In the last segment, we began with a brief glimpse of Swami Ramanagiri's transformative encounter with Bhagavan during the Mahasivaratri celebrations of 1949. After weeks of intense self-inquiry, the young seeker experienced a powerful opening in Bhagavan's presence—an event that would come to define the direction of his life thereafter.

We looked at his formative years in Sweden. Though born into a family that rose to prosperity through hard work, Per Westin—as Swami Ramanagiri was known from birth—felt a sense of inner distance from societal expectations from a young age. His childhood revealed a contemplative temperament, a love of solitude and Nature, and an early intuition that life held a deeper meaning than worldly success.

A mysterious incident at the age of six¹ where he survived a fall unharmed—later associated with a symbolic vision—hints at an underlying spiritual destiny.

Per's upbringing within a strict Protestant setting provided discipline and ethical grounding but did not fulfil his longing for direct spiritual experience. While he distanced himself from his Christian upbringing, its influence remained visible in his character. He retained a strong sense of discipline, moral seriousness, and devotion to religious life. But the path laid out by his family's faith did not satisfy his deepest longings: direct experience, silence, and inner transformation.

Influenced by the teachings of Swami Vivekananda, Per turned decisively toward the East and finally set sail for India in November 1947. Carrying both intellectual preparation and a profound inner call, the ground was laid for a spiritual unfolding. His yearning intensified through personal loss, especially the suicide of his father and the death of his grandmother, prompting inner questioning which made him ripe for the encounter in South India. If Per often felt inwardly separated from his surroundings during childhood, something altogether new took over once on the subcontinent:

This is a sentiment that spiritually inclined individuals know very well. Feeling estranged from conventional expectations in early life gives way to a meaningful sense of belonging in the Absolute once the spiritual path is taken up in earnest.

After encountering Bhagavan Ramana, Per spoke of feeling like a child again—free from the inner tensions that had till then troubled him.

Through intense self-examination, he described experiencing a radical inner breakthrough—an "atomic bomb"—that shattered the former identity, revealing a deeper sense of unity, and a respite from what had formerly been a rigid self-assessment:

Himalayan Retreats

During this crucial initial period, Per relied on the connections he made in Almora, not least of all, with the Danish mystic Alfred Emmanuel Sørensen, known in India as Sunyata. Sunyata lived in austere simplicity with his dog, Wuji. Born in 1890 to a farming family, Sunyata worked as a gardener in England where he met Rabindranath Tagore, who invited him to Shantiniketan.

Arriving in India in 1930, Sunyata wandered as a sadhu, immersing himself in India's spiritual traditions and soon met Bhagavan Ramana, who called him a "natural-born mystic."

During the hot months before the monsoon, Per stayed with Sunyata in Almora, nestled in the Kumaon Himalayas. Almora, by the late 1940s, had become a quiet yet powerful centre of spiritual and cultural convergence. Beyond its scenic beauty, what distinguished it was the presence of an extraordinary circle of seekers and artists, drawn by the atmosphere of contemplation.

By the time of Per's arrival, Sunyata had become a spiritual presence in Almora, attracting seekers from around India and abroad. Those living in the area in those days⁴ tell us that the scientist Boshi Sen and his wife Gertrude Emerson Sen created a vibrant intellectual hub, welcoming figures such as Nehru, Indira Gandhi, and Tagore. Their home became a meeting place where science, spirituality, and culture intertwined. Nehru and Sunyata formed a close long-standing friendship.

Earlier, Swami Vivekananda had meditated nearby at Kasar Devi, lending the region enduring spiritual significance. The area also drew artists such as Uday Shankar, whose cultural centre further enriched Almora's creative life. Occasional visits by Krishna Prem and Madhav Ashish added to this unique blend of devotion and inquiry.⁵

Per stayed at Sunyata's cave in the summer of 1948. The cave was simple: a table, a chair, a bed, and a few books. A gramophone occasionally played Beethoven quartets. Daily life involved gardening, fetching water, and renovating guest caves for visiting seekers.

