Who Am I?

In 1896, Ramana Maharishi (then called Venkataraman), who was just sixteen years old, felt motivated by an inner urge to leave everything and go to Arunachala, a holy mountain in Southern India. Upon arrival at this holy site, he discarded all his money and possessions. He lost all body-consciousness, to the extent that when insects gnawed on his legs during meditation, he showed no response. He rarely ate. His fingernails and hair grew to beastly lengths. His awareness that he was “consciouness” became so intense that changes in physical reality exerted no effect on him. In sum, he had “realized the self.”

Such realization normally results from intense spiritual practice. Yet, in this case, it happened with inexplicable speed. Before leaving for his initial visit to Arunachala, a significant event occurred in Venkataraman’s life. One day he was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong fear of death. The feeling was so real that he could do nothing but submit to it. He laid down and stretched out his arms and legs as if he were a corpse. Then he asked himself what it meant to be dead. “I looked inward and paid attention to what it meant to die. What is it that is dying? This body dies.” Then, as if it were a living truth, the understanding that the body may die but the spirit does not, flashed through him. In his own words, “I said to myself, the body may die, but do I die? The body will be carried away and burned, but my spirit does not die—it transcends the body.” At this time, he became fully conscious of the imperishable nature of his real self.

As a result of this experience, a change came about in the young Venkataramn. He lost all interest in his studies and other physical aspects of his life. Soon afterward, he set out for Arunachala—the hill of light. The mountain had had special meaning for the boy since childhood. Once there, Venkataraman lost himself in the contemplation of his new identity. The special characteristic of the young sage was silence, which came to him naturally.

For many years the young sage of Arunachal was nameless. Then a famous poet came to see him and gave him the name Ramana Maharishi. His reputation spread rapidly and he became known by this name. Ramana Maharishi spoke little, but a force and magnetism lay behind that silence. Devotees could perceive it easily. They would sit before him and ask questions. Without Ramana Maharishi uttering a word, they would receive answers and leave, satisfied. In his later years, Ramana Maharishi began to speak a little but he said he used words only when people were not able to feel the force behind his silence.

Ramana Maharishi’s followers worshipped him as God, but he refused to let anyone treat him in any special way. He woke up early, shared in communal work, and made himself available to devotees all the time. By having everyone sleep in the communal hall – where he himself slept – he viewed everyone from V.I.P.s to peasants as equals. He ate what everyone else ate and refused any kind of special food even though during his failing health special foods were advised by doctors.

Sri Ramana Maharishi’s teachings were mostly verbal. Nothing was given in writing and there were no tape recordings. Generally he spoke in three South Indian languages, Tamil, Telegu, and Malayam. The teachings which appear in English are actually translations.

About self-realization, Sri Ramana said it is nothing to attain. It is already there—you just have to discard all that gets in the way of its manifestation. Only ignorance obscures the true self, the pure self. Identification of the self with the body and the mind prevents us from realizing the self. Some advanced devotees were able to grasp this truth, but most found it too theoretical. For those who found it too difficult, he recommended self-inquiry.

One can inquire within, “Who am I?” or “Where does this ‘I’ originate?” or “To whom is this thought arising?” The objective is to be constantly aware of the “I” which is responsible for the activities of the body and the mind. Swami similarly advises this practice, stressing the need for us to know that we are not the body, not the mind. We are atma.

In the experience of Ramana Maharishi’s devotees, they found that as the practice of hunting the “I” develops, the feeling of “I” ceases to identify with thoughts and objects, and then completely vanishes. One is left with a feeling of being without any sense of individuality, that is, without the “I” feeling.

Even after realization, the aspirant has to continue to inquire, because the biggest pitfall is in the realization itself. If the aspirant feels he has achieved realization, that again is a thought—the ego. In Ramana Maharishi’s words, “Jnana, once revealed, needs to steady itself.” The aspirant has to continue the practice of inquiry even after knowledge, until nothing but the self remains.

Ramana Maharishi died of an incurable sarcoma. He left behind a legacy of pure self-inquiry which is guiding spiritual aspirants today just as much as when he was alive.

~Ashok Awal
Manhattan, New York, USA