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Arudra Darshanam, a festival that commemorates the manifestation of Lord Shiva as Nataraja, the Lord of Cosmic Dance, was being celebrated with great ardor in the Bhuminatha temple  in Tiruchuzhi, Tamil Nadu, on December 29, 1879. 

Just as the Deity re-entered the temple past midnight on December 30th at 1:00AM, the first cry of a baby boy was heard in a house adjacent to the temple. The fortunate parents were Sundaram Iyer and his wife Alagammal.

The newborn child was named Venkataraman and was later known as Bhagawan Sri Ramana Maharshi. As the child was being born, a lady with poor eye-sight exclaimed that the new born was enveloped in light.

Venkataraman’s early childhood was quite normal. He joined others of His age in fun and frolic. When Venkataraman was about six years old He made boats out of old legal papers belonging to his father and floated them in water. 

When His father reprimanded him, the boy left home. After a long search the priest of the temple found the boy hiding behind the statue of the Divine Mother. 

Venkataraman completed elementary school in Tiruchuzhi and moved to Dindigul for further schooling. In February 1892, His father died and the family was broken up. 

Venkataraman and His elder brother went to live with their paternal uncle Subbier in Madurai, while the two younger children remained with the mother. Initially, Venkataraman attended Scott’s Middle School and later joined American Mission High school.

The boy preferred playing sports with His friends over His schoolwork. He had an amazingly retentive memory which enabled Him to repeat a lesson after reading it once.  The only unusual thing about Him in those days was His abnormally deep sleep. 

He slept so soundly that it was not easy to wake Him up. Those who dared not challenge Him physically during the day would come in the night, drag Him out of bed and beat Him up to their heart’s content while He was still asleep. All this would be news to Him the next morning.

The turning point in Venkataraman’s life came spontaneously in mid-July 1896. One afternoon, the youth for no apparent reason was overwhelmed by a sudden, violent fear of death. Years later, He narrated this experience as follows:

I was sitting in a room on the first floor of my uncle’s house. I seldom had any sickness and on that day there was nothing wrong with my health, but a sudden, violent  fear of death overtook me. 

There was nothing in my state of health to account for it; and I did not try to account for it or to find out whether there was any reason for the fear.

I just felt, ‘I am going to die,’ and began thinking what to do about it. It did not occur to me to consult a doctor or my elders or friends. I felt that I had to solve the problem myself, then and there.

I said to myself mentally, without actually framing the words: ‘Now death has come; what does it mean? What is it that is dying? This body dies.’ And I at once dramatized the occurrence of death. 

I lay with my limbs stretched out stiff as though rigor mortis had set in and imitated a corpse so as to give greater reality to the enquiry. I held my breath and kept my lips tightly closed so that no sound could escape, so that neither the word ‘I’ or any other word could be uttered, ‘Well then,’  I said to myself, ‘this body is dead. It will be carried stiff to the burning ground and there burnt and reduced to ashes. But with the death of this body am I dead? Is the body ‘I’? 

It is silent and inert but I feel the full force of my personality and even the voice of the ‘I’ within me, apart from it. So I am Spirit transcending the body. The body dies but the Spirit that transcends it cannot be touched by death. This means I am the deathless Spirit.

All this was not dull thought; it flashed through me vividly as living truth which I perceived directly, almost without thought-process. ‘I’ was something very real, the only real thing about my present state, and all the conscious activity connected with my body was centered on that ‘I’.

From that moment onwards the ‘I’ or Self focused attention on itself by a powerful fascination. Fear of death had vanished once and for all. Absorption in the Self continued unbroken from that time on. Other thoughts might come and go like the various notes of music, but the ‘I’ continued like the fundamental sruti note  that underlies and blends with all the other notes. 

Whether the body was engaged in talking, reading, or anything else, I was still centered on ‘I’. Previous to that crisis I had no clear perception of my Self and was not consciously attracted to it. I felt no perceptible or direct interest in it, much less any inclination to dwell permanently in it. 