Per lived in a small cave higher up the hill, from which he could watch the mountains and listen to the wind in the pines. The vistas encouraged solitude and reflection. Visitors to his hermitage were rare, though shepherds sometimes passed along distant paths with flocks carrying salt and borax from Tibet.

Nearby lived several notable Westerners: the Buddhist scholar Anagarika Govinda, the American anthropologist and Tibetologist W. Y. Evans-Wentz, the painter, writer, and scholar Earl Brewster, and the French historian, writer and musicologist Alain Daniélou.

Sunyata found Per to be a seeker eager to shed the conventions of his former life fuelled by a powerful ambition for spiritual attainment—what Sunyata called a "Swedish occultism."⁶ Per's intense desire to master himself through effort and discipline seemed to diverge from Sunyata's gentler path of simplicity and quiet awareness. Nevertheless, Sunyata recognized Per's sincerity.

Sri Ramanasramam

It was Sunyata who directed Per southward to Tamil Nadu to sit at the feet of Bhagavan Sri Ramana. Questions about death and identity had emerged in the young seeker, not least of all, in the aftermath of the tragic death of his father five years earlier.⁷ "What remains when the body dies?" "Who am I, truly?" Such questions would have been pervasive.

Learning that inner investigation was central in the Maharshi's teaching would have made the prospect of coming to see Bhagavan irresistible.

Per arrived in Tiruvannamalai in the middle of January 1949, a time when the Ashram was gearing up for the Mahakumbhabhishekam of the Mother's Shrine scheduled for mid-March. Chinnaswami was deeply concerned about the lack of funds.

A more serious concern known only to the management at this time was the Maharshi's health. A large malignant tumour had appeared on Bhagavan's left arm, and a series of surgeries had already begun. But in this early period, all were confident that the condition would resolve itself.

Per was oblivious to all that was going on behind the scenes and took up his place in the darshan hall, having committed in advance to throw himself wholeheartedly into Bhagavan's atma vichara. While Per remained quiet during his time in the hall, as he sat there over the following forty days, he overheard the conversations taking place before him, which revealed key aspects of Bhagavan's teaching.

A striking opening vignette came during the first days after his arrival when Bhagavan contrasted the "big body" of an elephant⁸ with the "Big Self," illustrating the Maharshi's natural indifference to the body. Like the sage Jada Bharata, the Maharshi embodied a state in which bodily identity had fallen away, leaving only pure awareness. This underscored the distinction between the transient body-mind and the ever-present Self.

Chronicles⁹ tell us that two days later, Bhagavan dismissed elaborate yogic distinctions, affirming that kundalini sakti is not something exclusive or progressive but the very nature of consciousness itself. Differences in spiritual stages, Bhagavan affirmed, are merely conceptual while the underlying reality is One. Bhagavan stressed that all genuine paths lead to the same summit, and a realised sage can guide seekers regardless of their chosen approach.

The next day, Bhagavan redirected seekers from metaphysical curiosity—about subtle bodies, divine realms, or visions—to the essential enquiry, "Who am I?" Bhagavan insisted: "First find out who you are".

True renunciation lies not in abandoning action but in relinquishing the sense of doership. A jnani may act outwardly, yet he remains inwardly unattached, only watching as things unfold. Such discussions would have stimulated Per's deep dive into vichara practice.

As Per sat and investigated with full vigour, the Master casually revealed what could have only been experienced by Per as hammer blows to cherished assumptions.

The mind is the culprit. Though small, it obscures the vast Self like a finger covering the eye. Bhagavan with a smile placed his little finger over his eye and said:

Such reflections would spur the young initiate further on in the effort to seek the elusive "I".

Initial Breakthrough

In the course of these weeks, Per kept silent, never asking questions of his own. The conversations in the hall would have taken place in various South Indian languages, most of which would not have been familiar to Per who only arrived in India some fourteen months earlier.

One night, however, while he lay resting on a simple cot in a small room with a door made of woven reeds, something strange took place. Suddenly, the door opened and a small light entered the room. The light moved toward him and entered through his right big toe, spreading slowly through his body like a current. When the current reached his head, it emerged again, forming a radiant figure before him. In this dream-vision, he saw Bhagavan Ramana before him—luminous and alive as light. The figure asked him gently:

"What are your doubts?"

