Nisargadatta Maharaj

Avadhuta of the Absolute

In a cramped loft above a busy Mumbai street, amid the chaos of honking rickshaws and street vendors, an uneducated cigarette seller would point his finger at sophisticated seekers from around the world and thunder: "You are not what you think you are—you are pure awareness itself!" This was Nisargadatta Maharaj, perhaps the most uncompromising teacher of Advaita Vedanta in the 20th century, who demolished every concept his visitors held about themselves with the precision of a surgeon and the compassion of a mother.

Chronological Timeline

• 1897 - Born Maruti Shivrampant Kambli in Kandalgaon, Maharashtra, into a poor farming family
• 1915 - Moves to Mumbai (then Bombay) as a young man, works various jobs including selling cigarettes and bidis
• 1933 - Meets his guru Siddharameshwar Maharaj at age 36, receives initiation and the name "Nisargadatta"
• 1936 - Siddharameshwar Maharaj dies; Nisargadatta begins intense self-inquiry practice
• 1937-1940 - Period of wandering as a renunciate, visiting holy places and practicing austerities
• 1940 - Returns to family life in Mumbai on advice of a fellow disciple, continues inner work while running small businesses
• 1942 - Experiences profound realization of his true nature as pure consciousness
• 1951 - Begins teaching informally, first disciples gather around him
• 1962 - Starts regular satsangs in his small apartment above his shop
• 1973 - Maurice Frydman begins translating his talks, leading to "I Am That" publication
• 1978 - "I Am That" published, bringing international recognition
• 1979-1981 - Peak teaching period with seekers from around the world visiting daily
• September 8, 1981 - Dies of throat cancer at age 84, teaching until his final days

The Journey from Seeker to Sage

The spiritual hunger

Maruti Kambli lived the hard life of Mumbai's working poor—selling cigarettes, bidis, and small goods to survive. Yet beneath this ordinary exterior burned an extraordinary question that would consume him: "Who am I, really?" Unlike many spiritual seekers who come from privilege or education, Nisargadatta's hunger for truth emerged from the raw struggle of existence itself. He had no philosophical framework, no spiritual vocabulary—only an burning need to know the reality behind the appearance of being a separate person struggling through life.

His early years showed little sign of the spiritual giant he would become. He was a practical man, focused on survival and supporting his family. But even then, those who knew him noticed something different—an intensity, a refusal to accept surface explanations, a way of looking through people rather than at them.

The quest and the practices

The turning point came in 1933 when a friend dragged the reluctant 36-year-old to meet Siddharameshwar Maharaj, a realized master in the Navnath tradition. Nisargadatta later described this meeting as instantaneous recognition—not of the guru's greatness, but of his own deepest longing finally finding its target. Siddharameshwar gave him a simple instruction that would become the foundation of his teaching: "You are not what you think you are. Find out what you are."

The practice Siddharameshwar prescribed was equally simple and devastating: constant attention to the sense "I Am"—not "I am this" or "I am that," but the pure feeling of being, of existing, before any qualification. Nisargadatta threw himself into this practice with the same intensity he brought to everything else. He would sit for hours, sometimes all night, investigating this sense of "I Am," watching how it arose, how it felt, what it really was.

When Siddharameshwar died just three years later, Nisargadatta was devastated but not deterred. He intensified his practice, eventually leaving his family to wander as a renunciate. For several years, he lived the life of a traditional sadhu—sleeping in temples, begging for food, visiting holy places. But the real pilgrimage was internal: the relentless inquiry into the nature of the "I" that seemed to be doing all this seeking.

The guru-disciple relationship

Though Siddharameshwar died early in their relationship, his transmission was complete. He had planted a seed that would grow into one of the most powerful teaching presences of the modern era. Nisargadatta often said his guru gave him everything in their brief time together—not through lengthy discourses or complex practices, but through direct pointing to what he already was.

The relationship continued beyond death. Nisargadatta would often speak of receiving guidance from his guru in dreams and meditation. More importantly, he embodied the traditional guru-disciple relationship in its purest form: complete surrender to the teaching, regardless of personal cost. When a fellow disciple advised him to return to family life rather than continue wandering, he obeyed—not because it was easier, but because he recognized the voice of the teaching itself.

The teaching emerges

Nisargadatta's realization didn't come as a dramatic flash but as a gradual dissolution of the seeker himself. Around 1942, after years of intense practice, the question "Who am I?" finally exhausted itself. What remained was not an answer but the absence of the questioner. He realized that what he had been seeking was what he had always been—pure awareness, the very consciousness in which all experience appears and disappears.

This realization was not philosophical but utterly practical. He saw that the person "Nisargadatta" was simply a temporary appearance in consciousness, no more real than a character in a dream. Yet paradoxically, this seeing freed him to play that character with complete naturalness and effectiveness.

His teaching style emerged organically from this realization. He had no interest in spiritual concepts, religious practices, or gradual paths. Instead, he would attack directly the root assumption that kept people suffering: the belief that they were separate individuals who needed to achieve something. His method was surgical—identify the false assumption, demolish it completely, and point to what remains.

