Sheshadri Iyer - Our Enigmatic Ancestor... Some thoughts

It is that time of the year when we make our annual pilgrimage within the city… to the Goswami Akhada in Banganga, to perform the Aradhana ceremony for Shankar’s great grandfather, Ramanathapuram Sheshadri Iyer, who took sanyas, taking the name Swami Satchidananda.

The samadhi today after the puja

For the last few years, Shankar and I have been performing this annual ceremony, on behalf of the extended family. Today, standing in front of the Samadhi, after finishing the rituals, I had this overwhelming urge to write about him, and the ceremony we perform.

I have written about the samadhi before, here. You can get a glimpse of this peaceful and serene oasis in the heart of the city in that post. Today’s post is not about the place. It is about the man who draws us there, year after year.

Sheshadri Iyer with his wife Parvati, Photo from our family archives

I never knew him, and neither did Shankar. Shankar, and our branch of the family call him 'Swami tatha' He was born as Ramanathapuram Sheshadri Iyer, in the year 1881, in Ramanathapuram, near Rameshwaram, which is our ancestral home. His father, Ramanathapuram Kuppuswamy Iyer, worked in the court of the Sethupatis of Ramanathapuram. By all accounts, they were well off, had lands, a house as big as a mansion. From what we have heard, Sheshadri Iyer inherited his father’s legacy. He married, and sired 12 children (actually 13, but one did not survive childhood). We have heard that he was extremely intelligent, an intellectual, but unfortunately, not made for this world. He also lived in a difficult time, when British rule probably affected his family’s fortunes. While we no longer know the whole story, the only thing we know is that by the time his oldest sons finished school, their land was lost, the money was gone, the legacy was in shambles. Further, he was always of a spiritual bent of mind, and he decided to leave the material world behind, and take sanyas. His sons took charge at an early age, coming to Bombay, in the year 1929/30, taking up jobs and settling here. Soon, they brought their entire family to Bombay, thus beginning our almost century old connection with this city.

Meanwhile, Sheshadri Iyer wandered around the country, meeting saints and spending time in ashrams. He also managed to visit his extended family, no matter where they were, at regular intervals, keeping in touch, and making connections with other branches of the family. One of the most often recounted stories in our family is that of his visiting the village of Karugudi in Tamilnadu, near Thanjavur, sometime in the late 40s or early 50s. He stayed at the house of Karugudi Muthuraman Iyer, saw his young daughter, who was then only a few years old, and suggested that she would make a fine match for one of his grandsons. That incident was forgotten, till, Muthuraman Iyer’s daughter Bhuvaneswari, got married to Jayaram, also called Ramji, who just happened to be Sheshadri Iyer’s grandson! By then, Sheshadri Iyer was no more, but the match he had suggested, had worked without his intervention. Jayaram and Bhuvaneswari are Shankar’s parents, and this story has made a deep impact on how Sheshadri Iyer is remembered today in our branch of the family.

Sheshadri Iyer passed away in 1964. He had taken the name ‘Swami Satchidananda’, after taking Sanyas in Shivananda Ashram, Rishikesh. While sanyas usually means giving up family and attachments, he passed away, in Bombay, surrounded by his family members. By then, he had multiple grandchildren, and many of them were there to see him buried, as per sanyasi rituals, in the land that he had selected for his final resting place.

An old photo of Sheshadri Iyer at the time of his taking sanyas, with Swami Sivananda. This photo was in a very bad shape, so was digitally enhanced. Photo courtesy: Shekar Chitappa

While his sons were alive, they performed both, his shrardham, on the anniversary of his death, as well as the aradhanai the day after. This is apparently the norm for people like him who led regular family lives, but took sanyas at the end of their lives. After they passed on, his grandchildren, and now his great grandchildren, have kept the tradition alive, by performing the aradhanai on his death anniversary. This involves a visit to the samadhi, where we perform abhishekam to the lingam installed over his remains. We then come back home, where Teertha Narayana puja is performed, and food is offered to Brahmins.

Shankar was born in 1969, 5 years after his passing, so he had no chance to interact with him. I heard of him only after I got married, and even then, it was years before I visited the samadhi. However, since the very first visit, I was intrigued, first by the place, and then, the person.

By all accounts, he was a fascinating man. He could debate on practically any topic with anyone. He was a master chess player. He was hugely instrumental in keeping his family connected, even after they scattered across the country.

What fascinates me, is how he continues to do it, more than 60 years after his passing. His descendants are now scattered across the globe. Yet, most of them have managed to stay in touch. We have a super active Sheshadri Iyer Clan WhatsApp group, where everything is debated heatedly, from Dvaita v/s Advaita, to Covid vaccines and family traditions. Family members visiting from abroad make it a point to come and visit the samadhi, maybe perform a small puja or do an abhishekam to the lingam. Whether we have any achievements or face any problems, most of us head to the samadhi, to share it with him, and feel happier, or lighter, as the case may be.

His samadhi has been rebuilt by successive generations, making improvements in the process. People call up or message, asking how they can contribute. Today, when I posted short videos of the ceremony, the response from the family was phenomenal. No matter where they were, how far away, many of them were evidently waiting, and watching the videos as I posted them live, responding with emojis and messages.

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Our family gatherings are always incomplete without someone recounting some of his stories. Of course, only a few remain today, who remember him. But that only makes those memories, those stories, all that more valuable.

My feelings towards him are mixed. I will never be fully able to understand how he managed to leave his family, completely unsupported, to the care of his young sons. However, I also realize that Shankar’s grandfather and his brothers grew into the persons they were, probably because of taking on responsibility at a young age. While I always remember that it was probably because of him that the family lost its legacy in Ramanathapuram, I also realise that our strong roots in Bombay are also, in a sense, because of him. I am intrigued by his life, his choices, and I always attempt to be non-judgemental. Above all, I very strongly feel that while he may have left his family behind in his quest for spirituality, he had a very strong sense of family and connections, and those family connections last, even today, after his passing, thanks to a great extent, to him, and his legacy.

The land that his samadhi rests on, is under threat today, from developers. It is prime real estate in Mumbai, and we are aware of the threat looming over the place. We have no idea if this tiny bit of sacred space will survive the rampant real estate development, but I am confident, that his legacy will survive, in some way or the other.  

P.S. All the views expressed in this post are my own, based on over 20 years of listening to stories about the man, and multiple visits to his samadhi over the years. They do not reflect any judgement, of any kind, about him. I would like to acknowledge that my knowledge of him is limited, to our branch of the family. This post was just a means to express my feelings about a man I find deeply intriguing. It is also my tribute to him, on the anniversary of his passing.