When the Search Became a Seva
After writing yesterday’s post, one memory kept coming back to me.
I had gone looking for Swamy Rāmānuja. But somewhere along the way, the search itself became a form of service.
I did not realise this when I first started.
At Tirukkurungudi, the old priest had simply told me:
“Keep reciting Śrīmate Rāmānujāya Namaḥ.” I started doing it.
Then I wanted to know more about the Acharyar.
Who was He?
How did He live?
Whom did He meet?
What did He teach?
How did He transform people?
Why did so many great souls surrender themselves completely at His feet?
The questions kept coming.
And I wanted answers.
So I started searching.
Books.
CDs.
Old writings.
Stories of the Acharyas.
Places connected with Him.
Every little piece of information I could find became precious to me.
Sometimes I would read something late at night and suddenly close my eyes and try to imagine the scene.
I could almost see the young Rāmānuja walking.
I could see His disciples around Him.
I could imagine the temples as they must have been centuries ago.
I could imagine the conversations between the Acharyar and His disciples.
The more I read, the more alive He became to me.
It was no longer history.
It became something very personal.
I wanted to share what I was discovering
Slowly another thought came.
If these stories were giving me so much happiness, why should I keep them only to myself?
I began writing about Swamy Rāmānuja. One incident led to another.
I would visualise the episode first and then try to put that feeling into words.
Sometimes I would wonder whether anyone would actually read what I had written.
But devotees started calling.
They would say that while reading the post, they could actually visualise the scene.
Some would tell me that they had never looked at that particular incident in that way before.
Those calls gave me tremendous happiness.
Not because people were praising my writing. I felt something else.
Perhaps the Acharyar was allowing me to share a little of what He had given me.
That was enough.
The Acharyar on the Altar
Meanwhile, Swamy Rāmānuja had become part of our daily life.
He was no longer only in the books I was reading.
He was standing before me in our Thiruvengadam.
Every morning I could see Him. I could recite His name before Him.
I could fall at His lotus feet.
I could speak to Him.
Sometimes I would simply sit before Him without saying anything.
There are some relationships where words are not necessary.
I felt that this was slowly becoming one of them.
I had wanted a deity. Perumal had given me the Acharyar.
And then, as I shared yesterday, the Acharyar did not come alone.
The Āḻvārs came.
The Acharyas came. The Śāligrāmas came.
The home slowly became a place where I could spend time in their presence.
Something else started happening
The more I read about the Acharyas, the more uncomfortable I became with myself.
Not in a negative way.
But I began seeing the difference between knowing about a quality and actually possessing it.
I could write about humility.
But was I humble? I could write about surrender.
But how much had I really surrendered? I could write about Bhagavata prema.
But could I love a Bhagavata who disagreed with me?
I could write about kainkaryam.
But was my service completely free from expectation?
These questions began following me.
The Acharyas had become a mirror.
And sometimes the mirror showed things I did not want to see.
The Meaning of the Mantra Deepened
Earlier, I was simply happy to recite:
Śrīmate Rāmānujāya Namaḥ.
Now the words began to carry a different meaning.
If I say Rāmānujadāsan, then I am saying that I belong to Him.
If I belong to Him, then my conduct should slowly reflect what He taught.
This is not something I can claim to have achieved. Even today, I have a long way to go.
But the awareness itself has become important.
The mantra reminds me. The Acharyar reminds me.
The devotees remind me. Even my own mistakes remind me.
The Recitations Became Another Door
The desire to bring more people into Divya Prabandham recitation also grew.
Initially there were only two of us.
I prayed for more devotees to join. Slowly the number increased.
When I saw nearly twenty devotees participating, I felt that this was not something I had created.
I had only kept asking.
Someone else was bringing them. The same thing happened with the festivals.
The Āḻvār Thirunakshatrams.
The recitations. The temple gatherings.
Everything slowly grew.
And whenever I felt proud, I remembered:
“What did I actually do?”
I had only prayed. The rest was His mercy.
Taking Rāmānuja to Other Homes
Then came the opportunity to give Swamy Rāmānuja’s deities to devotees.
This gave me a completely different kind of happiness.
I would worship the deity at home. Recite several mālās of the mantra.
Perform the purification rites.
Then, on Thiruvadhirai, invite the devotee, offer Mahāprasādam and hand over the Acharyar.
One by one, the twelve deities found their homes.
I often wondered about this.
The Acharyar who had come into my house was now going to another house.
Perhaps that devotee would begin reciting His name. Perhaps his family would begin speaking about Him.
Perhaps someone there would become curious about Rāmānuja.
Perhaps another journey would begin.
And I had been given the small privilege of carrying Him there. What greater joy could there be?
Was the Acharyar Slowly Expanding His Family?
That thought often comes to me.
First He came to our home.
Then the Āḻvārs came. Then the Acharyas.
Then the Śāligrāmas. Then devotees started coming.
Then Rāmānuja deities started going from our home to other homes.
It almost felt as if the family was expanding.
I remembered the feeling I had during the Śāligrāma experience.
When Acharyar decides to come, He brings the whole family.
Perhaps He also decides where each member of that family should go.
I was simply standing somewhere in the middle, watching it happen.
And my own transformation?
It was slow. Very slow.
There was no single morning when I woke up and became spiritual.
It happened little by little. A mantra here.
A temple there. A book. A conversation.
An Acharya. A devotee. A pilgrimage.
A Prabandham recitation.
A mistake. A correction.
A realisation. A tear.
Then another day.
And another.
Looking back, I can see that the journey was being built from hundreds of very small moments.
Perhaps that is how Acharyar works.
Not always with something dramatic.
Sometimes He simply keeps us moving in the right direction.
“Perumal…”
I thought I was searching for Swamy Rāmānuja.
Perhaps You were the one who created that search within me.
I thought I was writing about the Acharyar.
Perhaps You were using those words to correct me first.
Let me never mistake the opportunity to serve for my own achievement.
Let me never become proud because someone appreciates what I write or what I do.
Let me remember that everything came to me through Acharya anugraham.
If You allow me, let me continue carrying the name of Rāmānuja wherever I go.
Let me take His name to a few more hearts before this journey is over.
“I began by wanting to know about Rāmānuja. Slowly, I began wanting others to know Him too.”
“The books gave me knowledge. The Acharyas gave that knowledge a direction.”
“When Rāmānuja entered our home, I thought I had received a deity. Later I felt that I had received a relationship.”
“Perhaps service begins when something that gives us joy becomes something we want to share with another devotee.”
I sat before Swamy Rāmānuja that evening and looked at His smiling face.
I remembered the old priest at Tirukkurungudi.
I remembered the mantra.
I remembered the first deity.
I remembered the Āḻvārs arriving.
I remembered the Śāligrāmas.
I remembered the devotees who came for recitation.
I remembered the twelve Rāmānuja deities leaving our home.
Everything seemed connected.
What began as a simple desire to know my Acharyar had slowly become a desire to serve Him, speak about Him and take His name to others.
And yet I knew…
I had only taken a few steps.
There was still so much to learn.
So much to understand.
So much to change within myself.
Perhaps that was why the thirst was still there……
The search had not ended.
It had only become deeper.….
to be continued ……
Previous posts links appended below
Śrīmate Rāmānujāya Namaḥ
Adiyen Rāmānujadāsan
Pictures : Google images
