In the days after the appearance of Jagaswami and his crew of rogueish swamis in town, promising to relieve them of the lice scourge if they accepted him as God, the townsfolk had gone up to the young dark boy on the hill.
The boy ate sparingly, wore little, and spoke even less. Many could not understand this behavior. They were used to showy, arrogant swamis like Jagaswami and slightly eccentric (but well-meaning) ones like Seshadri Swami.
Seshadri swami told them to go to the boy on the hill (his younger brother, he lovingly called him) for help. And so they went.
They poured their hearts out to him. He heard them silently. Sometimes he shed tears as they cried. But mostly he was silent. He did not claim he could do anything.
But all those who came to him, retorned and found that they were cured of lice. And somehow they would not get it again. They came back to thank him, but he allowed no shows of gratitude.
Some of them just could not stop talking of his eyes. Such eyes they were, once you had peered into them (or they into you, it was just impossible to decide which) you could never forget them, or wish to look elsewhere. Once he had looked at you (or you at him) it was impossible to forget him.
Such was the little boy, lovingly called Brahman Swami or Chinnaswami (little swami).
And so gradually the lice scourge reduced and then just vanished. With that, most people got back to their lives and forgot the swami, assept a few faithfuls.
All this brought the little unnamed boy to the attention of one tapasvi (ascetic) Palaniswamy.
He came to the little boy and took care of him as a father would, his son.
Wherever the little boy went, he went, like a calf following its mother.
He cooked and cleaned for the young boy, and meditated in whatever time was left.
He himself was the epitome of renunciation, having with him only a towel to wear, and one or two spiritual texts.
Until his final breath he stayed and served the little swami with a devotion that this earth has rarely seen.
At the time of leaving his body, the little boy (now a renowned sage) held Palaniswami's head in his lap, lovingly, destroying his vasanas with his touch, and helped him immeasurably in his quest for liberation.
The young swami on the hill, an ocean of compassion, whose face shone like the sun, in time came to be known as Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
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5 comments:
I loved this post!
Weren't there two Palaniswamis?
How did they happen to have the same name? Did Bhagavan give them that name? What does "Palani" mean?
love, Tirucub
To my knowledge there was only one Palaniswami.
There were two Annamalai's though.
I am not sure of the meaning of Palani; just got this on internet:
Palani: Sacred Place in Tamil Nadu
But it must still have a meaning. It seems to be a tamil word. Anyone here know tamil ???
Palani is short for palam (thaan) nee.
Which is to be really translated as nee (thaan) palam.
This means you (yourself are) the fruit.
The fruit here is the supreme knowledge.
The supreme knowledge is usually denoted as Shiva or reality or the non dual knowledge.
So putting all these together, it means you, Muruga or the Lord of the hill named Palani in TamilNadu, India, yourself are Shiva, your father.
(Compare this with something similar Jesus was claimed to have said ...I and My Father are one.)
NOTE: palam (pronounced as pazham, say it by sweeping the tip of the tongue gently from the centre of the mouth cavity to the lips, taking care not to pronounce the l at all), thaan and nee are words from one of the four South Indian languages, Tamil, which is said to be older than Sanskrit, the oldest of the Indo-Germanic parent language.
thank you, dear Muralidharan for giving us the meaning.
and also for telling us the way to pronounce the name.
Namo Ramanaaya.
Yes, thank you, Muralidharan, for answering our question.
~ tirucub and brothers
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