‘Remembering my father’ by Jaya Nagarkatti

This article was written by Jaya Nagarkatti, daughter of

Ramesh Balsekar, on the occasion of Guru Purnima in
2012. She readily agreed to share this moving account
with devotees and fans of Ramesh ji. With gratitude to
Jaya, for offering this intimate glimpse into a sage’s life,
one that only a family member could be privy to.

My Father often talked of three kinds of pain in life:

physical pain, psychological pain and financial pain.
After the death of her husband, my oldest friend in
Bangalore found herself in dire circumstances – that too
after having lived a life of plenty. All of a sudden and in
one go, she experienced all the three pains. Shocking
let-downs, bad eyesight, poor health, distressing
finances and, I remember, she had to deal with her
retinal treatments, with the help of a maid, on bumpy
rides in auto rickshaws. She waited for money transfers
from a child who lived abroad. She would call
frequently and talk to me in detail about all that was
going on and how she was coping with her issues.
However, when it was time to end the call, invariably
she would say: ‘Jaya, don’t worry, it is all going on; I
am totally at peace.’
I would speak to Father, who knew her well, and he had
told me: ‘That is the peace I talk about.’
Our local Sunday newspaper supplement had carried an
article about Sri Ramakrishna Paramhansa and the rite
that he had performed by making his wife, the deity. He
had prayed to her as the Universal Mother, asking for
only one thing: Peace. I read out the article to Father
over the phone, knowing it would interest him. ‘I
wonder what word he could have used for ‘peace’?’
Father said.
We decided that I should speak with a truly remarkable
gentleman, Sri S. K. Ramachandra Rao, whom we all
admired. The State had awarded him the title of
‘Vidyalankara’. He had reviewed Father’s ‘Experience
of Immortality’ soon after it had been published, for the
Astrological Magazine.
Sri SKR read Bengali and knew a lot about the
Paramhansa. Charming and humble, he was happy to
answer our question. ‘Shanti,‘ he had said, and that
word was often used and almost chanted repeatedly by
him during his talks. When I conveyed this to Father, I
could hear him sobbing at the other end of the line. He
must have been so moved to know that his ‘Peace’ was
a favourite of the Paramhansa as well. Father was
emotional and very easily moved. I remember how
moved he would be when he spoke of finding answers
to his three questions: 1. What is Enlightenment? 2.
What will enlightenment do for me for the rest of this
life? 3. How will enlightenment help me in daily living?
The answer was confirmed by the Buddha’s three
corresponding statements: 1. Events happen, deeds are
done: there is no individual doer thereof. 2.
Enlightenment means the end of suffering. 3. Samsara
and Nirvana are not two. This would bring tears to his
eyes. Then he explained clearly what the load of
suffering was, and that peace was found in daily living.
Unrelenting in his stress on non-doership, he explained
the abhanga: ‘Let Your form remain in my heart and
Your name on my lips.’ He would marvel at Gora
Kumbhar’s courage in expressing this concept.
During one of his visits to my home, he recalled the
words from an abhanga by Eknath. They were: ‘I set out
like the Sun and did not find happiness; again and again
I returned to Samsara. Four, five, six, they built up to
eighteen. Going along with them, the mind became like
Shade. All of a sudden… (here, I stressed on the word
used – ‘eka- eki’ with amazement and Father was
weeping) there was santa-sanga (satsang) and by the
grace of Eka’s Janardhan there was release from
samsara.’
I remember one afternoon, I was sitting in my parent’s
room on my Mother’s bed. She was still in her chair and
Father was lying down on the bed next to me. We were
all listening to a CD of Kishori’s abhangas. I
remembered a chore and came out of the room. A few
seconds later, Father came looking for me. He must
have quickly got off from the bed and rushed out
barefoot. He repeated the words that had moved him so
much: ‘avagha to shakuna, hridayi devachey chintan.’ I
can translate them at best as: ‘The entire state is of the
thought of God in the heart.’ In 2003, Susie had asked
me to write something for her. Father was going
through the piece, seated in his rocking chair. As I
looked at him from afar, he was wiping the tears from
his eyes. He must have come to the place where he read
the words: ‘Christ’s Father, the Paramhansa’s Mother,
Kabir’s Ram and Nityananda’s Om, the Maharshi’s
Self, Maharaj’s Consciousness, and my Father’s God,
are names they used whenever the Source manifested as
Sage, Avdhoot, or Avatar.
Shirish once had asked me if Father had wept at
Maharaj’s passing. I said that he must have but I
wouldn’t know since I was not present then. I told
Shirish that for some years, Father, at the mention of the
word ‘Guru’ during his talk, would become choked with
emotion.
Several times, Father had said to me: ‘At the end of any
discussion, the understanding will bring up the feeling:
‘What does it matter?’’ And my Uncle would imitate
Maharaj’s gesture of emptying his fist with a gentle roll
of the wrist.
Indeed, the transition from ‘rigorous imprisonment to
simple imprisonment’ and ‘happiness through peace of
mind’ brings enormous gratitude on this day. ‘It
happens.’
Gautam’s recent tribute to Maharaj was beautiful:
Maharaj’s words about love – indeed very moving.
I feel that the love was truly total acceptance: an
embracing of ‘what is’.
In the earlier quoted abhanga there is a mention of the
‘ability to give embrace gradually’ – ‘detaa aali mithi
saavakashi’. It is about the loosening of the ‘knot’, the
‘granthi’ that Bhagwan explains as bondage. He says it
is the connection between the body and the self.
The subject of the sage’s appearance was also
interesting. I have found that in comparison to the look
of the sage in his younger days, the older ‘look’ is more
strikingly attractive in all the cases, be it Ramana
Maharshi , Swami Nityananda, or my Father.
Maharaj, as I remember him, sat with a straight back
and piercing stare that intermittently changed to a self-
abiding state. I was charmed; never afraid. There was
the ‘love’, you see? Ramana Maharshi’s most popular
photograph is known as ’The Welling Bust’. The
Wellings of Belgaum and Bangalore were well known
photographers. The son of the man who shot this world-
famous picture was visiting me along with an Uncle.
Over lunch, he told us of the day this picture was taken.
This happened a year before the death of Bhagavan’s
body. The Maharshi had hitherto discouraged people
from taking His pictures. That afternoon, however,
when He saw the photographer, He said, ‘Do you wish
to take a picture? Take it.’
Sri Welling began to focus his Roliflex lens. It was late
afternoon, and he heard the Maharshi say: ‘Is the light
enough?’
‘Bhagavan, You Are the Light’ was his reply as he
clicked, and thus came into being the portrait of a
divine personality that ‘had eyes like moonbeams’.
As usual, I told my Father about this wonderful
narration by the photographer’s son. ‘He must have
known that a picture would be needed by the world,
thereafter,’ Father had said.
In the decade before their passing, I visited my parents
very often. ‘You must come every six months and
Subodh must come every six months.’ Father had said.
‘That way one of you will be here every quarter.’
I happened to go more often than that. I would usually
arrive around 3 pm and find Father watching a sporting
event on TV in the living room. I would call out to him
from the door and he would rise from his chair and then
we would go into their room where Mother would be
waiting. Those were golden days for me and for many
others like me.

