Sitaram

Sitaram: The Silent Seeker

Underneath all speech that is good for anything there lies a silence that is better. Silence is deep as Eternity, speech is shallow as Time.

Thomas Carlyle

Sitaram — not many of today know him. He is a man lost in the backwaters (or ‘washing waters’) of our Dining Room. I, since long, have wondered at the man but could hardly fathom him. I am trying again, now, with the help of others closer to him. Here is what little I could salvage, from the lesser depths, to share with others.

Sitaram was a Tamilian, born in the village Gobichetty-palayam in Coimbatore district on the 12th of December 1920. His father was Sri Venkatakrishnan Iyyer (so a pukka Brahmin). Sitaram was a year old when his mother passed away. His father remarried. There were eight children in the family and Sitaram was the eldest. Sitaram later went to his uncle’s (or grandfather’s) at Bangalore for studies. He passed his B. Sc. at the Central College. He had a dear friend, Natesan Iyyer by name. The two friends came to hear of the Mother and Sri Aurobindo from a relative of Sitaram. They first went to Chennai (Madras) and then visited the Ashram. This event, a turning point in Sitaram’s life, happened in 1940.

The Mother called Yogananda (our old friend: see Among The Not So Great, chapter 8) and told him that two good souls had arrived and he should take care of them every time they came for Darshan. (It may be recalled that Yogananda’s work for a period was to receive the visitors to the Ashram.) I would wonder, in later years when Yogananda was my colleague at the Sports Ground and we had tea together daily, why he (Yogananda) would often call Sitaram (or Sitaram’s brother) for tea and seemed inordinately fond of him — hovering over him like a parent would on a son’s visit after a long absence. Some time later, Sitaram got a job in Chennai in Post & Telegraph Department — a step closer to “Home” and to his chosen deities.

Two years went by. Natesan was transferred from Chennai. Sitaram came alone to the Ashram. Sitaram one day decided to join the Ashram, leaving the family to the Mother’s care. He wrote to the Mother. She gave him the permission. Sitaram thus came under the Mother’s wing in 1948.

His Work

His first work was to learn by teaching (in our School). I was never in his class, so cannot say first-hand anything about his “teacher-ship”. He didn’t teach for too long. Soon the Mother, maybe on Ravindra-ji’s suggestion, had other ideas for him.

The Dining Room washing section was in a disarray. Sitaram was eased out of the School and put in charge of the washing section. Mother used to call him “Big Head”. (Why? I am not aware.) He stepped in there (the washing section) and left the organising of it only on the day of his passing. That would work out to five decades or so in one place! Many of us have worked five decades in one place — but the similarity in most cases ends there. We will soon try to gauge the man by his works and more importantly by the ways of the works.

Sitaram was a true gentleman, as gentle as they come. To look at, he was just ordinary. He had a good compact figure with good enough features. Gentle eyes, an aquiline nose and a faint smile made up the face. As far as I can go back in my recollections, he was bespectacled. The eyes grew worse with time and the spectacles grew thicker. Perhaps he was an intellectual by temperament. But here, in the Ashram, he joined the Physical Education in khaki group with Biren-da as captain. He joined us in the Bodybuilding Gymnasium. We were his co-builders — Sailesh (late), Parna Kumar, myself and others. He built up a good, well-muscled upper body. He couldn’t do much for his legs which was a pity, for, when lifting weights, he could haul up the weight to his shoulders, but could not hold it there long enough. The legs started to shake (akin to a good building with weak foundation). He tottered around and had to put the weight down sooner than the rules required.

He also took to a bit of running. He joined the 3000m and the 5000m runs — maybe for 2-4 years.

These, the classes, weight-lifting, running were but episodes on the Way. His path was fixed through the washing section and then came another Divine Dictum. It came about like this: Amrita-da was publishing a Tamil magazine —Vaikarai (meaning ‘Advent’). Amrita-da had too much work and could not cope up with its publishing. The Mother (or Amrita-da) suggested Sitaram’s name. He was called by the Mother to take up Vaikarai. He now found himself with three handfuls of work. That was when he was released from the School work.