Daily life of the realized

Even after realization, Nisargadatta continued his simple life as a shopkeeper. He would open his small store each morning, sell his cigarettes and bidis, close for lunch, then hold satsang in the afternoon in his tiny loft apartment. This ordinariness was itself a teaching—enlightenment doesn't require special circumstances or behaviors.

His daily routine was remarkably consistent. He would wake early, perform simple puja (worship) to his guru's photo, then open his shop. The morning was for business; the afternoon for teaching. He chain-smoked throughout both activities, much to the dismay of health-conscious Western visitors. When questioned about this, he would laugh and say, "I am not the body. Let the body do what it does."

His teaching sessions were intense affairs. Seekers would crowd into his small room, sitting on the floor while he occupied a simple chair. He would listen to questions with fierce attention, then respond with devastating directness. There was no small talk, no gradual warming up—every word was aimed at destroying the questioner's false assumptions about themselves.

Core Spiritual Teachings

Their essential realization

Nisargadatta's core realization was breathtakingly simple: "I Am That"—the pure awareness that knows all experience but is not limited by any experience. He saw that what people call "I" is actually two different things: the pure sense of being (which is real and eternal) and the personal identity built around that sense of being (which is imaginary and temporary).

His teaching can be summarized in one devastating insight: You are not a person having spiritual experiences; you are the awareness in which the person and all experiences appear. This awareness is not personal—it's the same consciousness that appears as all beings, all worlds, all experiences. The search for enlightenment is therefore absurd—it's like a wave trying to find the ocean.

Key teachings and practices

The "I Am" meditation: Nisargadatta's primary practice was attention to the pure sense of being—the feeling "I Am" before any qualification. He would instruct seekers to hold onto this sense, to investigate it, to see what it really is. "Stay with the 'I Am,'" he would say. "Don't go beyond it, don't fall short of it. Just be with the pure feeling of being."

Negation (Neti-Neti): His teaching method was primarily via negativa—showing what you are not rather than what you are. "You are not the body, not the mind, not the emotions, not the thoughts, not the experiences," he would hammer relentlessly. This wasn't philosophical analysis but direct seeing. Each negation was meant to free attention from false identification.

The witness consciousness: He taught that there are three levels of identity—the gross body, the subtle body (mind/emotions), and the causal body (the witness). Most spiritual teaching stops at the witness, but Nisargadatta pointed beyond even that to the awareness that knows the witness. "Even the witness is witnessed," he would say. "Find out who witnesses the witness."

Spontaneous self-inquiry: Unlike formal meditation techniques, Nisargadatta emphasized continuous inquiry throughout daily life. "Who is walking? Who is talking? Who is thinking?" This wasn't meant to be answered intellectually but to dissolve the assumption that there is someone doing these activities.

The teaching of "I Am That": His most famous pointer was the phrase "I Am That"—meaning the individual "I Am" is identical to the universal "That" (consciousness itself). This wasn't a belief to adopt but a recognition to be realized directly.

Their teaching methodology

Nisargadatta's method was unique in its directness and uncompromising nature. He had no patience for gradual paths, spiritual practices, or philosophical discussions. His approach was to attack the root delusion immediately and completely. He would listen to a seeker's question, identify the false assumption underlying it, then demolish that assumption with laser-like precision.

His teaching was entirely oral and spontaneous. He never prepared talks or followed any curriculum. Each response emerged fresh from the silence of not-knowing, perfectly tailored to the questioner's need. He often said the same thing in dozens of different ways, approaching the truth from every conceivable angle until the seeker's resistance was exhausted.

He was famous for his fierce compassion—he would attack people's cherished beliefs about themselves with ruthless precision, but always in service of their freedom. "I am not here to comfort you," he would say. "I am here to wake you up."

Stages of the path

Nisargadatta recognized three basic stages in spiritual development:

The seeker: Those identified with the body-mind, believing themselves to be separate individuals who need to achieve enlightenment. Most spiritual teaching is aimed at this level.

The witness: Those who have realized they are the consciousness that observes all experience but are still subtly identified with being a witness. This is a high attainment but not the final truth.

The Absolute: The recognition that even the witness is witnessed, that awareness itself is impersonal and unlimited. At this level, there is no one to be enlightened and nothing to achieve.

His teaching was primarily aimed at those ready for the direct jump to the Absolute, though he would meet seekers wherever they were.

The Lineage and Legacy

The immediate sangha

Nisargadatta's direct disciples were a diverse group, ranging from simple Mumbai locals to sophisticated international seekers. Unlike many gurus, he didn't formally authorize teachers or create an institutional lineage. His approach was more organic—those who truly understood would naturally begin sharing the understanding.

Among his notable disciples were Ramesh Balsekar, who became a well-known teacher in his own right; Jean Dunn, who compiled several books of his talks; and numerous unnamed local devotees who absorbed his teaching through years of daily attendance. He was particularly fond of simple, uneducated seekers who came without spiritual concepts to defend.