Per began asking questions that had arisen during meditation, questions about the practice of vichara, about his decision to live as an ascetic, and about earlier spiritual experiences. Although Bhagavan spoke to him in Tamil, Per heard fluent Swedish.¹¹

During the encounter, Per's uncertainties were resolved. He came to see that the Sage had been guiding him long before they met. The karmic burdens of the past seemed to dissolve through a budding knowledge of the Self.¹²

Per later described the effect on him, "like someone who has found a long-lost treasure."

In the early hours of the morning, the energy in his dream became so intense that he fell out of bed. He later wrote that he had taken up "the way Sri Ramana taught during the Sage's silent days on Holy Arunachala."¹³

Back in the Darshan Hall

One month into Per's retreat at Ramanasramam, Bhagavan described the world as projection, i.e. only appearing under certain conditions, yet having no independent reality apart from the perceiver. Ideas of heaven, hell, and subtle bodies exist only so long as the ego persists. When the ego dissolves, all multiplicity vanishes. Bhagavan continues:

When another devotee in the hall appeared confused, Bhagavan explained further:

Bhagavan gave another analogy:

Through earnest inquiry, one realises that the Self alone is real and abides in That, Bhagavan says. When that happens, the sense of individuality is lost. But who remains as the seer? When the mind is extinguished and one rests in his or her own true state, no actions are in need of being performed.

These exchanges during several weeks in the hall made the teaching clear: turn inward, know the Self, and abide as That. Solitude is not geographical—not a physical condition but pure awareness free of distraction.¹⁶ One cannot escape disturbance by changing location; peace arises only when the mind rests in the Self.

Second Insight

After forty days, Per experienced a decisive breakthrough. The event occurred face-to-face with Bhagavan on the 26th February, 1949—the sacred night of Mahasivaratri:

After this experience face-to-face with Bhagavan, Per began referring to himself as "this fool."

Per later expressed the same idea in prose:

From this time onward, Bhagavan became the central figure in Per's spiritual life. Per spoke of every breath as guided by the Sage and regarded him as a permanent divine presence. —

(to be continued)

Ekatma Dham, located at Omkareshwar in Madhya Pradesh was set up by the Dept. of Culture, Govt. of M.P. and looks at the underlying unity (Ekta) of Advaita Vedanta. Dedicated to the teachings and legacy of Adi Shankaracharya, the Ekatma Dham campus features the 108-foot "Statue of Oneness," unveiled in 2023 <www.oneness.mp.gov.in>.

On the concluding day of the four-day festival dedicated to Advait Vedanta (17–21 April), Chief Minister, Dr. Mohan Yadav addressed the assembly. Dr. Venkat S. Ramanan, President of Sri Ramanasramam was invited to deliver a talk on 18th April in a specially curated session dedicated to Sri Ramanasramam. He presented Bhagavan's teachings as the direct path to Self-realisation, emphasising "Who am I?" as a practical method—not a philosophy. He was joined by Professor Bhupinder Godara from IIT Delhi who shared his experience of starting an open elective graded course at IIT called, Practicing the Teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi. <https://tinyurl.com/y5646z7w>. —

The bilva tree is very sacred, revered as the residence of the goddess Lakshmi, deity of wealth and prosperity, and its leaves play a significant role in the worship of Lord Siva.

