Author Topic: Ramana Maharshi Devotee N. R. Krishnamurti Aiyer Recalls His Experiences  (Read 1564 times)


  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 3557
    • View Profile
I am now ninety-two years old and I first met the Maharshi in the summer of 1914, when I was just a boy of sixteen. We were then on a pilgrimage to Tirupati and had halted in Tiruvannamalai, from where my grandmother hailed. We were not strangers to this town.

Some eight years later, I came to Tiruvannamalai to visit my sister, who was married there. One evening, two companions and I went to visit Kavyakanta Ganapati Muni up on the hill where he had his ashram. What can I say about that great seer of Mantra Sastra?

I was just then out of college after finishing my masters degree in physics. I presented to Kavyakanta the latest views of Einstein, Planck and others in regard to the constitution of matter and the universe. He gave a patient hearing, and then said, "Can you put it in a brief way?" Answering in the affirmative, I went on explaining that there is a continuum in which time and space are involved, wherein particles change into waves and waves change into particles and all can dissolve into a single unitary medium. That is the prospect of the future.

He listened patiently to all this and said, "The world picture is in that frame," and after a pause he exclaimed, "chitram, chitram!" These words mean ‘picture’ — you may call it a movie-picture. Those words sent a thrill through my body, through my whole frame. I suddenly felt disembodied. I was myself the whole space in which the pictures were placed — this body being one of the pictures. This experience lasted for a brief eternity. When I came round to myself we took leave of Kavyakanta.

The next day we had a meeting with Bhagavan. This was about the time he arrived at the present site of Sri Ramanasramam (1922). There were no buildings at all, except for a small shed covering the samadhi of the Mother. Bhagavan was seated on a bench under the shade of a tree, and with him, lying on the same bench, was the dog named Rose. Bhagavan was simply stroking the dog.

I wondered, among us Brahmins the dog was such an animal that it would defile all purity. A good part of my respect for the Maharshi left me when I saw him touching that unclean animal — for all its apparent cleanliness and neatness it was unclean from the Brahmin point of view.

I had a question for the Maharshi. At that time I was an agnostic. I thought nature could take care of itself, so where is the need for a Creator? What is the use of writing all these religious books telling ‘cock and bull’ stories, which do not change the situation.

Then I wanted to put to him straight questions: is there a soul? Is there a God? Is there salvation? All these three questions were condensed into one: Well sir, you are sitting here like this — I can see your present condition — but what will be your future sthiti? The word sthiti in Sanskrit means ‘state’ or ‘condition’.

Maharshi did not answer the question. "Oho," I thought, "you are taking shelter under the guise of indifferent silence for not answering an inconvenient question!" As soon as I thought this the Maharshi replied and I felt as if a bomb had exploded under my seat.

"Sthiti, what do you mean by the word sthiti!" he exclaimed.

I was not prepared for that question. "Oho, this man is very dangerous, very dangerously alive. I will have to answer with proper care," I thought.

So I said to myself, "If I ask him about the sthiti or ‘state’ of the body it is useless: the body will be burned or buried. What I should ask him was about the condition of something within the body. Of course, I can recognize a mind inside of me." Then I was about to answer "By sthiti, I mean mind," when it struck me what if he counter-questions with "What is mind?" This I am not prepared to answer.

As all this was passing through my mind he was sitting there staring at me with a fierce look.

I then questioned within me, "What is mind? Mind is made up of thoughts. Now, what are thoughts?" I landed in a void. No answer. I then realised that I could not present a question about a mind which did not exist!

Up to that point, the mind was the greatest thing that existed for me. Now I discovered it did not exist! I was bewildered. I simply sat like a statue.

Two pairs of eyes were then gripping each other: the eyes of the Maharshi and my eyes were locked together in a tight embrace. I lost all sense of body. Nothing existed except the eyes of the Maharshi.

I don’t know how long I remained like that, but when I returned to my senses, I was terribly afraid of the man. "This is a dangerous man," I thought. In spite of myself, I prostrated and got away from his company.

My next visit to the Maharshi was in 1934 on a Jayanti Day. He was sitting on a raised platform under a pondal (thatched roof), specially constructed in front of the Mother’s Shrine. As the celebration was going on, all the devotees were seated around him.

While sitting there, my eyes were intensely fixed upon the Maharshi and I saw his form assume different manifestations. It first changed to the Avatar of Vishnu (Vahar Avatar). Then his form changed into that of Ganesha, the elephant God. Next it suddenly changed and I saw Ramana and Arunachala as one. Then I had the vision of the whole Arunachala Hill — the top of the Hill was transparent and inside it I saw a Shiva Lingam, similar to what we see in temples.

Later that evening in the Old Hall I sat at the feet of the Maharshi. He was reclining on the couch gazing westward and I sat on the floor facing him. Our eyes fixed, one upon the other, were pinned together for quite a long time. I then saw the form of the Maharshi take the shape of Ardhanareswara.

Ardhanareswara is one aspect of Shiva — one half is the Mother and the other half is the Father; one half of the form had a breast and the other had a trident. Around us the pundits were reciting Sanskrit verses.

In those days I was repeating the mantra ‘Ram, Ram’. So I said to myself: "Ram — that is one thought; and Ram again — that is another thought. But in the interval between these two thoughts there is silence. That Silence is the Self." And so, I came to the conclusion that if I go on repeating ‘Ram, Ram’ it will resolve itself into that Silence.

I was very happy. I rushed home and found I was my normal mundane self, teaching my classes in the usual way. But all the time, even while the lectures were going on, ‘Ram, Ram, Ram’ went on repeating in my Heart. For nine years it went on like that and then stopped of its own accord. It ended in Silence.



  • Hero Member
  • *****
  • Posts: 47712
    • View Profile

NRK Iyer's life and experience with Bhagavan was see-saw battle.
He is also from Madurai.  While young, he attended Sri Ramana Bhajan in one Mr. Thevar's house
and while returning to his house, he lost all consciousness and in a trance.  The other friends brought him home safe.  Later during college studies, he became somewhat an agnostic and felt that when the whole nation was  busy in freedom struggle, this man was sitting
doing no good to the nation.  He did not know that a Brahma Jnani
can do more to nation than the karma yogis.  This question on
Sthiti came up when he came to Tiruvannamalai, and with T.K.
Sundaresa Iyer, he came to Bhagavan Ramana.  Bhagavan was sitting
in front of the Iluppai Tree, (which you can even see today at the
entrance maidan of the Asramam), and this came from Iyer and then
the counter question like a bomb shell.  Iyer's eyes opened and
he started being an ardent devotee of Bhagavan Ramana.

Arunachala Siva.