Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam verse 2: When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent

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Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam verse 2: When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent

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In continuation of my previous two articles, Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam: Tamil text, transliteration and translation and Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam verse 1: When, by its wonderful act of grace, Arunachala enchanted and pulled my mind close, I saw as this is acalam, in this article I will explain and discuss the meaning and implications of the second verse:

கண்டவ னெவனெனக் கருத்தினு ணாடக்
      கண்டவ னின்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்
கண்டன னென்றிடக் கருத்தெழ வில்லை
      கண்டில னென்றிடக் கருத்தெழு மாறென்
விண்டிது விளக்கிடு விறலுறு வோனார்
      விண்டிலை பண்டுநீ விளக்கினை யென்றால்
விண்டிடா துன்னிலை விளக்கிட வென்றே
      விண்டல மசலமா விளங்கிட நின்றாய்.

kaṇḍava ṉevaṉeṉak karuttiṉu ṇāḍak
      kaṇḍava ṉiṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ
kaṇḍaṉa ṉeṉḏṟiḍak karutteṙa villai
      kaṇḍila ṉeṉḏṟiḍak karutteṙu māṟeṉ
viṇḍidu viḷakkiḍu viṟaluṟu vōṉār
      viṇḍilai paṇḍunī viḷakkiṉai yeṉḏṟāl
viṇḍiṭā duṉṉilai viḷakkiḍa veṉḏṟē
      viṇḍala macalamā viḷaṅgiḍa niṉḏṟāy.

பதச்சேதம்: கண்டவன் எவன் என கருத்தினுள் நாட, கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன். ‘கண்டனன்’ என்றிட கருத்து எழவில்லை; ‘கண்டிலன்’ என்றிட கருத்து எழுமாறு என்? விண்டு இது விளக்கிடு விறல் உறுவோன் ஆர், விண்டு இலை பண்டு நீ விளக்கினை என்றால்? விண்டிடாது உன் நிலை விளக்கிட என்றே விண் தலம் அசலமா விளங்கிட நின்றாய்.

Padacchēdam (word-separation): kaṇḍavaṉ evaṉ eṉa karuttiṉ uḷ nāḍa, kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ. ‘kaṇḍaṉaṉ’ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙa-v-illai; ‘kaṇḍilaṉ’ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙum-āṟu eṉ? viṇḍu idu viḷakkiḍu viṟal uṟuvōṉ ār, viṇḍu ilai paṇḍu nī viḷakkiṉai eṉḏṟāl? viṇḍiḍādu uṉ nilai viḷakkiḍa eṉḏṟē viṇ talam acalamā viḷaṅgiḍa niṉḏṟāy.

அன்வயம்: கண்டவன் எவன் என கருத்தினுள் நாட, கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன். ‘கண்டனன்’ என்றிட கருத்து எழவில்லை; ‘கண்டிலன்’ என்றிட கருத்து எழுமாறு என்? பண்டு நீ விண்டு இலை விளக்கினை என்றால், விண்டு இது விளக்கிடு விறல் உறுவோன் ஆர்? விண்டிடாது உன் நிலை விளக்கிட என்றே விண் தலம் அசலமா விளங்கிட நின்றாய்.

Anvayam (words rearranged in natural prose order): kaṇḍavaṉ evaṉ eṉa karuttiṉ uḷ nāḍa, kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ. ‘kaṇḍaṉaṉ’ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙa-v-illai; ‘kaṇḍilaṉ’ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙum-āṟu eṉ? paṇḍu nī viṇḍu ilai viḷakkiṉai eṉḏṟāl, viṇḍu idu viḷakkiḍu viṟal uṟuvōṉ ār? viṇḍiḍādu uṉ nilai viḷakkiḍa eṉḏṟē viṇ talam acalamā viḷaṅgiḍa niṉḏṟāy.

English translation: When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent. The mind did not rise to say ‘I saw’; in what way would the mind rise to say ‘I did not see’? Who has the power to elucidate this speaking, when in ancient times you elucidated without speaking? Only to elucidate your nature without speaking, you stood shining as a sky-earth hill.

Explanatory paraphrase: When investigating within the mind who the seer is, I saw what remained when the seer was [thereby found to be] completely non-existent. The mind did not rise to say ‘I saw’, [so] in what way could the mind rise to say ‘I did not see’? Who has the power to elucidate this [by] speaking, when in ancient times [as Dakshinamurti] [even] you elucidated [it] without speaking? Only to elucidate your nature [or state, namely pure, silent and motionless being-awareness] without speaking, you stood shining as a hill [or motionlessly] [between] sky and earth.

Padavurai (word-explanation): கண்டவன் (kaṇḍavaṉ): he who saw, the seer {masculine third person singular pronominal noun formed from kaṇḍa, the past adjectival participle of kāṇ, ‘see’ or ‘perceive’} | எவன் (evaṉ): which man, who | என (eṉa): that, thus, as {infinitive of eṉ, ‘say’, used here as a conjunctive adverb, but in this context not necessary to translate} | கருத்தினுள் (karuttiṉuḷ): within the mind {locative (seventh case) form of karuttu, ‘mind’, in which the locative ending uḷ means ‘inside’ or ‘within’} | நாட (nāḍa): when investigating {infinitive of nāḍu, ‘investigate’, ‘examine’, ‘search’ or ‘seek’, used idiomatically in the sense of ‘when investigating’} | கண்டவன் (kaṇḍavaṉ): he who saw, the seer | இன்றிட (iṉḏṟiḍa): when being completely non-existent, when [it] was completely non-existent, when [it] was [found to be] completely non-existent {infinitive of iṉḏṟiḍu, compound of iṉḏṟu, ‘not be’ or ‘not exist’, and the auxiliary verb iḍu, which in this case conveys the intensifying force of the adverb ‘completely’, used idiomatically in the sense of ‘when being completely non-existent’} | நின்றது (niṉḏṟadu): what stood, what remained {neuter third person singular pronominal noun formed from niṉḏṟa, the past adjectival participle of nil, ‘stand’, ‘stop’, ‘stay’ or ‘remain’} | கண்டேன் (kaṇḍēṉ): I saw {first person singular past tense form of kāṇ, ‘see’} >>> so this first sentence, ‘கண்டவன் எவன் என கருத்தினுள் நாட, கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍavaṉ evaṉ eṉa karuttiṉuḷ nāḍa, kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ), means ‘When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent’, which implies:

When investigating within the mind who the seer is, I saw what remained when the seer was [thereby found to be] completely non-existent.