Two Ashram cats circle the tree's rough, fissured bark which is protected by a concrete-lined dirt planter. One has a distinctive black and white (tuxedo) coat, and the other is a grey tabby with striped markings. —

A sign of the divine—the very form of Siva, Holy Arunachala is immortal light. A column of fire that existed before time began, the light shone in order that all those lost in worldly forgetfulness might remember their true home. Saints and sages of every land throughout the ages have maintained that a meaningful life cannot be built on the transient things of the world—money, status, material possessions, worldly knowledge and sense pleasures. Arunachala stands as the embodiment of that which gives true and lasting life, an icon to the undying Presence that undergirds all of reality. — [To view Markus Horlacher's photos, copy this URL: <https://www.markushorlacher.com/>] —

For several years, The Indian Institute of Technology, Delhi has offered students programmes on inner development in the National Resource Centre for Value Education in Engineering (NRCVEE). A special module course on practicing the teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi was developed by Prof. Bhupinder Godara which he has been teaching since Jan 2023 with a total of 845 students enrolled in seven semesters. The course is designed to engage students with "Who Am I?" and "Upadesa Saram" to examine their relationship with happiness, attachments, ego and mind. Sri Ramanasramam President, Dr. Venkat S. Ramanan has been regularly invited to deliver lectures. On the 8th and 10th of April, he addressed students in person at the IIT campus. [See: <https://youtube.com/live/qMfTE_PmZvE?feature=share>]. —

In the last segment, we saw how devotees often complain that practising vichara becomes mechanical and uninspiring. The question "Who am I?" can lose vitality, leading many to abandon it. The remedy lies in rekindling curiosity, taking note of the tendency to habitually refer to "I," yet remain unable to identify what it is. The paradox of living as though we know ourselves while remaining fundamentally ignorant can awaken a powerful "doubt sensation," the starting point of real inquiry. What is this doubt and how can it be useful to us? It is recognising that there is a gap in our understanding of who and what we are. Reflecting on this gap can inspire us to do something about it. Bhagavan comments on the interest for vichara in the past:

One reason we become fascinated with the "I" is that most of life's trouble seems to start with it and yet, we are not clear what this "I" is. The illusion created by the mind must be destroyed by the mind, says Bhagavan, after all, the bondage we suffer begins with the mind—"a bundle of thoughts" originating from the thinker, which "vanishes when sought".²

The first thing we notice as we begin vichara practice is how invested we are in the thinking mind. Bhagavan tells us the thinking mind is not our home and yet, we seem to want nothing else:

In the last issue we saw how Bhagavan taught that the "I"-thought is the root of all thoughts and becomes less and less opaque when we investigate it. Turning inward is a metaphor for looking below the thinking mind. Ego's domain is visual and word-based. It thrives in tangibility and what can be grasped through thought. But while thought may appear as a feature of the inner life, it is actually outside us—part and parcel of the sense realm and its objects.

Two Modes

Bhagavan's inquiry is inwardly directed, designed to shift the centre of gravity from conceptual thinking to intuitive awareness. The perplexity aroused by questioning moves us away from the compulsive thinking mind.

In the language of modern brain science, we would say this happens because intuitive awareness is a "right-hemisphere function"—quite distinct from the left hemisphere's conceptual grasping. The bewilderment brought about by deep questioning is central for Ramana sadhana because it momentarily shifts our attention away from the visual and linguistic clarity that the conceptual mind revels in. If giving up the illusion of certainty is uncomfortable, it is because we instinctively resist ambivalence. We are habituated to take refuge in what we think we know. Egoic certainty, though comfortable, is not our home, says Bhagavan.

The conceptual mind is related to task-completion and goal orientation while Bhagavan's jnana is spiritual knowledge—intuitive wisdom rooted in choiceless awareness. We often confuse the two and think that knowing means grasping in the mode of concepts whereas Bhagavan tells us that true knowing is sensing beyond words and labels in the domain of the Heart.⁴

Drawing on the Upanishads, the Oxford neuroscientist Iain McGilchrist offers the image of a mother bird pecking at a tree to retrieve a worm. The bird's goal-oriented mind (left hemisphere) is engaged in the task while its open awareness (right hemisphere) simultaneously surveys the surroundings. i.e. listening for danger or the cries of her chicks. Both are active at once. Yet while open attention includes the pecking within its wider field, the task-oriented mind is only aware of the task at hand and not of the larger awareness operating alongside it.⁵

Conceptual knowledge is thus mediated within a closed system and cannot really "break out" to know what lies beyond it. This is what gives the ego the illusion of certainty: it inhabits a confined space and, knowing its small territory well, mistakes these clearly defined limits for the whole, as though it were all there is.⁶

Looking for the "I" requires intuitive engagement which can be uncomfortable. Why? Because intuition feels like not knowing and not knowing is distressing.⁷ And yet, a still greater challenge is to be met with, namely, our resistance to the inner world. Why should we resist the inner world? Is not the spiritual Heart the core of us, our very own deepest self?

