.

47. இயல்பினான் இல்வாழ்க்கை வாழ்பவன் என்பான்
முயல்வாருள் எல்லாம் தலை.

iyalbinān ilvāzhkkai vāzhbavan enbān
muyalvāruḷ ellām talai.

Meaning

One who lives his family life properly is said to be the best of all those who strive (for perfection through other ways).

[இயல்பினான் இல்வாழ்க்கை வாழ்பவன் = one who lives his family life properly; முயல்வாருள் எல்லாம் தலை என்பான் = is said to be the best of all those who strive]

Commentary

Once again, Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar emphasises the greatness of family life in achieving the purpose of life. If one leads his family life in the proper way, fulfilling his duties and conquering his reactions, he would be able to evolve fast. In family life, there are greater opportunities to check our reactions and evolve faster as the challenges and interactions are much higher. If we are alert, we would be able to see various emotions like anger, greed, jealousy, hatred, etc., rise in us in different situations, which reflect our existing nature as the ego. If we conquer these bad qualities lurking in us, we would be able to purify our soul and weaken the ego.

In bachelor life, though there are fewer karmas to face, the opportunities to evolve are also fewer, as there are fewer interactions and problems to face. Therefore, it is more difficult to conquer the ego and emotions, which arise only in interactions and problem situations. All our good and bad qualities arise in us only during interactions with others. If we lead a secluded life as a bachelor or a sannyasi, we may be more peaceful, but it does not mean that we have made our minds purer. All our bad qualities would still be lurking within us. Only in family life they would come out frequently, and we would have the opportunity to destroy them if we are alert. Thus, while fulfilling our duties in family life, we should also keep a check on our reactions. By conquering our reactions and negative emotions, our ego would become thinner and the mind purer, and this will benefit us when we start doing our sadhana in the later part of our life, when all our duties would have ended.

In the previous Kuṛaḷ, the advantages of family life over sannyasa were explained. Thus, there is no need to think that family life is a hindrance to spiritual development; in fact, it is most advantageous. Bachelor life and sannyasa may appear to be rosy on the surface, but they have their own disadvantages. Though a person may have more time to meditate in bachelor life, it does not mean that we are evolving faster. In this Kuṛaḷ, Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar says that one who leads his family life in the proper way is the best among all those who are striving for Perfection or Liberation through other ways. Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar himself is a supreme example of this Kuṛaḷ.

48. ஆற்றின் ஒழுக்கி அறனிழுக்கா இல்வாழ்க்கை
நோற்பாரின் நோன்மை உடைத்து.

āṭṛin ozhukki aṛan-izukkā ilvāzhkkai
nōṛpārin nōnmai uḍaittu.

Meaning

The householder who conducts himself in virtue and does not neglect duty would achieve faster evolution than those who (merely) practise Tapas (leading a bachelor life).

[ஆற்றின் ஒழுக்கி அறன் இழுக்கா இல்வாழ்க்கை = the householder who conducts himself in virtue and does not neglect duty; நோற்பாரின் நோன்மை உடைத்து = would achieve faster evolution than those who (merely) practise Tapas]

Commentary

Once again, Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar is reiterating the advantage of family life for the purpose of evolution. He says that if one leads a virtuous life, doing good deeds and also fulfilling all his duties perfectly, he would be able to evolve faster in life than those who are merely doing Tapas. Thus, the Sage is emphasising the need to lead a proper life, which is the preparation required for doing Tapas later on in life when our duties would have ended. Without such preparation in life, merely doing Tapas or Sadhana would not speedily take us to our Supreme Goal of life, because the ego is difficult to conquer just by doing Tapas, and the mind is difficult to internalise unless the vasanas have been reduced to a large extent through inner purification. The ego springs into action only in activity and not in isolation. Thus, we need to lead our life properly and conquer our ego which rises in our day-to-day life through a timely enquiry and prayer to make the mind positive so as to let go of our reactions. After the ego has considerably reduced, if we undertake our Tapas, we would be able to progress rapidly on the spiritual path and achieve the purpose of life.

49. அறன் எனப்பட்டதே இல்வாழ்க்கை அஃதும்
பிறன்பழிப்பது இல்லாயின் நன்று.

aṛan enappaṭṭadē ilvāzhkkai akhdum
piṛan-pazhippadu illāyin nanḍṛu.

Meaning

Family life is considered only a blessing; better if it also gives no room for adverse criticism from others.

[அறன் எனப்பட்டதே இல்வாழ்க்கை (அறன் = blessing) = family life is considered only as a blessing; அஃதும் = also; அஃதும் பிறன் பழிப்பது இல்லாயின் நன்று = better if it also gives no room for adverse criticism from others]

Commentary

Family life is considered only a blessing, as it would take us to the Supreme Goal of life if we conduct ourselves properly. It is not a hindrance to one’s spiritual development. In fact, it is an aid to spiritual development if one leads his life in a proper manner. Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar says that the family life which has come to us as a blessing should be conducted in a manner that would not invite criticism from others. It means that our conduct should be beyond reproach from others. One has to balance both the worldly and the spiritual life for a happy family life. The boat of life in samsara will move smoothly only when both the oars are balanced. Then the boat will reach its destination by self-effort and Grace.

Thus, balancing life is very important. Balancing in Samsara is necessary to end all frictions, to have a smooth sailing, and to attain peace. In samsara, we must do things keeping in mind the sentiments of others in the family so as not to incur any blame. Nobody should comment that we are bad or we are failing in our duties. Therefore, we should lead a harmonious life and perform all our duties properly, and also maintain good relationships with friends, relatives and neighbours and be helpful to them in times of need. We should not give trouble to others in our locality in any manner. Suppose we are making a lot of noise, our neighbours would be disturbed. If we are rude or unhelpful, nobody would like us. Thus, we should lead our life properly so as to earn a good name not only in the family but also in society.

50. வையத்துள் வாழ்வாங்கு வாழ்பவன் வானுறையும்
தெய்வத்துள் வைக்கப் படும்.

vaiyattuḷ vāzhvāṅgu vāzhbavan vān-uṛaiyum
deyvattuḷ vaikkap paḍum.

Meaning

One who leads his life in the proper way (fulfilling the purpose of life) in this world would be placed in (the abode of) God that lies in the pure space (of the Heart).

[வையத்துள் வாழ்வாங்கு வாழ்பவன் (வாழ்வாங்கு = வாழ்வு + ஆங்கு; வாழ்வு = முறைப்படி, the proper way, systematically; ஆங்கு = அசை, an expletive; வையத்துள் = in the world) = One who leads his life in the proper way in the world; வான் உறையும் தெய்வத்துள் வைக்கப்படும் (வான் = ether, space) = would be placed in (the abode of) God that lies in in the (pure) space (of the Heart)]

Commentary

Here, Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar teaches us how we should lead our life so as to achieve the supreme goal of life, which is Liberation or mukti. The term வையத்துள், though normally means ‘in the world’, here Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar gives us a clue of what kind of life we should live in the world to achieve the purpose of life. The term வையத்துள் can be split as வையத்து + உள். The word உள் indicates that we should live an ‘inner’ life and not a worldly life. Thus, the first line of the Kuṛaḷ would become: வையத்து உள் வாழ்வு ஆங்கு வாழ்பவன். The term உள் வாழ்வு refers to the inner life, and we should live it முறைப்படி or in the proper way, balancing both the worldly and spiritual life.

Thus, Sage Tiruvaḷḷuvar wants us to lead an inner life, which means a spiritual life, in order to reach God or the Self within us, which is the true purpose of life. We should spiritualise our worldly life. We should be in conscious link with the Supreme while being engaged in worldly activity. Then evolution will take place faster. We should hold onto God in all our activities. Mahatma Gandhi would say, हात मे काम, मन मे राम. It means we should do our worldly tasks holding onto God. We should live in the world and yet out of it by not becoming worldly.

Thus, we should balance all our activities in the world with our spiritual goal. It means we should fulfil all our duties and responsibilities in the world in a detached manner. We should also develop moderation in all our worldly desires so that the mind will not externalise much into the world. Thus, we should develop sense control and lead a life of duty, discipline, devotion and virtue so that we won’t get caught in the world through desires, attachments and karmas. Only such an inner life will pave the way for our spiritual development. We should also develop Satsangh which is very important to sustain our spiritual life.

When we lead our life in the proper way so as to fulfil the purpose of life, we would be placed in the abode of God, which means we will gain mukti. The fact that we would be ‘placed’ in the abode of God indicates that it happens only by God’s Grace for which we have to be deserving by doing all that is required to fulfil the purpose of life. Leading our life in the proper way means to fulfil all our duties and responsibilities in a perfect and timely manner without escaping from them; holding on to God both in good and bad times with faith, devotion and surrender; correcting all our faults and bad qualities through enquiry; doing many virtuous deeds without expectations and refraining from wrongdoing; seeing through all the karmas we face with the understanding of the Karma Siddhanta by holding on to God and Guru; conquering our ego which rises in our day-to-day life as negative emotions due to reactions; conquering all the desires and attachments, and finally doing Tapas to realise the Self.

Bhagavad Gita says that if we are able to think of God at the time of death, we would surely be able to reach Him and for this to happen we have to lead our life in the proper manner as outlined above and surrender to Him so as to obtain His Grace at the time of death. When we are able to think of Him at the time of death due to His Grace, we would be able to merge in Him in the pure space of the Heart and thus become one with the Self. This is Liberation, which puts an end to our lifecycle.

Otherwise, if we have led a proper life fulfilling all our duties, holding onto God and Guru and developed detachment to the world and not have any bad karmas, even if we don’t get mukti at the time of death due to incompletion of our sadhana, we will be able to reach higher levels in the atmosphere where we would be guided by Devas so that we can do our sadhana and progressively go to higher and higher levels and finally reach Brahma Loka from where through surrender to God, we can gain mukti. This is the process of Krama mukti. All these will take its own time.

However, if we have led our life in the proper way and earned many punya karmas through the performance of many virtuous deeds including fulfilling our duties properly, but not come to the spiritual path and progressed towards mukti by overcoming our ego, we would be able to reach the abode of devas or devaloka after death which is known as heaven or swarga. This is a temporary place where we will be happy, and after the exhaustion of our punya karmas, we would be reborn in the world to continue our life in a new body.

Thus, depending upon the way we have lived our life in the world, we would be elevated to different levels in the atmosphere after death. The best is to end our lifecycle by merging in the pure space of the Heart for which we have to overcome our ego and gain the Grace of the Sadguru/God so that we can think of Him in our dying moments and unite with the Self in the Heart by His Grace. Thus, as the Buddha said, we have to work out our Salvation with diligence.

(To be continued)

Shift in Consciousness

स्वप्नः प्रबोधे निधनं प्रयातीत्यतो हि मिथ्येत्यवगम्यतेऽसौ।
जाग्रत्प्रपञ्चोऽपि तथाऽऽत्मभावे विनश्यतीत्यस्य मृषात्वसिद्धिः ।। (91)

svapnaḥ prabodhe nidhanaṃ prayātītyato hi mithyetyavagamyate’sau|
jāgratprapañco’pi tathā’’tmabhāve vinaśyatītyasya mṛṣātvasiddhiḥ ||

As the dream world is known to be unreal because it vanishes upon waking, so the waking world also is proved to be unreal by its vanishing in the light of the Real Self.

A simple ‘shift’ in Consciousness from dream to waking causes the complete collapse of the dream world. The actions a man performs in his dreams do not follow him to the waking state. If he were to take the events of his dreams as the basis for his many interactions in waking state, it would evoke much hilarity. Similarly, all his actions in the waking state as an individual do not cling to him when he awakens into the Supreme state of Self-knowledge. The following Padamalai verse puts this in perspective,¹

கனவிகற்ப மாநனவுங் கற்பிதங்காண் காணும்
கனவையொப்பத் தோன்றிக் கழிதலினன் பாதம்.

kana vikalpama nanavum kalpitam kaaN kaaNum
kanavai oppat thonRik kazhidalinan padam

Because it appears and disappears as dreams do, the waking state that appears to be solid and full of differences is also imaginary.

Bhagavan’s childhood friend, Rangan, relates this incident in his reminiscences,²

While Bhagavan was sitting on my cot, he told me (Rangan), ‘A man may dream that he is being beaten and that he is in pain. During the dream state all that seems true enough. But on waking, he laughs at the dream experience. Likewise, when he awakens to enlightenment, he will realise that this entire world is a mere dream’.

Can God be made into an object of perception?

जीवेश्वरौ विश्वमिति त्रयस्य मिथ्यात्वमुक्तं ह्यविभक्तमेव ।
त्रिष्वेककं सत्य मवैति यस्तु द्वयं तदन्यच्च सदेव तस्मै ।। (94)

jīveśvarau viśvamiti trayasya mithyātvamuktaṃ hyavibhaktameva |
triṣvekakaṃ satyamavaiti yastu dvayaṃ tadanyacca sadeva tasmai ||

The teaching, that the trinity of the soul, God and the world is unreal is indivisible. Therefore, to the one who is convinced that one of these is real, the other two also are real.

The trinity called jiva, Ishvara and the world (soul, God and the world) appear together and disappear together; they come as a ‘package’. They exist only when the mind exists. It means that you cannot take one to be real and others to be unreal. For example, you cannot take yourself (as a person) to be real while claiming the world to be unreal. One may ask, “Even if we are convinced that jiva and the world are unreal, is it not too much to say God is unreal?” This is the point of divergence between Advaita and other systems of philosophy, like Visishtadvaitam etc. This point has to be carefully grasped. In Bhagavan’s view, God can only be a concept in the mind-identified state. The objectifying tendency of the mind is the problem. Mind will attempt to make God as an object. Trying to contain God within the envelope of the mind, attributing characteristics to Him is called saguna Brahma upasana (worship of God/Brahman with attributes). This is an acceptable practice up to a stage. But one has to necessarily advance towards the non-dual experience.

Here is an extraordinary conversation Bhagavan had with a western devotee,³

Miss Umadevi, a Polish lady who had converted to Hinduism, asked Sri Bhagavan: I once before told Sri Bhagavan how I had a vision of Siva at about the time of my conversion to Hinduism. A similar experience recurred to me at Courtallam. These visions are momentary. But they are blissful. I want to know how they might be made permanent and continuous. Without Siva there is no life in what I see around me. I am so happy to think of Him. Please tell me how His vision may be everlasting to me.

M.: You speak of a vision of Siva. Vision is always of an object. That implies the existence of a subject. The value of the vision is the same as that of the seer. (That is to say, the nature of the vision is on the same plane as that of the seer.) Appearance implies disappearance also. Whatever appears must also disappear. A vision can never be eternal. But Siva is eternal. The pratyaksha (vision) of Siva to the eye signifies the existence of the eyes to see; the buddhi (intellect) lying behind the sight; the seer behind the buddhi and the sight; and finally the Consciousness underlying the seer. This pratyaksha (vision) is not as real as one imagines it to be, because it is not intimate and inherent; it is not first-hand. It is the result of several successive phases of Consciousness. Of these, Consciousness alone does not vary. It is eternal. It is Siva. It is the Self.

The vision implies the seer. The seer cannot deny the existence of the Self. There is no moment when the Self as Consciousness does not exist; nor can the seer remain apart from Consciousness. This Consciousness is the eternal Being and the only Being. The seer cannot see himself. Does he deny his existence because he cannot see himself with the eyes as pratyaksha (in vision)? No! So, pratyaksha does not mean seeing, but BE-ing. “To BE” is to realise - Hence I AM THAT I AM. I AM is Siva. Nothing else can be without Him. Everything has its being in Siva and because of Siva.

Therefore enquire “Who am I?” Sink deep within and abide as the Self. That is Siva as BE-ing. Do not expect to have visions of Him repeated. What is the difference between the objects you see and Siva? He is both the subject and the object. You cannot be without Siva. Siva is always realised here and now. If you think you have not realised Him it is wrong. This is the obstacle for realising Siva. Give up that thought also and realisation is there.