July 2008. Guru Purnima. He is wearing a Tirupati

Balaji ‘Prasad’ shawl sent for him by my friend from
Bangalore. He is very weak after his surgery, but ready
to oblige for a request to pose.
Last year, I started going through a large collection of
DVDs sent to me over three years. I meant to watch
every single one and put aside those that I felt were the
best. I had seen them all before; each one as soon as it
arrived. However, this screening was very different. The
flowers that were arranged and placed behind him every
day, stood out. Their beauty and variety; the constant
softness of the brass Buddha that existed ever since I
was born, and Father’s changing physical condition
were so noticeable. On this day, his voice seemed
stronger; there was much joy and, as it turned feeble in
late December 2008, there was a certainty of the end. I
remembered Rohit bhai’s words: ‘The sunset has set in.’
I watched.
This is a letter Father had received in the past; it
reminds me of the glory of the days of satsang at
Sindhula:
‘And the long awaited day of our meeting with you
arrived. After the initiatory questions: where, when and
why, you gracefully and unceremoniously dealt the
coup de grace to any and all of my faithful convictions
of long standing. They didn’t even have time to rear
their heads one last time.
“Michael does not have an ego; Michael is the ego.”
And I knew. In that knowing, nothing old could be
carried over. Only joy and peace remained with me, and
I knew: “This is who I am. This is who I always was.”
Cherished spiritual concepts (cherished, but not truly
investigated or questioned) melted away with each
word of what is real nectar or ambrosia, flowing from
your lips.
Such relief – massive mountains of guilt, sin and shame
had accumulated; now they were gone. Such sweet
words of clarity, of soundness, and your conceptual
tools, left nothing unsolved or untested. After satsang,
over a cup of tea in Colaba, my wife said into the
silence: “That was the final teaching.” She was so right.
After some time, I felt the need to write to you
recounting my experience, the letter ending with a plea
that I might consider you my Guru. You answered me
very graciously: “If you have chosen me as your guru, I
have no say in the matter.” I was crying with relief and,
in that very instant the guru-disciple relation vanished.
From then on there was never any two – only One.
Since then, life has been simple: marveling at the
unfolding of the Source and being devoted to what I am
doing in the moment. Events happen and since no doer
can be found, not in this ‘persona’, this ‘mask’, and also
not in fellow creatures, these events are experienced as
happening gracefully.
Four years ago, we saw you again only for the sweet
enjoyment of seeing again the adorable and most
cherished ‘key bearer’ of my heart. It is a small, even
insignificant key that you hand out, but it is a ‘master
key.’ It works for the whole building.
Now that we are in your presence, though no ‘Thank
you’ is required, you can’t help being such a
compassionate bestower of keys – still, my beloved
satguru, my Self: Thanks. – Michael’
After the brilliant renovations at ‘10 Sindhula’, Akshata
has displayed pictures of my parents in the new dining
area. They are not the usual smiling photographs we
commonly see. In these, both my parents are laughing
and it is wonderful to remember them like that.
There is truly nothing more one can ask for.

