La Iniciación (GIDEE) — Vol. 1, No. 1 — May 1942

The word will no longer serve; for only the soul, entirely free, is capable of perceiving and transmitting the eternal peace felt. And only will our lips be able to affirm afterward the reality of truly sublime existences arrived at their plenitude.

This is what I can affirm on returning from the sacred mountain of Arunachala. And next to this friend banyan so many times centenary, under the fresh shade that seems to communicate new energies to us, I close my eyes and try to string together something that can give us some idea of this my journey to said mountain that, for me, has been like a beautiful dream, I will make a account similar to when I was a child and that, to represent a man, traced only two circles, three points, four straight lines, thus...

And you, now, with your rich imagination and your good will, will try to discover the man, that is, the soul enclosed in those poor traces of mine.

From Madras, we left in the morning arriving at Villupuram at 2 PM, crossing these extensive Hindu lands fertile or sterile, according to whether or not the divine grace of the monsoons had touched them. Sandy kilometers and then a true oasis, in which herds of goats and herds of buffalo rest placidly under the shade of palm trees, looking toward the sky, perhaps with certain fear, for what can come to them from it is nothing but heavy coconuts, that agile and playful monkeys can, from the high coconut palms, throw at them. Then, rice plantations and other cereals and next to the trees, multicolored turbans and white cloths; they are the field workers who contemplate with hopes the worked earth. Huts constructed with clod and palm leaves remind us of our countryside; in many of them, people rest, at their doors, in form very similar to ours, replacing the mate with green betel leaves.

Then we arrived at Tiruvannamalai, at 6 PM, and there we were awaited by a French lady, woman of indecipherable age and who wore her yogini dress. For many years she has lived in Tibet, and the simple yet elegant white dress with a broad orange scarf, hides a body that must have suffered much to deserve to wear it. Several years of the most rigid discipline have prepared her to support with sufficient indifference cold, heat, hunger, thirst. Her husband is a great Bengali doctor and who seems to accompany her in her asceticism. She has a daughter who is educated in London and she, born in Paris, has traveled the entire world speaking very many languages and always seeking that which she finally managed to find. Today she is rather poor, but her heart has achieved again the lost purity, and confidence in herself leads her to life in heroic and victorious form of which only one who, like her, has glimpsed is capable...

Today she is rather poor, but her heart has achieved again the lost purity, and confidence in herself leads her to life in heroic and victorious form of which only one who, like her, has glimpsed is capable...

We took two carts, she and I in one, my companions in another, for this is the only means of locomotion that exists to arrive at the mountain. Oh, mountain of Arunachala! No one can climb to its summit nor penetrate its entrails. Marvelous things are told and assured about it; it is said to be inhabited by great yoghis toward one part and by fantastic beings in the other. It seems, externally, to have caves that, upon entering, transform later into enchanted palaces, that would give a new Sheherazade more than a thousand themes to treat. Mountain of Arunachala of tempting beauty! But to every traveler who pretends to reach its summit, winds and stones will impede him. It is night, and in the silence of the road, only the trac-trac of our carts is heard. We arrive at the foot of the mountain and enter by a wide path that leads to the "Ashram."

What is an "Ashram"? It is a house sanctified by an exceptional man living in it. He is called Sri Ramana Maharishi. He was, from childhood, different from others; matters that did not make others think always preoccupied him; his eyes and ears saw and heard beyond the family circle and his soul felt itself insistently called from very far. His family belonged to the high Brahminical class; but it was impotent to stifle the sentiments of love and humanity that nested in all his being. He studied; but, impatient at not finding in texts the answer to his thousand "whys?", he flees from his house and goes to the famous Temple of Madura to implore what no book could give him. There he felt a voice that told him: "Follow me and you will find it" And he followed. Very long is the story to tell. He passed hunger, scorn and outrages without end... Much time passed, years, before arriving. At last, one day, there he was... There the divine light of COMPREHENSION illuminated his mind and made his heart overflow with love.

Very long is the story to tell. He passed hunger, scorn and outrages without end... Much time passed, years, before arriving. At last, one day, there he was... There the divine light of COMPREHENSION illuminated his mind and made his heart overflow with love.