The Gem Buried Within

Fear of the Heart is expressed in every culture. Children's stories the world over tell of a hero who must descend a deep dark well or a cave or a lake on a dark moonless night to do battle with a five-headed monster in order to recover a priceless gem. The dark cavern is the Heart, the five-headed monster, a personification of the samskaras, vasanas, karmic accumulations, pitru doshas and psychic wounds. The gem is the Self, the divinity whose discovery is needed for our fulfilment. Might the Divine be playing a trick on us? The Upanishad points to our predicament:

And yet, if we as Ramana devotees are made aware of this misdirection, why should we continue to be tricked again and again?

Early life conditioning, inherited patterns, deeply embedded vasanas, unresolved grief from pre-developmental childhood and samskaras passed down trans-generationally from our ancestors (pitru dosha) or from previous births (prarabdha karma) combine to make this work daunting.

Chillingly, these psychic fragments are not available to the conscious mind but are hidden. Preverbal and subcortical, implicit memories⁹ crowd the Heart, veiling it, causing it to appear concealed and indistinct. If the jiva is to cross the barrier to the Heart, it will have to confront the one demon it does not want to face, namely, the one I call Myself.

We recall a line from Blaise Pascal: all of humanity's problems stem from its unwillingness to sit quietly in a room alone.

Courage for inwardness involves facing the unknown and being willing to relinquish the egoic status quo, i.e. the identity we have come to depend on. A line from the Sufi tradition reads:

Searching in the Wrong Place

An oft-quoted simile from Nasruddin, the 14th-century "wise fool", comes to mind. Nasruddin was once found searching for a lost key under a streetlamp in front of his house. When asked where he had dropped it, he replied, "Near my front door." "Then why search here?" they asked. "Because here there's more light," Nasruddin said, "over there, it's very dark".

Ego is cunning, even capable of appropriating Bhagavan's vichara to serve its own ends. We can mislead ourselves by making use of an imitation inquiry. We appear to be practising vichara but all the while are subtly avoiding the transformative ground of the spiritual Heart. As long as our inquiry remains confined to the thinking mind, as long as it is mental and conceptual, the ego is safe. What had been designed to dissolve the ego is thus reconfigured in its service.

Bhagavan spoke of the stick used to stir the funeral pyre, a metaphor for the function of the egoic mind in inquiry. At the conclusion of the cremation, the stick is tossed into the fire.¹¹ But in conceptual inquiry, we seem to be using the stick not to assure the samskaras get destroyed, but rather, to assure that they do not get destroyed.

This is why Bhagavan tells us that true inquiry has to be kept up right till the end, otherwise, ego will appropriate any ground gained for its own advantage, including performative inquiry.

Thought is a poor substitute for the life of the Heart, ever trapping us in the enclosure of the rational mind. In substituting thinking about Truth for a lived encounter with It, we seek to fill the gap left by an absent Heart. We imagine that meaning can be recovered through conceptual refinement. But cutting ourselves off from the deeper layers of experience, opting for mental abstraction, and seeking a mentally-derived spiritual ascendency—calling it Universal Truth—is window-dressing for the path denied.

This unsatisfactory state of affairs is partly known to us, so we increase our efforts and work tirelessly—quantitatively—to make up for the deficit. The cause is our unwillingness to greet the hidden Heart. The false hard way steps in as a compensatory manoeuvre, where we are willing to sacrifice everything except the one thing that needs sacrificing. The false hard way means outward gestures of effort and cost in order not to have to give up something we are clinging to. It means fighting on the wrong battlefield.