About Ramesh Baleskar (1917-2009)

A commerce graduate from the University of London,
Ramesh S. Balsekar worked as the General Manager of
a leading nationalized Bank and retired as its President
in 1977. Even during his working life, he always felt he
was enacting some role in a play that must, and would,
end soon. Deep within, he believed that there had to be
more to life than merely getting ahead of the other man.
What was he seeking? The answer came soon after his
retirement when he had an encounter, which soon led to
daily meetings, with the well-known sage, and his
Guru, Sri Nisargadatta Maharaj. The total
understanding that ‘no one does anything’ happened in
1979. Ramesh began translating many of the daily talks
held by Nisargadatta Maharaj. He himself began
teaching in 1982. The ‘command’ to talk was given by
his Guru. These talks or ‘conversations’ began on the
day when an Australian man showed up at his door
early one morning. The next day, this Australian
returned with a few of his friends. Gradually, the
number of visitors who came to listen to Ramesh began
to grow. Since then, he wrote over 25 books and held
several seminars in Europe and the USA. Talks used to
be held every morning with visitors all over the world,
at his residence in Mumbai, almost right to the end
which came on September 27, 2009. As Ramesh used to
say, “No one is invited, and everyone is welcome.”
Recognized as one of the foremost contemporary sages
and considered a Master of pure Advaita around the
world, Ramesh, who was married and a father of three
children, was widely regarded as a ‘householder’ Guru.
He elaborated his own concepts with those of his Guru
Nisargadatta Maharaj, the Buddha, Ramana Maharshi,
selected Hindu scriptures as well as the teachings of
Taoist Masters and Wei Wu Wei. All serve as pointers to
the Truth ‘The Ultimate Understanding.’
The Teaching
Do you really know what you want most in life? Even if
you have all the success, fame and money you want,
and the good health to enjoy it – are you happy and
fulfilled? Why is it that we all find ourselves seeking
something more from life – all the time? Ramesh
pointed out that each one of us, at some time or the
other, has a taste of what that is: an uninterrupted
experience of peace and harmony. He showed the way
to this constant repose in our ordinary, hectic, daily
living. This is what the seeking – most evidently, the
spiritual seeking – is all about.
A simple examination of one’s personal experience will
reveal that what usually disrupts the peace and harmony
in life is a thought about something we think we – or
someone else – should or shouldn’t have done. Hence, a
massive load of guilt and shame for oneself, or hatred
and malice for the other, is perpetuated. Without a lot of
arduous effort – work, discipline, sacrifice, sadhana –
without outside assistance, but simply by investigating
one’s own experience, it is possible to get relief from
this bondage. What mystics have said for ages, is
viewed from the perspective of modern living: that
actions are ‘happenings’ and not something done by
someone. This understanding is what actually
contributes to and helps us in discovering the state of
equanimity and peace which we most ardently seek.
“What is the Ultimate Understanding?” Ramesh would
ask, and answered it by saying, “That there is no one to
understand anything.” He emphasized that everything
he said was a concept and, moreover, it did not matter
whether the concept was accepted or not. “Whether the
acceptance happens or not is the Will of God, and the
destiny of the individual concerned.” According to
Ramesh, many spiritual Masters instruct their disciples
to “kill the ego” which results in a lot of confusion. In
striking contrast, the point of his teaching was that it
‘converts’ the ego. With this teaching it can be
observed, from one’s own personal experience, the
simple truth as enunciated by the Buddha that “Events
happen, deeds are done, but there is no individual doer
thereof.”
Ramesh further pointed out that the main confusion
arose with the question, “Who seeks what? What is the
ego and what is the ego seeking?” The ego wants self-
realization and the ego can only be satisfied with
something that can be understood and appreciated in
this life. Self-realization is simply the realization by the
ego that the ego itself is not a separate doer, that the
doing is merely a happening through a human
mechanism or instrument. This understanding
annihilates the guilt and shame, pride and arrogance
that accompany the sense of personal doership. The
result is an enormous sense of freedom, of peace and
harmony.
The teachings that emanated from Ramesh are pure
Advaita: ‘Consciousness is all there is’. The impact of
the teachings is fuelled with the force of his ‘Total
Understanding’. From his own life experiences, Ramesh
made the teachings relevant – for the here and now.