But then terrible trials awaited him in a dark and deep cave at whose door we were in the Temple of Arunachala, where, at night, harmful animals of the place took refuge. There as the Bible says, was fulfilled that about man being able to live with beasts, and such became his sanctity that the entire people managed to notice it and came to him in mass. Many and many he cured with his mere look; and such were the miracles carried out by him that the priests of the Temple, without his knowing it, exploited him, charging people who wanted to see him... And so it was that he had to flee. And so it was that the Ashram was born. Today the Master is seen, in it, as poor as in the cave of the Temple. His disciples, not always understanding, want to offer him comforts that for him are superfluous; and, so as not to refuse everything has accepted a divan, on which his nude and sculptural body rests, wearing only a very small white triangle. A great staff always accompanies him and a kind of very original teapot full of fresh water, made from a large fruit like a melon; I gave him a mate with bombilla to accompany.

And seated on a tiger skin, his reception for all is equal: a smile full of innocence like that of a child upon awakening. That tiger skin, on which he sits, a friend tells me, has its story: "All the region feared a tiger that roamed around there, but that tiger so feared by everyone, came to the feet of the Master to sleep. And one day it came to sleep; but did not get up anymore. The animal had felt sick and wanted to come to the feet of the only man who had loved it. That is its skin" Also his cow Laksmi comes to say good day to him, bows and licks his feet. A hall, about twelve meters by five, painted in soft colors, with wide doors and windows always open is inhabited by Sri Maharishi. There he sleeps, thinks, speaks, writes, reads and meditates; there he receives all who desire to see him or ask something.

We removed our footwear when we entered and sat like everyone on the floor. A man of perfect physical beauty who seems a Nazarene, with long and slightly wavy hair and great eyes of deep look, covered by light white cloth, enters, smiles and speaks to the Master. Who is he?, I asked – he is a Hindu lawyer of the most elevated social class, celebrated for his fortune and intelligence and who has abandoned everything, absolutely everything, to help the Master; today he is his disciple and secretary and, as he knows many languages, can answer the innumerable correspondence that arrives daily. He has made a vow of silence, speaking for five years only with the Maharishi.

He has made a vow of silence, speaking for five years only with the Maharishi.

A soft bell sounds and we are taken to eat. A square room, with stone floor, is the dining room. We sit on the floor. We are about twenty, besides the Maharishi. We three, the only occidentals. In front of each one is placed the green and brilliant colored plate, for it is a banana leaf. A lady dressed in white sari and a man serve: she, the already peeled fruit; he, water and curdled milk; he, with a great wooden spoon, goes transporting from a copper pot, to each plate, a little mountain of white rice, placing to the left a homemade bread, similar to our tasty fried cakes. Diogenes would have found himself very well here, for there were no utensils; we learned to eat rice forming little mouthfuls with the hands. We performed quite well; but always some detail escaped, such as, not using the left hand for anything, which provoked laughter in the Hindu companions. That reminded me of when, in our old ranches, "a townsman fell."

Having finished the act, we folded our "great plate" in four, like a handkerchief, and went, like everyone, to throw it in the garbage and, on return, at a basin, we awaited our turn and washed our hands. It was already nine at night and it began to rain. The French lady arrives accompanied by her "bearer," that is her servant, and invites me to follow her, for she will take me near her country house, for women cannot spend the night in the Ashram. I greet the Maharishi and say goodbye to my companions, with a "see you tomorrow!"

The night was very dark and windy; a true tempest was unleashed with lightning and thunder; and, as in my childhood, in the open field, each tree seemed a phantom to me; I was afraid, but of course, I did not confess it. My companion seemed to divine what was passing through me and said: "Avez-vous peur, peut-être?" – "Oh non madame, je suis très courageuse!" I know these tempest nights in the open field, because I was born in it. All these noises that are felt are absolutely familiar to me, etc., etc." But to you I confess that I did not have as much courage as I affirmed. We illuminated ourselves with a small kerosene lantern.

