Embarking on a Spiritual Odyssey, Part 29: At the Holy Feet of Silence

Sambasivam Chaitanya’s journey now brings him to Tiruvannamalai, to the holy presence of Arunachala, and to Ramanashram, where one of modern India’s greatest sages sat in the stillness of Self-realization. At Ramanashram, Advaita was no longer only a subject of discussion, nor even the shining memory of a great saint. It stood before him in living form.

Sri Ramana Maharshi was born in 1879 in Tamil Nadu. As a youth, he underwent a sudden and profound awakening. One day, overcome by an intense fear of death, he turned inward and examined the experience directly. What is it that dies? The body might become still; the limbs might stiffen; breath might cease. But was he the body? In that intense inquiry, the truth revealed itself. The deathless Self shone forth as his real nature.

Soon after, drawn by the irresistible call of Arunachala—the sacred hill in Tiruvannamalai, South India revered as Lord Shiva in the form of stillness and fire—he left home and came to its holy presence. There, for the rest of his life, he remained rooted in the direct knowledge of the Self, quietly radiating a presence that drew seekers from across India and eventually from around the world. Many came with questions. Some came with philosophical doubts. Others came simply to sit in silence. Again and again, Sri Ramana turned seekers back to the source of the one who questioned: “Who am I?” This was the living atmosphere into which Sambasivam entered.

Swami Satchidananda would speak many times in later years about the blessing of sitting at the feet of Sri Ramana Maharshi. For him, Bhagavan was not merely a revered saint of the past, but a living demonstration of the truth at the heart of Jnana Yoga: “I am not the body; I am not the mind; immortal Self I am.” Again and again, he used Sri Ramana’s example to show that this teaching was not meant to remain a chant, a concept, or a philosophical idea. It was to be lived.

At one point, Sambasivam approached Bhagavan with a question. Sri Ramana replied, “Who is asking this question? Who is having the doubt?”
“Sir, I am having the doubt,” Sambasivam answered.
“Who are you?” Sri Ramana persisted. “Find out the answer and come to me then.”

The words were simple, but their impact was powerful. Sambasivam suddenly felt the force of what Bhagavan was pointing to. This was not an invitation to think about the Self as a concept. It was a command to discover the truth directly. Who is the one who doubts? Who is the one who seeks? Who is the “I” around which the whole drama of life appears to revolve?

This encounter is one of the defining moments in his spiritual formation. Until now, he had received many kinds of instruction. He had learned through devotion, service, discipline, scriptural study, healing work, and satsang. But Sri Ramana’s teaching cut straight to the root. It did not begin with what to believe or what to do. It began with the one who believes and acts.

Who am I?

The question may appear simple, but in Sri Ramana’s hands it was a spiritual fire. It was not meant to produce a verbal answer. “I am this body,” “I am this personality,” “I am a devotee,” “I am a seeker,” “I am a brahmachari”—all such answers belong to the changing field of experience. Sri Ramana was pointing to something prior to them all: the changeless Self in whose light body, mind, memory, identity, and world appear. This is why the question had such force. It did not add anything to Sambasivam’s spiritual life. It stripped away.

For one who would later teach Integral Yoga as a complete Path, this was essential. Sri Ramana did not ask seekers to reject devotion, service, meditation, or scripture. But he pointed out that all practices must ultimately lead the seeker back to the Source. The question “Who am I?” reveals whether spiritual life is revolving around the ego or dissolving it. It asks whether the seeker is trying to perfect the personality or awaken to that which is beyond personality.

At Ramanashram, Sambasivam also witnessed another teaching—one even more difficult to receive. During the period when Bhagavan’s body was suffering from cancer, those around him found it painful to watch the deterioration of the body they loved and revered. For the disciples, the sight was heart-rending. But Sri Ramana remained undisturbed.

When he saw their sad faces, he would say, “What kind of Yoga is this? Where is your proper understanding? The body is simply undergoing its karma. Why do you worry?” These words were not cold. They were not a denial of pain. They were spoken from a realization in which the Self was known to be untouched by the condition of the body. Sri Ramana did not say that the body felt nothing. Rather, he lived from the truth that he was not the body.

Sambasivam was among those who witnessed an operation performed on Bhagavan’s arm. Sri Ramana had not been interested in the operation, but at the insistence of close disciples, he agreed. Even then, he refused anesthesia. As the doctor operated, Bhagavan watched the procedure and spoke to his arm as though it belonged to someone else: “Poor arm, is the operation hurting you? Well, just undergo whatever is necessary. I don’t know what the karma was that makes you have to suffer. I told them not to do this to you, but they insisted on it. The best thing is just to accept it.”

