During
his first visit, among many saints and yogis, Brunton also met Sri Ramana. He
stayed for a few weeks in an improvised shelter very close to Sri Ramana’s
Ashram.The number of full-time devotees being limited at that time, Brunton had
ample opportunity of observing the Maharshi at close quarters and interacting
with him. He provides a dispassionate, illuminatingand intimate account of the
Maharshi’s divinity and itsimpact in his A Search in Secret India published from London in 1934. In his inimitable way
he says:
There is
something in this man which holds my attention as steel filings are held by a
magnet. I cannot turn my gaze away from him. I become aware of a silent,
resistless change, which is taking place within my mind. One by one, the
questions which I prepared with such meticulous accuracy drop away. I know only
that a steady river of quietness seems to be flowing near me; that a great
peace is penetrating the inner reaches of my being, and that my
thought-tortured brain is beginning to arrive at some rest. I perceive with
sudden clarity that intellect creates its own problems and then makes itself
miserable trying to solve them. This is indeed a
novel concept to enter the mind of one who has hitherto placed such high
value upon intellect.
I surrender
myself to the steadily deepening sense of restfulness. The passage of time now
provokes no irritation, because the chains of mind-made problems are being
broken and thrown away. And then, little by little, a question takes the field
of consciousness. Does this man, the Maharshi, emanate the perfume of spiritual
peace as the flower emanates fragrance from its petals? I begin to wonder
whether by some radioactivity of the soul, some unknown telepathic process, the
stillness which invades the troubled water of my soul really comes from him.The
peace overwhelms me. The Maharshi turns and looks down into my face; I, in
turn, gaze expectantly up at him. I become aware of a mysterious change taking
place with great rapidity in my heart and mind. The old motives which have
lured me on begin to desert me. The urgent desires which have sent my feet hither and thither vanish with
incredible swiftness. The dislikes, misunderstandings, coldness and selfishness
which have marked my dealings with many of my fellows collapse into the abyss
of nothingness. An untellable peace falls upon me and I know that there is
nothing further that I shall ask from life.
The Sage
seems to carry something of great moment to me, yet I cannot easily determine
its precise nature. It is intangible, imponderable, perhaps spiritual. Each
time I think of him a peculiar sensation pierces me and causes my heart to
throb with vague but lofty expectations.
I look at the
Sage. He sits there on Olympian heights and watches the panorama of life as one
apart. There is a mysterious property in this man which differentiates him from
all others I have met. He remains mysteriously aloof even when surrounded by
his own devotees, men who have loved him and lived near him for years.
Sometimes I catch myself wishing that he would be a little more human, a little
more susceptible to what seems so normal to us.
Why is it
that under his strange glance I invariably experience a peculiar expectancy, as
though some stupendous revelation will soon be made to me? This man has
freed himself from all problems, and nowoe can touch him.
The Sage
seems to speak not as a philosopher, not as a pandit trying to explain his own
doctrine, but rather out of the depth of his own heart. I am not religious but
I can no more resist the feeling of increasing awe which begins to grip my mind
than a bee can resist a flower in all its luscious bloom. The [Maharshi’s] hall
is becoming pervaded with a subtle,intangible
and indefinable power which affects me deeply. I feel, without doubt and
without hesitation, that the centre of this mysterious power is no other than
the Maharshi himself.
His eyes
shine with astonishing brilliance. Strange sensation begins to arise in me.
Those lustrous orbs seem to be peering into the inmost recesses of my soul. In
a peculiar way, I feel aware of everything he can see in my heart. His
mysterious glance penetrates my thoughts, my emotions and my desires; I am
helpless before it. At first, his disconcerting gaze troubles me; I become
vaguely uneasy. I feel he has perceived pages that belong to a past, which I
have forgotten. He knows it all, I am certain. I am powerless to escape;
somehow,I do not want to, either. I become aware that he is definitely linking
my own mind with his, that he
is provoking my heart into that state of starry calm, which he seems
perpetually to enjoy. In this extraordinary peace, I find a sense of
exaltation and lightness. Time seems to stand still. My heart is released from
its burden of care. Never again, I feel, shall the bitterness of anger and
the melancholy of unsatisfied desire afflict me. My mind is submerged in that
of the Maharshi and wisdom is now at its perihelion. What is this man’s gaze
but a thaumaturgic wand, which evokes a hidden world of unexpected splendour
before my profane eyes? I have sometimes asked myself why these disciples have
been staying around the Sage for years with few conversations, fewer comforts
and no external activities to attract them. Now I begin to understand – not by
thought but by lightning like illuminations – that through all those years they
have been receiving a deep and silent reward.
Hitherto,
everyone in the hall has been hushed to a death-like stillness. At length,
someone quietly rises and passes out. He is followed by another, and then
another, until all have gone. I am alone with the Maharshi! Never before has
this happened. His eyes begin to change; they narrow down to pinpoints. The
effect is curiously like the ‘stopping down’ in the focus of a camera lens.
There comes a tremendous increase in the intense gleam which shines between the
lids, now almost closed. Suddenly, my body seems to disappear, and we are both
out in space! It is a crucial moment. I hesitate – and decide to
break the enchanter’s spell. Decision brings power and once again I am back in
the flesh, back in the hall. No word passes from him to me. I collect my
faculties, look at the clock, and rise quietly. The hour of departure has
arrived. I bow my head in farewell and depart.
May we recieve HIS Grace which is constantly flowing.
SRI RAMANAYA NAMAHA