At last we arrived. A little room of material with a board bed, and a table, and nothing more awaited me. The lady, perhaps remembering her past, said to her "bearer": "Put blankets and pillows for the lady, for she is not accustomed, like us, to so much hardness." We said goodbye: "Close the door and leave the windows open, so air passes," she told me. But I closed well doors and windows when she left, for I did not want to have visits from snakes, monkeys, squirrels or other creatures. Two screaming crickets that during all night, with their song, accompanied me were enough for me. In the sense of comfort I was a princess compared to my companions; for they in the Ashram, only the hard floor had for mattress. Thus one lives around here, absolutely naturally.

Two screaming crickets that during all night, with their song, accompanied me were enough for me. In the sense of comfort I was a princess compared to my companions; for they in the Ashram, only the hard floor had for mattress. Thus one lives around here, absolutely naturally.

At four-thirty in the morning, steps and murmurs were felt; and opening, later, the window somewhat, I saw about a block away, by the main road, lights of torches; and then, in the diffuse light of dawn, I made out an enormous crowd that filed in direction of the mountain. Later they told me that, being a day of religious feast, people were accustomed to go on pilgrimage toward it; and as the sun, in India is so strong, and the distances made on foot extremely long, thousands of persons set out before dawn, illuminating themselves with torches and lanterns.

In the new day, the weather had changed and all nature intoned songs of praise. We went to the Ashram and the Master was in meditation. We entered the hall, or rather said, we slipped, for so great was the silence that this imposed even greater silence; more than two hours passed and then a choir of men intoned Vedic hymns. I never felt anything equal. I could not compare these songs with anything known; not even the choirs I heard in the Sistine Chapel of Rome, could communicate to my soul something similar; one would say that in pronouncing the sacred syllable, they threw a true bridge between man and God.

The pilgrimage of which I spoke to you lasted all day, and the people who passed by the road entered the Ashram and came to greet Him who, although it is true not many understand Him, presage instead, in him something very great and adore him. The greeting was thus: they arrived at the threshold and threw themselves on the floor, face down, with arms extended and hands joined by their palms: Hundreds and hundreds of persons filed in this form. The women with their showy saris and their arms and legs adorned with bracelets; the men and boys with very light white cloths, with loose hair or holding under great turbans of varied colors; and the older girls with white and pleated skirts and loose blouses, and at the birth of the braid a great bouquet of flowers. The Master does not desire these demonstrations; but so many are the grateful people that he cannot prevent it.

With great sorrow, the day to leave came to us; and that afternoon, a lady dressed in light blue embroidered sari and two young ladies wearing green and lilac saris, respectively, and flowers in their hair, and all three of extraordinary beauty, made us listen to songs of this land, accompanied by the sweetest chords of a vina. The monkeys entered and left; equally the small and restless squirrels; and some of these, still fearful moved away from anyone, walked with tranquility over the legs of the Master.

The monkeys entered and left; equally the small and restless squirrels; and some of these, still fearful moved away from anyone, walked with tranquility over the legs of the Master.

The two carts would come to look for us at sunset. We said goodbye. I thanked the Maharishi for his hospitality, telling him that, if I had spoken little with Him, instead, the silence of his Ashram had been very eloquent for me. He smiled in the most benevolent form and in his look, one sees the depth of his teachings: Love and Silence. Like Gandhi, he demonstrates that no sacred book dictates castes in the form in which priests present them, and that woman must and has to be man's true companion. He, a young man tells us, loves silence, that is "maunam." And he says: "Silence is not inertia or negation of activity or thoughts; silence is something very positive, it is something creative and more: it is the supreme immutable peace like the rock that supports on it all movement. Silence helps us find our true SELF; and whoever has realized his self, is not inactive; great men I know who are more active when greater is their silence." On saying goodbye he told us:

"Will you visit the Temple of Madura?" – "No, we answered, for we already lost the opportunity to do so, which was on our arrival to India."

"- Pity! will you not visit it?..." he answered us. We departed.

MAYA, S.I.

Editorial Note: When saying that "thus the Ashram was born," our collaborator makes a rapid summary, for her article is the impression of a visit and not a biography of the Master. In an article of the next number we will give some interesting comments on this Venerable Personality.