The King

Let us imagine a king in the Middle Ages, and let us say—anachronistically—that this king is a Ramana devotee. The king's advisors warn of the approach of the enemy, armed and ready for battle. The king rallies his soldiers and goes out to meet the aggressor. But he insists on challenging a small contingent of enemy forces in the nearby open field rather than heed his advisor's warning about the larger more heavily-armed forces rapidly approaching through the nearby forest.

As it turns out, this smaller force is approaching on a battlefield where the king has won battles in the past and which he had earlier designated the "Bhagavan Sri Ramana Victory Field".

The king goes out to the Bhagavan Sri Ramana Victory Field and wins a battle against this small enemy battalion. As he prepares to climb the ridge and cross the valley to return to the palace, he meets the distressed advisor who says, "Sire, why did you engage this small and insignificant battalion when the greater threat was approaching through the forest?"

The king insists, "The forest is too dark whereas the field under the open sky provides good light, and besides, it is the Bhagavan Sri Ramana Victory Field where I've won earlier battles in Bhagavan's name."

"But Sire, did you not see the Living Bhagavan standing on the hilltop motioning you toward the forest?"

The king responds, "What, you mad fellow, what 'living Bhagavan' are you talking about? There's only one Bhagavan and he is installed over here in the mantapam at the head of the Bhagavan Sri Ramana Victory Field. Have you not read the plaque there commemorating earlier battles fought and won in Bhagavan's name? Today I have gone out and won a great victory in Bhagavan's name".

With a heavy heart, the advisor then says, "Sire, enemy troops have overrun the palace, looted the royal treasury and the crown jewels, put your loyal guard to the sword, captured your majesty's daughters, wife, mother, and all the womenfolk of the kingdom, and carried them off into captivity to be sold as slaves. The ramparts have been laid to waste; towns, villages, crops and fields have all been burned to ash."

The king responds, "What is all that to me? I am not interested in kingdoms but only in Bhagavan Sri Ramana. Today I went out to the Bhagavan Sri Ramana Victory Field and won a great battle in Bhagavan's name. That's all that matters."

Well, we might say this is a strange king, a strange devotee, and yet, we are a little like him, are we not?

We are willing to take up the battle that Bhagavan has assigned us, but only on our own terms and only in the place of our choosing, and not on the battlefield Bhagavan laid out for us.

If we have designated Bhagavan's place in the world to suit personal preferences, if we have set up false Bhagavans according to convenience, pledging allegiance to mind-generated icons, we may be doing so in order to avoid true inquiry and thus maintain ego's reign.

The king claims to be committed to Bhagavan. But any commitment held narcissistically in the safe domain of the conceptual mind is a subtle enclosure born of ignorance.

In a closed system where we seek to define, contain, and stabilize the chaotic conditions of inner and outer worlds, we risk making "Bhagavan" and "the Self" mental objects set apart from the rest of experience.

To absolutize Bhagavan in thought is to limit Him. The true Bhagavan is not an exclusion but a totality—embracing both the inner and outer without boundary. When we cling to an image, an idea, or even a devotional formulation, we are still operating within the realm of cognition.

Taking the "hard path" of giving up everything for Bhagavan may conceal a deeper avoidance: fear of entering the uncharted territory of the Heart through inquiry. The "dark forest of the Heart" is more demanding than any external renunciation. This is something the Maharshi repeated over and again.

Conceptual identities such as "devotee," "seeker," or even "one who is devoted to Bhagavan" have to be seen as constructs of the thinking mind. Even what we call "God" or "knowledge" can be subtly deceptive when held as mere mental objects.

Conclusion

The image we hold of Bhagavan cannot be the real Bhagavan because whatever we conceive of or cling to is an object within the field of thought. It arises in the "mind-door" like any other sense object—fabricated in time and thus not related to the Absolute.

The real Bhagavan is not available to sight nor known by the cognizing mind, is not an object of perception or thought. He abides as the Self in the depths of the Heart. The very act of our clinging signals duality—subject and object.