यद्वीक्ष्यते विश्वमतोऽज्ञलोकः सदेव विश्वं मनुते हि सर्वः।
नैतत् प्रमाणं व्यभिचारदोषान् मरीचिका-रज्जु-भुजङ्गमादौ ।। (98)

yadvīkṣyate viśvamato’jñalokaḥ sadeva viśvaṃ manute hi sarvaḥ|
naitat pramāṇaṃ vyabhicāradoṣān marīcikā-rajju bhujaṅgamādau ||

Everyone who is ignorant (of the Real Self) thinks the world is Real because it is seen. This is no proof, as the same reason would prove the reality of the mirage, the rope-snake, etc.

‘Because something is seen, it must be Real’ is the way our intellect reaches a conclusion. But our dream experience disproves it. Again, ‘Because it is seen by everybody, it must be true’ is another argument the intellect puts forth. The appearance of mirage disproves it. Vedanta affirms that the act of perception (of something) alone is not proof of its reality.

“You who believe that the world, which is experienced merely as an object of the senses, is real, and who cherish it as something worthwhile, come ultimately to grief, like the parrot that waits for the silk-cotton fruit to ripen. If this world is real merely because it is perceived, then water seen in a mirage is also real because it too is perceived.”⁴

From the ‘seen’ to the ‘seer’

यथा प्रतीतं भुवनं सदेवेत्येतन्न सिद्धं भवतीक्षणेन ।
किमप्यधिष्ठानसदस्ति यस्मिन्निदं विभातीत्यनुमेयमत्र।। (99)

yathā pratītaṃ bhuvanaṃ sadevetyetanna siddhaṃ bhavatīkṣaṇena |
kimapyadhiṣṭhānasadasti yasminnidaṃ vibhātītyanumeyamatra ||

The fact of being seen is no conclusive proof that the world exists exactly as imagined. From the seeing it is proper to infer only that there is a Substratum in which the world appears.

The point being made here is, seeing, perceiving, experiencing etc. must make one reflect, ‘who is it that perceives or sees this?’ and withdraw attention from the ‘seen’ and focus attention on the seer. This is the direction shown by the following Upadesa Saram verse, with which begins Bhagavan’s unique Atma Vichara technique,⁵

வெளிவிடயங்களை விட்டு மனந்தன்
னொளியுரு வோர்தலே யுந்தீபற
வுண்மை யுணர்ச்சியா முந்தீபற.

veLi vidayangalai vittu manantan
oLiyuru ordale undeepaRa
vuNmai vuNarchiyaam undeepaRa

Our mind knowing its own form of Light (of Consciousness), having given up knowing external objects alone is true knowledge.

In other words, the true liberating question on which the entire focus should be kept is, “By what light am I seeing the world and also myself?” The Substratum or adhishtana mentioned in this verse is this light of Consciousness. Bhagavan’s Ulladu Narpadu (Forty Verses on Reality) begins with this theme.⁶

“Because we see the world, it is indisputable that there exists a first cause (substratum or basic Reality), which has the power to appear as many. The substratum is only the Real Self, on whom is superimposed the pictures of names and forms, the seeing individual, the screen and the light.”

Modern Science is coming close to the Vedantic view of the world

यद्यद्यथा भाति न तत् तथैति वैज्ञानिकैरेव निरूपितं हि ।
द्रव्यं सुनीरन्ध्रमिव प्रतीतं चाकाशकल्पं गतितं यतस्तैः ।। (100)

yadyadyathā bhāti na tat tathaiti vaijñānikaireva nirūpitaṃ hi |
dravyaṃ sunīrandhramiva pratītaṃ cākāśakalpaṃ gatitaṃ yatastaiḥ ||

Even scientists have proved that the things are not exactly as they appear (to the seer); for they say that the solid seeming objects are really little more than empty space.

The atomic structure consisting of basic elementary particles is practically empty when one considers the distance separating the nucleus and the orbiting electrons. Quantum Mechanics goes so far as to say “The basis of the material world is non-material”!⁷

The principles of quantum physics, challenging classical notions of space and time suggest that reality is fundamentally probabilistic, the act of observation plays a crucial role in shaping reality and Reality is interconnected and is not localised. Further, modern science concludes that at the quantum level, particles can exist in multiple states simultaneously until observed. The act of observing or measuring a quantum system, forces it to ‘choose’ one specific state, collapsing the superposition. This is called the ‘observer effect.’ Reality at its most fundamental level is ‘intertwined’ with the process of observation. All these findings have spurred the scientists into engaging in philosophical discussions about the nature of Reality and the role of Consciousness. One can say that the biggest takeaway from Modern Science and Vedanta seems to be, “The world is not existential; rather, it is observational.”

जानात्यधिष्ठानसदस्य यस्तु तुरीयभावे समुपेत्य निष्ठाम् ।
बुद्धः स एव प्रभवेद्धि वक्तुं किमस्य तत्त्वं भवतीति नान्यः ।। (101)

jānātyadhiṣṭhānasadasya yastu turīyabhāve samupetya niṣṭām |
buddhaḥ sa eva prabhaveddhi vaktuṃ kimasya tattvaṃ bhavatīti nānyaḥ ||

Only the Sage, who knows the substratum of the world-appearance, the Reality, by his being established in the Supreme State is competent to reveal the truth of the world.

The common man, caught up in ignorance, cannot know the truth of this world. If one wants to know about the truth of the dream, one has to get out of the dream state and shift into the waking state. Similarly, if one wants to know the truth of the waking world, one has to awaken into the state of Turiya, the ground of the three alternating states. Only by going beyond, by transcending a state can one truly know about a state. This is the import of this verse. At the mundane level, to know about our planet in its entirety, do we not go up to the space to view it?

So many of us have heard the expression ‘being caught in the jaws of the tiger,’ specifically meaning captured by Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi’s piercing gaze. I experienced the truth of it during my first visit to Sri Ramanasramam back in 1995 when, as a fresh and totally unsuspecting devotee, I encountered a photo of the Master outside the main dining hall. His shining eyes and soft smile grabbed me with a terrific magnetic force. Muruganar expresses beautifully what transpired. “Beneath my guru’s gaze my heart was emptied of guile so that the false understanding which had usurped it disappeared completely and there, in silence at his holy feet, the pure ocean of the Self, which nothing can contain, swept me up into the deep bliss of the absolute Godhead.” ¹ As he said to me “So finally you have come,” I wept uncontrollably.

This is the third article of a series dedicated to various verses from Ramana Maharshi’s Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Anubandham or Supplement to Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, his lofty forty verses on Reality. In each instance, they will be studied by comparing the original Sanskrit verses to his Tamil translations. The first article featured verses 9, 25 and 40 which Bhagavan viewed as a free-standing poem in praise of the Self, and the second verses 1 through 5 that extol the supreme virtue of association with Sages. The focus of this article is verses 26 and 27 that are derived from Sanskrit verses in the Yoga Vāsiṣṭha, a well-known dialogue on spiritual instruction lovingly delivered to Rama as a youth by the renowned Sage Vasistha. In these verses, he instructs Rama on how one should conduct oneself in the world when knowing one’s true nature or ātma svarūpa. ²

First of all, what is karma? Bhagavan addresses that question in the first two verses of Upadesa Sāram, which were written to unambiguously refute the false belief of rishis in the Daruka Forest that karma is God.

Karma must ever yield its proper fruit,
For thus it is ordained by God, Himself,
Supreme Creator. Then is Karma God?
No, for it is itself insentient.
Of Karma the results must pass away,
Yet it leaves seeds which in turn will sprout
And throw the actor back into the flood
Of Karma’s ocean. Karma cannot save. ³

So God determines what we experience in life according to past actions and according to what is deemed best for us. That is prārabdha. When Bhagavan, who left home as a youth, responded to his mother begging him to return, he made it absolutely clear that prārabdha cannot be changed one iota. We have freedom to will and act, however, and vāsanās, seeds from past actions, propel us to further actions, which are āgāmya karmas. They are added to sañcita, which is the accumulation of fruits done in the past but not yet experienced. Unfortunately, this state of affairs does not lead to mokṣa or liberation.

In his thorough and extremely lucid chapter on karma in The Path of Sri Ramana, Sri Sadhu Om explains the relationship between karma and happiness. “Hence, jīva (individual) uses his mind, speech and body to obtain happiness in any way possible. This indeed is the beginning of his karma. This is how actions are created! The desire to reach one’s natural state of happiness, seemingly forgotten, is the reason for karmas. But, as the power of willing (icchā-śakti) is directed outwards (pravṛtti) through the mind, senses and body, the result is that the individual separates himself more and more from happiness, the source. All his outward-going actions propel him out of happiness instead of leading him to happiness. Therefore, until one understands that actions (karmas) are not the means to happiness but rather the cause of misery, one will go on performing actions with great enthusiasm. All kinds of karmas that one does through mind, speech and body drive one far away from one’s goal: happiness.” ⁴

He goes on thus: “Therefore, jīva that is man has two choices: either to be swayed by karma-vāsanās, which function in the doership aspect, perform āgāmic actions throughout life and drown in the ocean of fruits of karmas; or to love to just be (summā iru) using the same freedom, cultivate his sat-vāsanā (practice self-abidance) and obtain liberation!” ⁵

Finally he concludes: “Even though pain and pleasure are due to one’s prārabdha, we do have the freedom to be in the neutral state undisturbed by them (the state without kartṛtva or doership and bhoktṛtva or experiencership). That is why Bhagavan said, ‘No matter what good karmas yield what pleasures or what bad karmas yield what pains as their results, conquer the might of both by sinking the mind in the ultimate substance (paramporuḷ) that is your own real nature (ātma-svarūpa).’ (Guru Vācaka Kōvai, verse 693). We have freedom only for this and not to block or change the course of prārabdha. If we use our freedom to will and act (icchā-kriyā-svatantra) to love and practice just being (summā iruttal), the sense of doership is destroyed. When doership is thus destroyed, experiencership that is essential for prārabdha is destroyed along with it. Hence we can be reformed (that is, perceive our real nature) only with the proper use of this freedom. If not, there is no chance of liberation. This freedom, which exists and shines in jīvas by God’s grace, which is causeless, being his very nature, alone enables them to escape from the bonds of karma. This alone is the secret of karma that we should know.” ⁶

In verse 38 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan states: “If we are the performers of action which are like seeds, we shall experience the fruit resulting from them. But when, on enquiring ‘Who is the doer of actions?’ one knows oneself, the sense of doership will disappear and the three karmas also will fall away. This is the state of liberation which is eternal.” ⁷ Muruganar echoes that truth thus: “The nature of the ego, individuality, is the ignorant bondage in which one says, ‘I am the performer of actions.’ Know that, whether one is performing actions or not, to remain with that ego annihilated at the very root is the state in which freedom from action, naiṣkarmya siddhi, has been attained.” ⁸

So naiṣkarmya siddhi is freedom from the ego, which entails the annihilation of doership, accumulated vāsanās, and all three karmas. It is also freedom from will, which is expressed in these two verses: “Personal volition [I shall do this; I shall avoid this] brings with it endless sorrows in its train. Therefore the correct way to perform worship to God is to cease to be motivated by and to act in accordance with that personal volition and to abandon it wholeheartedly to the Lord, acting in the way that the divine grace of the Lord, the jiva’s master, causes it to act.” ⁹ “The dispute as to which will triumph, fate or free will, which are fundamentally different, is only for those who are without understanding as to the root of fate and free will. Those who have known the [ego] self, which is the single source of fate and free will, are free from those things. Pray say, will they resort to them thereafter?” ¹⁰

If one knows Brahman and is on the path of liberation and true happiness, as opposed to the path of suffering and the cycle of birth and death, how does one then act in the world? Vasistha’s instruction to Rama is beautifully expounded in verse 26 of the Anubandham, which Bhagavan adapted from verses 5.18.20 and 5.18.23 in the Yoga Vāsiṣṭha.

प्रविचार्य दशाः सर्वा यदतुच्छं परं पदम् ।
तदेव भावेनालम्ब्य लोके विहर राघव ॥
ज्ञातवानसि सर्वेषां भावानां सम्यगन्तरम् ।
यथेच्छसि तथा दृष्ठ्या लोके विहर राघव ॥

pravicārya daśāḥ sarvā yad atucchaṁ paraṁ padam |
tad eva bhāvenālambya loke vihara rāghava ||
jñātavān asi sarveṣāṁ bhāvānāṁ samyag antaram
yathecchasi tathā dṛṣṭhyā loke vihara rāghava ||

Having examined all states, holding with the heart that alone which is the supreme state devoid of any impurity, sport in the world O Rama. You understand perfectly the supreme soul of all beings. Now then with that view, just as you wish, play in the world O Rama. ¹¹

Here is Bhagavan’s translation in Tamil with changes to the Sanskrit noted in bold. “Having investigated all states, which are of many kinds, what one exists devoid of falsity, the supreme state, incessantly holding that alone firmly by heart, play in the world, hero. What exists in the heart as the reality for all kinds of appearances, since you have known that, without ever abandoning that view, play in the world, hero, as if desirous.” ¹²

Although the general sense is the same, there are significant differences between these two versions. Most noticeably, Bhagavan underlines and stresses the contrast between what is impermanent and what is eternal. What is impermanent has states ‘which are of many kinds’ and is false. On the other hand, what is eternal ‘exists in the heart as the reality for all kinds of appearances’. Proper conduct requires a conscious choice to turn inwards ‘firmly’ until the mind is surrendered and merges in the heart. The choice must be made ‘incessantly’ and ‘without ever abandoning’ absorption in the Self. Then one can sport or play in the world. The ego or doer has disappeared, and under the sway of pure awareness, actions necessary for prārabdha become automatic and natural. Desire too has disappeared, although it might appear to others as present.

Sadhu Om offers a clear explanation of ‘all states’ thus: “‘All the states’ mentioned at the beginning of this verse may mean all states of consciousness such as waking, dream and sleep, or all the conditions of life such as youth, old age, health, sickness, wealth, poverty, fame, ill-fame, joy, suffering and so on. All these different states or conditions are based only upon the feeling ‘I am this body’, ‘I am so-and-so’, ‘I am an individual being’.” ¹³

In the Sanskrit version, Vasistha is speaking directly to Rama, acknowledging the achievements of his exceptional disciple when he says “You understand perfectly the supreme soul of all beings.” Note the repetition of ‘play in the world’, which is both an appealing and deeply meaningful refrain. Bhagavan explains the refrain with an especially beautiful analogy that appears at the end of the very last talk in Talks with Ramana Maharshi and is a fitting conclusion to this well-known and much beloved compilation.

“D: We are told to practise indifference (udasina) which is possible only if the world is unreal. M: Yes. Oudasinyam abhipsitam. Indifference is advised. But what is it? It is the absence of love and hatred. When you realise the Self on which these phenomena pass, will you love or hate them? That is the meaning of indifference. D: That will lead to a lack of interest in our work. Should we do our duty or not? M: Yes--certainly. Even if you try not to do your duty you will be forced to do it. Let the body complete the task for which it came into being. Sri Krishna also says in the Gita, whether Arjuna liked it or not he would be forced to fight. When there is work to be done by you, you cannot keep away; nor can you continue to do a thing when you are not required to do it, that is to say, when the work allotted to you has been done. In short, the work will go on and you must take your share in it--the share which is allotted to you.”

“D: How is it to be done? M: Like an actor playing his part in a drama--free from love or hatred.” ¹⁴

Verse 27 is Bhagavan’s adaptation of verses 5.18.24 and 5.18.26.

कृत्रिमोल्लासहर्षस्थः कृत्रिमोद्वेगगर्हणः ।
कृत्रिमारम्भसंरम्भो लोके विहर राघव ॥
आशापाशशतोन्मुक्तः समः सर्वासु वृत्तिषु ।
बहिः प्रकृतिकार्यस्थो लोके विहर राघव ॥

kṛtrimollāsa-harṣasthaḥ kṛtrimodvega-garhaṇaḥ |
kṛtrimārambha-saṁrambho loke vihara rāghava ||
āśā-pāśa-śatonmuktaḥ samaḥ sarvāsu vṛttiṣu |
bahiḥ prakṛti-kāryastho loke vihara rāghava ||

Being one who abides in feigned joy and delight, who shows feigned agitation and reproach, who initiates and pursues feigned activity, sport in the world O Rama. Released from the hundred-fold fetters of desire, equanimous in all circumstances, outwardly doing what might be done naturally, play in the world O Rama.