The effect of the death experience brought about a complete change in Venkataraman’s interests and outlook. He became meek and submissive without complaining or retaliating against unfair treatment. He later described his condition:

One of the features of my new state was my changed attitude to the Meenakshi Temple. Formerly I used to go there occasionally with friends to look at the images and put the sacred ash and vermillion on my brow and would return home almost unmoved. 

 But after the awakening I went there almost every evening. I used to go alone and stand motionless for a long time before an image of Siva or Meenakshi or Nataraja and the sixty-three saints, and as I stood there waves of emotion overwhelmed me.

On August 29th while working on a grammar assignment, Venkataraman suddenly realized the futility of it all, pushed the papers away and sitting cross legged entered into deep meditation.

His brother Nagaswami who was observing Him, remarked caustically, “What use is all this to such a one?” Recognizing the truth of His brother’s criticism, Venkataraman resolved to secretly leave home. He got up and left the house, making the excuse that He had to return to school.

His brother gave him five rupees to pay his college fees, thus unknowingly providing funds for the journey. Venkataraman kept three rupees and left the remaining two rupees with the following parting note:

I have in search of my father and in obedience to His command started from here. This is only embarking on a virtuous enterprise. Therefore none need grieve over this affair. To trace this out no money need be spent. Your college fee has not yet been paid.  Rupees two are enclosed herewith. Thus__________.

It was the morning of September 1st 1896, three days after leaving home, that Venkataraman arrived at Tiruvannamalai  station. With quick steps His heart throbbing with joy, He hastened straight to the great temple. In mute sign of welcome, the gates of the three high compound walls and all the doors, even that of the inner shrine, stood open.

There was no one else inside, so He entered the inner shrine alone and stood overcome before His father Arunachala. “I have come at your call, Lord. Accept me and do with me as you will.”

Sri Ramana Maharshi stayed at various places in Tiruvannamalai and then in several caves on the Arunachala Hill  until He finally settled at what came to be called Sri Ramanasramam where He lived until his Mahanirvana in April 1950. He never took formal sannyasa nor did He claim to have any disciples. From the day He arrived in 1896 until His Mahanirvana,  Sri.Ramana never left His beloved Arunachala.

The first place that Sri.Ramana stayed in Tiruvannamalai was the great temple. For a few weeks He remained in the thousand-pillared hall.  He shifted  to an underground vault known as Patala Lingam, where the sunlight never penetrated. Without moving He sat deeply absorbed in the Self and was unaware of being bitten up by the ants and vermin living there.

At that time in Tiruvannamalai there lived a renowned Swami called Seshadri Swamigal who sometimes stood guard over Ramana.

Ramana then moved to various gardens, groves and shrines in the vicinity. It was in a mango orchid away from the temple that His paternal uncle, Nelliyappa Aiyar, from Manamadurai, found him.

Nelliyappa Aiyar tried his best to take his nephew along with him to Manamadurai but the young sage would not respond. He did not show any sign of interest in the visitor. So, Nelliyappa Aiyar went back disappointed to Manamadurai. However, he conveyed the news to Alagammal,  Ramana’s mother.

His mother later went to Tiruvannamalai accompanied by her eldest son Nagaswamy. Ramana was then living at Pavalakkunru, one of the eastern spurs of Arunachala. 

With tears in her eyes Alagammal entreated her son to go back with her, but for the sage there was no going back. Nothing moved him – not even His mother’s tears. He kept silent and sat still.

A devotee who had been observing the struggle of the mother for several days requested Ramana to write out at least what He had to say. The sage wrote on a piece of paper:

The Ordainer controls the fate of souls in accordance with their past deeds. Whatever is destined not to happen will not happen, try how hard you may. Whatever is destined to happen will happen, do what you may to stop it. This is certain. The best course, therefore, is to remain silent

With a heavy heart, the mother went back to Manamadurai. Sometime after this event Sri. Ramana started to live in different caves on the slopes of Arunachala. The cave where Sri. Ramana  stayed longest (17 years), Virupaksha Cave, is on the south-east slope. 

