The
Call of Arunachala
Venkataraman’s elder brother
observed the great change that had come upon
him. On several occasions he rebuked the boy
for his indifferent and yogi-like behaviour.
About six weeks after the great experience the
crisis came. It was the 29th of August 1896.
Venkataraman’s English teacher had asked
him, as a punishment for indifference in studies,
to copy out a lesson from Bain’s Grammar
three times. The boy copied it out twice but
stopped there, realizing the utter futility
of that task. Throwing aside the book and the
papers, he sat up, closed his eyes and turned
inward in meditation. The elder brother who
was watching Venkataraman’s behavior all
the while went up to him and said: “What
use is all this to one who is like this?”
This was obviously meant as a rebuke for Venkataraman’s
unworldly ways including the neglect of his
studies. Venkataraman did not give any reply.
He admitted to himself that there was no use
pretending to study and be his old self. He
decided to leave his home and he remembered
that there was a place to go to, viz. Tiruvannamalai.
But if he expressed his intention to his elders,
they would not let him go. So he had to use
guile. He told his brother that he was going
to school to attend a special class that noon.
The brother thereupon asked him to take five
rupees from the box below and pay his college.
Venkataraman went downstairs; his aunt served
him a meal and gave him the five rupees. He
took out an atlas which was in the house and
noted that the nearest railway station to Tiruvannamalai
mentioned there was Tindivanam. Actually, however,
a branch line had been laid to Tiruvannamalai
itself. The atlas was an old one, and so this
was not marked there. Calculating that three
rupees would be enough for the journey, Venkataraman
took that much and left the balance with a letter
at a place in the house where his brother could
easily find it, and made his departure for Tiruvannamalai.
This was what he wrote in that letter:
I
have set out in quest of my Father in
accordance with his command. It is on
a virtuous enterprise that this has embarked,
therefore let none grieve over this act
and let no money be spent in search of
this. Your college fees have not been
paid. Two rupees are enclosed herewith. |
Venkataraman did not sign the
note. Instead, he concluded with four short
dashes.
There was a curse on Venkataraman’s
family – in truth, it was a blessing –
that one member out of every generation should
turn out to be a mendicant. This curse had been
administered by a wandering ascetic who, it
is said, begged alms at the house of one of
Venkataraman’s forbears, and was refused.
A paternal uncle of Sundaram Aiyar’s became
a sannyasin; so did Sundaram Aiyar’s elder
brother. Now, it was the turn of Venkataraman,
although no one could have foreseen that the
curse would work out in this manner. Perfect
dispassion found a place in Venkataraman’s
heart, and he left the confines of his uncle’s
house to make the universe his home.
It was an epic journey that Venkataraman
made from Madurai to Tiruvannamalai. About noon
he left his uncle’s house. He walked to
the railway station which was half a mile away.
Fortunately the train was running late that
day; otherwise he would have missed it. He looked
up the table of fares and came to know that
the third-class fare to Tindivanam was two rupees
and thirteen annas. He bought a ticket and kept
with him the balance of three annas. Had he
known that there was a rail-track to Tiruvannamalai
itself, and had he consulted the table of fares,
he would have found that the fare was exactly
three rupees. When the train arrived, he boarded
it quietly and took his seat. A Maulvi who was
also traveling entered into conversation with
Venkataraman. From him Venkataraman learnt that
there was train-service to Tiruvannamalai and
that one need not go to Tindivanam but could
change trains at Viluppuram. This was a piece
of useful information. It was dusk when the
train reached Tiruccirappalli. Venkataraman
was hungry; he bought two country pears for
half an anna and strangely enough even with
the first bite his hunger was appeased. About
three o’clock in the morning the train
arrived at Viluppuram. Venkataraman got off
the train there with the intention of completing
the rest of the journey to Tiruvannamalai on
foot.
At daybreak he went into
the town and looked for the signpost to Tiruvannamalai.
He saw a signboard reading ‘Mambalappattu’
but did not know then that Mambalappattu was
a place en route to Tiruvannamalai. Before making
further efforts to find out which road he was
to take, he wanted to refresh himself, as he
was tired and hungry. He went up to a hotel
and asked for food. He had to wait till noon
for the food to be ready. After eating his meal,
he proffered two annas in payment. The hotel
proprietor asked him how much money he had.