Here is Bhagavan’s translation in Tamil with changes to the Sanskrit noted in bold. “Being one who has seeming rising of mind and delight, being one who has seeming agitation of mind and aversion, being one who has seeming effortful initiative, being one who is devoid of defects, play in the world, hero. Being one who is freed from the many ties called delusion, being one who is steadily equanimous in all circumstances, doing actions on the outside to suit the disguise, play in the world as required, hero.”

Here the emphasis is on disguise. This time the contrast is between being in the state of pure awareness (Bhagavan adds ‘being one who is devoid of defects’ to the original verse) and outwardly appearing to be acting through the ego. Although peaceful inwardly, one acts in a manner that is harmonious with the false world, not disrupting it or attempting to change it. ‘To suit the disguise’ and ‘as required’ (which were added by Bhagavan) refer to the notion of taking on a role in a play.

Verses 26 and 27 are summarized with great clarity in Guru Vāchaka Kōvai, verse 81. “Having clearly realised the nature of your true self and having reached the heart, you should remain as brahman, the underlying reality, free of conditioning factors (upādhi). Then you should act out the divine play of life in accordance with the ways of the world, as if experiencing joys and sorrows, as befitting the human role that you have assumed.” ¹⁵

There are those who will ask, “What is the role of grace here?” Grace is necessary, paramount and indispensable! It is abundant and always available. Muruganar declares its efficacy and wonder thus. “He is the wisest of sages, the Primal Being who imparts clear understanding so that the sense of doership is removed from our actions. He is the unique Master who through his gracious bearing afforded me his blissful compassion so that I suffered no more.” ¹⁶

“For those who approach him with deep devotion, they will advance boldly to the rattle of the drum, victoriously sweeping aside the enemy host of accumulated deeds. Settling the account of age-old karma, whose fierce and powerful throng so oppressed me, they are the feet of my Lord.” ¹⁷

If one is caught in the jaws of the tiger but still under the ego’s sway, how does one hold onto Brahman or ātma-svarūpa? This time it is Bhagavan who comes to the rescue. “Even though viṣaya-vāsanās [inclinations to experience things other than oneself], which come from time immemorial, rise [as thoughts or phenomena] in countless numbers like ocean-waves, they will all be destroyed when svarūpa-dhyāna [self-attentiveness, contemplation on one’s ‘own form’ or real nature] increases and increases [in depth and intensity]. Without giving room even to the doubting thought ‘So many vāsanās ceasing [or being dissolved], is it possible to be only as svarūpa [my own form or real nature]?’ it is necessary to cling tenaciously to self-attentiveness. However great a sinner one may be, if instead of lamenting and weeping ‘I am a sinner! How am I going to be saved?’ one completely rejects the thought that one is a sinner and is zealous [or steadfast] in self-attentiveness, one will certainly be reformed [transformed from rising as ego to being as svarūpa].” ¹⁸

The choice to be swayed by karma-vāsanās or to practice self-abidance is ours to make. Everyone, without exception, has the freedom to turn inwards and attain authentic happiness, which is our true nature. “God and guru are in truth not different. Just as what has been caught in the jaws of a tiger will not return, so those who have been caught in the look [or glance] of guru’s grace will never be forsaken but will surely be saved by him; nevertheless, it is necessary to walk unfailingly in accordance with the path that guru has shown.” ¹⁹

Revel in his assurances, and let his injunction change your life!

Śāntiḥ, śāntiḥ, śāntiḥ

Continuing with Kīrttit Tiru-Ahaval in Sri Ramana Sannidhi Murai, we encounter Muruganar’s fervent outpouring of praise for Bhagavan’s glory, expressed in the form of an expansive poem. Set to the Ahaval meter, sung in the lilting cadence of the peacock’s cry, Muruganar draws us into the very reason for Bhagavan’s presence among us: to grant liberation to all beings who yearn for it. His supreme greatness cannot be grasped by ordinary intellect; even Brahma, the Creator, and Vishnu, the Protector, were unable to comprehend His mystery, as revealed in the ancient legend of Arunachala.

குறியிற் சிறந்த குறிக்கோ ளாளர்க்கு
அறிவுக்கு அறிவாய் அவிர்ந்தே அருள்வோன்
தந்தமுள் இறைமை தருக்கினர் காணா
அந்தமில் பெருமை அழல்உருக் கரந்து
பரவிடும் அத்தகைப் பக்குவம் இன்றிக்
கரவுடை வஞ்சக் கசட்டு மனத்தால்
எந்தரம் இல்லா எளியெமை ஆளச்
சுந்தர வேடத் தொருமுதல் உருக்கொடு
தேன்மலி பூஞ்சடைத் தேவர் பெருமான் (23-31)

Meaning: He shines with grace as the very wisdom behind all knowledge, in the hearts of those for whom permanent liberation is the sole purpose of existence. Even Lord Vishnu and Lord Brahma, despite proclaiming their own greatness, could not fathom the head or foot of the infinite column of effulgent light that is Arunachala. Likewise, we, utterly unqualified to behold such supreme inner wisdom, merely exist in its presence, unable to comprehend it due to the venom of our own minds. Yet, out of His compassion, Lord Shiva, whose long matted locks adorned with flowers dripping honey, has assumed the beautiful, radiant human form of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi, descending to rescue us who are lost in ignorance and unfit to perceive that brilliance on our own.

The supreme truth cannot be grasped through intellect or by any form of knowledge, whether scriptural, philosophical, or analytical. The light behind all knowing, the source of awareness itself, can only be perceived through the grace of the supreme Mother, when She chooses to bestow that vision. To express this truth, Muruganar beautifully employs the phrase: “அறிவுக்கு அறிவாய் அவிர்ந்தே அருள்வோன்” (Aṟivukku aṟivāy avirndē aruḻvōṉ, “He who shines as the knowledge behind knowledge, and grants His effulgent grace”). Muruganar beautifully reveals the central paradox: although the intellect is a subtle inner instrument capable of deep inquiry, it cannot reach the Self, for the intellect itself is illuminated by the very truth it seeks. Just as a lamp cannot light the sun, the intellect must eventually bow and subside, surrendering to the source that empowers it.

Though the Self shines eternally within, the mind, bound by attachments and poisoned pursuits, fails to recognize it. Ensnared by illusion, it looks outward and misses the radiance within. Out of His boundless compassion for such lost beings, the Lord Himself assumed a form as Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi, to show the direct path to the truth. The next passage sees Muruganar recounting the sacred details of Bhagavan’s earthly arrival.

ஆன்ம நாதன்தன் அரும்பெயர் ஆகவும்
நடையால் உயர்தமிழ் நாட்டிறை பாண்டியோடு
இடைநாடும் தனக்கேற்ற நாடாகவும்
குதிரை வாணிகனாய்க் குலவியோன் சுழியல்
மதுரையோடு அண்ணாமலை ஊர் ஆகவும்
முன்பே முளைத்த முழுமுதல் இதயத்து
இன்பப் பெருக்கே ஆறாய் ஒழுக்கியும்
பன்னரும் பூரணப் பயன்சால் பரம்பரன்
இன்னருளே தன்எழில் மலையாகவும்
ஏசில் புகழ்சேர் இறைவர்க்கு ஈசன்
வாசிதீர் வாசியே வாசியா ஊர்ந்தும்
எத்தகு கலைஞரும் இறைஞ்சும் புலவோன்
வித்தகமே விறல் வீர வாளாகவும்
போதமே உருவாய் பொலியும் குருபரன்
நாதமே வெற்றி நவில் தவிலாகவும்
எந்திரம் இல்லா அந்தணர் பெருமான்
அந்தா மரைத்தார் அகலத்து அணிந்தும்
தவநடை சீலம் தலைப்படு தெய்வ
உபநிடக் கொடிவிசும்பு ஓங்க உயர்த்தும் (32-50)

Meaning: Assuming the sacred name Ātmanādan, ¹ Lord Shiva chose the ancient Pandya kingdom as the fitting stage to enact his divine play, appearing as a humble horse trader to redeem Manickavasagar. Just as He graced the southern realms, He also embraced the central regions of the land of Tamil as sacred ground for His descent. Thus, He was born in Tiruchuzhi ² as Bhagavan Sri Ramana, sanctifying both Madurai and Tiruvannamalai ³ as His earthly abodes. The ever-radiant ‘I-am-I’ in the heart flows through His sacred presence. The grace He bestows, beyond the reach of words or thought, stands as the immovable mountain of divine blessing. The supreme, undifferentiated state of samādhi, ever resplendent in Him, is His chariot of majesty. Even the most erudite scholars, masters of worldly arts, bow before His silent wisdom as His sword that cuts through illusion. His very form pulses with pure knowledge, and His words are like the beating of victory drums. Indescribable by any tongue, He is immanent in all things, everywhere; this omnipresence is the garland of spiritual knowledge adorning Him. To uphold the path of supreme inner tapas for earnest seekers, He offered the essence of the Upanishads in simple, luminous teachings; this is the victorious flag He raised, flying high for the benefit of the world.

In this beautiful section, Muruganar poetically parallels the divine acts of Lord Shiva in the life of Manickavasagar with the descent of the same Lord as Bhagavan Sri Ramana. By invoking the ancient geography of Tamilnadu, from the southern city of Madurai to the central region of Tiruvannamalai, Muruganar masterfully presents the continuation of Manickavasagar’s story. Bhagavan’s life unfolds as a living Upanishad through his compositions; His presence, a chariot of samadhi; His teachings, a victorious flag guiding seekers toward liberation. Here, the “I-am-I” shines as the Self-awareness, His grace stands as the immovable mountain, and His silence becomes the sword of true knowledge.

We cannot but marvel at Muruganar’s brilliance in this section as he poetically enumerates every aspect of Lord Shiva’s divine manifestation as Bhagavan Sri Ramana, recounting with intimate clarity each facet of His glory. What begins as a physical and geographical elaboration becomes, under Muruganar’s pen, a grand poetic prayer. Metaphors function both as artistic ornamentations and spiritual instructions. The inner river that flows by Bhagavan’s contact becomes the current of “I-am-I,” ever nourishing the heart of the seeker. His grace, likened to a mountain, conveys the silent, immovable power of liberation, ever available to all who turn inward, and to those who behold the Supreme in the form of Arunachala. Muruganar elaborates further on this theme in the subsequent lines of this poem.

கவ்வையெழப் பெருங் காசினி காண்குறும்
எவ்வெவர் தன்மையும் தன்வயப் படுத்தாங்கு
அந்தண வடிவோடு அண்ணா மலைவாய்
மந்தண மாவென் மதியை மயக்கி
எனது ஐயுணர்வும் தன்வயப் படுத்துத்
தனதுஅடி அல்லால் எனது உயிர்க்கு இருப்பே
இன்மையாச் செய்த இயல்பின் சிறப்பால்
என்மயம் தன்மயம் இருமயம் இன்றி
ஒருமயமாக ஒருங்கு உயக் கொண்ட
பெருமித ஞான பிறங்கொளிப் பெம்மான். (51-60)

Meaning: Even those leaders, widely praised by the world for their greatness, come and bow at His feet at Arunachala, where He abides as the One, ever established in the state of Brahman. Without anyone knowing, He quietly absorbed my mind in His fold, and brought my five senses under His effortless control. So complete is this inner conquest that I no longer know any existence apart from the sanctity of His holy feet. Through such unparalleled grace, He has dissolved the seeming separation between us, revealing the non-dual union in which no distinction remains between Him and I. Such is the greatness of the One who radiates the wisdom of Arunachala Hill.

Muruganar captures the quiet majesty of Bhagavan, who, though seated in stillness at Arunachala, draws even the most acclaimed worldly leaders to His feet. He goes on to reveal his own state of absorption into Bhagavan’s presence. Bhagavan does not preach or compel; rather, through silent grace, He draws Muruganar’s mind and senses inward, effortlessly and irrevocably, leaving no inclination to engage with anything else. In doing so, He dissolves the illusion of separateness, revealing the non-dual truth that there is no difference between Himself and the surrendered devotee. Muruganar marvels at his own transformation, brought about not through words or actions, but through the silent radiance of the Self. It is for this reason that he rightfully concludes: Bhagavan is, in truth, Arunachala.

தன்னரு ளாலே தன்பரம் உணர்ந்த
மன்னிய புண்ணிய மாதவர் அல்லால்
ஏனோர் தாமும் இனிதுணர்ந்து உய்யத்
தானே சாற்றித் தந்திடின் அன்றித்
தொடுகடல் துளியு்ம் கங்கை பேரியாற்று
இடுமணல் திரள்வான் எறிமீன் இனமும்
வையத்து உதித்த மன்னுயிர்த் தொகையும்
பையக் கணக்கிடப் பார்ப்பது போல
ஓத்தும் உரைக்கொணாது ஒடுங்கும் அவ்வுடையோன்
கீர்த்தியை யானோ கிளக்க வல்லேன். (61-70)

Meaning: Not only do great sages who have undertaken intense penance realize the Self through His grace, but even ordinary people can attain the bliss of liberation through His direct and accessible guidance. Without His divine intervention, the ego-bound mind remains incapable of such realization. To sing His glories is no easy task, as it is like trying to count the droplets of water in the ocean, the grains of sand along the banks of the Ganges, the stars in the sky, or the countless beings who have lived since the dawn of creation. If even the Vedas fall short and remain shy attempting to express in full the perfect effulgence of the Self, how then can I, with my narrow mind, attempt to sing the glories of my Lord Ramana?

In yet another reference to Tiruvasagam, ⁴ Muruganar eloquently affirms that the Self can only be realized through His divine grace. Furthermore, to express the ineffability of Bhagavan’s glory, Muruganar offers four striking metaphors: water droplets in the ocean, grains of sand on the Ganges, stars in the night sky, and beings born since the beginning of time. Even the revered Vedas fall short in capturing the supreme Self’s greatness, as no word or phrase can adequately convey such perfection. If that is the case, what can a single poet with limited faculties hope to achieve? And yet, that very humility becomes the deepest declaration of bhakti. Muruganar’s self-effacing lament arises from reverence. His inability to “sing the glories” becomes the song in itself. His words remind us that when the ego withdraws, what remains is the light of devotion abiding in that dynamic silence. Through this, we come to understand that true praise of the Guru is never complete in any language, but possible in the purity of surrender and abidance in His silence.

(To be continued)

We all capture our daily events and actions as photos or videos and immediately share them for enjoyment. These conveniences have multiplied thanks to the mobile phone. Every day, countless photos are recorded on every device. News and files also accumulate as messages. Though new phone models keep arriving with improved memory, capacity, and features, we still find their storage insufficient. Thus, when a mobile phone or computer's performance slows, we must delete unnecessary junk; once the unwanted data is cleared, the device performs better.

Similarly, unwanted thought-junk accumulates in our minds. When this trash is removed, our mental clarity and efficiency improve. As unwanted thoughts are cleared, the mind turns inward (antarmukha). Bhagavan Ramana advised this very method—destroying thoughts and making the mind introverted, leading to mind-submergence (manamadangum)—via the inquiry "Who am I?" (Nān Yār?):

"Only through the inquiry, 'Who am I?', will the mind subside. The thought 'Who am I?' will destroy all other thoughts and, like the stick used to stir a funeral pyre, will itself perish in the end. If one does not try to fulfil the thoughts that arise but instead inquires, 'To whom do these thoughts arise?', the mind will revert to its source. The rising thoughts will subside. As the power of the mind to stay at its source increases, names and forms will disappear. Keeping the mind in the Heart in this manner is called inward-turning or introversion (agamukha or antarmukha). The state where the thought 'I' is completely destroyed is one's true Self (svarūpa). That alone is Silence (mauna). This state is called Knowledge-Vision (jñānadṛṣṭi)."

As thoughts are cleared, one can see God within. A devotee once asked Bhagavan Ramana:

Devotee: "You say the Self is God, and God resides within you. How can one see the God who is inside?"

Bhagavan: "We must see the Lord within ourselves. If the mind turns inward, He will shine as Consciousness of Consciousness, the Inner Awareness."

Devotee: "They say the Lord is in everything, and one must see Him in everything."

Bhagavan: "Yes. The Lord is the seer within everything. Where else and how can one see Him? How can one see Him outside? We see external objects with the mind. To see the Lord in them is a mental activity (manōvyāpāram), a mental vision (manōmayakāṭci). That is not real (vāstava), because pure Consciousness (Śuddha Caitanyam), which is without the mind, is the true form (Svarūpa) of God."

