In the first two issues we saw how Ramanagiri came to India after a long search marked by solitude, moral seriousness, personal loss, and dissatisfaction with conventional religion. Influenced by Swami Vivekananda, he arrived in India in 1947 and spent time in Almora with the Danish mystic Sunyata, who recognized his sincerity and directed him to Bhagavan Sri Ramana.
Per reached Tiruvannamalai in January 1949. Sitting silently in Bhagavan’s darshan hall, he absorbed teachings that turned attention away from speculative thought toward the inquiry, “Who am I?” A letter attributed to him describes how he practised in the caves of Arunachala:
I sat with closed eyes and asked constantly: ‘Who am I?’ Thoughts came like visitors and tried to distract me. Each time I answered them with the Lord’s name until the mind grew quiet and merged into stillness.[1]
While at Ramanasramam, Per had a dream in which Bhagavan appeared as light and answered his doubts. Following forty days of inquiry, on 26th February 1949—Mahasivaratri night, Per underwent a decisive breakthrough in Bhagavan’s presence. Per later writes:
Out of all human beings, 108 are chosen. Out of these 108, nine are selected. Out of these nine, seven go mad. One goes knowingly back to maya, and one goes to the Supreme.[2]
Bhagavan’s Devotees
Among the many devotees who passed through Sri Ramanasramam in early 1949 were individuals who later played important roles in Per’s life. Photographs from 1949 show him with Dr. TNK, the lawyer S. Doraiswamy Iyer, and Ramana’s attendant Vaikunta Vasar.
Later that spring as temperatures rose in South India, Per made his way northward to stay with Sunyata. During this period Per continued his spiritual practice centred on inquiry and underwent several initiatory experiences that prepared him for renunciant life. He stayed with Sunyata in the summers of 1948, 1949, and 1950.
Per is thought to have undergone monastic initiation in the Dasanami monastic order, an ancient lineage said to be founded by Adi Shankara. Under the guidance of a guru belonging to the Giri branch of the order, Per received diksha. Formal renunciation entailed abandoning personal possessions and wearing the ochre robes of a wandering monk. From that point forward he was known simply as Giri. He renounced family ties, social identity, and material security in order to dedicate himself entirely to meditation, study, and the path of realization.[3]
Sunyata later wrote that Bhagavan Ramana had given Per the name Ramanagiri. This is unlikely as Bhagavan Ramana was not in the habit of changing people’s names. A more likely scenario is that Per adopted the name voluntarily, adding “Ramana” to the monastic title “Giri” he had already received from his initiating guru. The new name symbolized a decisive break with his earlier life. He had left behind his country, language, and social identity to follow the path of renunciation.
Local accounts claim that Ramanagiri attained enlightenment in 1949, but we know from his own testimony that he continued practising self-inquiry after this experience, which would suggest the breakthrough in Bhagavan’s darshan hall had been an important opening but not realisation.
Pada Yatra
It seems that Ramanagiri’s movements during the remainder of 1949 included a long pada yatra (pilgrimage by walking) through southern India, visiting temples across Tamil Nadu and Kerala. The journey would have likely brought him to Tiruchendur, Palani, and Vadipatti near the Sirumalai hills, where his own ashram later came up.[4]
Bhagavan’s Mahanirvana
While Ramanagiri was on pilgrimage in South India, Bhagavan’s condition worsened and was diagnosed as malignant sarcoma. Several operations were performed, along with radium, homeopathic, herbal, and Ayurvedic treatments, but the tumour repeatedly appeared and eventually spread throughout the body. Despite severe pain, anaemia, and physical weakness, Bhagavan remained serene, light-hearted, and utterly unconcerned. When amputation of the arm was suggested, he refused, saying, “The body is itself a disease. Let it have its natural end.”[5]
Throughout the illness, Bhagavan submitted to treatments, not from personal desire to be cured, but to calm the fears of devotees. He repeatedly taught that the body was not essential, and that the Self could neither suffer nor die. He accepted bodily pain without identifying with it. He continued as long as possible his normal Ashram duties, namely, correspondence, publications, and attention to devotees.
Even in the final days, Bhagavan insisted that his devotees be allowed darshan morning and evening. He comforted those who feared his death, saying, “They say I am dying, but I am not going away. Where could I go?”[6]
On the final evening, while devotees sang ‘Arunachala Siva’, Bhagavan’s eyes opened, tears of bliss appeared, and his breathing quietly stopped.
