Early Life

Arudra Darshanam, a festival that commemorates the

manifestation of Lord Siva as Nataraja, the Lord of
Cosmic Dance, was being celebrated with great ardor in
the Bhuminatha temple in Tiruchuzhi, South India, on
December 29, 1879. The decorated icon of Lord Siva
was ceremoniously carried in procession through the
streets during the day and late into the night. Just as the
Deity re-entered the temple past midnight on December
30th at 1:00AM, the first cry of a baby boy was heard in
a house adjacent to the temple. The fortunate parents
were Sundaram Iyer and his wife Alagammal. The
newborn child received the name Venkataraman and
was later known as Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi. As
the child was being born, a lady with poor eyesight
exclaimed that the newborn was enveloped in light

Birthplace of Sri Ramana

Venkataraman’s early childhood was quite normal. He
joined others of his age in fun and frolic. When
Venkataraman was about six years old, he made boats
out of old legal papers belonging to his father and
floated them in water. When his father reprimanded
him, the boy left home. After a long search the priest of
the temple found the boy hiding behind the statue of the
Divine Mother. Even as a child he sought solace in the
Divine Presence when troubled by the world.
Venkataraman completed elementary school in
Tiruchuzhi and moved to Dindigul for further
schooling. In February 1892, his father died, and the
family was broken up. Venkataraman and his elder
brother went to live with their paternal uncle Subbier in
Madurai, while the two younger children remained with
the mother. Initially Venkataraman attended Scott’s
Middle School and later joined American Mission High
school.
The boy preferred playing sports with his friends over
his schoolwork. He had an amazingly retentive memory
which enabled him to repeat a lesson after reading it
once. The only unusual thing about him in those days
was his abnormally deep sleep. He slept so soundly that
it was not easy to wake him up. Those who dared not
challenge him physically during the day would come in
the night, drag him out of bed and beat him up to their
heart’s content while he was still asleep. All this would
be news to him the next morning.
The youth first learned that Arunachala is a
geographical location after asking a visiting relative,
“Where are you coming from?” He replied, “From
Arunachala.” The youth exclaimed with excitement,
“What! From Arunachala! Where is that!” The relative,
wondering at the boy’s ignorance, explained that
Arunachala is the same as Tiruvannamalai. The sage
refers to this incident in a hymn to Arunachala that he
composed later:
Ah! What a wonder! Arunachala stands as an insentient
Hill. Its action is mysterious, past human understanding.
From the age of innocence it had shone within my mind
that Arunachala was something of surpassing grandeur,
but even when I came to know through another that it
was the same as Tiruvannamalai, I did not realise its
meaning. When it drew me up to it, stilling my mind,
and I came close, I saw it stand unmoving. “Eight
Stanzas to Arunachala”
Sometime later he read for the first time the
Periyapuranam, the life stories of the sixty-three saints.
He was overwhelmed with ecstatic wonder that such
love, faith, and divine fervour was possible. The tales of
renunciation leading to Divine Union thrilled him with
blissful gratitude and a wish to emulate the saints. From
this time on a current of awareness began to awaken in
him. As he said with his characteristic simplicity, “At
first I thought it was some kind of fever, but I decided,
if so, it is a pleasant fever, so let it stay.”