The following verse (102) from Maharaja Turavu (The King's Renunciation) illustrates inward-turning or introversion:

பற்றிலை யாயி னவையினி லிருப்பேன்
பழையவூழ் வினையெனி லாசை
சற்றெனு முதிப்பித் தல்லவோ வூட்டுஞ்
சகவின்பி லிறையெனு மிச்சை
முற்றுணர் ஞானத் தோர்கள்பூண் பர்களோ
முடிவிலா னந்தமே பெருகி
நிற்றலே மீட்டும் விழிப்பினுங் கான
நீரிற்கண் டுண்முக மடைவார்.

Parrilaiyāyi navaiyini liruppēn pazhaiyavūḻ vinaiyeni lāsai
satrenu mutippit tallavō ūṭṭuñ sakavinbi liṟaiyenu miccai
murruṇar ñānat tōrkaḷpūṇ parkaḷō muṭivilā nantamē peruki
nirralē mīṭṭum vizhippinuṅ kāna nīriṟkaṇ ṭuṇmuka maṭaivār.

Meaning: When there is no desire for the pleasures of household life, why dwell in it? If prārabdha karma brings experiences, it will create at least a small desire to fulfil them. Will those of Perfect Knowledge entertain even a trace of desire for worldly pleasures? Experiencing and abiding in endless Bliss (muṭivilā anandam) is their nature. Even when the mind turns outward, they see it as a false mirage and remain established in introversion (antarmukham).

The one who has wandered long outside feels relief upon returning home and finding shelter. Similarly, when the senses roam outward, sorrow arises. When they turn inward, they find peace. This is Supreme Bliss (pērānandam) and Liberation (mōkṣam). Joy arises when the five senses are restrained, like the limbs of a tortoise withdrawn into the shell.

Kaivalya Navanītam also teaches that Brahman, the Absolute, cannot be attained by the outward-going mind; only when the mind turns inward (agumukappaṭṭāl) can Brahman be realized.

Knowing the Self

In Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu (Forty Verses on Reality), verse 26, Bhagavan explains the means of destroying the separate sense of "I" (jīvabōdham):

தன்னைத்தான் காண றலைவன் றனைக்காண
லென்னும்பன் னூலுண்மை யென்னையெனின் றன்னைத்தான்
காணலெவன் றானொன்றாற் காணவொணா தேற்றலைவற்
காணலெவ னூணாதல் காணெவையுங் காணும்.

Taṉṉaittāṉ kāṇaṟ talaivaṉ ṟaṉaikkāṇa
Leṉṉumpaṉ ṉūluṇmai yeṉṉaiyeṉiṉ ṟaṉṉaittāṉ
Kāṇalevaṉ ṟāṉoṉṟāṟ kāṇavoṇā tēṟṟalaivaṟ
Kāṇaleva ṉūṇātal kāṇevaiyuṅ kāṇum.

Meaning: I will explain the true intent of the scriptures, which speak of knowing the Self as seeing the Lord. Since true Consciousness is One, who can see their own Self? If it is impossible to see the Self, how can one see God? Seeing God means the ego is destroyed in the true Self.

The Eye of Consciousness

In Upadēsa Undhiyār, verse 26, Bhagavan says:

தானாய் இருத்தலே தன்னை அறிதலாம்
  தானிரண் டற்றதால் உந்தீபற
  தன்மய நிட்டையீ துந்தீபற.

Tāṉāy iruttalē taṉṉai yaṟitalām
  tāṉiraṇ ṭaṟṟatāl untīpaṟa
  tanmaya Niṭṭaiyī Tuntīpaṟa.

Meaning: Being the Self is knowing the Self, for the Self is non-dual. Abiding as the Self is true realization.

In Akṣaramaṇamālai (verse 15):

கண்ணுக்குக் கண்ணாய்க் கண்ணின்றிக் காணுனைக்
    காணுவ தெவர்பார் அருணாசலா.

Kaṇṇukkuk kaṇṇāyk kaṇṇiṉṟik kāṇuṉaik
    kāṇuva tevarpār Aruṇācalā.

Meaning: O Arunachala, Eye of the eye, who sees without an eye—who is it that sees You? Behold!

The physical eye is inert; the mind is the eye that sees through it. The Eye of the mind itself is illumined by the Self—God, Arunachala.

Spiritual Vision and the Subtle Body

The seers of the subtle body (sūkshma śarīra) declare:

"Your subtle body will appear like your form in a mirror. The fruit of your spiritual practice moves through that shadow-form. O good disciple, this Self-seeing is what the wise praise as jñānam." – (Kaivalya Navanītam 2:11)

Other texts echo the same truth:

"The light that resides within the body is like the light in a mirror." – Auvai Kuṟaḷ, 231

"You will see it like a face in a mirror." – Agattiyar Paripāṣai Tiraṭṭu, 5:65

"He told me the path to know the Self by destroying both good and bad deeds." – Pattinattār, Aruḷ Pulampal, 22

The Futility of Excessive Reading

Bhagavan said:

"All scriptures declare that the mind must be subdued to attain liberation. Hence, the destruction of the mind (manō nāśam) is their ultimate message. Knowing this, there is no benefit in reading scriptures endlessly. To destroy the mind, one must inquire 'Who am I?'—not in books but within. The Self is within; scriptures are outside. Inquiring about the Self in books is futile."

He further said:

"To know one's true nature by inquiring 'Who is bound?' is liberation. Self-enquiry is constantly keeping the mind in the Self. Meditation is contemplating oneself as Saccidānanda Brahman. All learned knowledge will have to be forgotten. Just as one who sweeps rubbish need not examine it, one seeking the Self need not examine the tattvas that conceal it."

Ramana and the Scriptures

Once, during Saraswati Pūjā, Muruganar saw books garlanded before Bhagavan. He smiled and said, "Bhagavan, it amuses me that these books are worshipped before you. You are the sweet sugar-figure made of truth, and these books, however sacred, are but the dry pulp!"

Bhagavan laughed heartily, sharing the joy.

Muruganar later composed this verse (Sri Ramana Dēvamālai, 184):

வேங்கடவன் வீற்றிருக்கும் வேதிகைக்கட் பெம்மானோடு
ஆங்கடுக்க லாக அமைந்தநூல் - ஓங்கடுக்கல்
மிக்கதீங் கட்டியொடு வேய்ந்த வெறுங்கருப்பஞ்
சக்கைமாலை யென்னும் தகைத்து.

Vēṅkaṭavaṉ vīṟṟirukkum vēdikaiyit pemmāṉōṭu
Āṅkaṭukka lāka amaintanūl – ōṅkaṭukkal
Mikkutīṅ kaṭṭiyoṭu vēynta veṟuṅkaruppañ
Sakkaimālai yeṉṩum takaitu.

Meaning: The scriptures placed beside the Lord where He is seated are like a garland of mere sugarcane pulp, discarded after extracting the sweet essence that has become Bhagavan Himself.

Following the Great Ones

The Bhagavad Gītā (3:21) declares:

Yadyadācarati śreṣṭhastattadevetaro janaḥ |
Sa yatpramāṇaṃ kurute lokastadanuvartate ||3-21||

Meaning: Whatever the best (Śrēṣṭha) person does, others (itarō janah) follow. Whatever he establishes as the standard (pramāṇam), the world conforms to it.

Even after studying many scriptures, it is only through the Guru's grace-filled glance that the ego is destroyed and the Self is seen.

Muruganar's verses (Sri Ramana Dēvamālai 137 and Guru Vācaka Kōvai 604) also confirm that even after learning many scriptures, the Guru's grace-filled glance must fall upon us to destroy the ego and prevent it from rising, so that we may see our Self (Ātman).

The Infallible Eye

The gracious glance of Arunachala is the Self-shining "I-I" within our hearts. The Eye with which Arunachala sees us is the same Eye with which we see the Self. That endless Eye (antamillāk kaṇ) is our very Existence, shining as the "I am" Consciousness.

பார்த்தனன் புதுமை உயிர்வலி காந்த
  பருவதம் ஒருதரம் இதனை
ஓர்த்திடும் உயிரின் சேட்டையை ஒடுக்கி
  ஒருதன தபிமுக மாக
ஈர்த்ததைத் தன்போல் அசலமாச் செய்தவ்
  வின்னுயிர் பலிகொளும்; இஃதென்
ஓர்த்துய்மின் உயிர்காள் உளமதில் ஒளிரிவ்
  வுயிர்க்கொலி அருணமா கிரியே.

Pārttaṉaṉ putumai uyirvali kānta
  Paruvatam orutaram itaṉai
Ōrttiṭum uyiriṉ cēṭṭaiyai oṭukki
  Orutaṉa tapimukam āka
Īrttatait taṉpōl acalamāc ceytav
  viṉṉuyir palikoḷum; iḵteṉ
Ōrttuyvimiṉ uyirkāḷ uḷamatil oḷiriv
  Vuyirkkoli Aruṇamā kiriyē.

– Arunachala Patigam, 10

Meaning: O people of the world! I saw a marvel! This mountain (Arunachala) attracts the soul that thinks of it, subdues its agitations, makes it still, and consumes it as its food. What a wonder! The life-light shining in your heart is Arunachala Giri itself.

God Is Found by Becoming God

Once, when explaining Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu, Bhagavan said:

"God cannot be seen or known by the eyes or senses. To know God, one must become God."

When asked if he spoke from experience, Bhagavan replied, "If not, would I have the courage to say this?"

Hearing this, the devotee realized in that instant: Seeing God is becoming God.¹

The Indivisible Lord

The Pāmbaṭṭi Siddhar sang:

எள்ளில் எண்ணெய் போலுயிர் எங்கு நிறைந்த
ஈசன் பத வாசமலர் எண்ணி எண்ணியே
உள்ளப்படி அன்புப்பத்தி ஓங்கி நிற்கவே
ஒடுங்கிய அடங்கித் தெளிந்த ஆடு பாம்பே.

Eḷḷil eṇṇey pōlavuyir eṅku niṟainta
Īsaṉ pata vāsamalar eṇṇi eṇṇiyē
uḷḷapaṭi aṉpu patti ōṅki niṟkavē
oṭuṅkiy aṭaṅkittheḷint āṭu pāmpē.

Meaning: O snake, reflect on the fragrant feet of Īśan, who fills every being as oil fills the sesame seed. Let love and devotion grow, subdue the senses, and dance in remembrance of God.

The Inexpressible Guru

Bhagavan said God and Guru are not two. The saints echo this:

"Who knows the greatness of our Lord?" – Tirumūlar

"No one knows His nature." – Jñānasambandhar

"You are the inexpressible state beyond words." – Appar

"What is Your form? What is its nature?" – Kāraikkāl Ammaiyār

"The one who cannot be seen, worshipped, or spoken aloud." – Aruṇagirināthar

"The blissful essence beyond words, the light of svarūpa-ananda." – Tāyumāṉavar

Seeing God in All

The saints saw the atman in all beings, free of attachment and aversion. Meyppoṟuḷ Nāyaṉār, even when stabbed, saw his assassin as God and sent him away unharmed.

Even we, when visiting those we dislike, bow before the image of God in their home with the same devotion we offer God in our own. Bhagavan is Bhagavan everywhere. When we realize that the Great Light (pēroḷi) shining as the Self in us also shines in all, both attachment and aversion vanish, and we see God in everyone.

The Moment of Realization

Since the Vedic age, sages and saints have revealed this Supreme Truth. We read and share it daily, yet the true moment of realization dawns in its own time—after days, years, or lifetimes—depending on one's readiness.

Let us pray to the Lord within to bless us with that sacred moment of realization.

Those who follow the teachings of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharishi are familiar with the practice of Self-enquiry. Bhagavan emphasizes that Self-enquiry is the most direct route to Self-realization, prompting many of us to strive to adhere to this path. However, we may occasionally question whether we are approaching it correctly. This article aims to address this uncertainty, though it does not claim to provide a definitive answer.

Path of Self-enquiry

The fundamental question/enquiry, “Who am I?”, lies at the heart of the direct path to self-realization as taught by Sri Ramana Maharishi. By focusing on the subject rather than external objects like thoughts or feelings, one may come to realize their true nature.

Self-enquiry is a practice that involves turning the mind inward to explore the nature of the self. This is accomplished by asking “Who am I?” When one focuses on the subject...he can come to understand his true essence.

Through introspection and contemplation on questions like “What is the truth?” and “Who am I?”, individuals can gain insight into the nature of the self.

According to Bhagavan, the ego, or ‘I’-thought, is the source of suffering and illusion. Therefore, he encouraged people to inquire “Who am I?” to directly address this root cause and allow the true Self to emerge naturally. This is why “Self-enquiry” is considered the direct path to Self-realization.

Bhagavan explains that the path of self-inquiry involves recognizing that the thought ‘I’ originates in the heart – not the physical heart but the Spiritual heart. By constantly questioning where this ‘I’ thought arises, one can trace it back to the heart, which is the source of the mind. The ‘I’ thought is the primary thought in the mind, from which all other thoughts emerge. Without the ‘I’ thought, there would be no other personal pronouns.

Understanding the origin of the mind can lead to a deeper realization of one’s true nature. Identifying falsely with our bodies, minds, and possessions creates a sense of separation and duality. Self-inquiry aims to dismantle this false sense of self by questioning the source of the ego.

The true Self transcends the body and ego, and self-inquiry is essential for spiritual liberation. By focusing on the pure consciousness within, one can transcend the ego and attain ultimate liberation. Letting go of identification with the body and ego is crucial for realizing the true self.

Are we approaching this the right way?

Self-enquiry necessitates a calm mind, devoid of distractions, to fully engage in meditative practice. While achieving complete silence in the mind may be challenging, it is crucial to have a sense of calmness to effectively delve into self-enquiry.

Any method/technique that encourages mental connections with objects or concepts is not true self-enquiry and will only reinforce/ strengthen the mind. As elaborated by Godman ¹, on Self-enquiry,

“I mention all this because many people try to do self-enquiry without really understanding how it works and why it works, and this lack of understanding leads them to do many practices that are not real self-enquiry, and which consequently will not produce the desired results. If I may pursue this analogy a little further, there is self-enquiry and there is cargo-cult enquiry, and to understand the difference between the two, you have to know how and why self-enquiry works.”

He further states that:

“In self-enquiry one is isolating the individual ‘I’, and by doing so one is making the mind, the individual self, sink back into its source and vanish. Any technique that encourages the mind to associate with objects or thoughts is not self-enquiry, nor it will not make the mind disappear. On the contrary, it will make the mind stronger. When you repeat ‘Who am I? Who am I?’ the subject ‘I’ is concentrating on an object of thought, the phrase ‘Who am I?’ This does not lead to the disassociation of the ‘I’ from its thoughts; it keeps it enmeshed in them.”

The above statements clearly show that the repeated phrase “Who am I?” may appear to be a form of self-examination, but in reality, it only keeps the ‘I’ entangled in thoughts. Therefore, this is not the correct approach for ‘Self-enquiry.’

Conclusion

Techniques that focus on a specific part of the body also do not lead to the disappearance of the ‘I’. This misconception is common — true self-inquiry should always center on the ‘I’ itself, not on external concepts, perceptions, or emotions.

Other supposed methods for performing Self-enquiry are rooted in a mistaken understanding of how the mind functions and how it can be dissolved. Such practices are unlikely to be effective. Therefore, genuine self-enquiry must be practiced to achieve the desired outcome of dissolving the mind.

Let us all strive to practice Self-enquiry in the correct way, as Bhagavan instructed, leading to the dissolution of the ‘I’.

Om Namo Bhagavate Sri Ramanaya.

One tradition declares the Truth to be “this,” while another insists it is “that.” Yet neither succeeds in revealing what is, for each stance cancels out the other. One school affirms non-duality, another asserts duality—positions that seem, at least on the surface, fundamentally opposed. Advaita and Dvaita, for instance, make claims that cannot both be true at the level of their respective assertions.
This contradiction is seen as operating only at the level of conceptual frameworks, not at the level of ultimate truth—where even the dichotomy between duality and non-duality dissolves.