<<< கண்டனன் (kaṇḍaṉaṉ): I saw {first person singular past tense of kāṇ, ‘see’} | என்றிட (eṉḏṟiḍa): to say {infinitive of eṉḏṟiḍu, compound of eṉḏṟu (the adverbial participle of eṉ, ‘say’) and the auxiliary verb iḍu, which conveys an intensifying force} | கருத்து (karuttu): the mind | எழவில்லை (eṙa-v-illai): did not rise {negative past tense form of eṙu, ‘rise’, ‘arise’ or ‘appear’} >>> so this second sentence, ‘கண்டனன் என்றிட கருத்து எழ இல்லை’ (kaṇḍaṉaṉ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙa-v-illai), means:

The mind did not rise to say ‘I saw’.

<<< கண்டிலன் (kaṇḍilaṉ): I did not see {negative first person singular past tense of kāṇ, ‘see’} | என்றிட (eṉḏṟiḍa): to say {as explained above} | கருத்து (karuttu): mind | எழுமாறு (eṙum-āṟu): rising way, way to rise, way in which [it] will rise, way in which [it] would rise {compound of eṙum, neuter third person future adjectival participle of eṙu, ‘rise’, and āṟu, ‘way’, ‘road’, ‘path’, ‘means’ or ‘manner’} | என் (eṉ): what {interrogative pronoun} >>> so this third sentence, ‘கண்டிலன் என்றிட கருத்து எழுமாறு என்?’ (kaṇḍilaṉ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙum-āṟu eṉ?), means:

In what way would the mind rise to say ‘I did not see’?

<<< விண்டு (viṇḍu): saying, telling, speaking {adverbial participle of viḷ, ‘open’, ‘unfold’, ‘blossom’, ‘expand’, ‘open mouth’, ‘say’, ‘tell’, ‘speak’, ‘reveal’, ‘make known’ or ‘make clear’} | இது (idu): this {proximal demonstrative pronoun} | விளக்கிடு (viḷakkiḍu): making clear, explaining, elucidating {root of this verb, which is formed from viḷakku, ‘light’, and iḍu, ‘put’, ‘distribute’ or ‘give’, used here in the sense of an adjectival participle} | விறல் (viṟal): strength, power {so ‘viḷakkiḍu viṟal’ means ‘elucidating power’ or ‘power to elucidate’} | உறுவோன் (uṟuvōṉ): he who has, one who has {pronominal noun formed from the verb uṟu, ‘be’, ‘happen’, ‘be attached to’, ‘join’, ‘touch’, experience’ or ‘gain access to’} | ஆர் (ār): who {interrogative pronoun} | விண்டிலை (viṇḍilai): not speaking, without speaking {compound of the adverbial participle viṇḍu, ‘speaking’, and ilai, poetic abbreviation of the tenseless verb illai, ‘no’ or ‘not’} | பண்டு (paṇḍu): former time, ancient time | நீ (nī): you {second person singular pronoun} | விளக்கினை (viḷakkiṉai): made clear, explained, elucidated {second person singular past tense form of viḷakku, ‘make clear’, ‘explain’ or ‘elucidate’} | என்றால் (eṉḏṟāl): if saying, if said {conditional form of eṉ, ‘say’, used in the sense ‘if so’, ‘if such is the case’ or ‘if it is the case that’, but here implying ‘when [or since] it is the case that’ or simply ‘when’ or ‘since’} >>> so this fourth sentence, ‘விண்டு இது விளக்கிடு விறல் உறுவோன் ஆர், விண்டு இலை பண்டு நீ விளக்கினை என்றால்?’ (viṇḍu idu viḷakkiḍu viṟal uṟuvōṉ ār, viṇḍu ilai paṇḍu nī viḷakkiṉai eṉḏṟāl?), means ‘Who has the power to elucidate this speaking, when in ancient times you elucidated without speaking?’, which implies:

Who has the power to elucidate this [by] speaking, when in ancient times [even] you [as Dakshinamurti] elucidated [it] without speaking?

<<< விண்டிடாது (viṇḍiḍādu): not speaking, without speaking {negative adverbial participle of viḷ, ‘say’, ‘tell’ or ‘speak’} | உன் (uṉ): your {inflectional base and genitive (sixth case) form of the second person singular pronoun} | நிலை (nilai): nature, state, standing, enduring, permanence, firmness | விளக்கிட (viḷakkiḍa): to elucidate {infinitive of viḷakkiḍu, ‘throw light upon’, ‘illumine’, ‘make clear’, ‘elucidate’ or ‘explain’, as explained above} | என்றே (eṉḏṟē): only saying, just {intensified adverbial participle of eṉ, ‘say’, used here in the sense ‘only’ or ‘just’} | விண் (viṇ): sky | தலம் (talam): earth {Tamil form of the Sanskrit sthala, ‘ground’, ‘dry land’, ‘earth’ or ‘place’} | அசலமா (acalamā): motionlessly, as a hill {compound of acalam, Tamil form of the Sanskrit acala, ‘motionless’, ‘immovable’, ‘hill’ or ‘mountain’, and the adverbial suffix ā, ‘being’ or ‘as’, which is often used in the same sense as the English suffix ‘ly’} | விளங்கிட (viḷaṅgiḍa): shining, shining forth, being clear {infinitive of viḷaṅgiḍu, ‘shine’, ‘shine forth’ or ‘be clear’ (compound of viḷaṅgu, ‘shine’, and the auxiliary verb iḍu, which in this case conveys the intensifying force of the adverb ‘forth’), but used here in an adverbial sense, ‘shining’ or ‘clearly’} | நின்றாய் (niṉḏṟāy): you stood {second person singular past tense form of nil, ‘stand’} >>> so this final sentence, ‘விண்டிடாது உன் நிலை விளக்கிட என்றே விண் தலம் அசலமா விளங்கிட நின்றாய்’ (viṇḍiḍādu uṉ nilai viḷakkiḍa eṉḏṟē viṇ ṭalam acalamā viḷaṅgiḍa niṉḏṟāy), means ‘Only to elucidate your nature without speaking, you stood shining as a sky-earth hill’, which implies:

Only to elucidate your nature [or state, namely pure, silent and motionless being-awareness] without speaking, you stood shining as a hill [or motionlessly] [between] sky and earth.