Death Experience

The turning point in Venkataraman’s life came

spontaneously in mid-July 1896. One afternoon, the
youth for no apparent reason was overwhelmed by a
sudden, violent fear of death. Years later, he narrated
this experience as follows:
" It was about six weeks before I left Madura for good
that a great change in my life took place . It was quite
sudden. I was sitting in a room on the first floor of my
uncle’s house. I seldom had any sickness and on that
day, there was nothing wrong with my health, but a
sudden, violent fear of death overtook me. There was
nothing in my state of health to account for it; and I did
not try to account for it or to find out whether there was
any reason for the fear. I just felt, ‘I am going to die,’
and began thinking what to do about it. It did not occur
to me to consult a doctor or my elders or friends. I felt
that I had to solve the problem myself, then and there.
The shock of the fear of death drove my mind inwards
and I said to myself mentally, without actually framing
the words: ‘Now death has come; what does it mean?
What is it that is dying? This body dies.’ And I at once
dramatized the occurrence of death. I lay with my limbs
stretched out stiff as though rigor mortis had set in and
imitated a corpse so as to give greater reality to the
enquiry. I held my breath and kept my lips tightly
closed so that no sound could escape, so that neither the
word ‘I’ or any other word could be uttered, ‘Well then,’
I said to myself, ‘this body is dead. It will be carried
stiff to the burning ground and there burnt and reduced
to ashes. But with the death of this body am I dead? Is
the body ‘I’? It is silent and inert, but I feel the full
force of my personality and even the voice of the ‘I’
within me, apart from it. So I am Spirit transcending the
body. The body dies but the Spirit that transcends it
cannot be touched by death. This means I am the
deathless Spirit.’ All this was not dull thought; it flashed
through me vividly as living truth which I perceived
directly, almost without thought process. ‘I’ was
something very real, the only real thing about my
present state, and all the conscious activity connected
with my body was centred on that ‘I’. From that
moment onwards the ‘I’ or Self focused attention on
itself by a powerful fascination. Fear of death had
vanished once and for all. Absorption in the Self
continued unbroken from that time on. Other thoughts
might come and go like the various notes of music, but
the ‘I’ continued like the fundamental sruti note that
underlies and blends with all the other notes. Whether
the body was engaged in talking, reading, or anything
else, I was still centred on ‘I’. Previous to that crisis I
had no clear perception of my Self and was not
consciously attracted to it. I felt no perceptible or direct
interest in it, much less any inclination to dwell
permanently in it.
The effect of the death experience brought about a
complete change in Venkataraman’s interests and
outlook. He became meek and submissive without
complaining or retaliating against unfair treatment. He
later described his condition:
One of the features of my new state was my changed
attitude to the Meenakshi Temple. Formerly I used to go
there occasionally with friends to look at the images
and put the sacred ash and vermillion on my brow and
would return home almost unmoved. But after the
awakening I went there almost every evening. I used to
go alone and stand motionless for a long time before an
image of Siva or Meenakshi or Nataraja and the sixty-
three saints, and as I stood there, waves of emotion
overwhelmed me.
Journey Home

On August 29th while working on a grammar

assignment, Venkataraman suddenly realized the futility
of it all, pushed the papers away and sitting cross
legged entered into deep meditation. His brother
Nagaswami who was observing him, remarked
caustically, “What use is all this to such a one?”
Recognizing the truth of his brother’s criticism,
Venkataraman resolved to secretly leave home. He got
up and left the house, making the excuse that he had to
return to school. His brother gave him five rupees to
pay his college fees, thus unknowingly providing funds
for the journey. Venkataraman kept three rupees and left
the remaining two rupees with the following parting
note:

Arunachala Temple

I have in search of my father and in obedience to His

command started from here. This is only embarking on
a virtuous enterprise. Therefore, none need grieve over
this affair. To trace this out no money need be spent.
Your college fee has not yet been paid. Rupees two are
enclosed herewith. Thus__________

Providence was guiding Venkataraman as he journeyed

to Arunachala, for although he arrived late at the station
the train was also late. He bought a ticket to
Tindivanam which seemed to be the nearest place to
Tiruvannamalai based on an old atlas. An aged Moulvi
in his compartment noticed the Brahmin youth seated
by his side in deep contemplation. The Moulvi engaged
him in conversation and informed him that there was a
newly opened line to Tiruvannamalai from Villupuram.
At about three in the morning the train arrived at
Villupuram. Deciding to walk the rest of the way,
Venkataraman wandered into town looking for the road
to Tiruvannamalai. He was feeling hungry and went to a
hotel where he was asked to wait until midday for his
meal. The hotel keeper watched with interest this young
Brahmin lad with a fair complexion, long jet-black
locks, golden earrings, a face beaming with intelligence
and having no luggage or possessions. After finishing
the meal, the youth offered two annas; however, the
proprietor refused the payment. Venkataraman started at
once to the railway station where he purchased a ticket
to Mambalapattu which was as far as his funds
permitted him to go.
In the afternoon Venkataraman arrived at
Mambalappattu. From there he set out on foot for
Tiruvannamalai and by evening he reached the vicinity
of Tirukoilur. At the nearby temple of Arayaninallur,
built on a high rock, one can see the Arunachala Hill
faintly appearing in the distance. Unaware of this, he
went into the temple and sat down. There he had a
vision – a vision of a dazzling light enveloping the
entire place. Ramana looked for the source of the light
within the inner sanctum. But nothing was found. The
light disappeared after some time.
Venkataraman continued sitting in a mood of deep
meditation until he was disturbed by the temple priests
who came to lock the doors. He followed the priests to
the next temple where he plunged into meditation again.
After finishing their duties, the priests disturbed him
once more and refused his request for food. The temple
drummer intervened and offered his share of the temple
food. When Venkataraman asked for some drinking
water, he was directed to a nearby house. On the way
there he fainted and fell down. A few minutes later he
got up and saw a small crowd looking at him curiously.
He drank some water, ate some food, and then lay down
and slept.
Next morning was the 31st of August, the day of Sri
Krishna’s birth, Gokulashtami. Venkataraman resumed
his journey and reached the house of Muthukrishna
Bhagavatar. The lady of the house gave him a large
meal and kept him there until noon. He then asked his
hosts for a loan on the pledge of his golden earrings.
The loan was willingly given along with a parcel of
sweets prepared for Sri Krishna. Finding that there was
no train until the next morning, he spent the night at the
station.