The next day his body was interred between the Old Hall and the Matrubhuteswara Temple, where his samadhi became a place of meditation. Government archival video footage shows Swami Ramanagiri paying his respects.
Pondicherry
Following Bhagavan’s physical departure, most devotees took leave from the Ashram. It was as though they could not bear being in Bhagavan’s Ashram without Bhagavan in the physical form.
In coming years, however, devotees would return, saying they felt not absence but a deepened presence as Bhagavan’s living grace and guidance somehow mysteriously remained at the Ashram.
In late April, Ramanagiri travelled to Pondicherry. At that time, Henri Cartier-Bresson was visiting Aurobindo Ashram. Sri Aurobindo, then seventy-eight years old, rarely appeared in public, but Cartier-Bresson managed to photograph him together with his collaborator Mirra Alfassa, known as “the Mother.” The photographer had only recently documented the Maharshi’s final days.
Among the images from Pondicherry is a photograph dated 23rd April, 1950, showing Ramanagiri bowing respectfully before the Mother and handing her a note. The contrast between Bhagavan Ramana and Sri Aurobindo impressed Ramanagiri:
This Aurobindo expresses the most complicated thing in a complicated way. This Bhagavan Ramana expresses the simplest thing in a simple way.[7]
The remark highlights the difference between the two. Aurobindo emphasized a collective transformation of humanity through the descent of higher consciousness. Bhagavan Sri Ramana focused on an inward search for the Self through inquiry and simplicity.
Madras
Swami Ramanagiri’s biographer tells us that during this time Ramanagiri stayed in Madras with Srinivasa Parthasarathy, a wealthy supporter who became both patron and father-figure. From a prominent family, Parthasarathy was the brother of Gandhian activist Ambujammal and later became Swami Anvananda, founding a temple to the Divine Mother at Ambattur, Chennai. Through him, Ramanagiri entered a circle of educated devotees, including K. C. Sastri of Prithvi Insurance. These connections gave practical support and deepened Ramanagiri’s devotional interest in Arunagirinathar and his Thiruppugazh—the devotional verses on Lord Murugan.
Vision on the Beach
A dramatic episode occurred on the beach south of Madras near the Theosophical Society at Adyar.
Ramanagiri was walking in the gardens near the Theosophical Library when he experienced a vision of Bhagavan Ramana, who beckoned him to follow. He walked south along the shoreline to the fishing village of Tiruvanmiyur, where he sat down to meditate. On the subject of meditation Ramanagiri later wrote:
It’s a play with toys, but not a play for children. It is a mad play, and when one doesn’t know it’s a play, one suffers badly. Meditation is … not for the weak.[8]
When his host in Madras could not locate him, a search was organized. Eventually he was found motionless in deep meditation on the beach. A small palm-leaf shelter was constructed to protect him from the sun.
Ramanagiri reportedly refused to leave, saying that Bhagavan had instructed him to remain there.[9]
During this time, he lived in extreme simplicity. Food was brought to him, though he often gave it away to fishermen who gathered around him. He later mused:
Learning is learned ignorance. Unlearning is learning.[10]
Eleanor Noye
In the years prior to Ramanagiri’s arrival in India, the American, Eleanor Pauline Noye came to Bhagavan on a journey that “began in anguish”. Though the exact source of her suffering is uncertain, she became known at Ramanasramam as the “weeping widow”. There was talk that she had been abandoned by her husband, a New York banker. Years of grief and sleeplessness left her physically and emotionally broken. Feeling inwardly urged to travel, she tried to sail for India but repeatedly fell ill. At last, with great effort, she reached Sri Ramanasramam in late 1939.
Her first meeting with Bhagavan was transformative. After years of insomnia, she slept soundly on her first night at the Ashram. Her strength returned, her mood lifted, and she felt Bhagavan’s peace enter her heart.
A few days later, as Bhagavan came down the Hill, he asked in English, “Do you have more peace now?” She replied, “Yes, I do.”
Her devotion deepened quickly. Bhagavan told her, “Get rid of the notion ‘I am impure’. The Self is ever pure.”
When the time came for her to return to America, she found herself unable to board the ship in Madras, cancelled her ticket at the harbour, and came straight back to Tiruvannamalai, feeling she was returning home.
Ashram life became her joy. However, in 1940, family duties drew her back to America, but she remained inwardly connected through letters, awaiting the opportunity to return to the Ashram.
