Sri Ramakrishna often spoke of two kinds of people: those who define themselves in relation to the world, and those who define themselves in relation to the Infinite. This wasn’t just an abstract distinction for him—it was his measure of spiritual maturity.
People caught up in worldly identity—status, roles, desires—he considered spiritually unripe. Their minds were turned outward, away from the source of being. To such people, Ramakrishna often showed little interest. It wasn’t out of disdain, but a kind of spiritual economy. He reserved his full attention for those who had begun to ask deeper questions about the nature of the self and the meaning of life.
This sharpness can feel extreme. But it forces a simple question to the surface: Where is your sense of “I” rooted? Is it shaped by changing circumstances? Or is it anchored in something deeper?
Renunciation and Its Misreadings
Over time, many of Ramakrishna’s teachings were preserved and interpreted by monks, often with an emphasis on renunciation. While rooted in devotion, this lens can sometimes distort his core insight. The language begins to sound as if spiritual life requires rejecting the world altogether, making it easy to mistake detachment for denial.
This is where Sri Ramana Maharshi becomes essential. His presence offers a different tone—calm, quiet, and exacting. Ramana never asked anyone to abandon life or retreat to a cave. His path wasn’t built on withdrawal, but on seeing clearly.
What needs to be renounced, he insisted, is not the world but the false identification with the ego—the imagined self that clings, desires, and fears. His teachings are an invitation to look within, to examine the root of “I,” and to discover what lies beneath.
What the Ripe “I” Understands
In one of his conversations, Ramana was asked a seemingly simple question about the nature of happiness. His answer opens a direct window into what ripening really means:
A question was asked as to the nature of happiness.
Sri Ramana Maharshi:
If a man thinks that his happiness is due to external causes and his possessions, it is reasonable to conclude that his happiness must increase with the increase of possessions and diminish in proportion to their diminution. Therefore if he is devoid of possessions, his happiness should be nil. What is the real experience of man? Does it conform to this view? In deep sleep the man is devoid of possessions, including his own body. Instead of being unhappy he is quite happy. Everyone desires to sleep soundly. The conclusion is that happiness is inherent in man and is not due to external causes. One must realise his Self in order to open the store of unalloyed happiness.
Here, Ramana bypasses philosophy and turns to direct experience. If happiness depended on external things, deep sleep—where nothing remains, not even awareness of the body—should be a state of misery. But we all know it isn’t. In fact, we crave that state, night after night. Ramana’s point is simple but radical: happiness is not acquired; it is uncovered. It is inherent to the Self.
This is where the ego begins to ripen. Not by striving, but by loosening. The ego in its unripe state seeks completion in the world. As it matures, it begins to question its assumptions. It realizes that no possession, role, or relationship has ever fully satisfied. The search begins to turn inward.
A Deeper Kind of Renunciation
Ramakrishna pushed us to distinguish between the worldly and the Infinite Self. Ramana shows us how that distinction plays out inwardly. He doesn’t ask for a dramatic act of giving up, but for a subtle shift: from identifying with the waves to recognizing the ocean beneath.
The “ripe I” is not someone who has escaped the world, but someone who no longer clings to it for identity. This ripening is quiet. It unfolds as a growing disinterest in surface pleasures and a deepening pull toward stillness.
Even our most ordinary experiences, like deep sleep, carry the fragrance of this truth. When everything else falls away, what remains is peace. That peace is the Self.
So, Is Your “I” Ripening?
This isn’t a question of outer appearance or spiritual jargon. It’s about orientation. Are you still looking outward for fulfillment, or have you begun to turn inward?
The ripe “I” doesn’t fight the world. It simply stops needing it to feel whole. It starts to rest, not in what it does or owns, but in what it already is.
As Ramana said: One must realise his Self in order to open the store of unalloyed happiness.
That’s not a command. It’s a reminder. The treasure isn’t elsewhere. It’s beneath the very “I” that asks.
While I loved most of it, I had a different take on some points and are as follows -
- if the word "renunciation" irks us, that itself should be pondered upon. To me, that is indicative of our attachment, and we don't like that very facet being hit upon.
- The difference b/w how renunciation is presented by monks of RK Math (external & internal renunciation) vs Ramana (internal). For many of us, internal becomes a more tangible effort with some external renunciation (akin to "don't keep tamarind and water in a typhoid patient's room"). And that's because our strength of mind and willpower is not well-developed, and the risk of becoming hypocrite while trying to adopt internal renunciation alone at the beginning is quite high. So, depending on the place that we are situated in life, it's best to adopt internal renunciation coupled with as much external renunciation as conscientiously feasible so as to ensure we are staying honest to our practice.