Next morning was the 31st of August, the day of Sri

Krishna’s birth, Gokulashtami. Venkataraman resumed
his journey and reached the house of Muthukrishna
Bhagavatar. The lady of the house gave him a large
meal and kept him there until noon. He then asked his
hosts for a loan on the pledge of his golden earrings.
The loan was willingly given along with a parcel of
sweets prepared for Sri Krishna. Finding that there was
no train until the next morning, he spent the night at the
station.
It was the morning of September 1st, 1896, three days
after leaving home, that Venkataraman arrived at
Tiruvannamalai station. With quick steps his heart
throbbing with joy, he hastened straight to the great
temple. In mute sign of welcome, the gates of the three
high compound walls and all the doors, even that of the
inner shrine, stood open. There was no one else inside,
so he entered the inner shrine alone and stood overcome
before His father Arunachala. “I have come at your call,
Lord. Accept me and do with me as you will.”

At Arunachala

Sri Ramana Maharshi stayed at various places in

Tiruvannamalai and then in several caves on the
Arunachala Hill until he finally settled at what came to
be called Sri Ramanasramam where he lived until his
Mahanirvana in April 1950. He never took formal
sannyasa nor did he claim to have any disciples. From
the day he arrived in 1896 until his Mahanirvana,
Ramana never left his beloved Arunachala.
The first place that Ramana stayed in Tiruvannamalai
was the great temple. For a few weeks he remained in
the thousand-pillared hall. But he was soon troubled by
the urchins who pelted him with stones as he sat
silently. He shifted to an underground vault known as
Patala Lingam, where the sunlight never penetrated.
Without moving he sat deeply absorbed in the Self and
was unaware of being bitten up by the ants and vermin
living there. But the mischievous boys soon discovered
his retreat and indulged in their pastime of throwing
stones at the young Brahmana Swami as Ramana was
then called.
At that time in Tiruvannamalai there lived a renowned
Swami called Seshadri Swamigal who sometimes stood
guard over Ramana and drove away the urchins. The
youth was so absorbed in the Effulgence of Bliss that he
didn’t even realize when some devotees finally came,
lifted him out of the pit and brought him to the nearby
Subrahmanya shrine. For about two months he stayed in
that shrine paying no attention to his bodily needs. To
make him eat, food had to be forcefully put into his
mouth. Fortunately someone was always there to take
care of him. Ramana then moved to various gardens,
groves and shrines in the vicinity. It was in a mango
orchid away from the temple that his paternal uncle,
Nelliyappa Aiyar, from Manamadurai, found him.
Nelliyappa Aiyar tried his best to take his nephew along
with him to Manamadurai, but the young sage would
not respond. He did not show any sign of interest in the
visitor. So, Nelliyappa Aiyar went back disappointed to
Manamadurai. However, he conveyed the news to
Alagammal, Ramana’s mother.

Bhagavan at Skandashram with Mother Alagammal

(front right) and devotees.

The mother later went to Tiruvannamalai accompanied

by her eldest son Nagaswamy. Ramana was then living
at Pavalakkunru, one of the eastern spurs of Arunachala.
With tears in her eyes Alagammal entreated her son to
go back with her, but for the sage there was no going
back. Nothing moved him – not even his mother’s tears.
He kept silent and sat still. A devotee who had been
observing the struggle of the mother for several days
requested Ramana to write out at least what he had to
say. The sage wrote on a piece of paper:

The Ordainer controls the fate of souls in accordance

with their past deeds. Whatever is destined not to
happen will not happen, try how hard you may.
Whatever is destined to happen will happen, do what
you may to stop it. This is certain. The best course,
therefore, is to remain silent.

With great regret, the mother returned to Manamadurai.

