Swami Atmaramananda’s formal obituary calls him outspoken, daring, hard working, astute, and dynamic.
Yes, he was all this and more. In addition, he was also not many things. But does it help anytime to speak of what a person is not? Does it help to enjoy the sight of a giraffe/camel if we keep harping that giraffe is not an elephant?
Though ten years my senior he was my good friend. A common friend of us introduced him to me in his absence. This common friend suggested that I join the Order at Advaita Ashrama in Calcutta. It was a move in my life that took me at one go to a completely different world. It proved to be a new life in fact. It is another matter that I was more at home in my new life than when living my old one. This common friend told me to take the help of Swami Atmaramananda if at any time I happen to have any difficulty. Thus Swami Atmaramananda was the designated friendly philosopher guide for me in case I have some problem. I never felt the need to take recourse to this facility. I am not sure if Swami Atmaramananda was aware of his status vis-à-vis me. Still this was a comfortable buffer in my mind for many years.
He was a compulsive fighter. He felt honestly that he had to fight hard to confront his ill health and live. Aggression took over his second nature and seemed to creep into his first nature. He did things his way and argued fiercely that he did it right. He was not too bad in both of these - his doing it his way and then justifying it vehemently. Woe betides those who came in his way or whom in his delirious imagination he thought to be coming in his way! Many quickly stepped aside. Some hesitant ones perished.One put on his transparent armour and watched the fun.
He was to be a regular elephant, generally gentle except during special situations. But something twitched from within. He had to have several heart bypasses. Blood contamination followed. He preferred the words of a highly respected monk
to that of a high medical authority concerning his treatment. That did not seem to have done any harm, for he lived and worked hard for quite some years despite his severe health. But somehow his life turned into one long twist, a recoil that shot his head up to quite a height. It added a lot of bumpy humps all over the carriage he was pulling along. People who were riding in the cart had to adjust to the ungainly jerks and learnt to fall out, pick themselves and jump in again. Some were thrown out and had no chance to hop in.There were some in his monastic family who were ready to donate a part of their liver but the chance to do it fell to the lot of a good lady from his pre-monastic family. We wish her a long happy life and invoke the blessings of Holy Mother on her.
He must have thirsted desperately for some cheerful, pain-free days. He was granted that for two days before he eased into eternal rest.
Hari Om Ramakrishna
Sometime after coming out of the long, medically induced stupor, keeping the oxygen mask aside, Swami Atmaramananda showed thumbs-up sign to friends looking from the other side of the glass, thus cheerfully indicating victory. This coming after ten hours of liver transplant surgery and more than twelve hours of unconsciousness, shows the fighting spirits which was bubbling within all the while.
A sort of victory celebration seems to have followed. Some sitting up, quite a bit of it, a little bit of walking inside his ICU room, pre-emptive and good-naturedly exaggerated greeting ‘how are you?’ to a monk who had come visiting the sick bay, a forceful `I am fine. How are you?’ to another monk who managed to slip in a ‘how are you’ first, instruction to the donor lady to be sure to collect her ticket fare – all these little little things made his friends happy but in hindsight it suggests the machinations of a wily bowler luring a fighting batsman with some easy balls and putting him at a false position before clean bowling him, sending all the three stumps flying. The newly acquired liver gave no trouble or had no chance to make a statement because the three – lungs, heart and kidneys, almost all at once gave way.
Which bowler set this up? Did he stare Sreesanth-like at the returning batsman? What is this cricket game, where a batsman has to heave blindly at suddenly stinging shadows and confront invisibly lurking fielders and bowler prowling in the dark while we the audience can only applaud or boo.Oh, excuse me, I play; have my own blips to attend to…
Swami Sampurnananda
4 Sep. 2011, Mother’s Place, Belur Math
Last pic from
http://www.thatscricket.com/news/2011/08/20/manic-day-2-nullifies-dhonis-vow.html
Official Obituary :
http://www.belurmath.org/news_archives/2011/09/07/obituary-august-2001
