Aradhana Day II – Mouni Sadhu

This chapter is taken from The Silent Power – Selections from The Mountain Path and The Call Divine

Three Years ago the sad news of the departure from the physical body of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi came to me and his other devotees scattered throughout the world. I do not wish to praise or compare the great Being at whose feet the Almighty allowed me to abide.

For how could we, from our lower level of consciousness, describe exactly this Being whose mission was to give us something of his infinite light? And for adequate assessing of his greatness, one must at least be on the same level of spiritual glory. All that I can do is try to convey, what I found in my own heart, when I received news of his departure.

The light from those luminous eyes of Sri Bhagavan, was for ever engraved on my memory when leaving the Ashram. And now the account of his death lies before me. Does it mean that those eyes cannot any more radiate their silent initiation? That the light of eternity has been really extinguished? That would be ridiculous, I know this light is not a material one, though it was conveyed through a material body. This is a mystery but not a paradox. I found in my heart no urge to discover that mystery through the mind. I feel that the fact was so, even though unexplainable by the thinking process. So his death did not deprive me of his reality.

I was sitting quietly, as in preparation for meditation, but this time, the usual process was changed. Perhaps he saw that the human heart, not yet free from all its weaknesses, needs sometimes some consolation. And then, instead of a void, the well known and beloved picture arose before me.

There were most mysterious and inspiring evenings at the Ashram, when the beautiful hymn “In praise of the Lord of the Universe” (Five hymns on Arunachala) was sung in the hall. Sri Bhagavan evidently loved the hymn, for there would appear a peculiar expression of other than human beatitude and delight on his face. I felt that the hearts of those who were present in that blissful hour of evening contemplation were deeply attuned to it. Perhaps his penetrating inner sight saw the beneficial process in it, and his silent blessing was the answer. How can we fathom what is unfathomable? And now I experienced once again, as with all those others who were present, the same beautiful melody heard before with my outer ears. It was as if I reviewed a film. There was no sadness any more. Could it be otherwise? The true legacy of the Master could never be less than joy this sublime and silent joy of Being, untroubled by the waves of the surrounding illusory world or maya. This was his peace which he bequeathed to us.

Later came letters from devotees from other continents. My distant friends gave their own accounts of how the tragic news affected them. They tried their best to console themselves and me, saying that the physical departure of the Master could not break our spiritual link with him. And yet the ink in the last paragraphs of such letters was often blurred as from fallen tears.

It is said that love was the force that created the Universe. Perhaps it is. But to me the force of such unselfish love as his, is just that power that purifies our hearts, when all other methods prove useless. No occult training nor any other method can give the disciple the true peace which the Master gives.

Sri Maharshi was a centre of love such as this, to his disciples. He left us his love and where else in the world could be found a purifying power such as this to bring peace to our hearts?