Sometime after this event, Ramana began living in
different caves on the slopes of Arunachala. The cave
where Ramana stayed the longest (17 years),
Virupaksha Cave, is on the southeastern slope. During
the first years on the hill, Ramana remained mostly
silent. His radiance had already attracted a group of
devotees around him. Not only seekers of Truth were
attracted to him, but also simple people, children and
even animals. The small children of the village would
climb the hill to the Virupaksha cave, sit near it, play
around it and then return happily. The squirrels and
monkeys would come up to him and eat out of his hand.
Ramana's mother returned to visit him several times. On
one occasion he became ill and suffered symptoms of
typhus for some weeks. Despite her earlier note about
the inevitability of her fate, Ramana composed a hymn
in Tamil pleading with Lord Arunachala to cure her of
her illness. He also showed great diligence in caring for
her until he regained his health. The first stanza of the
hymn says the following:

Oh, Medicine in the form of a Hill that emerged to cure

the disease of all births that follow one another like
waves! Oh Lord! It is Your duty to save my mother,
who considers only Your feet as her refuge, curing her
fever.

Alagammal recovered and went back to Manamadurai.

In the beginning of 1916 Algammal came back to
Tiruvannamalai determined to spend the rest of her life
with Ramana. A little later her youngest son,
Nagasundaram followed her. Soon after his mother’s
arrival, Ramana moved from Virupaksha to
Skandasramam, a little higher up the Hill. Here Mother
received intense training in spiritual life. She started to
cook for the small group of devotees who were staying
there. Nagasundaram became a sannyasin, assuming the
name Niranjanananda Swami.
In 1920 the mother’s health failed and Ramana tended
her with utmost care and affection, sometimes spending
sleepless nights sitting up with her. The end came in
1922 and Alagammal attained liberation at the moment
of death, through the effort and grace of her son. As
tradition demands in the case of a liberated being,
Algammal’s body was not cremated but buried. Since
no burial is allowed on the Hill she was interred at its
foot on the southern side. It was less than an hour’s
walk down from Skandasramam, and Ramana would go
there frequently, until one day he settled for good. Thus,
Sri Ramanasramam came into being. He said: “Not of
my own accord I moved from Skandasramam.
Something placed me here and I obeyed.”
Om Namo Bhagavate Sri Ramanaya

Ramanasramam
The Ramana Ashram, situated at the base of the revered
Arunachala Mountain in Tiruvannamalai, Tamil Nadu,
India, stands as a profound symbol of spiritual
enlightenment. Founded by the esteemed sage Sri
Ramana Maharshi, this sacred sanctuary has evolved
into a revered pilgrimage site, drawing seekers from
diverse backgrounds who are captivated by the
magnetic allure of self-inquiry and the teachings of non-
duality.
Sri Ramana Maharshi's spiritual journey began with a
transformative awakening at the tender age of sixteen.
In 1896, he left his familial home in Tiruchuzi and
embarked on a pilgrimage to Arunachala, where he
eventually settled within the secluded caves encircling
the sacred hill. For years, he dwelled in solitary
contemplation, delving into profound depths of self-
realization.

The word of Ramana Maharshi's presence spread far

and wide, beckoning disciples and devotees seeking
guidance on the path to enlightenment. The ashram
gradually took shape around the Samadhi shrine of his
beloved mother Alagammal, who passed away on May
19, 1922. Initially, a modest hut was erected, alongside
a shrine dedicated to her memory. The Paliteertham
waters served for bathing, while the Ramanateertham
waters were employed for rituals. Generous offerings
from devotees sustained the ashram, supplemented by
donations for a communal kitchen. By 1924, the
ashram's infrastructure expanded with the construction
of two additional huts, one opposite the Samadhi and
the other to the north. The construction of the Old Hall,
the ashram's central edifice, commenced, serving as the
nucleus for Ramana Maharshi's discourses and
congregations. Devotees, hailing from various corners
of India and abroad, congregated at the ashram to
immerse themselves in the sage's presence and seek his
spiritual counsel.
The Old Hall, particularly, became the focal point of
spiritual communion, where devotees sat in the serene
ambiance, enveloped by the palpable grace of Ramana
Maharshi. His eyes radiated divine love, and his words,
when spoken, illuminated the minds of his visitors.
There were no rigid rules for meditation; visitors could
come and go freely, even during the nighttime.