1. If we investigate ourself, the seer, keenly enough, we will cease to be the seer and remain as pure awareness
2. What we will see is not the disappearance of the seer but only what remains when it has ceased to appear
3. Seeing what remains when the seer has ceased to exist is an intransitive seeing, in which the seer, the seen and the seeing are just the same one awareness
4. To say either ‘I have seen’ or ‘I have not seen’ an ‘I’ must rise, so both are ground for ridicule
5. Only his grace, the infinite power of silence, can give us the clarity and love to understand his words and apply them in practice
6. As Dakshinamurti, Arunachala made the reality known only by silence, so who has the power to make it known just by words?
7. Arunachala is God in his ultimate role as guru, appearing in the form of this hill to make his nature clear in silence
8. Grace is the function of guru, by which he lovingly makes us aware of ourself as we actually are, thereby eradicating ego and taking charge of us completely

1. If we investigate ourself, the seer, keenly enough, we will cease to be the seer and remain as pure awareness

The first line of this second verse, ‘கண்டவன் எவன் என கருத்தினுள் நாட, கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍavaṉ evaṉ eṉa karuttiṉuḷ nāḍa, kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ), ‘When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was [thereby found to be] completely non-existent’, is a very clear and carefully worded description of the practice and ultimate result of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra). As he clarified in the sixteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, the practice of ātma-vicāra is just ‘சதாகாலமும் மனத்தை ஆத்மாவில் வைத்திருப்பது’ (sadā-kālam-um maṉattai ātmāvil vaittiruppadu), ‘always keeping the mind on oneself (ātmā)’, and to the extent to which we keep our mind (meaning our attention) on ourself, we as ego (the one who sees or knows all other things) will thereby subside, so if we keep our mind on ourself so keenly that we thereby cease to be aware of anything else whatsoever, we will dissolve forever back into our own motionless being, which is the source from which we have risen as ego.

That is, we seem to be ego only so long as we are seeing (meaning knowing, experiencing or being aware of) anything other than ourself, but if we look back at ourself to see what this ego is, we will find no such thing, as he implies in verse 17 of Upadēśa Undiyār, ‘மனத்தின் உருவை மறவாது உசாவ, மனம் என ஒன்று இலை’ (maṉattiṉ uruvai maṟavādu usāva, maṉam eṉa oṉḏṟu ilai), ‘When one investigates the form of the mind [namely its oḷi-y-uru or ‘form of light’, meaning its essential nature as the fundamental awareness ‘I am’] without forgetting, [it will be clear that] there is not anything as mind [but only this fundamental awareness]’, and in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: ‘தேடினால் ஓட்டம் பிடிக்கும்’ (tēḍiṉāl ōṭṭam piḍikkum), ‘If seeking, it will take flight’. Though ‘தேடினால்’ (tēḍiṉāl) means just ‘if seeking’ without in this case specifying who is to seek what, in this context it implies ‘if ego seeks its own reality by investigating who am I’, or in other words, ‘if ego seeks to know what it actually is by investigating itself’. ‘ஓட்டம் பிடிக்கும்’ (ōṭṭam piḍikkum), ‘it will take flight’, ‘it will flee’ or ‘it will run away’, implies that it will subside and dissolve back into its source, so this sentence implies that to the extent to which we attend to ourself, we as ego will thereby subside, and if we attend to ourself keenly enough, we will thereby dissolve forever back into our fundamental being-awareness (sat-cit), ‘I am’, which is the source from which we had risen.

This is what Bhagavan implies when he sings: ‘கண்டவன் எவன் என கருத்தினுள் நாட, கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍavaṉ evaṉ eṉa karuttiṉuḷ nāḍa, kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ), ‘When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent’. What remains when the seer (namely ego) ceases to exist is what we always actually are, namely sat-cit, pure being-awareness, which sees itself just by being itself, so what Bhagavan implies by saying ‘கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ), ‘I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent’, is that he remained as what remained, namely sat-cit, and thereby knew himself just by being himself, as he says in verse 26 of Upadēśa Undiyār: ‘தானாய் இருத்தலே தன்னை அறிதல் ஆம், தான் இரண்டு அற்றதால்’ (tāṉ-āy iruttal-ē taṉṉai aṟidal ām, tāṉ iraṇḍu aṯṟadāl), ‘Being oneself alone is knowing [or being aware of] oneself, because oneself is devoid of two’.

That is, our real state, in which we remain as sat-cit, is a state of infinite and indivisible oneness, meaning that we are ‘one only without a second’ (ēkam ēva advitīyam), so in that state there are not two things, one to know another. As he says in verse 23 of Upadēśa Undiyār, ‘உள்ளது உணர உணர்வு வேறு இன்மையின், உள்ளது உணர்வு ஆகும்’ (uḷḷadu uṇara uṇarvu vēṟu iṉmaiyiṉ, uḷḷadu uṇarvu āhum), ‘Because of the non-being of [any] awareness other [than what is] to be aware of what is, what is is awareness’, and this awareness (uṇarvu), which is what is (uḷḷadu), alone is what we actually are, as he points out in the second sentence of this same verse: ‘உணர்வே நாமாய் உளம்’ (uṇarvē nām-āy uḷam), ‘Awareness alone is as we’.

2. What we will see is not the disappearance of the seer but only what remains when it has ceased to appear

Having failed to pay careful attention to what Bhagavan actually says in this first line, ‘கண்டவன் எவன் என கருத்தினுள் நாட, கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍavaṉ evaṉ eṉa karuttiṉuḷ nāḍa, kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ), ‘When investigating within the mind who he who saw is, I saw what remained when he who saw was [thereby found to be] completely non-existent’, and having consequently failed to understand its deep and subtle meaning, some people have said or written that as a result of self-investigation (ātma-vicāra) we will eventually see the ‘I’-thought (meaning ego, the seer) disappear, but how would this be possible? We can see an object disappear, but we cannot see the subject disappear. If we have understood Bhagavan’s teachings correctly, it will be clear that seeing the disappearance of ego is a logical impossibility, because who could see it disappear? When ego ceases to exist, it will not be there to see its own cessation or disappearance (just as it is not present to see its disappearance at the exact moment that it subsides in sleep), and in the clear view of sat-cit, which alone is what will remain, no such thing as ego has ever existed or even seemed to exist, so how could it see the disappearance of what never existed? Ego seems to exist only in its own view, and only when it is attending to anything other than itself, because if it attends to itself keenly enough, it will see itself as sat-cit, which is eternal and immutable and which has therefore never risen as ego. If we look at what seems to be a snake carefully enough, we will see that it is just a rope and was therefore never anything other than that. Likewise, if we attend to ourself, who now seem to be ego, carefully enough, we will see that we are just sat-cit and have therefore never been anything other than that, so no such thing as ego has ever existed, meaning that it has never actually either appeared or disappeared.

