Ramana Maharshi Devotee Mouni Sadhu(M. Sudouski) shares his experiences

April 26, 2010

In Days of Great Peace, a book recounting Mouni Sadhu's (M. Sudouski) visit to the Ashram of Sri Ramana Maharshi in 1949, was first published in 1953. It has been out of print for many years and is now in the process of being republished by Sri Ramanasramam. We hope to have it available in our book store in a few months.

In Days of Great Peace inspired many Westerners to seek spiritual guidance from Sri Ramana Maharshi in the years following his Mahasamadhi.Through a narrative that is both simple and profound, the author takes us on his journey to the quiet hermitage of the renowned Sage of Arunachala in South India. Basking in the radiance of the 'Great Rishi' his mind turns inward, following the path of Self-inquiry of 'Who Am I?'. He describes, with perceptive insight and emotion, how in the gracious presence of the Master, thoughts are stilled and one rests calmly in the thought-free, egoless state.Â

Below are a few excerpts from various chapters of the book.When I arrived at the abode of Maharshi, called 'Ramanashram,' and jumped out from the two-wheeled cart just in front of the temple, in spite of the late hour, but in accordance with the custom of the place, I was taken straight into the presence of the Sage.

A modest Indian supper was served a little rice, vegetables and fruit on a banana leaf.Â By the time I had finished, Maharshi had gone. As soon as I found myself in the small one-room cottage prepared for me in the Ashram's compound, I immediately fell asleep, being very tired after my whole day's journey.

Life in Maharshi's AshramAt 7 A.M. there was the loud sound of a gong calling us to breakfast. When I reached the dining hall, Maharshi was just mounting the few steps leading to it. He was accompanied by several Indians, his permanent attendants. Here, in full daylight, I noticed for the first time that the physical state of Maharshi was really precarious. He walked with difficulty, as his joints and knees were affected by acute rheumatism. His left arm and elbow were bandaged because of a malignant tumour, which had begun its growth about six months earlier and, in spite of two operations, had continued to spread its devastating work, causing Maharshi's death one year later.Sometimes his head shook slightly and this increased the impression of serious ill health; the whole frame, once tall and powerful, was now bent and weak.

The Sage ate with his hand according to the general Indian custom. His movements seemed to be automatic. I saw that he was quite aware of his surroundings and reacted in a normal way to all the phenomena of the outward world, but I felt certain that his real Self had nothing to do with the functions and actions of his visible vehicle.

There are three communal meals in the Ashram: lunch or dinner at about 11:30 A.M., supper at 7.30 P.M. and also tea at 3.30 P.M. for the Ashram guests and occasional visitors. One is given tea, coffee, or by special request, milk, as was the case with me.Â The dishes are well prepared, but some vegetables and pastry have many condiments added and are too hot for the European palate. [Less spicy preparations are now available for Westerners]

Maharshi took a little of everything. At the end of the meal, when buttermilk was distributed, he made a kind of round wall of rice, leaving a space in the middle for the liquid. When he had enough he stopped, with a gesture to the Brahmin who was serving. He never left a single grain of rice on his leaf.

FarewellAnd I begin to tell Him slowly and clearly that I have to leave the Ashram and beg His permission, and after He nods in consent, I proceed to ask His blessing for my present, my future, and forever. His eyes seem even more luminous; the face, expressing a superhuman kindness, seems to become more serious. He gives me the blessing. I know He sees my next, still unexpressed entreaty. I do not hear any words, yet I feel He is asking me whether I am aware of the meaning of my own prayer. And without moving my lips, I give Him my answer. Yet all is so natural, so simple, so real, that I would rather doubt my standing here than this mute conversation. A short silence follows.

I bow my head and feel the touch of his hand on my brow, the delicate touch of his fingers along my head. A subtle current of power and purity passes through my whole frame.

In a lightning flash, I realize that the power of this moment will sustain me in all the years to come, and its light will for ever shine on my life.Source: http://www.arunachala.org/newsletters/2001/?pg=mar-apr