Sri Ramana Maharishi - some thoughts on

Sri Ramana Maharishi, I came to know when I was a boy through the book of Sri Ramana Vijayam, written by Yogi Suddhanandha Bharathi in Tamil. Excellent photos of Bhagavan and the Arunachala Hills and caves were enchanting to the eyes and engaging the mind. In the front even Yogi's photo was such an aura.

Invariably, all spiritual personages were given those days in books, a circular-light background to the head. So in the school days, the natural idea was spirituality means something fantastic, suffusing with brilliance, light and rays. It was more optical and luminary. After reading epic-like narrations of Yogi about Maharishi it added all the more to the irradiance. Even now Yogi's 'language' is unforgettable.

And that too, appendixed by my father's memory of meeting Bhagavan, added still more to the depth of the event of my getting introduced to the Ramana's loka. My father Mr R Venugopal, used to have a photo of himself acting the part of Prince of Morocco from Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, , where the still portrays the moment of the dialogue -- "Hey pluck the young sucking-cubs from the she-bear"- when he was showing the action of gripped right fist across his chest, along his left eye.

I asked him one day, 'why do you keep this photo always in your purse?' Then he was telling it carries a story, associated with Sri Ramana Maharishi. I was all eager and babbled out - 'have you seen him? did you talk to him? what did he say? what did you ask?'

My father was saying, "cool boy cool. There was no talk and questions. Once I went to the Hills to have his Darshan. First day it didn't click. Second day I tried, thinking, if not that time then to return back home, visiting temples. Fortunately I found entry among the devotees sitting in front. It was uniquely calm to watch him and just sit there. For some purpose, I took out my purse to take or place something there. Perhaps Bhagavan was seeing that, I do not know. This photo, a still of the just-staged play, I was keeping it there. He asked for the photo and stared at it for a moment. Then doing the same action in the photo by folding his fist and looking at me, he returned it. I consider this as his blessing and am keeping it as the sacred memory."

*