As Bhagavan implies in this first line, all we will see when ego ceases to exist is what will then remain, namely ourself as we actually are, and we will see what we actually are by just being what we actually are. ‘Being what we actually are’ means being without rising as ego, as he describes it beautifully in the first sentence of verse 27 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu: ‘நான் உதியாது உள்ள நிலை நாம் அது ஆய் உள்ள நிலை’ (nāṉ’ udiyādu uḷḷa nilai nām adu-v-āy uḷḷa nilai), ‘The state in which I is without rising is the state in which we are as that’. That is, though we are eternally nothing other than what we actually are (namely brahman, the one infinite, eternal, immutable and indivisible reality, which is what is referred to in that verse as ‘that’), so long as we rise and stand as ego we seem to be something other than that, namely a body consisting of five sheaths (the physical form of the body, the life that animates it, and the mind, intellect and will that operate within it), so in order to be aware of ourself as we actually are, we need to cease rising as ego. And in order to cease rising as ego, we need to keenly investigate our own being, ‘I am’, which is the source from which we have risen as ego, as he implies unequivocally in the second sentence of the same verse by asking rhetorically: ‘நான் உதிக்கும் தானம் அதை நாடாமல், நான் உதியா தன்னிழப்பை சார்வது எவன்?’ (nāṉ udikkum thāṉam-adai nāḍāmal, nāṉ udiyā taṉ-ṉ-iṙappai sārvadu evaṉ?), ‘Without investigating the place where I rises, how to reach the annihilation of oneself, in which I does not rise?’

3. Seeing what remains when the seer has ceased to exist is an intransitive seeing, in which the seer, the seen and the seeing are just the same one awareness

We will permanently be without rising as ego only in the state that he describes in that verse of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu as ‘தன்னிழப்பு’ (taṉ-ṉ-iṙappu), ‘annihilation of oneself’, meaning annihilation of ego, which is the state he refers to in this present verse by the phrase ‘கண்டவன் இன்றிட’ (kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa), ‘when he who saw was completely non-existent’. Therefore, though he ended the first sentence of this verse by saying ‘கண்டவன் இன்றிட நின்றது கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍavaṉ iṉḏṟiḍa niṉḏṟadu kaṇḍēṉ), ‘I saw what remained when he who saw was completely non-existent’, in the second sentence he says ‘கண்டனன் என்றிட கருத்து எழ இல்லை’ (kaṇḍaṉaṉ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙa-v-illai), ‘The mind did not rise to say I saw’, thereby clarifying that the ‘I’ that is implicit in ‘கண்டேன்’ (kaṇḍēṉ), ‘I saw’, is not the rising ‘I’ (namely ego, the ‘I’ that rises conflated with adjuncts as ‘I am this body’) but only the being ‘I’ (namely the pure ‘I’, which neither rises nor subsides, being eternally bereft of adjuncts), which is what alone remains when ego has been found to be ever non-existent.

Since the mind does not rise when its root and essence, namely ego, the seer, has be found to be eternally non-existent, it does not exist either to say ‘I saw’ or to say ‘I did not see’, as he points out in the third sentence by asking rhetorically: ‘கண்டிலன் என்றிட கருத்து எழுமாறு என்?’ (kaṇḍilaṉ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙum-āṟu eṉ?), ‘In what way would the mind rise to say I did not see?’. Seeing what remains when the seer has ceased to exist is a ‘seeing’ that is radically different to any other kind of seeing, because it is an intransitive seeing, meaning that it is a seeing (an awareness) in which there is no object of sight, and hence it transcends all pairs of opposites such as ‘seeing’ and ‘not seeing’. In any other kind of seeing three things (a tripuṭī or triad) are involved, namely a seer, something that is seen and the act of seeing, whereas in this intransitive seeing the seer is just awareness, what is seen is just the same awareness, and the seeing is also just the same awareness, so they are one and indivisible. Intransitive seeing is not an act of seeing but a state of just being, so it is eternal and immutable, and hence it is the one real seeing, which underlies the appearance of all other kinds of seeing or not seeing.

4. To say either ‘I have seen’ or ‘I have not seen’ an ‘I’ must rise, so both are ground for ridicule

This is therefore what he implies in these two sentences, in which he sings ‘கண்டனன் என்றிட கருத்து எழ இல்லை. கண்டிலன் என்றிட கருத்து எழுமாறு என்?’ (kaṇḍaṉaṉ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙa-v-illai. kaṇḍilaṉ eṉḏṟiḍa karuttu eṙum-āṟu eṉ?), ‘The mind did not rise to say I saw. In what way would the mind rise to say I did not see?’, and he implies the same in verse 33 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu:

என்னை யறியேனா னென்னை யறிந்தேனா
னென்ன னகைப்புக் கிடனாகு — மென்னை
தனைவிடய மாக்கவிரு தானுண்டோ வொன்றா
யனைவரனு பூதியுண்மை யால்.

eṉṉai yaṟiyēṉā ṉeṉṉai yaṟindēṉā
ṉeṉṉa ṉahaippuk kiḍaṉāhu — meṉṉai
taṉaiviḍaya mākkaviru tāṉuṇḍō voṉḏṟā
yaṉaivaraṉu bhūtiyuṇmai yāl.

பதச்சேதம்: ‘என்னை அறியேன் நான்’, ‘என்னை அறிந்தேன் நான்’ என்னல் நகைப்புக்கு இடன் ஆகும். என்னை? தனை விடயம் ஆக்க இரு தான் உண்டோ? ஒன்று ஆய் அனைவர் அனுபூதி உண்மை ஆல்.

Padacchēdam (word-separation): ‘eṉṉai aṟiyēṉ nāṉ’, ‘eṉṉai aṟindēṉ nāṉ’ eṉṉal nahaippukku iḍaṉ āhum. eṉṉai? taṉai viḍayam ākka iru tāṉ uṇḍō? oṉḏṟu āy aṉaivar aṉubhūti uṇmai āl.

English translation: Saying [either] ‘I do not know myself’ [or] ‘I have known myself’ is ground for ridicule. Why? To make oneself a viṣaya [an object, something known by the knower as distinct from itself], are there two selves [a knowing self and a known self]? Because being one is the truth, the experience of everyone.

What we actually are is just awareness (in the sense of what is aware), and since we could not be aware without being aware that we are aware, we are always aware of ourself, so if we say ‘I do not know myself’, that is not only untrue but also ridiculous. Since we are never not aware of ourself, ātma-jñāna (self-knowledge or self-awareness) is not something that we are yet to attain but is our very nature, so what is called the attainment of ātma-jñāna is actually not gaining anything but losing everything along with its root, namely ego, which is merely a false awareness of ourself (an awareness of ourself as a body, which is not we actually are), and when ego is lost there is no one left to say ‘I have known myself’, because what remains is just what we actually are, which is pure, infinite, eternal and immutable awareness. Saying ‘I have known myself’ is therefore as ridiculous as saying ‘I do not know myself’.