For Sambasivam, this was almost too much to bear. His heart went out to Bhagavan’s bodily suffering. The teaching of non-identification with the body was no longer philosophical. It was taking place before his eyes, in pain, compassion, and astonishing freedom. Eventually, finding it difficult to remain in the presence of such suffering, Sambasivam approached Sri Ramana and asked permission to continue his journey.

“Why?” Bhagavan asked. “Are you still attached to the body?”
“No,” Sambasivam replied. “I’m not attached to my body, but maybe I’m attached to your body. I find it hard to face this situation. I don’t really feel comfortable in staying and watching the whole thing.”

Sri Ramana understood. He raised his hand in blessing, and Sambasivam continued on.

There is deep tenderness in this moment. Sambasivam was not pretending to be beyond attachment. Nor was Bhagavan demanding hardness from him. The exchange reveals both the uncompromising clarity of the jnani and the compassionate understanding of the sage. Sambasivam could not yet remain untouched in the presence of the beloved Master’s suffering. Bhagavan saw this and blessed him onward. The teaching had already entered him.

During his time in Tiruvannamalai, Sambasivam also meditated in Virupaksha Cave, long associated with Sri Ramana’s years of intense absorption on Arunachala. There, he underwent a striking inner experience. He later described a huge, dark cloud forming within him, expanding until he was surrounded by its smoke. Slowly it rose above him, like a mushroom cloud, and drifted away. When it had passed, a feeling of lightness and joy remained.

Then a brilliant light surrounded him like a globe. He was bathed in its warmth. Gradually the light condensed, becoming smaller and more concentrated, until it became a tiny spark and entered the crown of his head. He fell into a deep trance that lasted two hours. When body consciousness returned, he felt that a new vibration, filled with light, had taken the place of what had been there before.

The experience is best allowed to stand in its own mystery. It belongs to that atmosphere of Arunachala where silence, inquiry, and grace work beneath the surface of ordinary understanding. If Sri Ramana’s spoken teaching had turned Sambasivam toward the question “Who am I?”, the atmosphere of Arunachala seemed to carry that inquiry inward in ways beyond words.

This visit to Ramanashram did not complete Sambasivam’s journey. Other great influences still awaited him in South India, and in time he would travel north to Rishikesh, where his life would be transformed through Sri Swami Sivananda. But the encounter with Sri Ramana left an indelible impression. It gave him the direct force of self-inquiry. It showed him a living example of complete non-identification with the body. It revealed the power of silence as teaching. And it deepened the nondual current that would later flow quietly beneath all the branches of Integral Yoga.

Years later, Sri Ramana’s influence would continue to shine through Swami Satchidananda’s own teaching and service. During the All-India Tour he was sent on by Sri Swami Sivananda, he visited Bombay for the nine-day celebrations of Sri Ramana Jayanti at the Ramana-Satchidananda Samaj. There, he was given the great honor of unveiling and installing a murti of Sri Ramana through the sacred ceremony of prana-pratishtha, by which divine presence is ritually invoked into the image.

The account of the tour written by Sri Swami Venkatesananda, his brother monk and editor of most of Sri Swami Sivananda’s books, describes the event in devotional terms: “There was a beautiful murti of sage Ramana that was unveiled and installed by Swami Satchidanandaji at an impressive ritual. The Swami performed the Prana-Pratishta for the murti, not only with the Veda-Mantras but with his soul-stirring discourses on the Life Divine, on the realization of the Absolute, on Yoga and Vedanta, which Sage Ramana personified in the world for the edification of humanity.”

The next day, Swami Satchidananda addressed a large gathering on Sri Ramana’s message and explained the practice of Atma Vichara (Self-inquiry). The same account records his teaching: “Bhagavan Ramana Maharshi asked everyone who came to him to put this searching question to himself: who am I? Bhagavan himself had ascended to the highest realization through the ladder of this question—who am I? Nay, Bhagavan represented the personification of this Soul-Awakening question—who am I? Who am I—is the Master Key that opens the gate to Supreme Bliss, Transcendental Peace, and Self-Knowledge. If you earnestly ask the question of yourself and pursue the quest, you establish contact with the Divinity within you, the fountain-source of Peace, Bliss, Life, Light, and Freedom.”

In this way, the question Sri Ramana had turned upon Sambasivam became a teaching Swami Satchidananda would later offer to others. Ramanashram was not simply one stop along the way. Sri Ramana’s teaching continued to live in him. It became part of the inner treasury from which he would later guide seekers around the world.

For those who came as students of Swami Satchidananda, the Integral Yoga Path he offered often appeared broad and accessible: Hatha Yoga, meditation, mantra, prayer, selfless service, diet, interfaith understanding, and daily peace. Yet at the heart of that breadth was a question as ancient as the Upanishads and as direct as Sri Ramana’s gaze: Who am I?

At Ramanashram, Sambasivam had sat before one who lived the answer. And the silence of that answer would continue to illumine the path ahead.