C.R. Rajamani, associated with the printing business at Madras, first visited Sri Ramana in early 1940s.
I was in my early twenties when I first had darshan of the Maharshi. I saw him seated on a couch. A cast-iron charcoal brazier was radiating a comfortable warmth, and a pleasing aroma of the incense thrown into it at regular intervals was pervading the entire hall. About thirty people were seated on the floor facing the Maharshi. None spoke or even whispered. What struck me was that no one seemed to show even an inclination to talk. Some were meditating with closed eyes.
Sri Ramana’s body was luminous like burnished gold. He was clad in his usual kaupinam, with a small towel across his chest. He appeared to be occasionally dozing off and had to steady his head often. He frequently stretched his palms over the fire and massaged his long fingers. In spite of his apparent dozing, his eyes did not look drowsy. On the contrary, they were extraordinarily bright and alert. He was not looking at anybody in particular. I felt I was in the presence of an extremely affable person with a lot of natural grace, at perfect ease and without any pretension whatsoever.
I saw a white-skinned boy of about ten years sitting a couple of feet to my left. Next to him was a white man, presumably his father. Further to my left, was a white woman, whom I thought was the boy’s mother. I then saw Bhagavan’s eyes alight on the boy for a brief minute. I thought it was just a casual look. The boy was all the time looking at Bhagavan with a sort of fixation, as if on the verge of asking a question. But, no! He broke into tears. A cascade of tears came gushing out of his eyes. They were not tears of pain, for his face was radiant with joy. I could see that Sri Bhagavan’s glance, though only resting on him for a brief moment, had opened in the boy’s heart a veritable reservoir of pure joy
I learned that the boy had come along with his parents, who had come to attend the Theosophical Society’s convention at Adyar, Madras. The boy’s parents arranged a trip to Tiruvannamalai, but he stoutly refused. However, he changed his mind at the last moment and did make the trip. Within an hour of his face-to-face meeting with Sri Bhagavan, his mental barriers were reduced to nothingness. He shed tears for quite sometime and later said to his mother, “I am so happy. I don’t want to leave his presence. I want to be always with him!” His mother was most upset. She pleaded with Bhagavan, “Swami, please release my son! He is our only child. We will be miserable without him.” Bhagavan smiled at her and said, “Release him? I am not keeping him tied up. He is a mature soul. A mere spark has ignited his spiritual fire.” Turning to the boy, the Maharshi said, “Go with your parents. I will always be with you.” He spoke in Tamil throughout, but the boy understood him fully. He bowed to Bhagavan and reluctantly left with his parents.
Whenever I recall this incident, it creates a feeling of being very near to something truly Divine. Of course, I have had my own share of Sri Bhagavan’s grace in my later years. I have also had some ever-fresh visions which I dare not devalue as creations of a fevered imagination for they have strengthened my faith in Bhagavan. Some ofthem occurred decades after Sri Bhagavan’s mahanirvana. They have been firm confirmations of his continued Presence and reassurances of his immortal words: “They say I am going! Where can I go? I am always here!“