There is, in logical reasoning, a principle known as oppositional inference, which states that two contradictory statements can neither be true together nor false together; one must be false. Yet it is known that neither non-duality nor duality is false. “I approve of all schools,” declares Bhagavan Ramana. ¹ The Maharshi clarifies the reason behind such contradictions: ² “They have all taught the same truth but from different standpoints. Such differences were necessary to meet the needs of different minds differently constituted, but they all reveal the same truth.” When asked about the many interpretations of the Highest Truth, He replied: ³ “The interpretations are made with the mind. The minds are different, and so the interpretations are different.”

No school, therefore, is wrong. Yet the contradictions among them perplex seekers, making the Truth seem distant from their own centre. Bhagavan Ramana remarks: ⁴ “The intricate maze of philosophy of different schools is said to clarify matters and reveal the Truth. But in fact, they create confusion where no confusion needs to exist. To understand anything there must be the Self. The Self is obvious.”

Sri Ramana Maharshi’s teaching was direct and luminous. It indicated what is and remained ever centred upon the Self. Many spiritual aspirants join or establish new schools, while others commercialize “meditation,” “kundalini awakening,” and similar ideas—offering them as paid courses or retreats.

Self-enquiry, however, has never been a school, nor a purchasable course. It is entirely free—and it makes one entirely free: free from illusion, delusion, and ego. “I have no school,” declared the Maharshi ⁵ as late as 1946, when He was already known to millions across the world.

Seekers are instructed about Brahman, māyā, jagat, and jīva by different schools, though the seekers have not yet had a direct experience of the one Reality. Brahman remains unknown to them, and consequently, so do the realities of māyā, jagat, and jīva. They are nourished with only theory, not practice.

Sri Ramana Maharshi’s teachings, on the other hand, focus upon practice—the practice of Self-enquiry—and upon the resulting realisation of the real “I.” When questioned about the divergent opinions among schools, Bhagavan said: ⁶ “All these are, of course, vain disputations. There can be no end to such disputations. The proper thing to do is to find out the ‘I,’ about whose existence nobody has any doubt, and which alone persists when everything else vanishes, as during sleep, and then see if there is any room for such doubts or disputes.”

Ideological disputations between proponents of different schools are not truly spiritual; they veil the Self behind the restless workings of ego. They are like children quarrelling over which of their favorite Bhāratīya cricketers is the best, forgetting that all play for the same team. Likewise, all spiritual schools were founded for the same spirituality.

Every school, however, is limited. The difficulty in joining a school of thought is that the seeker limits himself or herself within its boundaries and begins to find fault with others. A seeker inevitably comes to regard his or her own school as superior—and superiority is born of ego, which stands opposed to all true spirituality.

Spirituality is boundless; it demands none of these divisive attitudes. The Self-enquiry taught by Sri Ramana Maharshi is directly rooted in the infinite and eternal Self. It requires no paid courses, no retreats, no initiations, and no material embellishments. One can be a billionaire, a mason, a doctor, a soldier, a teacher, a student, a bureaucrat, a sportsperson—old or young—and yet practise Self-enquiry.

The practitioner of Self-enquiry need not concern himself or herself with what any school proclaims; attention is directed solely to the Self. This attention keeps one anchored at the Centre. The moment attention drifts toward theory, rather than the seeker’s own direct experience, it strays to the periphery. Debating the Highest Truth without directly realising it only carries one further away from it.

Those who align themselves with a school too early often speak in its defence without direct experience. This distorts righteousness, for to assert what one has not experienced is utter falsehood.
A child eventually graduates from school; there is a Graduation Day each year. But the metaphorical gates of a spiritual school often remain closed once seekers are admitted—they seldom venture beyond its confines.

The uniqueness of Sri Ramana Maharshi’s teaching is that a few words from the Master are sufficient to dissolve the devotee’s doubts: “There is no goal to be reached. There is nothing to be attained. You are the Self. You always exist. Nothing more can be predicated of the Self than that it exists. ⁷”

Among the sacred pilgrimage centres of India, Arunachala shines with a unique spiritual brilliance. The very name holds profound significance: ‘Aruna’—the radiant light of the rising sun—heralds the dawn of inner wisdom, while ‘Achala’—the unmoving, the still—signifies the supreme stillness of realized truth. Together, they point to the transcendental state wherein light and silence coalesce, awakening the soul to its own source.

In the great dance of the five primordial elements that form the fabric of creation, Arunachala stands as the embodiment of fire (Agni), while other sacred shrines symbolize the remaining elements: Jambukeswaram as water, Ekambareswaram as earth, Kalahasti as air, and Chidambaram as ether. The Rig Veda, the oldest of the four Vedas, begins with a hymn to Agni: “Agni Meele Purohitam”—a recognition that fire is the primordial priest, the transformative force at the heart of all sacrifice, all becoming.

Unlike earth or water, which intermingle freely, fire stands apart—pure, self-sustaining, consuming all that is impure, and yet untouched. Lord Siva, in His aspect as Arunachala, took the form of a boundless pillar of flame, a blazing column whose beginning and end eluded even Brahma, the creator, and Vishnu, the preserver. In time, that uncontainable flame merged into the Hill of Arunachala itself, making the mountain not merely a symbol of divinity, but divinity itself—Tejomayalinga, the Linga of light.

The Skanda Purana narrates another legend where Siva’s third eye emitted a fiery spark to destroy evil. This spark, carried by the Ganga, reached the Saravana forest, where it manifested as six infants who became Lord Muruga, the divine warrior-son of Siva.

Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi repeatedly affirmed: “Arunachala is Siva Himself.” To him, the Hill was not merely sacred—it was the very embodiment of supreme knowledge (jnana). “Arunachala is pure awareness in the form of a hill,” he said. “To stay in its presence is to be inwardly guided.” It is believed that Siva first manifested as a formless column of fire here, and later as the Arunachala Linga, representing the Infinite that chose to appear as the Finite for the sake of devotees. From this luminous manifestation, the tradition of Jyotirlinga worship arose.

Encircling the Arunachaleswarar temple are eight guardian deities—the Ashta Dikpalakas—each safeguarding a direction. Just as Mount Kailash in the North is venerated as Siva’s celestial abode, Arunachala in the South is held as Siva Himself, standing unmoved, silently bestowing grace. The Skanda Purana, in its section Arunachala Mahatmya, extols this Hill as the very heart of liberation. It is said that even thinking of Arunachala with devotion plants the seed of moksha in the heart.

When Parvati was once separated from Siva, she was guided to perform penance at Arunachala. Her devotion was so intense that Siva revealed Himself to her again, and they merged as Ardhanareeswara—the union of the masculine and feminine, the eternal harmony.

In the Ribhu Gita, the Lord declares: “I remain fixed here while the universe revolves around Me.” This supreme stillness is not inert but luminous awareness—the substratum of all change.

The Tamil name ‘Annamalai’ bears layered meanings. ‘Anna’ signifies both a revered elder brother and that which is inaccessible. Just as Siva’s flame could not be traced by Brahma or Vishnu, He remains the inaccessible One—beyond reach, yet intimately near. To the devotee, however, He is most accessible—calling from within the heart. So it was for young Venkataraman. Upon hearing the name ‘Arunachalam’, a spontaneous inner awakening flashed within him. Silently, irresistibly, he was drawn. Years later, in Aksharamanamalai, he would write: “Oh Arunachala! The moment I heard Your name, You claimed me.”

When Venkataraman finally arrived at Tiruvannamalai after great inner and outer trials, he stood before the Lord and uttered simply: “Father, I have come.” Words could not contain what he experienced. In Arunachala Ashtakam, he wrote: “Who is it that saw the Lord? When I looked, the ‘I’ had vanished.” The seer and the seen were no more; only Siva remained.

In his luminous work The Five Hymns to Arunachala, Bhagavan guides seekers towards inner realization. The invocatory verse sings: “The beacon light that shines atop Arunachala originates from the Heart of the universe. Its very sight burns the ‘I’, turning the mind inward, revealing the Self.” It is no mere poem—it is a map to transcendence.

Among these, Aksharamanamalai stands as a crowning jewel—a garland of love, where Bhagavan, in the voice of a yearning bride, pleads for complete union. “You stole my heart, but left me half-swallowed,” he cries. “Do not abandon me between life and death—take me fully into You.” Though the words seem personal, they are prayers for all souls caught in the twilight between ignorance and grace.

In another verse he asks, “Oh Arunachala, when the five sense-robbers enter my heart, will You not be there to drive them away?” And again, “When desires pull me outward, is it right for You to remain asleep?” The paradox of Advaita is beautifully revealed here: though devotion implies duality, pure devotion leads to non-duality. Aksharamanamalai teaches that love—wholehearted, unbroken—becomes the path to unity.

When asked about its meaning, Bhagavan simply said: “Chant it. That is the way.”

Once, a devotee asked Bhagavan if he was gazing at the Hill. “No,” he replied, “I am looking at my Self.” He saw no difference between himself and Arunachala. “Just as you identify with the body,” he once said, “I identify with the Hill.”

The practice of Girivalam—circumambulating the sacred Hill—is a time-honoured tradition. Silent walking, mantra, meditation, or devotional song: each step becomes a pilgrimage inward. Bhagavan affirmed that age, illness, or physical weakness should not deter one, for the spiritual merit gained transcends the bodily effort. “It is hard to describe the joy of Girivalam,” he said. “The senses grow still, impurities fall away, and the Self shines forth. Medicinal herbs around the hill even strengthen the body.”

He advised that while walking, the devotee should think only of Arunachala. Even those who cannot meditate find their mind absorbed in stillness through this sacred journey. He would often ask devotees, “Have you gone?” and remarked, “One should walk like a woman in her ninth month—slowly, reverently.”

Bhagavan always stressed the importance of Girivalam. He also used to mention about the peace that prevails at Skandasramam. It may be pertinent to recall what Suri Nagamma had said in her book, My Life at Sri Ramanasramam.

“Sometime, in 1947, my brother, Sri D.N. Sastry came to Ashram with his wife. Since my sister-in-law was not physically fit, my brother, Sri Sastri alone went to Skandasramam and went back to Madras, leaving the sister-in-law under my care. My sister-in-law was very anxious to visit Skandasramam where Bhagavan stayed for about 6 years. Then, we both went to the Ashram and sat before Bhagavan. When I got an opportunity, I told Bhagavan about the eagerness of my sister-in-law to visit Skandasrmam. “Why worry”? said Bhagavan, “go tomorrow itself.” When I expressed doubt about the weak condition of my sister-in-law, Bhagavan said: “I have taken many people, much older than her, to the very top of the hill. Some of them were over 80 years of age. Can you not take her even to Skandasramam? Start early in the morning, go in a bullock cart up to the front side of the mountain where you have the steps and then walk up slowly step by step. Stay there until it is cool in the evening and descend the same way. Take something to eat over there.“ My sister-in-law was highly pleased. She was all smiles. The words coming from Bhagavan gave her strength and I too got the necessary courage. I realized how compassionate Bhagavan was when, later he enquired about the outcome of our trip to Skandasramam. I said it was a divine experience”, said Suri Nagamma….Sometime later, when my sister in law expressed her desire to circumambulate Arunachala Hill on foot, my brother said, “good. Go ahead”. He knew that the Skandasramam experience had given his wife enough strength and confidence. Subsequently, a group of devotees, including me and my sister-in-law, started our Girivalam. A car was following the group in case my sister-in-law faced any problem in walking, but by the benign grace of Bhagavan the necessity for availing the car did not arise.

The life of Janabai is a testament to the power of Bhakti. Orphaned young in the village of Gangakhed, she was drawn to the spiritual path, finding her purpose as a servant in the household of the renowned saint, Sant Namdev Maharaj, in Pandharpur.

For Janabai, her daily chores—washing, grinding grain, and sweeping—were not menial tasks but a profound form of Sadhana (spiritual practice). She believed that serving a devotee like Namdev was the highest form of worship. Her mind was constantly absorbed in chanting Lord Vitthal’s name, transforming her service into a sacred dance of devotion.

Her unadulterated love and surrender were so potent that Lord Vitthal Himself, the Supreme Being, was moved to serve His servant. In legendary incidents, the Lord appeared as an elderly woman to help her wash clothes and assisted her with grinding grain and sweeping the floors, demonstrating the unique grace bestowed upon her. Janabai’s life exemplified that the most profound spiritual realization can be achieved through selfless service and unwavering love, making every action an act of worship.

Janabai’s spiritual journey was not without its trials. A dramatic turn of events tested her faith in the most public manner. Precious diamond-studded jewelry went missing from Lord Vitthal’s temple idol, and suspicion fell upon Janabai. After all, who had more access to the temple than this devoted servant who came daily to clean and decorate the Lord?

The accusations spread like wildfire through Pandharpur. People who had once admired her devotion now pointed fingers, whispering that she had feigned spirituality to cover her theft. Brought before the king, Janabai maintained her innocence with simple dignity: “My life and wealth are Vitthal Himself. Why would I steal what already belongs to me?”

But the worldly-minded could not comprehend such divine logic. The king, unmoved by her innocent words, decreed the harshest punishment reserved for those accused of grave offences. She was ordered to be executed on the banks of the Chandrabhaga. As Janabai was led toward the river, the townspeople gathered—some out of curiosity, others with heavy hearts.

At the place of execution, as the guards prepared the wooden stake to which she was to be bound, Janabai displayed no trace of fear. Her face was tranquil, her heart absorbed in her beloved Vitthal. “If this be Your play, my Lord,” she murmured, “I accept it with joy”.

As the moment approached, she began to chant “Vitthal, Vitthal” with unbroken devotion. Then occurred a wonder that would be sung for centuries. As her fervent cries filled the air, the very wood of the execution post softened and sagged like clay touched by rain. The ropes binding her slipped loose and fell away. Janabai stood unharmed, suffused with a radiant, otherworldly glow. The onlookers gasped in astonishment, and even the soldiers dropped to their knees, overcome with awe and remorse.

This dramatic event served multiple divine purposes. It demonstrated the invincibility of true devotion, proved Janabai’s innocence beyond doubt, and showed the world that God protects those who surrender to Him completely.

Another extraordinary incident demonstrated how Janabai’s spiritual power could infuse even the most ordinary objects with divine energy. The great saint Kabir Das, while visiting Pandharpur, came upon a curious scene - Janabai engaged in what appeared to be a heated argument with another woman over ownership of some dung cakes (used as fuel).

Intrigued that a recognized devotee would quarrel over such mundane matters, Kabir listened closely. “These are mine,” Janabai insisted calmly. “If you don’t believe me, hold one to your ear”. The skeptical woman did so - and her eyes widened in amazement. “They’re chanting ‘Vitthal, Vitthal’!” she exclaimed.

Kabir, astonished, tested this himself. Placing a dung cake near his ear, he too heard the sacred name resounding clearly from the earthen lump. Overcome with reverence, he bowed to Janabai, realizing that her spiritual vibration was so powerful it could animate inert matter. Such was the transformative power of her devotion that even common dung cakes became receptacles of divine energy.

Her later years saw deeper mystical unions. During Namdev’s final days, she composed her most famous abhang:

“Jani says to Vitthal:
You’re the mortar, I’m the pestle
You’re the ground, I’m the broom
You’re the thread, I’m the needle
Where do I end and You begin?”

The Final Union

Janabai’s earthly journey reached its climax when her beloved Namdev left his mortal coil. For Janabai, who had dedicated her entire life to serving the saint, this separation was unbearable. On the very day of Namdev’s departure, she immersed herself in kirtan with unprecedented intensity. As she sang the glories of Vitthal, her voice rising in ecstatic waves, something miraculous occurred.

Her physical form began to glow with increasing radiance. The devotees present watched in awe as Janabai’s body became translucent, then gradually dissolved into pure light. With one final cry of “Vitthal!” her individual consciousness merged into the divine, like a river flowing into the ocean. She had achieved the ultimate goal of human life - complete union with the Supreme.

On the full moon night of her own departure, witnesses reported seeing two figures dancing on the temple roof - one dark as monsoon clouds, the other glowing like polished copper. At dawn, they found only Janabai’s simple sari draped over the deity’s feet, and her last poem inscribed miraculously on the sanctum wall:

“All my poems were just one word: Vitthal.
All my years just one moment: Now.”

Translator’s note:

Though centuries have passed since Janabai walked the earth, her presence remains vibrantly alive in the hearts of devotees. The Chandrabhaga River still flows, bearing witness to her miracles. The temple of Vitthal still stands, echoing with the chants she once sang. Most importantly, the path she illuminated - of selfless service imbued with love - remains open to all who seek the Divine.