These were his works — now for his ways.

His Ways

What amazed me and could have or should have amazed many others too, is that though I was acquainted with him for many years (not as student, but as a colleague and friend) I have not heard his voice ever raised above the normal conversational levels — that voice needed sharp or attentive ears. Even the little conversation — if heard — was never unnecessary or loosely indulged in. One would think that managing the washing section would require, sometime or the other, that he raise his voice! And it was not that the workers were docile lambs or saints who needed no second telling. Yet the section functioned smoothly enough. I have heard that if a worker was absent, Sitaram would himself quietly replace him, do the work, in addition to his own. We did not know it then, but we often saw him going back late, perhaps the last one to leave, from his work — doubling up for some absentee?! He never took the bunker to task. But this sort of schedule often delayed him elsewhere, often even in reaching the general Blessings of the Mother. In those (g)olden days the Mother came down to the Meditation Hall and the ashramites and devotees passed in a queue to receive a flower from Her. She waited along with two or three others who attended on Her, and people like Sitaram (or even unlike Sitaram) were able to reach Her. Some thought this was not right. They reproached Sitaram for keeping the Mother waiting. She heard of their reproach and was not sympathetic to Her ‘wellwishers’. She asked them to keep quiet and said, “He is doing my work.” It also happened that in his hurry to get to Her, he would rush straight from his work, clad as he was — a bit untidy, a little sweaty. This too displeased some, who tried to advise him to be more presentable (if not chic). Nolini-da heard of this and advised the advisors to “leave him alone — no one need say anything to him!” What with his ‘softness’ for others and none for himself — (a total unconcern, we could say) — he often failed to find time to eat. Baba-ji (Ramkrishna Das) who had a soft corner for this young newcomer saved his dish of food for him, but often found the food untouched!

His work for Vaikarai too had its ups and downs. When he took it up, it had more of ‘downs’. He wrote to the Mother. She simply sent some ‘Prosperity’ flowers and Blessings. By and by, the paucity of funds disappeared but work had to be done. There was no letting up on that score (even miracles are the end-products of hard work done somewhere, some time). Later, a friend, Mahalingam, came in to help. He also was a bodybuilder. He too had a good upper body — also lacked a matching lower body. His source of protein was, if I remember well — groundnuts; meat, the more popular source was not required.

The Dining Room expanded, changed in quality too. More young workers joined, some old ones left, but Sitaram was always around. But Kaala (Time) is a friend (or foe) of everyone, living or non-living. Sitaram was getting older and he would never say ‘No’ to work. Fortunately help did come. Vijayalakshmi (our teacher — physicist) rendered yeoman service at a crucial period; then came Mahalingam, then an energetic-looking young man Ananda Bharati. They were great supports in Sitaram’s publishing work. For the washing too, many came and went, some true ones stuck on, the chaff flew, the grain stayed. (Rani, Prashant and many more that I cannot name or recollect.) What Kaala could not change was the real Sitaram. He remained steadfastly “Sitaram” — never a word of complaint or very probably never an unnecessary word. Yet the body moved towards ‘Old Age’ without fuss or fretting. His eyes troubled him. One developed a problem — the retina dried. His friend (late) Dr. Venkataswamy Naidu did take him to Madurai, did whatever was possible — yet the eye lost its vision. Sitaram continued with one eye, which too was not in great shape — glaucoma was the culprit. He was again taken to Madurai; but nothing much could be done. Then the hearing too was impaired.

Sitaram continued but now seemed to feel the burden of the years. His achievements were many but not sung about, and most of us are not attuned enough to “hear” Silence! The adage “out of sight, out of mind” may be expanded by adding “out of earshot, out of mind”. So let us hearken to at least some faithfuls who watched him with awe, and then watched over him in his last days of failing health. I only recount as faithfully as I can what they said, with unshed tears in their eyes and love in their hearts: no names, no comments.

