Young Venkataraman’s departure for Tiruvannamalai on 29th August 1896 was not an act of renunciation in the conventional sense. Having discovered the inner Arunachala in Madurai six weeks earlier, he was irresistibly drawn towards its outer form. His arrival at Arunachaleswarar Temple on 1st September confirmed outwardly what had already occurred within.

What is it that happened in the upper room of his uncle’s house on that fateful day some weeks earlier? 

The fear of death rose up suddenly and compelled a young boy to examine what it was that could die. He lay down as though the body were already a corpse and, without any formal instruction, traced the sense of “I” beyond the body and mind. What remained was pure awareness, untouched by death. The body could perish, he understood, but there was something that remained that could not.

From that moment, ordinary worldly life lost its attraction. This was not born of disappointment or aversion, but of discovering an interior stillness and fullness before which the pleasures of daily life in the world appeared insubstantial. The true Advent had already taken place: the mind had come home to its source.

Soon after reaching Tiruvannamalai, young Ramana discarded his remaining money, food and clothing, had his head shaved, and surrendered himself to Arunachala. Yet even these acts were secondary. The deeper renunciation was the spontaneous withdrawal of attention from the body and the senses. He had no programme of austerity and no ambition to become a saint. He had no desires or wants whatsoever because all volitions had disappeared completely. His absorption was not cultivated for spiritual achievement, for indeed, there was no desire or want whatsoever in him. The mind, having sunk into its source, no longer emerged even to attend to bodily needs.

In the precincts of the great temple—the Thousand-Pillared Hall, Patala Lingam, Gopura Subrahmanya Shrine and the ground beneath the iluppai tree—young Brahmana Swami remained for long periods in profound samadhi. Food, sleep and bodily comfort lost their former hold. At times devotees placed food into his mouth because he was too absorbed to attend to eating.

At Patala Lingam, insects ate into the flesh of his legs and mischievous boys threw stones, yet he remained immersed in stillness. Seshadri Swami eventually discovered him in an almost corpse-like condition and helped bring him to safety.

Such a state should not be taken for unconsciousness. Bhagavan later described the condition as complete absorption where all dualities, thoughts, and distinctions had vanished. His samadhi meant that the separation between the knower, the act of knowing, and that which is known had completely dropped away. What appeared from outside as insensibility was inwardly a fullness beyond ordinary waking consciousness. In not actively seeking anything, identification with the body had lost its force, allowing the natural awareness of the Self to prevail.

At Gurumurtham, Brahmana Swami’s meditation continued without break for months. His hair became matted, his fingernails grew long, and his body weakened through minimal food. Ants crawled over and bit him, yet he scarcely moved. He instructed Palaniswami that he would open his eyes at noon to take food but did not wish to be disturbed otherwise. Eating was not a significant feature of his daily life but only a concession necessary to preserve the body.

Palaniswami’s presence became important because the young sage’s indifference to the body left him physically vulnerable. Weakness and dizziness sometimes caused him to fall when he tried to stand.

Palaniswami protected him, brought food and guarded his solitude. Yet all this remained peripheral. At the centre was the steady repose of awareness of the Self.

Tradition distinguishes savikalpa and nirvikalpa samadhi. In the former, subtle distinctions or objects of meditation remain; in the latter, dualistic perception and mental differentiation subside. Bhagavan emerged as one who had attained sahaja samadhi—the natural, permanent state where non-dual awareness is sustained effortlessly during everyday waking life, long after nirvikalpa samadhi has been mastered. 

 

Conclusion

 

Thus, Bhagavan’s first months at Arunachala were not chiefly a period of travel, settlement or outward renunciation. They were the flowering of the awakening that had begun in Madurai. Tiruvannamalai became the sacred enclosure in which that realisation was embodied. Bhagavan’s geographical Advent took only a few days; the deeper Advent was the disappearance of the separate self into the stillness of the Heart. The real Advent was therefore inward.

To say that Bhagavan “came” to Arunachala is therefore to say that he came home to the Self. The Hill outside and the Self within were not two. What devotees later saw as a silent youth seated in temple corners was, in truth, Arunachala absorbed in Arunachala—the Self resting naturally in its own unbroken light. This was Bhagavan’s Advent one hundred and thirty years ago.  —