His teaching was preserved primarily through the efforts of Maurice Frydman, who translated and compiled "I Am That," and later through audio recordings made by various visitors. Unlike traditional lineages with formal succession, Nisargadatta's teaching spread through the power of the words themselves.

The teaching stream

Nisargadatta represented the culmination of the Navnath tradition, a lineage of radical Advaita masters in Maharashtra. His teaching synthesized the philosophical precision of Advaita Vedanta with the practical directness of the Siddha tradition. He made the highest teachings accessible to ordinary people without diluting their power.

His influence on contemporary Advaita teaching has been enormous. Teachers like Ramana Maharshi and Nisargadatta together created a renaissance of direct, non-dual teaching that continues to influence spiritual seekers worldwide. His uncompromising approach inspired a generation of teachers who emphasize immediate recognition over gradual development.

Contemporary relevance

Nisargadatta's teaching is particularly relevant for contemporary seekers who are tired of complex spiritual systems and want direct access to truth. His urban setting, his ordinariness, his lack of religious trappings—all make his teaching accessible to modern people who might be put off by traditional spiritual contexts.

His emphasis on the "I Am" is perfectly suited to an age of psychological sophistication. He showed that the spiritual search is not about improving the person but about recognizing what you are beyond personhood. This cuts through much of the self-improvement orientation that characterizes contemporary spirituality.

Distortions and clarifications

The main distortion of Nisargadatta's teaching is the tendency to turn his pointers into concepts or beliefs. When he said "You are not the body," this wasn't meant as a philosophical position but as a direct invitation to investigate your actual experience. The teaching only works when it's applied as living inquiry, not adopted as a belief system.

Another common misunderstanding is to use his teaching to bypass genuine psychological and emotional work. While he pointed beyond the personal, he never denied the relative reality of the person's experience. His teaching is about recognizing what you are beyond the person, not about denying or suppressing the personal dimension.

Some have also tried to systematize his teaching into a method or technique, but this misses the spontaneous, alive quality that made his transmission so powerful. The teaching was never about following a system but about direct recognition in this moment.

The Sacred and the Human

The personality of the master

Nisargadatta was a study in contrasts—fierce yet tender, uncompromising yet deeply compassionate, utterly ordinary yet radiating an unmistakable presence. He had the directness of a Mumbai street vendor combined with the precision of a master logician. His personality was completely natural, without any spiritual pretense or special behaviors.

He was famous for his temper—he would sometimes shout at visitors who came with insincere questions or who tried to argue with his teaching. Yet this anger was never personal; it was the teaching itself responding to resistance. Those who knew him well spoke of his extraordinary kindness and his genuine care for each seeker's understanding.

His humor was legendary. He would often laugh at the absurdity of people searching for what they already are, or at the elaborate spiritual concepts people created to avoid simple recognition. His laughter was not mocking but liberating—it dissolved the seriousness that keeps people trapped in seeking.

Miracles and siddhis

Nisargadatta rarely spoke of miraculous powers and seemed to have little interest in them. When asked about siddhis (supernatural abilities), he would typically redirect attention to the real miracle—the fact of consciousness itself. "The greatest miracle," he would say, "is that you exist at all."

However, those who spent time with him reported numerous instances of his uncanny ability to know their thoughts, their past, their deepest concerns. He would often answer questions before they were asked or address issues that visitors had never mentioned. But he treated these abilities as natural expressions of consciousness rather than special powers.

His real "miracle" was his ability to transmit understanding directly, beyond words. Many visitors reported profound shifts in understanding simply from being in his presence, even when they didn't fully comprehend his words. This transmission was the true supernatural element of his teaching.

Tests and teaching moments

Nisargadatta's entire approach was a kind of test—he would challenge every assumption, attack every cherished belief, and refuse to provide the comfort that seekers usually wanted. His questions were designed to exhaust the mind's attempts to understand and force a direct recognition of what lies beyond understanding.

He was particularly skillful at exposing spiritual pride. Visitors who came with advanced spiritual experiences or sophisticated understanding would find themselves reduced to confusion within minutes. This wasn't cruelty but compassion—he was showing them that their spiritual attainments were still within the realm of experience and therefore not their true nature.

One of his favorite teaching methods was to give contradictory answers to the same question, depending on the questioner's level of understanding. This prevented people from turning his words into fixed concepts and forced them to look beyond the words to the understanding being pointed to.

The embodied divine

In his final years, Nisargadatta developed throat cancer, which eventually killed him. His approach to illness was a perfect demonstration of his teaching—he neither denied the body's condition nor identified with it. He would speak matter-of-factly about the cancer while continuing to teach with undiminished intensity.

When visitors expressed concern about his health, he would remind them: "I am not the body. The body is born and will die, but I am not born and do not die." This wasn't philosophical detachment but lived reality. He demonstrated that realization doesn't eliminate physical suffering but reveals what remains untouched by all experience.

His final teaching period, conducted while in considerable physical pain, was perhaps his most powerful. The