The true Bhagavan is beyond division, ever-present as the Self and not to be grasped, but to be realised through inquiry in the domain of the Heart. If this comes as bad news, the good news is that probing the Heart by means of vichara—on its own—is capable of rescuing us from all such pitfalls. —

(to be continued)

On Sunday the 12th April, on the site where the saint wrote Tiruvempavai, a part of his Tiruvachakam, Mahakumbhabhishekam was performed at the Manickavchakar Temple in Adiannamalai. Ramanasramam devotees attended and chanted portions of Tiruvachakam. —

On Monday the 13th April, Sri Ramanasramam inaugurated its new auxiliary kitchen just opposite the main kitchen next to the Ashram Stores. The new facility will be used during Ashram celebrations and festivals when there is an increased number of visitors. It will also be utilised on a regular basis for special cooking needs such as deep frying. A new washing area is being established and will feature a state-of-the-art washing machine that can sterilise tumblers in bulk. Other renovations include upgrading the Gobar Gas facility with the hope that the Ashram will be fuel self-sufficient in the near future, no longer depending on LPG. The kitchen staff is now allowing volunteers for kitchen service in general and especially during peak periods. —

On Tuesday 21st April, Ashram Free Dispensary physician, Dr. Aruna Ramanan accompanied a small group up the hill for tidying up the path. The steady rise of visitors to Skandasramam and Virupaksha has placed added importance to maintaining the hill path. Litter left behind by visitors and scattered by monkeys—plastic bottles, food packaging, and disposable cups—has become a recurring concern.

Over the past twenty months, Ashram volunteers have organized cleanup efforts. Used rice sacks are repurposed and tied to trees at waste collection points and replaced regularly. Around twenty signboards in Tamil, Telugu, and English have been installed along the path. Recyclable waste is collected daily, while other waste is cleared weekly or bi-weekly.

Targeted cleanups are also carried out in areas such as behind the Ashram back gate, Palakothu, and along fenced sections of the Girivalam path. In addition, volunteers are supporting larger initiatives, including hill cleanups and tree-planting drives, helping preserve the sanctity and natural beauty of the Holy Hill. [See the following awareness video at: <https://www.arunachalaseva.org/videos/>. —

Smt. Shweta Pandey was known among devotees for her quiet devotion, visiting the Ashram twice daily with her young son, Guru, and performing regular pradakshina around Bhagavan's Samadhi.

Born 25th February 1987 in Prayagraj, Uttar Pradesh, Shweta completed her undergraduate degree at the University of Allahabad (2009), an LLB at Benares Hindu University (2012) and her master's (LL.M) at the National Law School of India University, Bangalore (2014). She served as an Advocate Assistant in the Allahabad High Court, Junior Assistant in the Supreme Court of India and did legal work at the Parappana Agrahara Central Prison.

Shweta married in September 2018 and gave birth to her son, Shree Guruvayurappan in January 2023. A few months later, in April, she moved to Tiruvannamalai to provide a spiritually wholesome environment for her son. Her husband, Navneet, continued to work in Hyderabad, joining the family in Tiruvannamalai on weekends.

In 2022, Shweta took up teacher training in Isha Hatha Yoga Centre in Coimbatore and became a dedicated yoga teacher, offering classes to children, families, and professionals.

Devotees recall how they got to see her son grow up in Bhagavan's Samadhi Hall, when his mother and father would take him in devotion around the shrine again and again. Since his early infancy, these pradakshinas seemed to be the highlight of his life.

On 27th March, Shweta suffered an ischemic brain stroke and was admitted to hospital. She passed away suddenly the following morning, merging at the Feet of Bhagavan at the young age of 39. A memorial in her honour was held on 10th April in the Sri Ramanasramam Grantalaya Auditorium, attended by Ramana devotees. Tributes were offered by her husband, family members, and Ashram President Dr. Venkat S. Ramanan, along with Dr. Nitya Ramanan. Shweta is survived by her husband, Navneet, and their three-year-old son, Guru, and is remembered by the devotees whose lives she touched with her quiet presence. [See final farewell video at: <https://youtu.be/iwwTZ_E3s78>.] —

Many will remember Markus Horlacher as the Ashram beekeeper, a quiet and devoted presence who cared for the Ashram's beehives for nearly twenty years. But his connection with Tiruvannamalai and Arunachala extend back much further and find expression in many forms of service and devotion.

