Much of the content presented here, showing Bhagavan reeling off verses from the Bible and other texts, is done so with the implicit assumption that the reader would naturally give himself to understand that Bhagavan was reading out from a book; certainly, Bhagavan did not burst out with these lines of prose or poetry from memory— at least, not in a majority of the cases.

I felt too lethargic to jot down every time Bhagavan asked the attendant to fetch this or that book from the bookcase in the Hall. When the attendant complied, Bhagavan then opened the book at the requisite page, without searching, and handed over the same to the interpreter with instructions to read out select portions to the Hall…and so forth.
            Likewise, an interpreter — many times Mr. TKS, occasionally myself in those fortunate few months I dwelt continuously in Tiruvannamalai, or someone else — was used whenever the other person was to be spoken to in English [even if it was a long-standing devotee domiciled within the Ashram on a permanent basis, such as Chadwick or Cohen].

Bhagavan himself needed no interpreter. When Bhagavan himself speaks English the same is indicated in brackets here by me. There were times when, for a Caucasian language, no interpreter would be available. It was then that the master would himself speak it, mellowly, placidly, and distinctly. An example is a conversation with the Swiss Professor Hüber, which took place directly in German without the assistance of any interpreter. Needless to say, on such occasions, what I have reported is certainly limited to how much I could follow. For instance, the substance of the above conversation, since it was in German, could be rudimentarily followed by me, albeit not without difficulty — but when in December 1936 a Mrs. Suzanne Sen visited the Ashram and exchanged a few words with the master in French, I was clueless, and had to depend upon Chadwick to later relate to me what they had spoken about.

I have not pointed out separately conversations which were carried on through an interpreter in consideration of the length of this manuscript. Likewise the names, cultural backgrounds, ethnicities, nationalities, and professed existing spiritual competencies of the various visitors who quizzed the master have also been—largely—filtered out whilst preparing this manuscript. A lengthy manuscript may fizzle out the patience of a prospective publisher; also, I am aware that a book that appears tediously lengthy is — more often than not — ignored and bypassed at bookshops!

Today morning when I entered the Hall, Sri Bhagavan smiled at me sweetly, like a child, and handed unto me a letter, saying,

 ‘ உனக்கு இது பிடிக்கும் , பாரேன் !. ’ [‘See, you will like this!’]   

Piqued, I unfolded it and read it. It was from a Mons. Alfred E. Sorensen [Sunyata], and ran thus [reproduced from memory] —

Oh! Master of the Formidable Mountain! I was earlier like a filthy pig, consuming with eager relish the turds excreted by the sensory organs. I came with a restless mind to impudently scrutinise your authenticity, but the moment your eyes fell on me, I became motionless like you, for you graciously annihilated my maleficent faculty of assertion-manufacture, which arrogantly declared “I”, and immersed me in my own intrinsic inner state of Absolute Being, which in truth is only You.
             I kiss the dust of your sacred feet every day, for by drowning me once and for all in the unfathomable ocean of exultation which is truly You, you have devoured my traitorous mind forever. Now I live only as Love-of-you. I have happily lost myself in You, who are Love Itself. Never ever will the miseries of the world manage to trace me out again, for I see only Lovely you in them.    
              When your omniscient eyes bored into mine and said ‘THERE IS NO ANYTHING,’ my Heart tugged from within, and, knowing it was you who was calling, I meekly followed. There I was rendered NAUGHT; now I am NOT. Now I roam around the universe like an unbridled wild animal, knowing not what I am doing nor why. Now all I know is you in which there is no me.
             My Master has been kind enough to send word through Mr. Hurst that he regards me as a Sahajajnâni, or natural mystic. But my joy is in knowing that this ugly form — which I once considered as one with myself — has found a place in my hallowed Master’s memory! Although now there is no question of anything remaining apart from my Master, my heart aches to set eyes upon his physical frame again. May Sri Bhagavan expeditiously fulfil my wish! [Leave-taking:] Bhagavan’s Love

G.: Who is this man?
B.: He came here earlier this year, perhaps at Mr. Brunton’s invitation.

 
G.: Bhagavan took one look at him, and he attained the Final State?!
B.: [twinkling] Bhagavan does not cause anything to happen. Why, are you thinking along the lines of “Oh! I am sitting in the Hall every day, hearing reports of people obtaining lofty, transformative, spiritual experiences from Bhagavan every day, and avidly listening to Bhagavan’s teachings every day — when is all this going to bear fruit, and when shall I become a Jnani? Is the allure of Jnana sorely tempting you?!” [laughs]

G.: Oh! no. The moment I came here and Bhagavan looked at me, I forgot all about myself. Now I think only of Bhagavan, who is already a Jnani. So, for whom am I to ask Jnana?
B.: The secret of Jnana is bhakti. Unselfish Love — motiveless, incessant, intransigent Love — is the key that unlocks the Gate of the Heart once and for all. Long and yearn for Him fervently not so that He may destroy your ignorance, but merely because such Love is possible [unto you]. One alone who knows so to madly Love has fulfilled the purpose of human birth; he need not be born again. The Loveless ones repeatedly come back to the fetid ocean of samsara to suffer more and more.

G.: To everyone who comes here Bhagavan recommends vichara only.
B.: Vichara is a means to eliminate ignorance, which obscures Love from Shining forth — for the nature of the Self is Love Itself. Love cannot be practised as a sadhana. All that is possible is to surrender to it. There is no such thing as inculcation of Love.
           Love is already there. It alone IS. All that is needed on your part is to give up thought, which makes you imagine yourself to be apart from Love, and so merge in Love. Then there is only Love, which is bliss beyond imagination. To one who has discovered the ecstatic joy of volitionless Love, sadhana is a laughable absurdity. To those who solicit justifications, we may say that such Love blossoms only in souls which have perfected their sadhanas in previous births.

G.: But among sadhanas [ practices] vichara is the best?
B.: Undoubtedly.