In Janabai’s own words: “When I became Namdev’s maid, I found no one else in the world; only my Vitthal was everywhere”. This is the ultimate realization to which she guides us - that through sincere devotion, we too can see the Lord in everyone and everything, transforming our ordinary lives into extraordinary divine adventures.

Her story continues to inspire millions, proving that spiritual greatness isn’t about birth, education, or social status, but about the purity of one’s love and dedication. In an age obsessed with external achievements, Janabai reminds us that the simplest life, when lived with divine consciousness, can become the most extraordinary. She proved that enlightenment does not require abandoning duties but infusing them with awareness. Her kitchen-temple model offers an alternative to monasticism. She demonstrated that samadhi can happen while chopping vegetables as easily as in meditation halls.

Seven centuries later, Janabai’s legacy thrives vibrantly. The Varkari tradition venerates her as the epitome of seva-bhakti (devotion through service). Modern feminist theologians highlight how she reclaimed domestic spaces as sacred. Her abhangs are sung by millions during the annual Pandharpur pilgrimage, where her grinding stone is preserved as a sacred relic.

The UNESCO Memory of the World register now includes her manuscripts, recognizing their cultural significance. But perhaps her greatest testament lives in the millions of women who still chant her poems while working, transforming their daily chores into acts of worship.

May her story continue to inspire generations to come, and may her blessings help us all develop even a fraction of her unwavering devotion. For in the divine economy, it is not the magnitude of our actions that counts, but the depth of love with which we perform them. As Janabai proved through her extraordinary life, when we offer our humble service with a full heart, the Lord Himself comes running to assist us in ways beyond our imagination.

Maharṣhi’s profound understanding of Advaita Vedānta was rooted in a direct, spontaneous experience of enlightenment at the age of sixteen. This event, which involved a simulated death and a sudden, visceral realization of his true nature as the deathless Self, became the bedrock of his spiritual guidance. His teachings, therefore, were founded on an unassailable experiential foundation confirmed by Vedāntic scriptural tenets. At the very core of this framework is the concept of Hṛdaya, the Spiritual Heart. This is not a mere symbolic metaphor but a foundational principle that is simultaneously the source of all existence, the locus of the individual Self, and the ultimate destination of the spiritual journey. Bhagavān presented Hṛdaya as the “Supreme Reality” in itself, the very “True State” of being that all sincere spiritual practices seek to uncover. It is the background against which the illusion of separation dissolves, and its teachings are said to awaken a stream of unconditional love and inner silence that flows directly from the core of existence.

This Hṛdaya located on the right of the chest, distinct from the biological heart is the true state of all beings as elucidated in the first part of this series on Hṛdaya. As Bhagavān’s three mantras on Hṛdaya, viz., muktakatrayam guide seekers to the final state of perfection, previous parts of this series dealt with them in detail. We will in this part dwell on how Bhagavān dealt with Hṛdaya in his poetic work Śrī Aruṇācala Pañcaratnam.

Hṛdaya and Śrī Aruṇācala Pañcaratnam

The five-verse composition, Śrī Aruṇācala Pañcaratnam (Five Gems on Aruṇācala), hereafter referred as SAP, occupies a unique place in Bhagavān’s teachings, blending profound devotion toward the sacred hill Aruṇācala (manifest form of Lord Śiva) with the highest philosophical truth. Bhagavān initially composed the SAP in Saṃskṛtam using the āryāgīti metre at the request of Śrī Vāsiṣṭha Gaṇapati Muni and later translated into Tamiżh. To quote Bhagavān: “This is how the Pancharatna was composed: I had somehow composed the first stanza in a slightly different form, ... ... and asked me to write four more similar stanzas saying that he would use them as mangalam for his works. That was in 1917. Later, in 1922, Aiyasami Pillai was getting up an edition of the first four songs of the present Arunachala Stuti Panchakam and I was asked to translate the Pancharatna also into Tamil to go with them, and I did.” ¹

Bhagavān’s three significant revelations: a) Hṛdaya, b) the three paths to liberation (including the practice of Self-enquiry), and c) the sacred Aruṇāchala are perfectly encapsulated in SAP poetically for the seeker to easily attain the highest reality and to be free from the clutches of samsara. The āśram premises vibrates with this sublime work as the Saṃskṛta and Tamiżh versions of SAP are recited daily.

While the eka śloki of Bhagavān, viz., “hṛdaya kuhara madhye” (of muktakatrayam) deals with the first two revelations, SAP which is nothing but the expanded version of the eka śloki has all the three revelations.

The inquiry into the concept of Hṛdaya must first acknowledge the core equivalence that Bhagavān established: Aruṇācala is not merely an external geographical entity but is metaphysically identical to the Hṛdaya, the inner spiritual centre. This identity provides the foundation for the practice of internalization, directing the seeker away from the world and toward the Self within.

The authoritative explanation of SAP is contained within the Aruṇācala Pañcaratna Vārttikam, a Saṃskṛta commentary of 108 verses. The significance of the Vārttikam stems directly from its authorship and, more importantly, its endorsement by Bhagavān. The commentary was composed by K. Lakshmana Sarma, frequently identified by his pseudonym ‘WHO’. Sarma was a fortunate devotee who had the unusual privilege of receiving direct, one-on-one lessons from Bhagavān on the deeper meaning of his philosophical texts.

The Vārttikam was written during Bhagavān’s lifetime, ensuring that the exposition was directly aligned with his teaching methodology. Crucially, the entire work was submitted to and reviewed by Bhagavān. This review was not merely an approval but involved augmentation, with Bhagavān adding or emphasizing specific verses within the 108-verse structure to ensure clarity, especially regarding Atma Vichara. This level of direct editorial guidance elevates the Vārttikam far beyond a typical secondary text, establishing it as a quasi-canonical exegesis and the definitive methodological clarification of the five verses of SAP.

In addition, T V Kapali Śāstrī has written a Saṃskṛta commentary on SAP, known as Darpaṇam where he writes the glory of SAP as “पञ्चानां रत्नानां पद्यश्रेष्ठानां समाहारः पञ्चरत्नं (pañcānāṃ ratnānāṃ padyaśreṣṭhānāṃ samāhāraḥ pañcaratnaṃ)” – SAP being the greatest among all poetry and conglomeration of five poetic gems, is thereby called pañcaratnaṃ.

Complexity of the āryāgīti metre used in SAP

Before we delve into the details of SAP, let us ponder on the complexity of āryāgīti metre and understand how the first śloka (as an illustration) fits in the metre of āryāgīti. This clearly brings out Bhagavān’s expertise in Saṃskṛtam even though he had not learned it formally. SAP is the one of the very few Saṃskṛta works written in āryāgīti.

The rules of the āryāgīti metre are:

Akṣaras (syllables) that appear in a śloka are divided into two categories: laghu (short) and guru (long) depending on the time taken to render them. In his commentary on Piṅgala’s Chandaśśāstra, called the Mṛtasañjīvanī, Halāyudha explains the conditions for an akṣara to be a laghu or guru with a few sūtras [1.9 to 1.13]. While notation used for denoting laghu and guru are । and ऽ, here will use the number of mātrās associated with them, viz., 1 and 2 as āryāgīti is mātrā based metre. The rules for determining what constitutes a guru akṣara boil down to the following:

1. The akṣara is in itself a long vowel or possesses a long vowel.

2. The akṣara has an anusvāra or visarga or ends in a consonant.

3. The akṣara is followed by a conjunct consonant.

4. At the end of a pāda, an akṣara with a short vowel can be optionally taken as a guru.

The āryāgīti is characterized by 32 mātrās in each half with 8 gaṇas (group of Akṣaras) in each half and each gaṇa should have exactly 4 mātrās. The 6th gaṇa can be of 2 patterns only. One of which is that it should have 3 akṣaras with 1 laghu, 1 guru followed by 1 laghu. The other pattern is not discussed here in order to keep it simple. Keeping these rules in mind, the mātrās (0, 1 or 2) and gaṇas (G1 to G8) are listed below for each akṣaras of the first śloka. The moment Bhagavān heard the rules of the metre from Śrī Vāsiṣṭha Gaṇapati Muni, he composed the śloka.

Śloka 1 of SAP - Aruṇācala blossoms the Hṛdaya

The पदच्छेद, the word-wise breakup version of the first śloka is:

करुणा-पूर्ण सुधा-अब्धे
कबलित घन-विश्वरूप किरण-आवल्या ।
अरुणाचल परमात्मन्
अरुणो भव चित्त कञ्ज सु-विकासाय ॥१॥

karuṇā pūrṇa sudhā-abdhe
kabalita ghana-viśvarūpa kiraṇa-āvalyā |
aruṇācala paramātman
aruṇo bhava citta kañja su-vikāsāya ||1||

Bhagavān explains the meaning of this: “The sun illumines the universe, whereas the Sun of Arunachala is so dazzling that the universe is obscured and an unbroken brilliance remains. But it is not realised in the present state and can be realised only if the lotus of the heart blossoms. The ordinary lotus blossoms in the light of the visible sun, whereas the subtle Heart blossoms only before the Sun of Suns. May Arunachala make my heart blossom so that His unbroken brilliance may shine all alone!” ²

Let us look at the meaning of the words:

karuṇā pūrṇa = Full of, that is abundant grace;
sudhā = nectar/immortality; abdhe = ocean; kabalita = swallowed up;
ghana-viśvarūpa = the dense form of the universe;
kiraṇa-āvalyā = series of rays;
aruṇācala paramātman = Aruṇācala, the Supreme Self;
aruṇo bhava = Be the Sun;
citta = heart; kañja = lotus; su-vikāsāya = Full blossoming

Bhagavān poetically describes his divine vision of Aruṇācala as the ocean of nectar which is brimming with abundant grace. How is the grace available? Aruṇācala ever shines at the heart of all beings as ‘I, I’. Its series of rays swallow up the dense form of the universe. Dense herein means that it is tangible to the senses, intensely gross, the dense forest of samsara characterized by grief, delusion and ignorance; almost impenetrable by light. Such a universe is consumed by non-worldly splendour rays of Aruṇācala out of its own accord to those who resort to it.

Vārttikam verses 8 to 18 provide commentaries for the first shloka. We will look at two of them and their meanings:

हृत्-अम्भोज-विकासाय प्रथमे प्रार्थ्यते शुभा
तत्कृपा स्वीय-भक्तानां तत्-स्व-रूपत्व-सिद्धये
अत्रैव निष्प्रपञ्चत्वं दिश्यते च परात्मनः ॥ ८ ॥

hṛt-ambhoja-vikāsāya prathame prārthyate śubhā
tatkṛpā svīya-bhaktānāṃ tat-sva-rūpatva-siddhaye
atraiva niṣprapañcatvaṃ diśyate ca parātmanaḥ || 8 ||

Meaning: In the first shloka (of SAP), Aruṇācala’s grace is prayed for blossoming of the heart-lotus so that devotees can attain identity with Aruṇācala. It is also stated here the Supreme being is transcendent of all worldly manifestation or multiplicity.

अहम्-इति-अखिलस्य-अन्तर्भानं यत् परमात्मनः
करुणेत्युच्यते सैव नाद्वैते विक्रिया यतः ॥ ९ ॥

aham-iti-akhilasya-antarbhānaṃ yat paramātmanaḥ
karuṇetyucyate saiva nādvaite vikriyā yataḥ || 9 ||

Meaning: The Supreme Self shines in the hearts of all as “I” is itself called grace. But this karuṇā (grace) is not an act or change; it is the unchanging radiance of Non-dual Consciousness itself.

Then, why do not all jīvas realise him? They are habitually turned outward towards the world. The mind, like a lamp, is needed to perceive objects, but to see the Self, it need only be turned inward and allowed to lose itself in the self-luminous light of Aruṇācala in the heart. A rising Sun makes the lotus bud in a tank unfold its grandeur. The Heart-lotus blooms by the self-illuminating rays of Aruṇācala, the Sun of wisdom. The darkness of ignorance or maya will vanish, and thus the whole world will be swallowed up and disappear. Bhagavān has written this as a prayer to Aruṇācala that Aruṇāchala be the Sun of wisdom for seekers to unfold the Heart-lotus.

Echoing the same in Darpaṇam ³, Śāstrī comments on the sacred word of Aruṇāchala that appears in the third quarter:

अरुणः सूर्यवाची ज्योतिष उपलक्षणम् ।
तथा चेदं तैजसलिङ्गक्षेत्रमाहुः स्थलपुराणविदः।।

aruṇaḥ sūryavācī jyotiṣa upalakṣaṇam ।
tathā cedaṃ taijasaliṅgakṣetramāhuḥ sthalapurāṇavidaḥ ।।

Aruna, an attribute of the Sun and signifies Jyotis, Light. The knowers of the Sthala-Purana consider this the holy place of the Taijasa-Linga, the Linga in the form of spiritual Light.

अचलः अपि अक्षरवाची । तस्मात् अक्षरस्य ज्योतिषः परमात्मनः सम्बोधनं बोध्यम् ।।

acalaḥ api akṣaravācī । tasmāt akṣarasya jyotiṣaḥ paramātmanaḥ sambodhanaṃ bodhyam ।।

Achala, motionless means Aksara, firm or fixed. Combining aruna and acalaḥ, Aruṇāchala indicates the Aksara Jyoti. Therefore, the Supreme Self in the form of Aksara Jyoti is invoked. May that Light, immutable which is addressed by the word Paramatma, the Supreme Self, shine forth for the blossoming of the heart-lotus.

Śri Muruganar in Guru Vachaka Kovai points out ⁴:

ஈசன் கழலை இதயத்து உறுதிபெற
நேசமாய் என்றும் நிறுத்தியே — பாச-மால்
பாற்றலாம் பாற்றிப் பரஞான உண்மைஒளி
தேற்றலாம் உள்ளம் திறந்து.

īśaṉ każhalai idayattu uṟudipeṟa
nēsamāy eṉḍṟum niṟuttiyē — pāśa-māl
pāṭṟṭṟalām pāṭṟṭṟip parajñāṉa uṇmai oḷi
tēṭṟṭṟalām uḷḷam tiṟandu.

Firmly fixing with devotion at the Feet of the Lord in the Heart, one can cut asunder the entanglement caused by delusion, and thereby the Heart-lotus blossoms to attain the true Light of transcendental knowledge.

Poetic beauty of the Śloka 1 of SAP

Let us now look at poetic beauty. The encomiums that Śāstrī writes in his Darpaṇam are ⁵:

One Supreme Self being portrayed in various ways as the Ocean of nectar, the very splendour, the motionless and the Sun. This is an embellishment in Poetics called उल्लेख अलङ्कार (ullekha alaṅkāra) as this poetic technique enriches a text with layered meaning, creative depth, and an artistic complexity that goes beyond a simple, factual description. By the word kiranavali, Aruṇācala is analogized to the Supernatural Sun. This is रूपकं (rūpakaṃ), metaphor in the last quarter. Therefore, as rūpakaṃ and ullekha are found mixed here, the figure of speech is संसृष्टिः (saṃsṛṣṭiḥ) indicating various alaṅkāras that coexist and contribute to the beauty of the text without losing their individual identities or creating a mixed, inseparable effect.

Bhagavān in his ecstatic outpouring of devotion to Aruṇācalam, has written the first śloka of SAP in a complex metre, abounding with poetic beauty and has also brought out the highest truth on blossoming of the Hṛdaya.

(Hṛdaya continues to throb...)

This is Nondi, a monkey devotee of Bhagavan. Welcome to the January 2026 edition of the Children/youth corner. In this section, I will share stories, anecdotes, puzzles and interesting facts to provide you spiritual nourishment every quarter. The aim is to inspire and help you blossom into kind, brave and decisive adults.

I look forward to engaging with all of you, all over the world, in the years to come. Please share your queries, feedback and articles with me at mountainpath@gururamana.org

What complete absorption in the Self looks like

Bhagavan was completely absorbed in the Self. It can be hard to imagine what that means. Yet, his example shows us how high and pure this state really is, a state where one is untouched by whatever happens to the body.

If we can bear pain, sickness, or the trials of old age with the same freedom and strength that Bhagavan displayed - is that not a state worth striving for?