We can truly say of any viṣaya (object or phenomenon) either ‘I know it’ or ‘I do not know it’, because viṣayas are things that appear and disappear in our view (meaning in the awareness that we are), so they are distinct from ourself and can therefore be either known or not known by us, and also because each viṣaya is viśēṣa (distinctive), meaning that it has certain features or facts about it of one kind or another that distinguish it from each other viṣaya, and each of its features or facts is something that we can either know or not know. However we as awareness are not a viṣaya, we do not appear or disappear, we are not distinct from ourself, and we are nirviśēṣa (non-distinctive), meaning that we are not limited by any distinguishing features or facts, since all features and facts appear and disappear within us, so we are not something that can be known at one time but not known at another time. We are svayam-prakāśa (self-shining), meaning that we know ourself by our own light of awareness without ever depending on any other thing, so we know ourself eternally and immutably just by being the awareness that we are.

Not only are we not a viṣaya, but we also can never become a viṣaya or be made into a viṣaya, because as we all know from our own experience, we are one and indivisible, so we can never be divided from ourself in order to know ourself as something distinct from ourself as the knower. Whatever we know as something in any way distinct from ourself is necessarily other than ourself, so no viṣaya can be ourself, and hence we can never be a viṣaya. We who know ourself and we who are known by ourself are one and the same self — one and the same ‘I’. This is why in this verse of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan asks rhetorically ‘தனை விடயம் ஆக்க இரு தான் உண்டோ?’ (taṉai viḍayam ākka iru tāṉ uṇḍō?), ‘To make oneself a viṣaya, are there two selves?’, implying that we are not two but only one, so we can never know ourself as an object (viṣaya), because we always experience ourself as one and could never experience ourself as two, as he points out in the final sentence of this verse: ‘ஒன்று ஆய் அனைவர் அனுபூதி உண்மை ஆல்’ (oṉḏṟu āy aṉaivar aṉubhūti uṇmai āl), ‘Because being one is the truth, the experience of everyone’.

5. Only his grace, the infinite power of silence, can give us the clarity and love to understand his words and apply them in practice

However, though the truth is so clear and simple, when we rise and stand as ego we mistake ourself to be a viṣaya, or rather a set of viṣayas, namely a body consisting of five sheaths (the physical form of the body, the life that animates it, and the mind, intellect and will that operate within it), and hence we are seemingly covered by a veil of ignorance, which makes what is real seem unreal and what is clear seem unclear. Through the words of his teachings that he has given us in the form of texts such as Śrī Aruṇācala Aṣṭakam and Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu Bhagavan has clearly shown us the means by which we can remove this veil of ignorance in the form of ego, but though his words are very powerful, they can only point us in the right direction, namely to turn back to face ourself alone, but they cannot by themselves remove our ignorance by making us see ourself as we actually are.

As he said, ‘According to the purity of the antaḥkaraṇa the same teachings reflect in different ways’, meaning that how we each understand and apply the teachings is determined by the purity of our ‘inner instrument’ (antaḥkaraṇa), which consists of mind (manas), intellect (buddhi), will (cittam) and ego (ahaṁkāra). To see that this is the case, we have only to consider the many different ways in which the prasthāna-traya (the three starting-points or source texts of Vēdānta, namely the Upaniṣads, Bhagavad Gītā and Brahma Sūtra) have been have been and still are interpreted. No matter how clear a radio signal may be, if it is received on a defective or poor-quality radio, the resulting sound will be unclear. Likewise, though Bhagavan has expressed his teachings extremely clearly both in writing and orally, how well each one of us is able to understand his words and apply them in practice will depend on the quality of our receiving set, namely our antaḥkaraṇa.

Therefore if we are to derive the full benefit of his teachings, we require great clarity of mind and heart, and such clarity comes from the infinite silence of pure being, which shines in our heart as grace, whose extremely subtle செயல் (seyal), ‘doing’, ‘working’ or ‘action’, he referred to in the previous verse when he exclaimed ‘அம்மா, அதிசயம் இதன் செயல் அறி அரிது ஆர்க்கும்’ (ammā, atiśayam idaṉ seyal aṟi aridu ārkkum), ‘Ah, its action is atiśaya [pre-eminent, extraordinary or wonderful], difficult for anyone to know [understand, appreciate or recognise]’. Without his grace, the infinite power of silence, therefore, we will not be able to understand his words and apply them in practice, so his real teaching is not just his words but the silence of pure being from which they emanated, as he indicated in verse 27 of Upadēśa Taṉippākkaḷ:

மௌனமுள் ளெழுமொரு மொழியரு ணிலையே.

mauṉamuḷ ḷeṙumoru moṙiyaru ṇilaiyē.

பதச்சேதம்: மௌனம் உள் எழும் ஒரு மொழி அருள் நிலையே.

Padacchēdam (word-separation): mauṉam uḷ eṙum oru moṙi aruḷ nilaiyē.

English translation: Silence is the very nature of grace, the one language that rises within.

Explanatory paraphrase: Silence is the very nature [or actual state] of grace, the one [single, non-dual, unique, unequalled and incomparable] language that rises within [eternally surging forth as the clear light of pure awareness, ‘I am’, waiting to swallow the mind as soon as it turns back within].

Silence is always shining in our heart as our own being, so it never rises or subsides, and hence it is in a metaphorical sense that he uses the adjectival participle ‘எழும்’ (eṙum), ‘rising’ or ‘that rises’, in this verse. That is, though silence (mauna) is pure being and therefore eternally motionless (acala), it is metaphorically said to be rising, surging or welling up in our heart because it is always shining so brightly, lively and clearly as ‘I am’ that it can never for a moment be unknown to us. Moreover, when we turn back within to face ourself alone, we will thereby subside back into the heart, and as soon as we subside completely, the silent power of grace will (metaphorically speaking) rise up to devour us, dissolving us forever back into itself.

6. As Dakshinamurti, Arunachala made the reality known only by silence, so who has the power to make it known just by words?

Since silence is the very nature of pure being, it alone can reveal to us the pure being that we actually are, as Bhagavan implies in the third line of this verse: ‘விண்டு இது விளக்கிடு விறல் உறுவோன் ஆர், விண்டு இலை பண்டு நீ விளக்கினை என்றால்?’ (viṇḍu idu viḷakkiḍu viṟal uṟuvōṉ ār, viṇḍu ilai paṇḍu nī viḷakkiṉai eṉḏṟāl?), ‘Who has the power to elucidate this speaking, when in ancient times you elucidated without speaking?’. By asking this rhetorical question, ‘விண்டு இது விளக்கிடு விறல் உறுவோன் ஆர்?’ (viṇḍu idu viḷakkiḍu viṟal uṟuvōṉ ār?), ‘Who has the power to elucidate this [by] speaking?’, he implies that no one can ever have the power to make the reality known by words alone, because even the most apt words will fail in their aim unless the power of silence gives the mind the clarity and love not only to understand their full import but also to put them into practice.

