SRI RAMANASRAMAM

He was but a young man in his early twenties, yet Sri Ramana Maharshi had already the serene countenance and radiant eyes of a Sage. He lived in a cave on the sacred mountain, Arunachala, beside the town of Tiruvannamalai in Madras State. He sought solitude and maintained silence to discourage visitors. Nevertheless, disciples gathered round. He was already known as ‘Maharshi’, the ‘Great Sage’; devotees addressed him in the third person as ‘Bhagavan’ (Lord).
	After some years the cave became too small and the Maharshi and his followers moved to Skandasramam, a little higher up the mountainside. This also was a cave but was enlarged and built out to give more accommodation. His mother renounced the world and came to join him there. She began to cook for the little group, whereas previously they ate only what was given in charity by the pious when some of them daily begged for food in the town. The Mother died in 1922, attaining Liberation at the moment of death, through persistent effort fortified by the concentrated grace of her son. As tradition demands in  the case of a Liberated Being, the body of Mother  was not cremated but buried. As no burial is allowed on the sacred mountain, she was buried at its foot, at the southern-most point where a cemetery already existed. It was less than half an hour’s walk from Skandasramam and the Maharshi would go there daily. Then, one day, he stayed. It was here that Ramanasramam sprang up. Sri Ramana Maharshi was already over forty at the time and had spent twenty-six years at Tiruvannamalai as a Self-realized sage; and yet he was not widely known outside of South India. He had avoided publicity and had done nothing spectacular to attract people, such as cures or miracles. There was no Ashram office, no correspondence, no facility for visitors, no publicity.
	An Ashram did not spring up immediately. At first there was only a shed with bamboo uprights and a roof of palm leaves. The Maharshi himself maintained the same aloof attitude, and he continued to live in utmost simplicity. He asked nobody to come and told no one to go; if any wanted to come they could, if any wanted to settle down there they could, but each had to make his own arrangements. Ashram organization was not his concern. 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 that gathered around him and radiating his Grace upon them. To all appearance, he was aloof, but his love was all embracing and utterly overpowering. Everyone felt the subtle, ever-watchful power and grace of his guidance. It was his younger brother, Sri Niranjanananda Swami, who oversaw the construction of buildings and the growth of the Ashram. He became its sarvadhikari or manager. As the Maharshi became more widely known, donations flowed in and a whole complex of buildings arose. Particularly dear to the sarvadhikari’s heart was a temple that he built over the Mother’s shrine and a large new meditation hall, known as the New Hall, adjoining it.
	The focus of all attention was, of course, the meditation hall where devotees sat with the Maharshi. There was a couch there where he sat in the daytime and slept at night. Devotees would sit before him on the floor, men on one side of the hall, women at the other. During the early years the doors were never closed, and even at night people could come and lay their troubles at his feet. In later years, because of age and failing health, the Ashram management decided that hours of privacy would be necessary for him.
	Concerned that he should be accessible to all comers at all hours, Sri Bhagavan never left the Ashram except for his daily walk on the mountain and palakothu, morning and evening, and in the early years, an occasional walk on the nine-mile road around the mountain. This is said to be particularly meritorious and should ideally be done barefoot, as a pilgrimage. The Maharshi always encouraged it. People would sit in meditation while the Maharshi watched over them, guiding them wordlessly. However there was no rigidity about it, no rule that every one must meditate at a given time or in a certain manner. Accommodation was sometimes difficult to find. It was never a residential Ashram in the usual sense; nevertheless, a large dormitory was put up where men could spread their bedding on the floor. There were also a few private rooms for guests. However, all this proved insufficient, and was of no help to women, who were not allowed to stay overnight in the Ashram premises. A number of devotees built their own houses round about, and thus a housing estate grew up. Sadhus made a colony near the Ashram and lived in caves and huts. A Maharaja donated a guesthouse. In spite of all this, difficulties in finding accommodation persisted.
	All of this suddenly changed in 1950. After a long and wasting illness the Maharshi attained Maha Samadhi. The crowds of devotees dispersed and it seemed for a while that the Ashram might come to an end or survive only as a relic. However, contrary to what had been feared, there was no feeling of void. Indeed, never    had   the  atmosphere more vibrant with the Maharshi’s effulgent Presence and Grace. The power of his presence seemed not to have been withdrawn but, on the contrary, to be stronger and more potent than ever. Such grace was there that those who stayed on could not even feel sad. There was nothing to grieve about, no sense of loss or privation. More and more, people came to feel the Maharshi’s continued presence at Sri Ramanasramam. Devotees who had left returned. The flow of visitors resumed. It was recalled that the Maharshi himself had given many indications of his continued presence. In approving a Will that was drawn up he had stated that this Ashram was to continue as a spiritual center. Shortly before his death he had said: “They say that I am going away, but where could I go? I am here.” On the one hand, this was a purely metaphysical statement. For the Sage who has realized his identity with the universal Self there is no coming or going, no change or becoming, no here or there, only the changeless Here and Now. And yet, his words had physical implications as well. They applied to his Ashram at Tiruvannamalai. During his lifetime, the Maharshi had often said that only the body travels; the Self remains unmoving. This was one aspect of the truth which would be a consolation to those not destined to go to Tiruvannamalai. But the other aspect was no less true: that it was and is a great blessing to be able to go to Sri Ramanasramam at the foot of the sacred Arunachala Mountain, and that powerful spiritual help will be found there for those who come. While Sri Ramana is universal and ever present in the hearts of those devotees who dedicate their lives to him, there is, at the same time, no denying that his power and guidance are concentrated at his Ashram at Tiruvannamalai.
	There were other confirmations of Sri Bhagavan’s continued Presence. When some devotees complained before his death that he was leaving them he answered cryptically: “You attach too much importance to the body.” The implication was obvious. The body was leaving them; he was not. He would remain the Guru as before. There is no spiritual head of the Ashram, no lineage successor to Bhagavan in human form. The Presence of the Maharshi is so intensely powerful and all-pervasive that it is clear to all his devotees that the Mighty Impersonality that Ramana was is the eternal Guru and presiding deity here. The spiritual instructions that he has left behind are complete in every way and spiritual support comes directly from him; all that is needed is practice. The sarvadhikari died in January, 1953 and his son, T. N. Venkataraman, took over the management of the Ashram as President. In 1994, T. N. Venkataraman retired and, as enjoined by Bhagavan’s will, entrusted his eldest son, V. S. Ramanan, to serve as the Ashram President.