In 1949, Eleanor finally got her chance. She had learned that Bhagavan was not well and made the determination to come. She took a steamer through the Suez Canal and when she reached Madras, took the train to Tiruvannamalai.
She stayed with the Maharshi up to and beyond Bhagavan’s Mahanirvana. Afterward, while overnighting in Madras, she had a dream where she was instructed to feed two sadhus living on the beach nearby in Tiruvanmiyur. She didn’t know from the dream who the sadhus were. As it turned out, both were connected with Bhagavan, namely, Vakeel Swami (Swami Suresananda) and Ramanagiri, who she knew from the Ashram. The two sadhus were living on fruits and tender coconuts, but had nothing to eat that day. They would have had to walk two miles to reach the nearest village.[11] Suresananda’s biographer narrates:
Reluctantly the two remained hungry, but soon there was a knock at the hut door. A lady with a big tiffin carrier had brought cooked rice meals for both the swamis. She had come as a result of a dream which had directed her to serve them. The lady was Eleanor Noye, an American devotee of Sri Bhagavan.[12]
A Letter to Sunyata
Ramanagiri described his beach experiences in a letter to his friend Sunyata:
I have sailed away to a place which cannot be described by words…Some call it nirvikalpa, others satchitananda or God. The steamer that carried me there is called the mind.[13]
In the letter he recounts how, while visiting the Theosophical Library, he saw Ramana Maharshi appear before him and guide him toward the sea. During the night, kundalini energy rose to the crown of the head and the individual self merged into the Self. The sound of the ocean waves chanting ‘Om’ gradually brought him back to ordinary awareness.
When he regained consciousness, he discovered that much of his memory had vanished. Events from early life seemed distant and unreal. Gradually, however, memories connected with spiritual experience began returning. The episode marked a turning point.
Sunyata Comments
Sunyata later interpreted Ramanagiri’s letter as the culmination of the young seeker’s spiritual journey. Sunyata praised Ramanagiri who had come a long way on the spiritual path in only eight years.
Sunyata believed that the intense sadhana had been too much for the body which contributed to Ramanagiri’s early demise. Western seekers, he argued, often practiced too rigorously without the gradual grounding recommended in traditional teachings. Nevertheless, Sunyata regarded Ramanagiri as a rare individual who had become “one in a million,” a seeker who had crossed beyond ego into boundless awareness.
Despite such praise, Ramanagiri himself insisted that he was not a guru. He often told visitors:
Bhagavan Ramana did not entrust me with a mission to make disciples.I am no one’s guru, and no one is my disciple.[14]
Nevertheless, people gathered around him. In one of his notebooks, he wrote humorously:
Why people come to this ignorant fool, God only knows. He cannot cure diseases, make people rich, or fly through the air.[15]
Despite Ramanagiri’s reluctance, the quiet intensity of his presence drew others. A small circle gradually formed around him: K. C. Sastri, Ramu, Kalyanam, and several devotees in Almora and Bombay. Many maintained contact through letters. Ramanagiri’s correspondence shows a mixture of spiritual guidance and practical advice. K. C. Sastri received detailed instructions on meditation and observation of the breath during self-inquiry. Others were encouraged to strengthen their bodies and minds in preparation for deeper practice.
Ramanagiri Ashram
Around 1952, Ramanagiri began to establish his own ashram. Letters from that period reveal the vision of a small spiritual community supported by agriculture. The aim was simple—a place where seekers could live quietly, meditate, and cultivate the land for food.
With the help of Balu (Balasubbiah), land was eventually purchased near Vadugapatti, north of Madurai. Balu arranged the legal registration since Ramanagiri was still a Swedish citizen.
The location was chosen after Ramanagiri had an experience of directly seeing Bhagavan Ramana’s feet beneath a banyan tree near the Sirumalai hills. The place was therefore named Ramana Padam—“the feet of Ramana.”
By early 1953 several acres had been purchased. Ramanagiri envisioned rice fields, vegetable gardens, and fruit trees that would allow the community to live independently while also feeding the poor.
Construction progressed slowly but steadily. The site was bustling with activity—labourers carried earth for foundations, and wells were dug to provide water.
Ramanagiri joked to one correspondent that the once quiet place had become “a dusty city.”
Despite the work, he continued to guide visitors. Some came sincerely seeking help; others came out of curiosity to see what he called “the half-naked Westerner.” In June 1953 he settled permanently at the new site.