The second half of this third line, ‘விண்டு இலை பண்டு நீ விளக்கினை என்றால்’ (viṇḍu ilai paṇḍu nī viḷakkiṉai eṉḏṟāl), ‘when in ancient times you elucidated without speaking’, implies ‘when in ancient times [even] you [as Dakshinamurti] elucidated [it] without speaking’. Dakshinamurti (dakṣiṇāmūrti) is Lord Siva in the form of the ādi-guru (original guru), who appeared as a sixteen-year-old boy seated under a banyan tree facing southwards (the significance of facing southwards being that south is considered to be the direction ruled by Yama, the god of death, and Dakshinamurti vanquishes death by bestowing jñāna through the power of his silence), and Bhagavan once told his story as follows:

The four Sanakadi Rishis, Sanaka, Sanandana, Sanatana, and Sanatkumara, were the first progeny of Brahma, who created them from his mind with the intention that they should help him in his work of creation, but they were born so pure-hearted that they had no interest in such work. Instead, each of them wanted to know the reality behind the appearance of himself and everything else, so they began to wander in search or a guru who could teach them the nature of reality and the means to attain it. Continuing this search for many years, they grew old, but still they did not find the guru they were looking for until one day they saw a teenage boy seated under a banyan tree, and as soon as they saw him, they were attracted to him and recognised that he was the guru they had been looking for.

Approaching him, they did three pradakṣiṇas (circumambulations) around him, prostrated to him and, sitting at his feet, began to ask him questions. Because of his vātsalya (the affectionate love of a parent for their child) for his elderly disciples, the young Dakshinamurti was happy to see how very wise and deep their questions were, so he answered each of them. For each of his answers they asked a suitable follow-up question, seeking ever deeper clarity from him, so their questioning and his answering went on in this way for a year, progressively becoming deeper and subtler, until finally he saw that he had answered enough of their questions, because if he continued replying to them, there would be no end to the questions they could ask him, but their ignorance in the form of ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, would not thereby be destroyed. Therefore, curbing the vātsalya that had till then been welling up in his heart, he merged back in his mauna-svarūpa (his real nature, which is silence), and as soon as he merged, by the power of his silence they too merged into silence, finding it to be their own real nature (svarūpa).

Hearing Bhagavan narrate the story of Dakshinamurti in this way, Muruganar was wonderstruck and remarked that in the Purāṇas there is no mention of Dakshinamurti answering questions, to which Bhagavan replied, ‘No, but this is what actually happened’. As Muruganar said when talking about this many years later, Bhagavan was able to describe what happened so clearly and in so much detail because he is the same Lord Siva who had in ancient times appeared in the form of Dakshinamurti to quench the spiritual thirst of the Sanakadi Rishis.

Since even Dakshinamurti could not enable his extremely pure-hearted and spiritually ripe disciples to know the reality just by teaching them with words but only by silence, in this verse Bhagavan asks rhetorically, ‘விண்டு இது விளக்கிடு விறல் உறுவோன் ஆர், விண்டு இலை பண்டு நீ விளக்கினை என்றால்?’ (viṇḍu idu viḷakkiḍu viṟal uṟuvōṉ ār, viṇḍu ilai paṇḍu nī viḷakkiṉai eṉḏṟāl?), ‘Who has the power to elucidate this [by] speaking, when in ancient times [even] you [as Dakshinamurti] elucidated [it] without speaking?’, and likewise in verse 5 of Ēkāṉma Pañcakam:

எப்போது முள்ளதவ் வேகான்ம வத்துவே
யப்போதவ் வத்துவை யாதிகுரு — செப்பாது
செப்பித் தெரியுமா செய்தன ரேலெவர்
செப்பித் தெரிவிப்பர் செப்பு.

eppōdu muḷḷadav vēkāṉma vattuvē
yappōdav vattuvai yādiguru — seppādu
seppit teriyumā seydaṉa rēlevar
seppit terivippar ceppu.

பதச்சேதம்: எப்போதும் உள்ளது அவ் ஏகான்ம வத்துவே. அப்போது அவ் வத்துவை ஆதி குரு செப்பாது செப்பி தெரியுமா செய்தனரேல், எவர் செப்பி தெரிவிப்பர்? செப்பு.

Padacchēdam (word-separation): eppōdum uḷḷadu a-vv-ēkāṉma-vattuvē. appōdu a-v-vattuvai ādi-guru seppādu seppi teriyumā seydaṉarēl, evar seppi terivippar? seppu.

English translation: What always exists is only that ēkātma-vastu. If at that time the ādi-guru made that vastu known speaking without speaking, say, who can make it known speaking?

Explanatory paraphrase: What always exists is only that ēkātma-vastu [the one self-substance, namely oneself, the one real substance]. If at that time the ādi-guru [the original guru, Dakshinamurti] made that vastu known [only by] speaking without speaking, say, who can make it known [by] speaking?

When Bhagavan composed Ēkāṉma Vivēkam, the kaliveṇbā version of Ēkāṉma Pañcakam, by linking the five verses together as one, between the fourth verse and this one he added the phrase தனதொளியால் (taṉadoḷiyāl), which is a euphonic fusion of ‘தனது ஒளியால்’ (taṉadu oḷiyāl), ‘by its own light’, so with the addition of this phrase the first sentence of this verse was extended as ‘தனது ஒளியால் எப்போதும் உள்ளது அவ் ஏகான்ம வத்துவே’ (taṉadu oḷiyāl eppōdum uḷḷadu a-vv-ēkāṉma-vattuvē), ‘What always exists by its own light is only that ēkātma-vastu’, in which ‘ஏகான்மவத்து’ (ēkāṉma-vattu) is a Tamil form of the Sanskrit term ‘एकात्मवस्तु’ (ēkātma-vastu), ‘one self-substance’, which implies ourself as we actually are, which is the one real substance. Since this ēkātma-vastu is the only thing that exists always and by its own light of awareness, it alone is what is real, meaning that it alone is what actually exists, as Bhagavan wrote explicitly in the first sentence of the seventh paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, ‘யதார்த்தமா யுள்ளது ஆத்மசொரூப மொன்றே’ (yathārtham-āy uḷḷadu ātma-sorūpam oṉḏṟē), ‘What actually exists is only ātma-svarūpa’, in which ātma-svarūpa means ‘the real nature of oneself’ in the sense ‘ourself as we actually are’, so it is a synonym for ēkātma-vastu.

Since this ēkātma-vastu alone is what actually is, it is what we always actually are, even when we seem to have risen as ego. However, as ego we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, which is not what we actually are, so it is only by being aware of ourself as we actually are that we can eradicate this false awareness called ego. In order to be aware of ourself as we actually are, all we need to do is turn our entire attention back within to face ourself alone, but what prevents us doing so is our viṣaya-vāsanās, our intense liking for and interest in experiencing things other than ourself, namely viṣayas (objects or phenomena), and we have so much liking to experience them because they are the food that nourishes and sustains our seeming existence as ego, and on which ego therefore depends for its very survival.