When Sitaram was working for Vaikarai, the Mother gave (for Vaikarai) the impression of Her feet with Her Blessings. I believe the magazine is doing well. He had another chore, done with love. Everyday, for over 40 years or more, one could have seen him, nearly lying on a blackboard, almost one with it, copying down a passage or a poem from Mother or Sri Aurobindo. This board is hung at the entrance to the main Hall — all can read as they “Q” past for the counter. He poured all his attention and care into this, as into all else he did — the regular lines, the word spacing, the handwriting etc. were remarkable, near perfect. Someone is keeping that tradition alive.

Sitaram did the washing of vessels for many years. He might have continued to do so longer, but he developed an allergy and Dr. Dilip Dutta prevailed over him to stop the washing. Fortunately he agreed to pass on the work to others (Rani, then Prashant took over). Prashant was also one of his trusted helpers who took care of him and accompanied him on his walks (exercise). Sitaram went for these walks and did his magazine work nearly till the last day. He carried on, with help, much of his work. But he was always apologetic saying, “Oh! I am disturbing your work.” He even told Prashant a few days before he departed, “Prashant, you have done so much for me. A little remains to be done!” How prophetic the statement was!

Sitaram’s heart too was growing weak and weary. He must have foreseen the approaching end. Sometime towards the end of January 2007, a thought crossed Sitaram’s mind; “I have not told anything to anybody. My time is approaching. Those close to me may feel sad!” So he did finally say some interesting things.

(Much of what follows is what he said in those one or two weeks or 10 days before he passed away. I have put some of it in first person, even though those are not his exact words — they were told to another who told me. Second-hand, one may say.)

The Journey’s End

“My days are coming to an end. You need not tell anyone. But when I am gone, keep my body for some time. Don’t take it away in a hurry! Cremate it and wait some time (at the cremation ground). Don’t come away in a hurry.

“The Mother’s music may be played. But whisper in my ear ‘Sri Aurobindo Saranam mama’. You may not tell or call anybody. Meditate 10-12 days — 4 persons like they did for Noren Das Gupta (Manoj’s father). When and if suggestions come for feeding on 10th or 12th day — don’t interfere, don’t say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Keep silent.”

On his birthday, 12th December — Sitaram went upstairs, to Sri Aurobindo’s Room. He had difficulty (physical) but felt better afterwards. When the February Darshan was approaching, he said he would go “upstairs” although by now he was ill and weak. Those close to him said, “You can’t climb all those steps. You said you are weak.” Sitaram protested, “No, no, I must go.” He even conspired with Prashant: “Let us run away and go for the Darshan.” Anyway, he prepared himself, got ready the usual “offering” and was taken early on the 22nd (the day after Darshan). He expressed a wish to sit on the Mother’s terrace for as long as he wanted to, — and not to be disturbed. He was there for 45 minutes. He came back and declared, “I have offered myself with the ‘offering’ (of money)!”

The days passed — 25th February — Sitaram was not sleeping much. He called Dr. Dilip Dutta and asked for some medicine; he wanted to get at least two hours sleep. (He could not sleep well those days — the last two months.)

A week went by. On the 2nd of March he went out for his usual walk — with help — came back to his room and said, “I will not eat anything.” But later, he said, “Give me a small piece of toast and milk.” That was the last nourishment he took before setting off on his ‘Homeward’ journey. He told his attendants, “Tell me when you come, where you go or when you sit here.” (He perhaps wanted to know who was near him at all times.) Through all this he would do whatever he could — a little bit. He would sometimes say he was busy! When asked, “How are you busy, being indoors all the time?” he smiled and said, “Boka (foolish one) — I wake up early, finish my ablutions, take my Complan, wash myself and sit for prayer. I pray to the Mother and our Prabhou. I pray first for the whole world, for India, for Pakistan, then all the Centres, the devotees and Ashramites. I then pray for the Dining Room workers.