When told by Venkataraman that he had only two
and a half annas, he declined to accept payment.
It was from him that Venkataraman came to know
that Mambalappattu was a place on the way to
Tiruvannamalai. Venkataraman went back to Viluppuram
station and bought a ticket to Mambalappattu
for which the money he had was just enough.
 |
 |
It
was sometime in the afternoon when Venkataraman
arrived at Mambalappattu by train. From
there he set out on foot for Tiruvannamalai.
About ten miles he walked, and it was
late in the evening. There was the temple
of Arayaninallur nearby, built on a large
rock. |
He went there, waited for
the doors to be opened, entered and sat down
in the pillared hall. He had a vision there
– a vision of brilliant light enveloping
the entire place. It was no physical light.
It shone for some time and then disappeared.
Venkataraman continued sitting in a mood of
deep meditation till he was roused by the temple
priests who had to lock the doors and go to
another temple three quarters of a mile away
at Kilur for service. Venkataraman followed
them, and while inside the temple he got lost
in samadhi again. After finishing their duties
the priests woke him up but would not give him
any food. The temple drummer who had been watching
the rude behaviour of the priests implored them
to hand over his share of the temple food to
the strange youth. When Venkataraman asked for
some drinking water, he was directed to a Sastri’s
house which was at some distance. On the way
to that house he fainted and fell down. A few
minutes later he rallied and saw a small crowd
looking at him curiously. He drank some water,
ate some food, and lay down and slept.
Next morning he woke up. It was
the 31st of August 1896, the Gokulashtami day,
the day of Sri Krishna’s birth. Venkataraman
resumed his journey and walked for quite a while.
He felt tired and hungry. So he wished for some
food first, and then he would go to Tiruvannamalai,
by train if that were possible. The thought
occurred to him that he could dispose of the
pair of gold earrings he was wearing and raise
the money that was required. But how was this
to be accomplished? He went and stood outside
a house that happened to belong to one Muthukrishna
Bhagavatar. He asked the Bhagavatar for food
and was directed to go and ask his sister. The
good lady was pleased to receive the young sadhu
and feed him on the auspicious day of Sri Krishna’s
birth. After the meal, Venkataraman went to
the Bhagavatar again and told him that he wanted
to pledge his earrings for four rupees in order
that he may complete his pilgrimage. The rings
were worth about twenty rupees, but Venkataraman
had no need for that much money. The Bhagavatar
examined the earrings, gave Venkataraman the
money he had asked for, took down the youth’s
address, wrote out his own on a piece of paper
for him, and told him that he could redeem the
rings at any time. Venkataraman had his lunch
at the Bhagavatar’s house. The pious lady
gave him a packet of sweets that she had prepared
for Gokulashtami. Venkataraman took leave of
the couple, tore up the address the Bhagavatar
had given him – for he had no intention
of redeeming the earrings – and went to
the railway station. As there was no train till
the next morning, he spent the night there.
On the morning of the 1st of September 1896,
he boarded the train to Tiruvannamalai. The
travel took only a short time. Alighting from
the train, he hastened to the great temple of
Arunachaleswara. All the gates stood open –
even the doors of the inner shrine. The temple
was then empty of all people – even the
priests. Venkataraman entered the sanctum sanctorum,
and as he stood before his Father Arunachaleswara
he experienced great ecstasy and unspeakable
joy. The epic journey had ended. The ship had
come safely to port.
The rest of what we regard
as Ramana’s life – this is how we
shall call him hereafter – was spent in
Tiruvannamalai. Ramana was not formally initiated
into sannyasa. As he came out of the temple
and was walking along the streets of the town,
someone called out and asked whether he wanted
his tuft removed. He consented readily, and
was conducted to the Ayyankulam tank where a
barber shaved his head. Then he stood on the
steps of the tank and threw away into the water
his remaining money. He also discarded the packet
of sweets given by the Bhagavatar’s wife.
The next to go was the sacred thread he was
wearing. As he was returning to the temple,
not even considering the luxury of a bath for
his body, there was a short, heavy downpour
and he was thoroughly drenched.