All viṣayas are noise, because they appear as disturbances (albeit just seeming disturbances) in the infinitely, eternally and immutably calm space of pure being-awareness (sat-cit), which is the ēkātma-vastu, and the root of all such noise is the first noise, namely our rising as ego, so silence (mauna) is the state in which ego, the thought called ‘I’, does not ever rise at all, even to the slightest extent, as Bhagavan points out in the following portion of the sixth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?:

மனத்தை வெளிவிடாமல் ஹிருதயத்தில் வைத்துக்கொண்டிருப்பதற்குத்தான் ‘அகமுகம்’ அல்லது ‘அந்தர்முகம்’ என்று பெயர். ஹ்ருதயத்திலிருந்து வெளிவிடுவதற்குத்தான் ‘பகிர்முக’ மென்று பெயர். இவ்விதமாக மனம் ஹ்ருதயத்திற் றங்கவே, எல்லா நினைவுகளுக்கும் மூலமான நான் என்பது போய் எப்பொழுது முள்ள தான் மாத்திரம் விளங்கும். நான் என்னும் நினைவு கிஞ்சித்து மில்லா விடமே சொரூபமாகும். அதுவே ‘மௌன’ மெனப்படும். இவ்வாறு சும்மா விருப்பதற்குத்தான் ‘ஞான திருஷ்டி’ என்று பெயர். சும்மா விருப்பதாவது மனத்தை ஆன்மசொரூபத்தில் லயிக்கச் செய்வதே.

maṉattai veḷiviḍāmal hirudayattil vaittu-k-koṇḍiruppadaṯku-t-tāṉ ‘ahamukam’ alladu ‘antarmukham’ eṉḏṟu peyar. hrudayattilirundu veḷiviḍuvadaṯku-t-tāṉ ‘bahirmukham’ eṉḏṟu peyar. i-v-vidham-āha maṉam hrudayattil taṅgavē, ellā niṉaivugaḷukkum mūlam-āṉa nāṉ eṉbadu pōy eppoṙudum uḷḷa tāṉ māttiram viḷaṅgum. nāṉ eṉṉum niṉaivu kiñcittum illā v-iḍam-ē sorūpam āhum. adu-v-ē ‘mauṉam’ eṉa-p-paḍum. ivvāṟu summā v-iruppadaṯku-t-tāṉ ‘ñāṉa-diruṣṭi’ eṉḏṟu peyar. summā v-iruppadāvadu maṉattai āṉma-sorūpattil layikka-c ceyvadē.

The name ‘ahamukham’ [facing inside or facing I] or ‘antarmukham’ [facing inside] is only for keeping the mind in the heart [that is, keeping one’s mind or attention fixed firmly on the fundamental awareness ‘I am’, which is the core or heart of ego, the adjunct-conflated awareness ‘I am this body’] without letting [it go] out [towards viṣayas]. The name ‘bahirmukham’ [facing outside] is only for letting [it go] out from the heart [that is, letting one’s mind move outwards, away from ‘I am’ towards viṣayas]. Only when the mind remains [firmly fixed] in the heart in this way, will what is called ‘I’ [namely ego], which is the mūlam [root, foundation, cause or origin] for all thoughts, depart and oneself, who always exists, alone shine. Only the place where the thought called ‘I’ [namely ego] does not exist even a little is svarūpa [one’s real nature]. That alone is called ‘mauna’ [silence]. The name ‘jñāna-dṛṣṭi’ [‘knowledge-seeing’, seeing through the eye of real knowledge or pure awareness] is only for [or refers only to] just being in this way. What just being (summā-v-iruppadu) is is only making the mind dissolve [disappear or die] in ātma-svarūpa.

As Bhagavan explained, words arise from thoughts, thoughts arise from ego, and ego arises from ourself as we actually are, namely ātma-svarūpa, whose very nature is infinite silence (mauna), so words derive their power from thoughts, thoughts derive their power from ego, and ego derives its power from the silence of our own infinite being. Words are therefore the great-grandchildren of silence, as he humorously put it, so though they can point us back to what we actually are, in the sense that they can enable us to understand the way to return to it, they do not by themselves have the power to make us aware of ourself as we actually are. What has the power to do so is only silence, because silence alone is what we actually are.

7. Arunachala is God in his ultimate role as guru, appearing in the form of this hill to make his nature clear in silence

Though this one infinite silence of pure being is always shining in our heart as our fundamental awareness, ‘I am’, we seem to be not aware of it as it actually is because of our love to be aware of other things, which appear in our view only when we rise and stand as ego, the false awareness ‘I am this body’, whose nature is to always face outwards, ‘grasping form’ (uru-p-paṯṟi), as he points out in verse 25 of Uḷḷadu Nāṟpadu. Therefore, because of our lack of love to turn within to be aware of ourself alone, thereby ceasing to be aware of anything else whatsoever, it is necessary for silence to appear outside in the form of guru in order not only to teach us to turn within but also to make clear to us why we need to turn within.

Though guru generally appears in human form, as it has done by appearing in the form of Bhagavan Ramana, its primary teaching is silence, which does not require a human form, so it has also appeared in the form of Arunachala to teach us in silence, as Bhagavan points out in the final line of this verse: ‘விண்டிடாது உன் நிலை விளக்கிட என்றே விண் தலம் அசலமா விளங்கிட நின்றாய்’ (viṇḍiḍādu uṉ nilai viḷakkiḍa eṉḏṟē viṇ ṭalam acalamā viḷaṅgiḍa niṉḏṟāy), ‘Only to elucidate [or make clear] your nature without speaking, you stood shining as [this] sky-earth hill’. ‘விண் தலம் அசலம்’ (viṇ ṭalam acalam), ‘sky-earth hill’, implies not only a hill standing between sky and earth but also a hill that transcends the boundary between the infinite space of pure awareness (the ‘sky’) and this material world (the ‘earth’), thereby serving as a bridge by which we can cross over from the material nature of our present state of embodiment to our real nature as pure awareness. ‘உன் நிலை’ (uṉ nilai), ‘your nature’ or ‘your state’, implies what Arunachala actually is, namely infinite being-awareness (satyaṁ-jñānam-anantam), which is eternally motionless (acala) and hence perfect silence (mauna), so it is ultimately through silence, which is ‘speaking without speaking’, that he elucidates or makes this clear to us.