Here is a glimpse of Bhagavan’s life in the Patala Lingam, when he first arrived in Arunachala as a young boy of 16, an inspiring example of complete absorption in the Self. May hearing about this uplift and inspire us.

Bhagavan’s first six months in Tiruvannamalai when he arrived in 1896, were spent in the Big Temple compound. In those early days he was so completely absorbed that he was quite unaware of his surroundings. The milk used for the daily abhishekam to the idol of Apita Kuchambal, the divine spouse of the Lord, was poured into his mouth by Muniswami, who was in charge of the milk offering at Mother’s temple. This was the only food Bhagavan took. When young kids harassed him by throwing rocks and broken pots, he took refuge in the Patala Lingam. In those days the lingam was in a state of ruin. Situated in a deep pit underneath the Thousand-Pillared hall, it was the darkness that was his great protector because the boys could not see him and even though they knew he was there, they dared not trace the broken steps down into the pit for fear of falling. Ratnammal, wife of Vellore Velayuda Chettiyar, however, risked the trip down into the darkness and brought food into the Patala Lingam. One day she brought a clean dhoti and placed it before the young swami but when she came the next day and found the dhoti unused, she took it back saying, “Why are you sitting here in mud and water? You can sleep and eat in my house”. But the young swami, safely ensconced behind the lingam, was established in oneness beyond the body, beyond the feeling of pain or discomfort. The dark dank recesses of the underground linga was a breeding ground for ants, termites, mosquitoes, flies, mites, fleas and centipedes which began to feed on the flesh of the undersides of his thighs. When visitors came, they lamented the condition of his body, full of sores with blood and pus oozing out. But for his part, he knew nothing of it. It was Seshadri Swami who addressed the plight of the motionless form in Patala Lingam by telling one of his devotees, Venkatachala Mudaliar, “There is a small swami inside. Go and see”. Making his way down the fragile steps, Venkatachalam could make out nothing at first, coming as he was from the daylight into the blackness of the pit. But when his eyes adjusted, he could discern the figure of the young sage locked in concentration. He retraced his steps, went to the nearby flower-garden and sought the help of acquaintances. He persuaded them to come with him. This time Venkatachala Mudaliar took a lantern along and with the others, they lifted the Swami up from the pit and carefully and gently brought him to a stone mandapa in the nearby Gopuram Subramania temple. Even then the young adept did not regain body-consciousness. Not knowing if what they had done was a service or sin, an intrusion, they bowed in respect and went away. Bhagavan’s memory of all that happened in the days at Patala Lingam are sketchy since he was lost to ordinary consciousness. But when later asked if he had been compelled to go without food while living at the underground linga, he said, “Food was forthcoming — milk and fruits — but whoever thought of food”.

In this personal account, our young friend Swagat Patnaik shares how he came to Bhagavan and what the Maharshi means to him. Swagat is from Orissa. He has a PhD in Hydrological Science and is currently working in the hydropower sector. He has been pursuing the path of self-enquiry since 2018 and enjoys doing puja with his two-year-old daughter. Drawn to sacred places, he finds joy in going on pilgrimages and has a special fondness for Tiruvannamalai.

Coming Home: Getting Introduced to Bhagavan’s Teachings.

I became interested in Ramana Maharshi’s teachings through a series of serendipitous events in the winter of 2018. Dare I say, his immense pull has drawn me into his fold, like a river finding its way to the sea. At times, the current has been gentle; at others, turbulent. Yet, always, it has unfailingly carried me toward Arunachala.

For three to four years, I had been engaged in an amateurish yet overzealous practice of Zen meditation. Still, I was relatively content with it. Immersed in the Zen tradition, and largely out of ignorance, I was skeptical of gurus, rituals, elaborate philosophies, and organized spirituality. Yet my self-centered skepticism did not shield me from Bhagavan’s grace.

I had known of Ramana Maharshi for perhaps four or five years, but he had never particularly interested me. All this changed after a knee injury left me unable to practice zazen (sitting meditation). At the same time, I came down with a bad flu, which disheartened me further, as I could not pursue my practice with my usual overzealousness. Somewhat bedridden, I passed the time reading random articles online while impatiently waiting for recovery.

It was then that I stumbled upon the story of Ramana Maharshi. I was familiar with the remarkable account of a teenage boy who had a spontaneous awakening that transformed his life completely. Yet I had never connected with his peculiar story or his Advaitic teachings. His words had seemed like disconnected poetic sayings that I could not contextualize. Moreover, my lack of familiarity with Hindu traditions made his teachings sound strange and distant.

This time, however, reading his teachings and anecdotes had an unexpected effect on me. Though I could barely understand them, they stirred within me a warm feeling—almost as if I were coming back home. On the surface, many of his words seemed convoluted, yet deep down there was a quiet recognition that they carried an unshakable truth. Over the next few days, I immersed myself in his stories until I had exhausted all the material within my reach.

After this, my initial fervor gradually cooled, but those days left a lasting impact. They brought me to an uncomfortable but humbling realization: learning from a true master or guru is a profound blessing. I came to see that no amount of reading or self-directed practice can substitute for personal guidance from a genuine teacher. This marked the beginning of a new phase in my practice—one in which I began to long for a benevolent guide who could truly lead me forward.

A couple of weeks later, I suddenly felt an urge to know more about the practice of self-enquiry. Though I had read about it before, I found it difficult to relate to, burdened as I was with preconceived notions about meditation. With my background in Yoga, Pranayama, and Zen, I struggled to understand what exactly I was supposed to do.

One day, I resolved to visit the Ramana Kendra in Hyderabad, just to see what might happen. At first, I was reluctant. I thought such excursions might be a waste of time, little more than another passing curiosity. Yet, my curiosity, for once, outweighed my hesitation. The intense reading I had done had left me both restless and peaceful: peace from a quiet faith that had been kindled within me, and restlessness from a yearning to meet saints and masters.

From the pictures I had seen online, the Kendra appeared to be a modest gathering spot for elderly devotees. Since I was visiting in the afternoon, I did not expect to find many people who could guide me further. At the very least, I hoped to collect some additional reading material. But to my surprise, simply entering the meditation hall had a profound effect.

The hall was dimly lit and refreshingly cool compared to the heat outside. At the far end, I saw an enormous picture of Bhagavan, beside which rested a small rock from Arunachala Hill. The large hall was empty except for an elderly man, deeply absorbed in meditation, and a dog quietly sleeping near him. Despite the muffled noise of traffic from outside, a deep silence pervaded the space.

The peaceful stillness defied my rational expectations. How could a place carry such an ambience? Pleasantly confused, I chose to sit down and meditate rather than overthink and try to fit the experience into logical categories.

To my astonishment, meditating in that hall was profoundly transformative. It felt entirely different from my previous, effortful attempts. My body settled naturally into the present moment, and the usual turbulence of the monkey mind gave way to a grounded peace. Whether I opened my eyes, shifted my posture, or moved my body, the stillness remained unchanged. In the past, I had exerted so much effort to maintain posture and control my breathing in order to steady the mind—yet, here I realized all those efforts had been mere child’s play.

After this experience, I felt a new zeal to meet someone from the Kendra who could truly teach me self-enquiry. I began attending their Sunday satsangs every week until my work in Hyderabad came to an end. The many wonderful encounters with the sagacious men and women of the Kendra would require far more space to recount, and even then my words could scarcely do justice to their luminous presence. It is only through their grace that I was able to step into the vast ocean of Bhagavan’s teachings.

Now, in 2025, I can confidently say that my exposure to Bhagavan and his teachings has been one of the most important milestones of my life. I have come to see that self-enquiry and self-surrender are the only true approaches to lasting happiness. Over the years, this practice and Bhagavan’s presence have supported me through many challenges. The quiet assurance of his subtle smile has given my life deep meaning. His inspiring story has helped me place greater trust in Ishwara and let go of unnecessary worries. Ultimately, through his teachings, I have been able to walk the path of sadhana and taste a few drops of the nectar of his grace.

Here’s this issue’s Fun Corner

Word Search Puzzle: Maha Kumbhabhishekam Terms

Clue: Reading the September 2025 edition of Saranagathi Newsletter that covered the recent Maha Kumbhabhishekam at the Ashram should help you solve this easily!

BHAGAVAN’S ATTENDANTS

Shloka: Sri Ramana Ashtottaram
Let’s continue to memorize this wonderful composition by Sri Viswanatha Swami. These are 108 names of Bhagavan used to worship him. As each name is uttered by way of invocation, a flower is offered in worship. Let’s memorize one name at a time and understand its meaning. Here’s Name 9:
ओं पराशरकूलोत्तंसाय नमः।
Oṁ parāśarakulottaṁśāya namaḥ

Meaning: One who is the crown jewel of the Parasara Kula. Parasara, Bhagavan’s ancestor, was a Maharshi who worshipped the Supreme as Agni. Bhagavan saw in Arunachala a frozen column of fire, the symbol of the Supreme. Therefore, the family of his birth was quite significant.

Question: Are the stillness of mind and blankness of the mind the same?

Answer: The question of whether stillness of mind and blankness of mind are the same inevitably arises in the course of any sincere seeker's journey. Both appear as the cessation of mental movement, as relief from the restless whirlpool of samsaric thought. Both may seem, to the beginner, to be signs of spiritual progress. Yet Sri Ramana Maharshi—ever the surgeon of consciousness—draws a decisive line between these two. In Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi (Talk 245), Bhagavan declares with characteristic surgical precision:

"Absence of thoughts does not mean a blank. There must be one to know the blank. Knowledge and ignorance are of the mind. They are born of duality. But the Self is beyond knowledge and ignorance. It is light itself."

This utterance slices through what might otherwise remain an impenetrable fog of confusion. Stillness is realization; blankness is a subtle obstacle. Stillness is clarity; blankness is dullness. Stillness is pure Being; blankness is but another modification of mind. For the aspirant balancing on the razor's edge between effort and grace, this distinction is not merely academic—it is existentially vital.

The Yoga Sutras of Patanjali (I.2) define yoga as citta-vṛtti-nirodha—the cessation of the modifications of the mind. Shankara, in his commentary, clarifies that this is not a lapse into unconsciousness but the abiding of the seer in his own nature (tadā draṣṭuḥ svarūpe avasthānam). The Māṇḍūkya Upaniṣad echoes the same, describing the Self as prapañcopashamam—"the cessation of all phenomena"—and śāntam, "peace itself." This peace, however, is not a dead void but the supreme wakefulness underlying all states of waking, dream, and sleep. The Kaṭha Upaniṣad calls it "that by knowing which one transcends both death and birth" (yaṁ labdhvā amṛtam aśnute).

The Nature of True Stillness

Stillness of mind (manonāśa, dissolution of mind) is not the creation of a new condition but the luminous revelation of what has always been—the Self. In that stillness, thoughts subside not through suppression but by being traced back to their source. What shines forth is not "nothing" but plenitude itself—pūrṇam adaḥ, pūrṇam idam. Awareness, the very essence of the Self, is not manifested through technique nor generated by effort; it is ever-present, like the necklace that has never left the woman's neck in Maharshi's celebrated analogy. Realization is not a new acquisition but the cessation of false loss, the end of misidentification. Thus, stillness is not an achievement of the ego but the Self abiding in its own nature—motionless, luminous, and utterly free.

Blankness, by contrast, is a condition of the mind—a state of inert suspension. There remains an experiencer who knows, "My mind is blank." This very recognition betrays its duality. It is not liberation but an interlude, akin to dreamless sleep entered while sitting upright. Ramana warns:

"Blankness is the evil result of searching the mind. The mind must be cut off, root and branch. See who the thinker is, who the seeker is. Abide as that." (Talk, 245)

Blankness, therefore, is the outcome of effort misdirected—when one attempts to forcibly suppress thought or stares at the mind as an object until awareness itself is lulled into stupor. It is an unconscious pause, not the radiant silence of realization. Stillness is freedom from mind; blankness is merely another state of mind.

Manolaya and Manonasa

In the unfolding of practice, the seeker may experience profound calm—thoughts subside, silence pervades, and a luminous peace envelops within. This condition, manolaya, is the temporary subsidence of thought, a momentary suspension of mental activity. Sri Ramana Maharshi cautions:

"Absorption of the mind without enquiry is only temporary. Though this lulling of mind may last even a thousand years, thoughts rise up as soon as the absorption ceases." (Talk, 390)

Like a bird poised motionless in mid-air before resuming its flight, the mind in manolaya is merely restrained, not destroyed. When the restraint relaxes, the mind resumes its old habits and tendencies (vāsanās). Even a thousand years of such suspended animation cannot amount to liberation. True freedom lies not in stilling thought but in dissolving its very root—manonāśa. As Bhagavan affirms,

"In manolaya the mind is temporarily absorbed and when released, it emerges with all its previous force. Manonasa, on the other hand, is permanent destruction of the mind; this is liberation." (Talk, 398)

Thus, at the very moment stillness dawns, enquiry (ātma-vichāra) must be engaged. One must ask: Who experiences this silence? Who delights in this peace? Without this vigilance, the practitioner risks drifting into yoga-nidrā—a trance-like sleep deceptively serene but devoid of insight. Sri Ramana repeatedly reminds seekers not to mistake this for liberation, for many have been ensnared by its sweetness.

The bridge from manolaya to manonāśa lies in enquiry. Bhagavan's simple yet unfailing instruction in Who Am I? remains the compass:

"The mind will subside only by means of enquiry 'Who am I?' The thought 'Who am I?' will destroy all other thoughts, and like the stick used for stirring the burning pyre, it will itself in the end get destroyed. Then there will arise Self-realisation."

Through enquiry, thoughts are not suppressed but consumed in the fire of awareness. The mind, a mere bundle of thoughts, dissolves into its source—the Self. What remains is pure Being, untouched, eternal, and free. The Ashtavakra Gita (1.3) echoes the same insight: "You are neither earth nor water, nor fire nor air nor space. You are the witness of all these—be happy."

Why, then, is blankness a trap? Because it mimics silence without embodying its essence. The seeker may imagine he has reached realization, while in truth he has only entered a void. The ego persists as the knower of the void. In blankness, consciousness is dimmed; in stillness, consciousness shines unobstructed. The Bhagavad Gita (6.19) compares the yogi's mind to "a lamp in a windless place, which does not flicker." The lamp is steady awareness, not extinction. True meditation is not the absence of light, but light unwavering.

Whenever blankness appears in meditation, the aspirant must ask: Who knows this blank? By tracing that knower to its source, one transcends the void into the luminous Self. Ramana's injunction is direct:

"Hold the thinker. Only when the thinker is not held do objects appear or doubts arise." (Talk, 245)

Stillness arises when the mind naturally merges into its source; blankness occurs when it is forced into suspension. The former is like the river returning to the ocean; the latter is like pressing down waves. Stillness transcends duality; blankness belongs to it. As long as one takes the body and mind to be "I," questions and doubts will persist. Ramana concludes:

"Doubts will cease only when the non-self is put an end to. That will result in realisation of the Self." (Talk, 245)

Blankness merely suspends doubts; stillness annihilates their very root by dissolving the ego that breeds them. The rising sun does not hide the fog—it burns it away.

The ancient analogy of the necklace illustrates the difference with crystalline clarity. The woman imagines her necklace lost, anxiously searches for it, and finally "finds" it upon her own neck. The necklace was never lost; only forgotten. Realization, likewise, is not a new gain but the recognition of what has always been. Stillness of mind is like awakening to the necklace's presence—awareness shining in its own nature. Blankness is like fainting during the search: activity ceases, but knowledge has not dawned. When consciousness returns, the sense of loss returns too.

Thus, manolaya must be seen as a milestone, not the destination. It indicates progress but conceals a subtle danger: if mistaken for liberation, it delays the final awakening. At this delicate juncture, the living guidance of the Guru—whether embodied or inward—is indispensable. As the Mundaka Upaniṣad declares, "To know that truth, one must approach a Guru who is established in Brahman and tranquil in mind" (śrotriyaṁ brahmaniṣṭham). The Guru, like a compass in the desert, keeps the seeker oriented toward the real, away from the mirages of blankness and trance.

