(Blogged first in 2004)
I visited the place while I was a primary school student, on a school tour, but my only memories are of eating lunch with rice served in a cup shape and going through a huge temple with vast courtyards. About Maharishi Ramana and the sacred mountain for which Thiruvannamalai became famous, I learned decades later. Early this year Dr Miovic’s book "Initiation" (Sabda) had vivid passages about it and evoked my interest to re-discover the place.
The bus journey from Tindivanam took over an hour and was through a road lined with lush green trees. A welcoming atmosphere was felt as if one was invited to an abode of the ancient Indian Spirit. Alighted at Thiruvannamalai to the view of a gray mass of rock and trees, looming large and wide, across a part of the horizon. It exuded an overwhelming presence and immersed in its atmosphere I ambled down the road oblivious of the auto-rickshaw drivers pestering for the ride; it may be ages before they become considerate enough to allow a mountain mesmerised visitor his precious moments. It was early evening and I booked into a nearby lodge and then headed for Ramana’s ashram.
Maharishi Ramana and Sri Aurobindo were contemporaries but, as with the spiritual colossus Buddha and Mahaveer, never met though they happened to live in the same region. Ramana was seized by a strong fear of death when he was a youth and came out of that experience with the realization that there is something within that never dies. Within weeks he reached Thiruvannamalai where he spent the rest of his life, first to realize the Immutable Self, a reality known and sought in India since Vedic times, and then to teach seekers who came to him the way to its realization.
The mountain was now closer and felt magnetic. At its base, the road veered left and snaked between a huge temple on the left and the land-rise on the right; a mile from there was the ashram which was like an oasis of tranquillity and peace. There was a temple inside its premises with a seated statue of the Maharishi. I sat and looked at the statue of the great spiritual achiever. As he was in his real life the statue depicted him as attired like an Indian peasant but with penetrating eyes exuding an aura of inner strength. There was a pervading sense of vastness spreading from him.
Beyond the temple was a hall with the samadhi of the Maharishi. There were his photos from boyhood to old age and people were sitting on the floor chatting and waiting for some event or ritual to start. I came out and looked up at the mountain which was now very close and towering above. Tomorrow I will ascend it, I thought with anticipation.
"At the first transformer on the way to Ramana Ashram", my lodger suggested a short route to the caves on the mountain. It was 8 am the next morning when I started and after a short walk found the transformer where tiny boards declared "way to mountaintop" and also "way to Skandashram". A steep lane between small houses proceeded in the direction of the mountain and ended at steps made of random rubble stones. It meandered upward through landscapes of large rocks, sturdy trees, bushes, tiny streams, and stepped ponds. At turns were painted assuringly in big letters, "To mountain top". After half an hour of ascent, I reached a small stretch of level ground with an iron gate. Assessing that I might have covered half the way to the top, I turned to look back. It was like an aerial view from an aircraft. The huge temple with vast courtyards lies nearest, awash in the morning sun. A maze of houses and roads constituting the town extended up to far fields, large ponds, and lowlands filled with stormwater. A rusting notice board of the Archaeological Survey of India (ASI) near the gate said it was the site of Virupakshi Cave. Finding no sign of the keeper I started towards ‘Skandashram’ but the steps soon ended at the rocky face of the mountain.
On it was written the familiar sign "Way to mountain top". I hadn't anticipated it would need rock climbing skills to reach Ramana’s cave, even through a shortcut route. Perhaps the Maharishi’s cave ought to be as inaccessible as his yogic ideal was to average mortals? Chiding at my fear of climbing a rocky slope which thousands of people might have done to visit the famous cave, I took my sandals in hand and started walking up the huge and smooth granite. About twenty feet or so from the base it sloped up from a negotiable 45 to impossible 60 degrees. It seemed the remnants of ape skills from the evolutionary past might not help climb that. Glancing over the back it seemed any slip might hurtle me beyond the 20 feet I had climbed into the ravine below or if I stopped short that might result with broken bones and severe bruising. Retreating back to the base of the slope seemed as risky as climbing further. As I looked upward, there appeared a young lad in a white dhoti. That seemed like Divine Grace coming to help in human form. His face showed neither surprise nor indifference at the sight of a South Indian visitor in a situation he certainly thought was precarious. But it also seemed the scene was not unusual to him. Trying to sound like another morning walker like him, I said: Hello, how to come up? He replied: You go down; there are steps to come up. I scolded myself for having too eagerly followed the fatalist arrow marks when there were steps just some yards away. I told him that I might as well climb up to avoid a possible tumble. The boy didn't argue with my plan but advised me to move laterally to my left. I did as told and soon found a foothold flat enough to stand upright. From there it took some long jumps on slippery rocks back to the safety of the winding ancient steps.