“I then go for my bath. After that I go to the Samadhi, the Meditation Hall and Nolini-da’s Room, then I move on to the Reception Hall before I return to the Dining Room. Here I meet my ‘Gundu’ (he was referring to a photo taken when the Mother was 3 years old. Gundu means ‘chubby child’. This was his favourite photo. He had it all over the place in many sizes.) I then meet my friends, then back to my room.” This programme sounds good enough and normal — though a bit unusual — for any well-meaning sadhak. But it is extraordinary when you realise that all this time Sitaram never left his room!

He continued, “I then eat a little, rest, do the magazine work, lunch, walk (if fit enough), then I sit in my chair and repeat my ‘prayer’ of morning before dinner. Then I go to bed and pray for myself.” (At last!)

He ended with, “Boka, — how then you ask me — ‘How are you busy?’.”

This is one of those unbelievable things you have to believe — because it is Sitaram who says it. He was one of those rare men by whom you judged the event.

On the 3rd of March, about 12:30 p.m. Sitaram evinced some pain in his stomach. He was given some medicine. The night came on and early morning at 4:30 a.m. — Prashant had to call Dr. Gayatri. Vishwabandhu too came later. He vomited a few times. The doctors said he should be taken to the Nursing Home. But Sitaram had already warned his close friends not to take him to the Nursing Home even if he suffered. So there he lay — his breathing became heavy. He then called softly to the Mother and Sri Aurobindo five times and left this world as quietly as he had lived in it. The day was a full moon day — Holi Poornima — a day when the gods of our town went for a sea-bath. Sitaram too took a holy dip, merging into that vast ocean of Love, into his Mother’s arms.

I would like to add here a few unusual dreams Sitaram had during the first month of this year. Were they part of the buildup before the final curtain?!

The Dreams

(1) I was in the Dining Room courtyard, and had collected many flowers. The Mother appeared in front of me and said, “Give me the flowers.” I gave Her the flowers.

(2) I was standing in the queue at the Counter, but my dish contained flowers. The ‘Mother’ appeared and asked me to give her the flowers. I understood that she was not the Mother. I said, “Go away, I will not give them to you.” The figure disappeared — the face was veiled.

(3) Again I was in the queue with a dish. The Mother appeared smiling and said, “Give me” — and I gave Her the dish.

(4) I saw the Mother and Sri Aurobindo sitting together on the SIDDHI day — 1926. I went and lay down at Their feet. I feel I am always at Their feet.

(5) (This was a month before he departed.) I went running to the Mother after my work as in the old days. To my utter disappointment no one was there. I felt very sad. Suddenly the Mother appeared, and I said “Ma, I am very sorry I am late. Then Ma said, “I will not give you Blessings. I want something from you!”

I dipped my hand into my pocket, and into Her outstretched hand I laid my life!

I returned to the Dining Room. I thought, “As I have surrendered my life to Her, I have nothing. The Mother will take me away.” (End of dream.)

With that I would end my story of Sitaram the Silent.

One must read two writings of Sitaram’s — rather than just go through my story of him. The first one is a transcript of a radio broadcast (AIR). Sitaram was one of five chosen by the Mother for the talk. (Pavitra-da was another.) This talk of Sitaram’s gives us a glimpse of the inner Sitaram — albeit only the bit he reveals — it is quite a bit. Even that little shows a man of great depth of feelings, a man of simplicity and humility.

It is a pleasure and a privilege first to come across one such, and then be close to a beautiful person. We might easily have missed him.

Thankfully we didn’t.

The second — a free rendering of Subramanya Bharati’s poem on Kannan — makes one feel that Sitaram “enjoyed”, as did Subramanya Bharati, the suffering dealt out by Kannan (Krishna).