Born in Switzerland on 25th September 1957, Markus spent part of his childhood (from the age of 6–11) in Hubballi, Karnataka, where his father founded a mechanical tools training centre (still functioning today). Markus grew up amidst the languages and culture of South India. Even though he later returned to Switzerland for his education, India remained close to his heart, and over the years he continued to deepen his familiarity with South Indian languages as well as Hindi.

In 1987, he first learned of Bhagavan and Arunachala, and thereafter began visiting Tiruvannamalai six months each year. During these visits he came to know intimately the landscape and rhythms of life around the Holy Hill. In 1995, he began transforming a piece of barren land near Adi Annamalai into a flourishing forest, reflecting his deep love of nature. Trained as a gardener in Switzerland, Markus had an exceptional knowledge of plants and was widely known for his keen interest in the natural world. An outdoorsman, environmentalist and conservationist, he trained children in rock climbing, rope climbing, cycling, trekking, and other nature-oriented activities. His adventuresome spirit took him overland across Africa in 1983.

Markus was a devoted climber of the Holy Hill and, before restrictions were imposed, ascended the Hill several times a week. He was among the swiftest to reach the summit, often beginning from Mulaipal Tirtham near Virupaksha Cave and climbing the Hill in under forty minutes. His knowledge of Indian plants was legendary. When the Kailash route first opened to Indian pilgrims, he was among the first to undertake the journey. While most travelled quickly under the burden of limited supplies, Markus moved at his own pace, spending several weeks on the sacred route and subsisting largely on food he foraged from plants along the way.

A regular chronicler of the Karthigai Deepam festival, he often accompanied those carrying the Deepam cauldron up to the summit, documenting the event with dedication and care.

In 2015, he took up photography with a single subject: Arunachala at sunrise. Through his lens, he sought to capture the many changing moods of the Hill, and his photographs have been appreciated by devotees around the world. He translated The Power of the Presence, into German, the first part of which was published in India many years ago.

In February this year, Markus was struck by a severe infection—meningo-encephalitis, possibly caused by a tick bite—which left him paralysed. He was flown to Switzerland for treatment, but on 8th April, doctors informed him that he would remain permanently bedridden and dependent on mechanical life support. For one who had lived his life in the outdoors, close to nature, this was an especially grave prospect. Markus chose not to continue under such conditions and requested that the life support be withdrawn. In accordance with medical guidelines, this wish was honoured. On Thursday, 9th April, at 1.30 p.m. IST, Markus passed away. He is survived by his long-time partner, Maya. —

[Devotees value the remarkable photographic record Markus leaves behind—images that reveal the ever-changing beauty of Arunachala. Those who wish to view his work may visit: <https://www.markushorlacher.com/>]

On Saturday, 11 April 2026, Nimmitam, the Ramana Kendra of Agra, under the guidance of Dr. S.B. Sharma, was inaugurated by Dr. Venkat S. Ramanan, President of Sri Ramanasramam. The programme opened with a warm welcome, followed by the ceremonial lighting of the lamp in the company of distinguished guests, among them Shri B. Ganesan, Secretary of Ramana Centre, Delhi, and Prof. Bhupinder Godara of IIT Delhi. A pamphlet of the Centre's activities was released on the occasion, offering valuable information about spiritual programmes available through the Kendra. The event concluded with Mantra Pushpam and Mangala Arati. The new Kendra is dedicated to nurturing the spiritual growth of all who pass through its doors in light of the timeless teachings of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi. —

Holy Arunachala blends with His natural surroundings to announce the other world and remind us how each part of it points to something beyond it:

"Let the tempest rage, let the oceans rise up, let the earth quake", wrote one of Bhagavan's devotees, "the trees of knowledge rooted on Holy Arunachala stand immutable. Pilgrims on life's journey repose in their shade and countless devotees like birds pour forth their songs from their branches." Sri Bhagavan adds, "There is only Arunachala, and He dwells within the Heart of each of us." —