During the early years on the Hill, Sri. Ramana was mostly silent. His radiance had already drawn a group of devotees around Him. Not only seekers of Truth were drawn to Him but also simple people, children, and even animals.

Sri. Ramana’s mother visited him several times again. On one occasion she fell ill and suffered for a few weeks with symptoms of typhoid. Despite His earlier note to her about the inevitability of destiny, Sri. Ramana  composed a hymn in Tamil beseeching Lord Arunachala to cure her of her disease. He also showed great solicitude in nursing her back to health. 

Alagammal recovered and went back to Manamadurai. In the beginning of 1916  Alagammal came back to Tiruvannamalai  determined  to spend the rest of her life with  Sri. Ramana. A little later her youngest son, Nagasundaram followed her. 

In 1920 the mother’s health failed and Sri. Ramana tended her with utmost care and affection, sometimes spending sleepless nights sitting up with her.  The end came in 1922 and Alagammal attained liberation at the moment of death, through the effort and grace of her son. 

As tradition demands in the case of a liberated being, Algammal’s body was not cremated but buried. Since no burial is allowed on the Hill she was interred at its foot on the southern side.

Ramanashram did not spring up immediately. At first there was only a shed with bamboo poles and a roof of palm leaves. Through the ensuing years the numbers grew, donations came in and regular ashram premises were built – the hall where Sri. Ramana sat, the office, the bookstore, the dispensary, the guest room for male visitors and a couple of small bungalows for guests who made a longer stay. 

In the course of time a proper temple, the Matrubhuteswara temple, was constructed over Mother Alagammal’s burial place and daily worship continues to be carried out there.

Sri. Ramana would never allow any preference to be shown to Him. Ashram management was not His concern either. If rules were made He would be the first to abide by them, but He Himself did not make any. His work was purely spiritual: silently guiding the ever-growing family of devotees who gathered around Him.

Concerned that He should be accessible to all visitors at all hours, Sri. Ramana never left the Ashram except for His daily walk on the Hill and in Palakottu (an adjacent sadhu colony), morning and evening. In early years, He sometimes walked the circuit road around the mountain (Giri Pradakshina).

In 1949 it was detected that Sri. Ramana had sarcoma in His left arm. In spite of intense medical care, on April 14, 1950 it was apparent that His physical end was near. 

 In the evening, as the devotees sat on the verandah outside the room which had been specially built for Bhagavan’s convenience during His illness, they spontaneously began singing “Arunachala Siva” .

On hearing it Sri. Ramana’s eyes opened and shone. He gave a brief smile of indescribable tenderness. From the outer corners of His eyes tears of bliss rolled down. One more deep breath and He was no more.

At that very moment 8:47 p.m. what appeared to be an enormous star trailed slowly across the sky passing to the north-east towards the peak of Arunachala. Many saw this luminous body in the sky, even as far away as Bombay and struck by its peculiar appearance and behavior, they ascribed this phenomenon to the passing of their Master.

To this day the power of Sri Ramana has not diminished. Often visitors to the ashram have remarked, “But one can feel His presence very strongly.” Before Sri Ramana gave up His body, devotees went to Him and begged Him to remain for a while longer as they needed His help. He replied “Go! Where can I go? I shall always be here.”

The Maharishi called Arunachala the spiritual Heart of the world. Aruna, which means ‘red, bright like fire’, does not signify the mere fire that gives off heat. Rather, it means Jnanagni, the Fire of Wisdom, which is neither hot nor cold. Achala signifies hill. Thus, Arunachala means ‘Hill of Wisdom’.

Sri. Ramana recommended renunciation of enjoyment of physical and mental pleasures as a means of entering into a state where the oneness of the self and cosmos could be perceived. He also felt that a person who is not attached to the results of his actions can live in the world like an actor that plays his or her part but is immune to emotional disturbance, because he realizes he is only play-acting on the stage of life.