Daily life at Ramanagiri’s ashram began before dawn with puja, japa, yoga and meditation. From new moon to full moon, he observed strict silence and seclusion, receiving food through a small opening. Meals were simple and vegetarian; leftovers fed the poor. He regularly visited Madurai’s Meenakshi Temple.Tuberculosis
During his years at Kutladampatti where Ramana Padam Ashram is located, Ramanagiri’s health steadily declined. As early as autumn 1950, he sought medical help in Madras, later describing his illness not merely as physical but as the exhaustion of karmic residues in the body. Tuberculosis was still widespread at the time and often fatal. Though new treatments had begun to appear in the late 1940s, resistance was common. Whether Ramanagiri received the latest treatment is uncertain. Some accounts suggest he may have contracted the disease during a period of intense austerity and meditation on the seashore near Madras in 1950. Photographs from this period onwards show him noticeably thin and weakened.
Yet Ramanagiri accepted the illness with remarkable ease, seeing bodily suffering as part and parcel of the burning away of karmas. For him, the body’s decline was not central; the Self remained ever untouched. Despite worsening health, he continued receiving visitors and offering guidance as long as his strength permitted. He also abounded in joy:
O Father, let every human being be happy. Let every creature have peace and blessings. Help the parents who once gave me a gross form to realise You.[16]
Final Days
By 1955 Ramanagiri’s health had become severely compromised. During his final weeks he stayed at the Ramalinga Tuberculosis Sanatorium, 175 km away in Perundurai, near Erode, and is reported to have passed away there.[17] Even in extreme weakness he remained cheerful. When visitors worried about him, he reportedly said, “It is the body that suffers. I am fine.”
Shortly before his departure, he lay quietly assisted by a close disciple, and entered deep meditation. It is said that he heard Bhagavan Ramana calling him, “We may go.”
Swami Ramanagiri breathed his last on 23rd May 1955. His body was taken to Ramana Padam, the site he had named in honour of his guru, and was interred. A Siva lingam was installed at the site.
Following the departure of Swami Ramanagiri, the ashram he founded grew, eventually reach four hectares, remaining under Balu’s family care.
Swami Ramanagiri left only a small body of writings, mainly aphorisms and letters later compiled as Cold Fire and Foolish Wisdom by a Wise Fool. His teaching emphasized direct experience over speculation— religion had to be practised, not merely discussed.
At its heart was Bhagavan Ramana’s self-inquiry, by which attention is turned inward until the separate ego dissolves. Ramanagiri stressed silence, seclusion, watchfulness, and ethical discipline, warning that the ego manipulates emotion and justifies selfishness. His final instruction was simple: “My last word is — BE.”[18]
For him, true bliss was not a passing feeling but the ground of being. Yet even bliss could not be possessed:
To become bliss is very different from merely enjoying it.[19]
(series concluded)
References and Footnotes
[1] Dancing with the Void, p. 59.
[2] Cold Fire, (trans. from Swedish by Ulf Odehammar).
[3] Ulf Odehammar.
[4] Odehammar notes that a residence permit issued in Benares on 8th September 1949 allowed him to remain in India for another year.
[5] Arthur Osborne, Maha Nirvana.
[6] This section adapted from Arthur Osborne’s Maha Nirvana.
[7] Foolish Wisdom by a Wise Fool, as indicated by Ulf Odehammar.
[8] Cold Fire, (trans. from Swedish by Ulf Odehammar).
[9] See Ulf Odehammar at: <https://tinyurl.com/mr3dfz35>.
[10] Cold Fire op cit.
[11]Saranagati, May 2021, pp. 3-6 and June 2021, pp. 3-8. In the Noye account, the meeting on the beach takes place in early 1949 but more likely it took place after Bhagavan’s Mahanirvana, in April 1950.
[12] “Swami Suresananda: A True Devotee of Bhagavan”, The Mountain Path, July 2008, p. 88.
[13] Sunyata, Dancing with the Void, p. 58.
[14] “Swami Ramanagiri: A Tribute”, Prof. K.C. Sastri in The Mountain Path, April 1986, pp.71-74; and from Ramanagiri’s Notebook, letter draft, 1952–53, as cited in Ulf Odehammar’s account.
[15] Notebook op. cit.
[16] Cold Fire op cit.
[17] Odehammar says that some records list Madras as the place of death while local tradition maintains that he passed away in Perundurai.
[18]17 See <https://tinyurl.com/mr3dfz35>, soon to come in book form. On this site, find, “The Life and Foolish Wisdom of a Swedish Siddha”.
[19] Cold Fire op cit.