Ramana Maharshi's declining health, marked by the

detection of sarcoma in his left arm in 1949, did not
deter the ashram's vitality. Even after his mahasamadhi
on April 14, 1950, the ashram continued to flourish
under the stewardship of his disciples. His profound
teachings, advocating self-inquiry and the realization of
the "I AM," resonated deeply with spiritual aspirants
seeking liberation from the cycle of birth and death.
In subsequent years, the Ramana Ashram underwent
expansion to accommodate the increasing number of
visitors. The addition of new facilities, such as
guesthouses, meditation halls, and an extensive library,
enhanced the ashram's offerings, providing seekers with
ample resources for spiritual exploration.
Remarkably, the ashramites neither solicited donations
nor possessed initial capital. The primary sources of
funding stemmed from the voluntary contributions of
visitors and the proceeds generated from the sales of
Ashram publications. A dedicated cadre of devotees
selflessly served within the ashram, driven solely by
their devotion to the cause. Ashram staff remained
minimal, with devotees receiving nothing tangible in
return for their service, except for the grace of
Bhagavan. The continuous operation from the early
hours of the morning until late at night underscored the
belief that every aspect was sustained by Bhagavan's
perpetual benevolence.
Presently, the ashram encompasses several guesthouses,
providing accommodations free of charge for devotees.
Additionally, it houses a dispensary catering to the
medical needs of the less fortunate, a goshala offering
shelter to cows, and a veda pathasala providing
education to young boys. These endeavours stand as
testament to the ashram's commitment to serving both
spiritual seekers and the broader community, all
sustained by the enduring grace of Bhagavan Ramana
Maharshi.
An ashram did not spring up immediately. At first there
was only a shed with bamboo poles and a roof of palm
leaves. Through the ensuing years the numbers grew,
donations came in and regular ashram premises were
built – the hall where Ramana sat, the office, the
bookstore, the dispensary, the guest room for male
visitors and a couple of small bungalows for guests who
made a longer stay. A group of sadhus made a colony at
Palakottu in a grove to the west of the ashram. With the
advent of Cow Lakshmi, a cowshed was built along
with a large kitchen to cater to the ever-increasing
throng of visitors. Dear to Ramana’s heart was taking
care of the cows and feeding people, particularly sadhus
and poor people. In the course of time a proper temple,
the Matrubhuteswara temple, was constructed over
Mother Alagammal’s burial place and daily worship
continues to be carried out there.
Ramana would never allow any preference to be shown
to him. In the dining hall he was adamant on this point.
Even when some medicine or tonic was given to him,
he wanted to share it with everyone. Ashram
management was not his concern either. If rules were
made, he would be the first to abide by them, but he
himself did not make any. His work was purely
spiritual: silently guiding the ever-growing family of
devotees who gathered around him. Ramana’s younger
brother Niranjanananda Swami (Chinna Swami)
became the Ashram manager or Sarvadhikari.
The focus of all attention was the meditation hall (Old
Hall) where devotees sat with the Maharshi. The
dynamic silence of the hall was vibrant with his grace.
Divine love was shining in his eyes and when
necessary, his potent words illuminated the visitors.
There were no rules that everyone must meditate in a
specific way or at a given time. During the early years
the doors were never closed, and even at night people
could come to be with him.
Concerned that he should be accessible to all visitors at
all hours, Ramana never left the Ashram except for his
daily walk on the Hill and in Palakottu, morning and
evening. In early years, he sometimes walked the circuit
road around the mountain (Giri Pradakshina).

In 1949 it was detected that Ramana had sarcoma in his

left arm. In spite of intense medical care, on April 14,
1950, it was apparent that his physical end was near. In
the evening, as the devotees sat on the veranda outside
the room which had been specially built for Bhagavan’s
convenience during his illness, they spontaneously
began singing “Arunachala Siva” (The Marital Garland
of Letters). On hearing it Ramana’s eyes opened and
shone. He gave a brief smile of indescribable
tenderness. From the outer corners of his eyes tears of
bliss rolled down. One more deep breath and no more.
At that very moment 8:47 p.m. what appeared to be an
enormous star trailed slowly across the sky passing to
the north-east towards the peak of Arunachala. Many
saw this luminous body in the sky, even as far away as
Bombay and struck by its peculiar appearance and
behaviour, they ascribed this phenomenon to the
passing of their Master.

Despite the passage of time, the Ramana Ashram

remains a steadfast sanctuary for truth-seekers, where
the cacophony of the mind subsides, and the essence of
pure awareness permeates the heart. Today, the ashram
continues its legacy of spiritual dissemination, hosting
retreats, meditation sessions, and satsangs that
reverberate with the timeless wisdom of Sri Ramana
Maharshi. As the sun sets behind the majestic
Arunachala Mountain, casting its ethereal glow upon
the ashram grounds, one can't help but be enveloped by
a profound sense of reverence for this sacred abode,
where the eternal dance of the Self unfolds in silent
splendour.