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Chapter Thirty-eight
DEPTH BUT NOT TUMULT
Margaret Sanger
Meeting Ramana Maharshi
"When I came into the Maharshi's presence it was as
though electricity had passed through my body I felt when I
bowed I would be calmed, yet when I looked into those eyes,
he was like a flame "
p. 485 -
..................That settled the situation in
Madras
Since I was no more than an hour by motor from Adyar,
the former home of Annie Besant, who had been such an
influence in the movement, I made a pilgrimage there As I
walked down winding pathways under huge banyans, cocoanuts,
and bananas, ever and again glimpsing the lovely water of
the Bay in the distance, I imagined I caught an echo of her
words reaching across the decade since I had heard her
explain the philosophy of reincarnation the more you have
evolved here on earth, the less certain it is that you will
have to return to undo your mistakes—best clear them up
as you go along
Annie Besant, as soon as she had become a Theosophist,
had withdrawn her books on population I was interested to
find out the attitude of present Theosophists towards birth
control, and discovered that those at Adyar were persuaded
of its importance Among their beliefs was that great souls
did not reincarnate unless the bodies of parents, their
vehicles for birth, were perfect If they were to perform
their missions, they must wait for purity in their physical
vestures
I had determined to take advantage of Paul Brunton's
offer and visit Sri Ramana Maharshi, the sage of Arunachala,
the quondam Hermit of the Hill of the Holy Beacon, and one
of the last of Hindustan's race of noble rishis
Consequently, one evening a little after six, the train came
around the bend and I beheld the sacred mountain, according
to ancient lore the heart center of the god Siva and,
therefore, of the world I knew it must be the mountain even
without being told so The sun had just set, and the
afterglow gave a lovely, serene effect
The Maharshi's secretary, Shastri, met me, and we
walked through the gathering dusk to the guest house about a
half-mile away, a simple room with veranda in front Paul
Brunton had not been able to come because it was the
Maharshi's birthday and thousands of devotees had to be fed
Shastri was very loquacious, and wanted me to realize that
the apparent success I was having was only with the educated
classes, the masses knew nothing of it This, I said, would
come in time
After breakfast I looked out at the great tamarind
trees on the lawn, up and down which monkeys ran Often
twenty, from babies up to grandparents, were in sight all at
once The windows had to be barricaded at night to shut them
out of your room , they especially loved bananas but did not
disdain cakes of soap
While I was watching them scamper about, Paul Brunton
pedaled up on a bicycle accompanied by a tonga for me The
driver cried out continually, "Haiee I Haiee i" which seemed
to mean both for people to get out of the road and for the
white bullock to move faster, he shouted himself hoarse at
other drivers, who went higglety-pigglety this way and that
through the streets We stopped at the market for a few
bananas as a gift for the Maharshi, he preferred food to
flowers, because this he could give away Then we trotted
along through the thickly settled village, always hearing
far and near the rumbling of the carts and the screeching of
the drivers, "Haiee Haiee !"
At last we reached the ashram at the bottom of the Hill
Shastri gathered up the bananas in his hands, but no sooner
had he turned to help me out of the tonga than a temple
monkey leaped from a neighboring tree, snatched two of them,
and as quick as a flash had the skins off and had gobbled
them down with no concern whatsoever as to the ethics of his
conduct Instead, he peered around for another grab
Shoes and sandals were left outside the ashram, and
Shastri went ahead to announce my arrival I bowed in the
entrance and took my place on the floor just within, crossed
my legs under my skirt, and looked about me to feel and
sense the atmosphere The Maharshi, naked save for a loin
cloth, was sitting cross-legged on a silk-covered couch,
pillows behind him and a leopard skin thrown over the foot A
small charcoal fire and incense, which attendants kept
burning all day, sweetened and made heavy the air The
Maharshi's luminous eyes were fixed in a trance, although
sometimes his fan lifted a bit and his stare widened
At first it was nicely quiet , then some women began to
sing in a high-pitched tone, much through the nose and head,
doubtless good for the pineal gland, once supposed to be the
seat of the soul The men chanted aloud and someone played a
stringed instrument
Towards eleven the Maharshi shared his gifts among those
who sat in reflection, and shortly afterwards a man from
Kashmir, six feet tall and massively built, entered,
prostrated himself as hundreds had done already, falling
full length, hands outspread above him on the floor,
touching his brow three times As he rose again his whole
body shook, tears streamed down his cheeks To see women cry
from excess of emotion did not bother me, but when a man of
such a type as this, in no sense a weakling, went into
paroxysms of ecstasy, it was beyond my comprehension With no
critical intent, but curious to know why he had been so
moved, we asked what had happened to him
"When I came into the Maharshi's presence it was as
though electricity had passed through my body I felt when I
bowed I would be calmed, yet when I looked into those eyes,
he was like a flame "
This pilgrim had come with financial problems, illness
in his family, and other troubles, but two or three hours of
contemplation had wiped them out, he knew they were
insignificant and trivial in contrast to his regeneration In
faith, the people in the ashram were comparable to those who
cast away their crutches at some miracle-working shrine,
except that they had come for inner illumination rather than
healing for bodily ailments They visited the Maharshi to
receive the radiance of his soul, just as we sought the sun
to be warmed
Only when children or babies were made to prostrate
themselves did the Maharshi smile, somewhat skeptically it
seemed to me He appeared amused when a boy of three or four
began a prayer in Tamil but forgot the rest Otherwise he
remained apart from it all He was gradually withdrawing
himself and letting go material things He wanted spiritually
to fade away, leaving the shell behind
The second day the Maharshi slept , nothing save an
occasional singer broke into the hush, or a monkey had the
temerity to dash in and seize an orange
For the third day I attended the ashrafn Now the
meditation was like a linking up of mind and emotion, where
even breathing was stilled I could understand why the yogis
went into the silence Even the noises next door, the clatter
of dishes, sounded remote and very far away It was a state
of consciousness rather like that which precedes sleep
I regretted that I did not feel the Maharshi's power
His utter indifference—sitting all day in a
semi-trance, engaging in no activity—seemed to me a
waste Nevertheless, I was most grateful to Paul Brunton for
the experience, and understood the Indians better thereafter
They saw within and beyond the external appearance, this was
at the very basis of their character, akin to the
sensitivity of the grapevine telegraph All people in the
Orient spoke of it Something happened to you or to me and
before you could get to another place by the fastest
conveyance it was known Perhaps it was a primitive function
of mind, this form of thought transference, but it existed
there.
Dr Sundaram, who popped up again when I returned to
Madras, was still insistent that I go to Calicut, and I
finally gave in I was glad I had done so, because this city
of forty thousand, ringed around a bay on the Malabar Coast
and caressed by gentle breezes, was a beautiful spot with
forests of palms The almost-black women wore saris of
van-colored blues and greens, violets and yellows, with
garlands of jasmine about their necks, plump, formal
bouquets of roses in their hands, and in the center of every
forehead was a circular red caste mark.
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