Conclusion: The Eternal Stillness

Stillness and blankness may appear alike from a distance, but they differ as much as the radiant sun from a dark, starless void. Stillness is the natural state of the Self—luminous, uncreated, self-revealing. Blankness is an inert condition of the mind—temporary, unconscious, and bound by duality. As Ramana affirms, "The Self is beyond knowledge and ignorance. It is light itself." (Talk, 245)

To rest in manolaya is to linger in twilight; to realize manonāśa is to awaken in the dawn of eternity. The path from one to the other is the steady enquiry into the 'I'. When the mind turns inward to its source and is consumed there, what remains is the necklace of Being—always present, never lost. In that consummate stillness, there is no experiencer, no experience—only the Self, ekaṁ eva advitīyam, the One without a second.

Thus, let us not chase the mirage of blankness, but abide in the radiant silence of Being. That stillness is not new; it is the rediscovery of what has ever been—the timeless splendor of the Self, shining as one's own awareness. It is not a void to be attained through effort, nor a trance to be induced by will, but the effortless presence that underlies every thought, feeling, and perception. When the restless mind subsides into its source, what remains is this living silence—awake, luminous, and self-knowing. In that silence, there is no seer or seen, only the indivisible clarity of pure Being, which is bliss itself. Let us end this answer with a poem that illustrates this concept.

The publication of Vedāntasiddhāntacandrikā with the commentary Udgāra, critically edited and translated by Dr. Rohan Achyut Kulkarni, marks an important milestone in the modern study of Advaita Vedanta. The text belongs to the genre of Prakaraṇagranthas, concise treatises meant to introduce key doctrines of Advaita to seekers who may not have the capacity to engage deeply with the voluminous Bhāṣyas or more complex works of the post-Śaṅkara Advaitins. Composed by Rāmānanda Sarasvatī in the 17th century and enriched by the commentary Udgāra of Gaṅgādharaṇdra Sarasvatī, this work provides both clarity and accessibility while remaining rooted in the rigorous philosophical tradition of Advaita.

At the outset, it is worth placing this work in the larger history of Advaita literature. Śaṅkaracharya pioneered a threefold strategy for disseminating Advaita: through commentaries (Bhāṣyas) on the Prasthānatrayī—the Upaniṣads, Bhagavad Gītā, and Brahmasūtras; through independent treatises or Prakaraṇagranthas aimed at students; and through devotional hymns (stotras) for the wider community of devotees. While the Bhāṣyas remain indispensable for scholars and intellectuals, the Prakaraṇagranthas have served as effective bridges for aspirants, allowing them to grasp foundational ideas of non-dualism without being overwhelmed. The Vedāntasiddhāntacandrikā, with its fifty-one verses, fits perfectly into this tradition.

The author, Rāmānanda Sarasvatī, displays both brevity and precision, offering essential concepts without unnecessary elaboration. His commentator, Gaṅgādharaṇdra Sarasvatī—the 38th Śankaracharya of the Swarṇavalli Maṭha located in Sirsi, Karnataka—provides interpretive depth through Udgāra, a commentary that combines erudition with lucidity. Both figures demonstrate a mastery of scriptural lore, drawing on Veda, Vedānta, Smṛtis, Purāṇas, and the six systems of philosophy (Ṣaḍdarśanas). The commentary's style is notable: written in the form of intimate dialogues—between teacher and disciple, between friends of pure heart, or between devotees—it carries both philosophical rigor and a devotional warmth.

The text's central aim is to guide the mumukṣu—the seeker yearning for liberation—towards the realization of brahmātmaikya, the non-difference between the individual self and Brahman. The brevity of life, coupled with the vastness of Advaitic literature, makes such concise guides necessary. The one who listens to the guru's teaching on Advaita and truly assimilates it is instantly freed from sorrow and immersed in blissful Brahman. The promise is not abstract but deeply experiential, resonating with the very spirit of Advaita.

The topics addressed in the text span the breadth of Advaitic thought. Fundamental doctrines are laid out: the nature of Brahman as sat-cit-ānanda—existence, consciousness, and bliss absolute; the distinction between svarūpa lakṣaṇa (intrinsic qualities) and taṭastha lakṣaṇa (incidental or marginal characteristics) of Brahman; the reconciliation of nirguṇa (attribute-less) and saguṇa (with attributes) Brahman; and the significance of the Upaniṣadic method of both positive and negative description (neti neti alongside affirmations of reality).

The text further clarifies interpretative issues central to Vedantic hermeneutics: the primary and secondary meanings of "tat" in tat tvam asi; the employment of jahadajahallakṣaṇā¹ to reconcile apparent contradictions in the mahāvākyas; the nature of adhyāsa (superimposition), the function and substratum of ajñāna (ignorance), and the varieties of māyā—tuchchā (illusory), anirvacanīyā (indefinable), and vāstavī (real in the empirical sense). Each of these ideas is treated with clarity, not for the sake of introducing novelty, but to reaffirm the pathways to mokṣa established in the Advaitic lineage.

One of the strengths of this text, especially when paired with its commentary, lies in its treatment of classical debates. Gaṅgādharaṇdra Sarasvatī skillfully engages rival schools, refuting their objections while reinforcing Advaitic positions with quotations from authoritative works: Śaṅkarabhāṣya, Sureśvara's Vārttika, Vidyāraṇya's Pañcadaśī, and others. In doing so, he situates the Siddhāntacandrikā firmly within the ongoing intellectual tradition of post-Śaṅkara Advaita, which had seen developments such as Sureśvara's Vārttika-prasthāna, Padmapāda's Vivaraṇa-prasthāna, and Vācaspati Miśra's Bhāmatī-prasthāna. The polemical spirit of Madhusūdana Sarasvatī's Advaitasiddhi is also echoed here, underscoring that Advaita is not only a matter of inner experience but also of philosophical defense.

Equally important are the text's discussions of practical soteriology. It explains the three bodies (sthūla, sūkṣma, and kāraṇa śarīras) and the five sheaths (pañcakośas), clarifies the roles of karma and jñāna, and emphasizes the indispensability of the guru's grace. The commentary also extols the role of devotion to praṇava for Paramahaṁsa renunciates, and sketches the vision of the jīvanmukta, the liberated sage who, though embodied, lives free from bondage. Such expositions are not only philosophically precise but also spiritually instructive, allowing seekers to align their study with practice.

A particularly valuable contribution of Dr. Kulkarni's edition is the critical apparatus. He has painstakingly edited the text, translated both the verses and commentary into lucid English, and supplemented them with explanatory notes that make complex doctrines accessible without oversimplification. His introduction provides historical and philosophical context, situating the text within the broader trajectory of Advaita. The appendices and bibliography further enhance the scholarly utility of the volume, making it a reliable reference for both students and researchers.

From a pedagogical standpoint, the work is especially significant. Beginners in Advaita often find themselves lost in the dense dialectics of Bhāṣyas or the abstruse debates of later Advaitins. The Vedāntasiddhāntacandrikā, through its compact form and dialogue style, offers them an entry point. At the same time, the commentary ensures that the intellectual depth is not compromised. The blend of accessibility and rigor is rare, and this edition successfully preserves it.

What emerges most vividly from this work is the continuity of the Advaitic spirit: Advaita as not merely an abstract philosophy but as a living experience. Śaṅkaracharya insisted that Advaita is both knowledge and direct realization—aparokṣānubhūti. The text and commentary reflect this dual emphasis, never allowing the seeker to lose sight of the fact that philosophy must culminate in liberation. By avoiding unnecessary novelty and instead reinforcing foundational concepts with clarity, the work stands as a practical manual for spiritual progress.

This edition is the result of rigorous manuscript work and is in fact based on a doctoral thesis. The book has an unusually rich set of scholarly aids that make it especially useful as a teaching text and reference, as well as something a practitioner can reference quickly. These attributes make the volume especially well suited to students, temple libraries, and practitioners seeking a compact, reliable manual of Advaitic principles. Scholars will benefit from further critical engagement — for instance, comparative studies with other post-Śaṅkara prakaraṇagranthas, philological notes on variant readings across the cited manuscripts, and responses from specialists in the bhāmatī and vivaraṇa traditions. Such follow-up scholarship would both validate and deepen the promising contribution that Dr. Kulkarni's edition already offers.

One of the most striking features is how it successfully bridges the worlds of practice and scholarship—something few works in Advaita literature manage with such balance. For the practitioner, the Vedānta siddhāntacandrikā is not merely an intellectual exercise but a spiritual companion. Its concise verses distill the essentials of Advaita into forms that can be memorized, recited, and contemplated in daily practice. The dialogical style of the commentary reinforces the living tradition of guru-śiṣya saṃvāda, allowing readers to feel as if they are participants in a direct transmission of wisdom. The discussion of practical soteriology—on the three bodies and five sheaths, the indispensability of the guru's grace, the role of śravaṇa, manana, nididhyāsana, and the lived reality of jīvanmukti—offers practitioners a structured framework to orient their spiritual journey. For householders, aspirants, and renunciates alike, the clarity of the text makes it an invaluable guide for reflection, meditation, and practice.

For the scholar, on the other hand, this edition provides a wealth of resources that extend far beyond a simple translation. The critical apparatus reflects rigorous manuscript collation and philological precision, ensuring the authenticity of the text. Dr. Kulkarni's explanatory notes illuminate technical concepts without diluting their complexity, making the work accessible for advanced research while still approachable for beginners. The inclusion of over a hundred illustrations to simplify intricate Advaitic categories—something rarely attempted in works of this kind—adds a pedagogical dimension that enhances both teaching and learning. Furthermore, the appendices, glossary, and bibliography make the volume a dependable reference point for future studies in Advaita Vedānta, comparative philosophy, and Sanskrit intellectual history.

The dual value of the work is therefore evident: to the practitioner, it is a lamp that lights the way towards realization; to the scholar, it is a carefully crafted edition that preserves the integrity of a historical text while opening avenues for fresh academic engagement. In uniting these two functions, the edition embodies the true spirit of Advaita itself—non-duality, a harmonizing of what might otherwise appear as separate domains of life and thought.

In conclusion, Vedāntasiddhāntacandrikā with the commentary Udgāra, as edited and translated by Dr. Rohan A. Kulkarni, is a landmark publication in the field of Advaita studies: a text that revives a 17th-century prakaraṇagrantha with a modern critical apparatus and makes it accessible to a contemporary audience. For beginners and serious students alike, the book is a valuable handbook; for scholars it is a dependable resource for textual and doctrinal analysis. It is precisely this dual usefulness—meeting the needs of practitioner and scholar—that makes the edition exceptional. As Acharya Yajneshwar Sadashiv Shastri notes in the foreword, this edition is likely to be considered a milestone in clarifying foundational concepts of Advaita and is a welcome addition to Advaita literature. Its clarity of exposition, fidelity to the original Sanskrit sources, and insightful commentary ensure that it will remain relevant for years to come. More than a mere academic contribution, it serves as a living guide for inner reflection and philosophical inquiry—bridging scriptural precision with the transformative vision of Advaitic realization.

— M. Giridhar

Navaratri

At the hallowed shrine of Sri Matrubhuteswara, the festival of Navaratri unfolded in splendor and sacred grace. On the blessed evening of 21 September 2025, at the hour of twilight, the radiant Mother Yogambikai was taken from the sanctum, her presence filling the air with divine fragrance. She was led to the Sannidhi and lovingly enthroned in the Navaratri Kolu Mandapam, where at 5:45 p.m. the first Arati was offered—flames rising like tongues of devotion to greet her eternal light.

Night after night, the Divine Mother revealed Herself in manifold forms, each garlanded with beauty, each name resounding with power. The hearts of devotees blossomed like lotuses in Her gaze, as grace flowed unceasingly from Her presence.

When the ninth night yielded to the dawn of victory, the sacred festival reached its crown on Vijayadashami. At 6 p.m., on October 2, Mother Yogambikai was taken in procession, her children carrying her with reverence and song. From the Kolu Mandapam back to the sanctum's embrace, the journey completed the circle of devotion—nine nights of worship, crowned in triumph, sealed in grace. May we, too, carry Her blessing into the struggles of our lives, guided by the silent wisdom of Sri Ramana and the compassionate love of Mother Yogambikai.

Karthikai Deepam Festival

Then came the radiant festival of Karthikai Deepam, when the Mountain itself becomes a lamp of eternity. The sacred rites began with the flag rising high at the temple of Sri Arunachaleswara, heralding days of devotion. On the 4th of December, as dusk embraced the sky, the Maha Deepam was lit upon Arunachala's crown. At that very hour, within Bhagavan's Shrine, abhishekam was offered, Vedas resounded, and the altar was adorned in splendor.

When the great flame blazed upon the summit, all eyes turned upward. In a chorus of devotion, voices rose with the cry, "Annamalaikku Arohara!" and a humble ghee lamp was kindled before Bhagavan's Shrine—earth's flame bowing to heaven's light. For eleven days, the verses of Aksharamanamalai rolled like waves of love, carrying hearts into the ocean of Arunachala.

Long before dawn that day, at 4 a.m., the Bharani Deepam had been kindled within the temple, and the divine procession of Vinayaka, Muruga, Arunachaleswara, Unnamulai Amman, and Chandikeswarar circled the sacred precincts. The festival drew to its close with the glittering Theppam Utsavam, where gods rode upon waters like stars afloat, and with the solemn Chandikeswarar Utsavam. Thus did Arunachala's light reign over earth once more, dispelling the darkness of ages with the lamp of eternity.

New Achalam Guest House

We are immensely happy to share the exciting news regarding the opening of our New Achalam Expanded Guest House. The new guest house has been officially named the "SWAMI NIRANJANANANDA MEMORIAL" (In memory of the Ashram's first Sarvadhikari).

A formal puja ritual marking the inauguration was performed on November 17, 2025 between 9.30 a.m. and 10.30 a.m. The New facility significantly expands our capacity. While the old Achalam Guest House had 27 rooms, the new memorial building features 58 rooms with additional facilities.

The rooms have been opened and allotted to visiting devotees starting Monday, November 24, 2025. That the New Guest House of the Ashram, consecrated by Bhagavan Ramana's eternal refuge in Arunachala with the attitude of 'The Son is Beholden to the Father,' is made available for use of his devotees during this auspicious Karthigai Deepam festival, can only be ascribed to the profound grace of Arunachala and Ramana, and nothing else.

Obituary

Sri R. Venkatakrishnan (1925–2025), a lifelong devotee of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi, attained the Master's Feet on October 11, 2025, aged 99. Son of the celebrated early devotee Manavasi "Saranagati" Ramaswamy Iyer, he served with distinction as President of Ramana Kendra, Mylapore, and as a Chief Manager at Chennai Petroleum. His wife, Smt. Padma, who sang before Bhagavan, predeceased him on the same date in 2018. Together, they embodied surrender to Bhagavan. He is survived by a son and a daughter.

On 15th May 2025, the Government of India announced a special ₹100 commemorative silver coin to honor the Centenary of Sri Ramanasramam—a sacred milestone marking 100 years since its founding in May 1922. This gesture by the nation stands as a tribute to the timeless presence of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi and to the Ashram’s century of service, guiding seekers from every corner of the world toward peace and self-realization.

The coin, crafted in 99.9% pure silver, weighs 40 grams and measures 44 mm in diameter, with 200 fine serrations along its edge. Its face bears the serene image of Bhagavan, adapted from the Wellings Bust, with the majestic outline of Arunachala above—an artistic union of Master and Mountain. Together, they embody the eternal silence and grace that lie at the heart of Sri Ramanasramam. On the reverse side shines the Lion Capital of Ashoka, flanked by the inscriptions Bharat in Devanagari and India, with the motto “Satyameva Jayate” beneath.

The coin will be sold at nearly its cost price for ₹ 10000 from October 2025 but can be pre-ordered now. This numismatic treasure is more than silver; it is a sacred keepsake—a token of devotion, history, and spiritual heritage— forever linking the devotee’s heart with the radiant presence of Bhagavan.

RamananEngage yourself in the living present. The future will take care of itself.
Do not worry about the future.
— Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi, Talk No. 238

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Published by Dr. Venkat S. Ramanan, President, Sri Ramanasramam on behalf of Sri Ramanasramam
from its office at Tiruvannamalai 606603 and printed by Sri. N. Subramanian at
Sudarsan Graphics Private Limited, 4/641, 3rd Street, 12th Link Street, Kottivakkam, Chennai 600 041.
Editor: Dr. Venkat S. Ramanan