Infinite being-awareness is not only what Arunachala actually is but also what we actually are, so he makes his real nature clear to us by making us be aware of ourself as we actually are. It is only to make his real nature clear to us in this way that Lord Siva has appeared on earth in the form of Arunachala, so Arunachala is God in his ultimate role as guru, as Bhagavan says explicitly in verse 19 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai:

குற்றமுற் றறுத்தெனைக் குணமாய்ப் பணித்தாள்
      குருவுரு வாயொளி ரருணாசலா

kuṯṟamuṯ ṟaṟutteṉaig guṇamāyp paṇittāḷ
      guruvuru vāyoḷi raruṇācalā

பதச்சேதம்: குற்றம் முற்று அறுத்து எனை குணம் ஆய் பணித்து ஆள், குரு உரு ஆய் ஒளிர் அருணாசலா.

Padacchēdam (word-separation): kuṯṟam muṯṟu aṟuttu eṉai guṇam-āy paṇittu āḷ, guru-v-uru-v-āy oḷir aruṇācalā.

English translation: Arunachala, who shine as the form of guru, eradicating defects completely, making me as virtue, take charge.

‘குற்றம் முற்று அறுத்து’ (kuṯṟam muṯṟu aṟuttu), ‘eradicating defects completely’, implies eradicating all defects, including ego, which is the original defect and the root of all other defects, the seeds of which are ego’s viṣaya-vāsanās (inclinations to seek happiness in viṣayas, objects or phenomena); ‘எனை குணமாய் பணித்து’ (eṉai guṇam-āy paṇittu), ‘making me as guṇa’, implies making me be endowed with every guṇa (virtue or good quality), especially sadguṇa, the ultimate virtue of just being as we actually are without ever rising as ego even to the slightest extent; and ‘ஆள்’ (āḷ), ‘take charge’, implies take charge of me or take complete possession of me as your very own so that I may never again fall prey to the evil demon-ego (pēy-ahandai) and its horde of viṣaya-vāsanās. These three, namely eradicating ego and all its defects, making us endowed with sadguṇa and thereby taking complete charge of us are the function of guru, and Arunachala accomplishes them all by making its real nature, which is what we actually are, clear to us just by the silent power of its grace.

8. Grace is the function of guru, by which he lovingly makes us aware of ourself as we actually are, thereby eradicating ego and taking charge of us completely

Since Arunachala shines as the form of guru, taking complete charge of us in this way by eradicating ego and thereby making us just be as we actually are is its duty and responsibility, as Bhagavan says in verse 14 of Śrī Aruṇācala Akṣaramaṇamālai:

ஔவைபோ லெனக்குன் னருளைத் தந்தெனை
      யாளுவ துன்கட னருணாசலா

auvaipō leṉakkuṉ ṉaruḷait tandeṉai
      yāḷuva duṉkaḍa ṉaruṇācalā

பதச்சேதம்: ஔவை போல் எனக்கு உன் அருளை தந்து, எனை ஆளுவது உன் கடன் அருணாசலா.

Padacchēdam (word-separation): auvai pōl eṉakku uṉ aruḷai tandu, eṉai āḷuvadu uṉ kaḍaṉ aruṇācalā.

English translation: Arunachala, like a mother, giving your grace to me, taking charge of me is your duty [obligation or responsibility].

‘அருள்’ (aruḷ), ‘grace’, is that infinite love by the silent power of which what we actually are is made clear to us, so ‘எனக்கு உன் அருளை தந்து’ (eṉakku uṉ aruḷai tandu), ‘giving your grace to me’, implies lovingly making us aware of ourself as we actually are, thereby eradicating ego, and this is the means by which Arunachala takes charge or complete possession of us. This ultimate அருட்செயல் (aruḷ-seyal) or act of grace that Arunachala does silently in our heart is the செயல் (seyal), ‘doing’ or ‘action’, that he referred to when he exclaimed in the first line of the previous verse: ‘அம்மா, அதிசயம் இதன் செயல் அறி அரிது ஆர்க்கும்’ (ammā, atiśayam idaṉ seyal aṟi aridu ārkkum), ‘Ah, its action is atiśaya [pre-eminent, extraordinary or wonderful], difficult for anyone to know [understand, appreciate or recognise]’.

God is said to have five functions (pañcakṛtyas), namely creation (sṛṣṭi), sustenance (sthiti), dissolution (saṃhāra), hiding (tirobhāva) or veiling (tirodhāna), and grace (anugraha), and as Bhagavan says in the fifteenth paragraph of Nāṉ Ār?, all these happen ‘ஈசன் சன்னிதான விசேஷ மாத்திரத்தால்’ (īśaṉ saṉṉidhāṉa-viśēṣa-māttirattāl), ‘by just the special nature of the presence of God’, thereby implying that he does all these without actually doing anything but just by being as he always actually is. The first three of these divine functions, namely the creation, sustenance and dissolution of the entire world, happen only in the view of ourself as ego, and we could not rise or stand as ego if we knew ourself as we actually are, so the fourth function, namely hiding, veiling or concealing what we actually are, is like the darkness in a cinema, without which no picture (no creation, sustenance or dissolution) could be projected on the screen. Therefore, so long as we as ego have any liking or desire to experience viṣayas (objects or phenomena), God, who is what we actually are, keeps himself hidden from our view under a veil, namely the veil of our self-ignorance (avidyā or ajñāna), which is ego itself, the false awareness ‘I am this body’.

However, even when we are enveloped in this veil of self-ignorance, his grace is always working in our heart, gradually purifying our mind and thereby giving us the clarity to want with increasing intensity to subside and thereby surrender ourself completely to him, and at the same time it is allotting the fruits of our good and bad actions (karmas) in such a way that will be most conducive to this process of purification, the ultimate aim of which is to make us aware of what we actually are, thereby removing the veil of our self-ignorance. This subtle and silent working of his grace is the last of his five functions (pañcakṛtyas), and it is in his role as guru that he performs this function, so the role of guru is the ultimate role of God.

In the form of Arunachala, and equally in the form of Bhagavan Ramana, God is playing his ultimate role as guru. Though as Arunachala he appears in the form of a mountain, and though as Bhagavan he appears in human form, what he actually is is neither a mountain nor a human being but only the one infinite and therefore formless space of pure being-awareness (sat-cit). Nevertheless, these outward forms of his are embodiments of his grace, so they fulfil an extremely important function in the process of his grace turning our attention back within to make us see what remains when the seer has become completely non-existent.

When we rise and stand as ego, we are aware of ourself as ‘I am this body’, so we are not aware of ourself as the formless reality that we actually are, and by no act of our mind can we conceive that formless reality. Therefore until we turn our entire mind back within to face ourself alone, thereby merging forever in our own formless being, the outward forms of God or guru serve a valuable function as supports for us to cling to whenever our mind comes out, as he points out in the next verse