Skandashram was not too far up. It was a cave with a fenced courtyard but disappointing to my notion of a cave, as it was more like a crevice on a rock. An ASI board informed that Maharishi Ramana had spent seven years there. The cave’s front portion was built with stones and mortar and had utility-grade windows and doors. The caretaker asked if I would like to share breakfast with him. Declining the offer thankfully, I walked back to the earlier stop, the Virupakshi cave. Inhabited earlier by a yogi from Karnataka some 400 years ago. Ramana had lived in this cave for seventeen years in the first decades of the 20th century. Within the gate was a narrow courtyard with a protective low wall guarding the edges. Stillness as if time there stood still with no past or future, only the present made of the noises of birds, wind, and stream. A large rock containing the cave was on the right the air within seemed to be saturated with a deeply meditative quality. I enquired the cave’s caretaker if it was permitted to meditate inside. With an amused look, he said:" it is meant for that". The cave interior was of rough oval shape, bare and semi-dark but half of its area was occupied by a three to four feet high platform. There was enough space on the cemented floor for some people to sit. Sitting there with my eyes closed, I felt a near-total Silence and Timelessness. The cave’s ambiance pulled one’s consciousness deep within to a quietude.
Caves and forests were the chosen abode of rishis and countless seekers in India since time immemorial to pursue the Ineffable reality beyond the worldly existence, to dwell in it unhindered by worldly work, isolate oneself from all objects of desire and ultimately withdraw from one’ s bodily existence into the Eternal beyond. But that goal though great and difficult, by its eventual negation of the world, inevitably caused India’s decline. The Illusionism of Buddha and Shankara became the highest goal of Indian life in the last millennia and the nation succumbed to invasions and conquest by alien powers. At its nadir in the 19th century, yearnings for National resurgence stirred in the breast of the subjugated nation. Heroic Souls strove for freedom drawing inspiration from the pre - Illusionist era of India. They researched the Vedas, Epics, and Vedanta and turned to ancient systems of yoga. Political awakening, social reform movements, and creative outputs in arts and literature began under the spell of that awakening. One of the shining examples of that revival in the domain of Yoga was the life and works of yogis such as Maharishi Ramana (1979 - 1950). But an integral and futurist intellectual and yogic basis for India's resurgence as well as the true significance of the new rising issued from Sri Aurobindo(1872 - 1950). He declared that the realization of the Self need not be the end of yoga but the beginning of a greater yoga of transformation towards a new species of evolution and divine life on earth. He and the Mother taught the way of transformation of mind, life, and body through the discovery of the Psychic being, Self, and receptivity to Supramental consciousnesses. The way ahead for the fulfillment of India’s timeless spiritual journey opened. I sensed there in that sacred cave that India’s ancient quest is poised towards its logical next stage in new environs no more in the seclusion of forests and caves but amidst habitations on the plains - in the villages, towns, and cities.
Opened my eyes to find a couple of more people meditating and withdrew from that space of eternal seeking. The descent was quick as the sloped landings forced a faster gait. The morning was still young and the breeze cool. I saw in my mind’s vision sparks of truth, lit and growing here and there on the body of India.
Image attributions:
1. Thiruvannamalai
CC BY-SA 3.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
2. Thiruvannamalai,_Arunachalesvara_Temple,_City,_India
CC BY 4.0 <https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0>, via Wikimedia Commons
