KOCHI: “You should look for yourself in your art.”
These words resonated with American artist Andrew Larkins as he reflected on his state of mind, deeply drawn to ‘The Penitent Magdalene’ by Georges de La Tour. He had encountered the masterpiece at an art gallery he visited while accompanying his father-in-law.
The painting’s meditative mood and trance-like quality captivated him. Mary Magdalene, holding a candle, contemplates her life’s transience as the candle melts, its light and shadows casting a Caravaggesque realism.
It was not just the technicalities that attracted Andrew. Rather, it was the oneness he felt with Mary Magdalene’s contemplation as she gazed around, finding liberation in impermanence.
“It was probably then that I truly understood what I was told years ago when I met Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati,” says Andrew, who recently held an art exhibition themed on Atmopadesha Satakam, the magnum opus of Sri Narayana Guru, in Thiruvananthapuram ahead of Yati’s birth centenary on Saturday.
“I was just 25, caught in the confusion typical of youth in the US, grappling with the material world, political issues, altered states of consciousness, and the desire to make sense of it all. I thought it important to meet a wise man, and there he was, viewing us not as followers but as psychological formations. I met him at an academic session, and he told me, ‘Look for yourself in your art.’”
Andrew found himself immersed in various forms of art. Gradually, like Nachiketas in the Katha Upanishad, he responded to his inner calling. He left other works to focus on illustrating Atmopadesha Satakam, a text revered by Yati for self-realisation.
The project took over a decade, as Andrew explored a visual language that combined symbols with geometric concepts.
“The Upanishads offer a structure for our states of waking, sleep, deep sleep, and trance that describes the external world. I capture optical phenomena on my iPhone, coupling them with memories and readings,” he says of his Atmopadesha Satakam series.
“In a world of moving frames, studying static ones is key to stilling the mind and discovering one’s true self. Modern humanity needs this; otherwise, we are just solving problems by creating more.”
Much like Andrew, youngsters in Kerala in the 60s and 70s experienced a similar churning. Confusion marked a generation that was caught between streaks of rebellion and tradition, resulting in a sense of rootlessness.
A figure of wisdom – grounded in ancient traditions yet attuned to the generation’s psyche – was awaited. Narayana Guru’s socio-spiritual movement had already made a mark in Kerala, naturally paving the way for his disciple Nataraja Guru, who, in turn, took under his wings a wandering mendicant named Jayachandran Panickar hailing from Pathanamthitta.
This Jayachandran, who had served as director of the Institute of Psychic and Spiritual Research in Delhi, would go on to be known to the world as Sri Nitya Chaitanya Yati. A profound phase in that transition was his time with Ramana Maharshi at his ashram in Thiruvannamalai, where he discovered the majesty of silence.
“Ramana Maharshi rarely spoke, and whatever he communicated to Guru Nitya was in that silence,” says Peter Oppenheimer, editor of Love and Blessings: The Autobiography of Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati, who travelled from the US to Kerala for the centenary.
“He showed us silence’s peace and power — the essence of the ‘atma’. I still feel this as I sit in Redwoods, California, where I sense silence speaking to me, tuning my soul to nature’s frequency.”
As the head of Narayana Gurukula in Varkala, Yati’s appeal lay in bridging textual knowledge and lived experience. “For him, the essence of all thoughts — spiritual or otherwise — mattered,” says writer Shoukath A V.
“His knowledge extended from the Brihadaranyaka Upanishad to the Bible, the Quran, and even dialectical materialism. Rooted in Narayana Guru’s teachings, and a lover of world literature, he saw beyond caste and creed. He wrote passionately on subjects ranging from Russell’s worldview to Kumaran Asan’s Seetha, the love of Francis of Assisi, and Ghalib’s ghazals. He encouraged us to find our calling, to go deep into it, and through it, to feel oneness with the world. For him, that was meditation.”
To Gayathri Narayanan, Yati was her “wicket”. She was introduced to him by the “lottery of birth” into a family connected with Nataraja Guru and Yati. “At first, he was like just a sweet grandfather to me. It wasn’t his philosophy that attracted me as much as his way of life,” says Gayathri, who often travels to the US to conduct Upanishad classes, sharing Guru’s teachings.
“He was universally open, embracing poetry, music, art, literature, and films. Life itself was his philosophy. It was inspiring, but by the time I sought serious spiritual guidance, he was gone. I felt rootless until I remembered his words, ‘Wherever you are, I am your wicket’. Over time, I realised this ‘wicket’ was not physical; it’s a bond rooted in ‘shraddha’ and ‘bhakti’, complemented by his ‘kripa’ and ‘karuna’. It’s a bipolar relationship — the ‘guru-shishya’ relationship.”
Gayathri believes Yati could have provided the youth today with that “wicket” as they navigate confusions.
Echoing similar views, Kapila Venu, a Nangiarkoothu exponent who staged a choreography of Soundarya Lahari at the centenary celebrations in the capital city, recalls Yati’s impact on her art and feminist views. “He shaped me. I have never met anyone else with his presence. His writings would resonate with today’s youth. I wish they were more accessible,” she says.
Yati took each person on a journey relevant to them rather than forming a cult, notes Swami Vyasaprasad, who spent 40 years at the Fern Hill ashram in Ooty where Yati was based. Seeking to resolve his identity crisis, he was drawn to Yati. Now, as a senior ashram member, he teaches online.
“The digital age has changed things. Guru Nitya responded to every letter he received, which was more personal. Now, that art is almost gone. But we are organising more classes to spread his message to the youth of today,” he says.
American disciple Peter Morass, who retired as a teacher, devotes his time to spiritual practices, landscaping, travelling, and exploring life’s richness and simplicity. “Meeting Guru Nitya answered my yearning for guidance. Raised a Catholic, I sought someone who could guide me,” he recalls.
“The Guru taught me how to create space in life for growth, to prioritise, stay healthy, and take responsibility. Silence is key. It arises from the joyful interdependence of all beings. That silence energises us.”
For some, silence and direction were Guru Nitya’s gifts; for others, he offered a fresh way to view art and, through that, life. Then there are people like Zen guru Gita Gayathri who tries to live by Guru’s example, silently taking his words and ideas to those who connect with her.
It is through these minds that Yati still lives on. To inspire many more who probably have not heard of him yet.
REMEMBERING THE GURU
Had Guru Nitya Chaitanya Yati been alive today, he would have turned 100. In the 75 years he lived, he created a substantial following among seekers, thinkers, artists, writers, actors, and, in general, those truly alive to life’s deeper meanings.
“His appeal was both unconventional and traditional: unconventional because it transcended the divisions humanity had acquired over time, and traditional in being rooted to Vedantic oneness,” says Zen teacher Gita Gayatri, who was one of the organisers of Yati’s centenary celebrations in Thiruvananthapuram.
A generation of young people, both in India and abroad, were touched by his words, whether spoken at the Fern Hill Ashram in Ooty or beyond. Many others were captivated by his writings.
Yati published over 120 books in Malayalam and 80 in English, including a commentary on Sri Narayana Guru’s ‘Darsana Mala’ – ‘The Psychology of Darsana Mala’. He also wrote numerous articles on philosophy, psychology, social ethics and aesthetics.
“Today, when most people must be reminded of who he was, celebrating his centenary is a homage to an era when the quest for truth was a natural outgrowth of study and reflection,” says Gita.