Seshadri Swami moved about Tiruvannamalai for forty years, an ascetic with a total disregard for either name or form. He had no home, dependents, property or any fixed habit or system. He would often conduct himself like a mad man and roam around in the heat of the day and stare up at the hot midday sun and, at night, rest in some nook or deserted hall. He would be delighted when it rained and play in the streams on the street, sit in the water and only go indoors when the rain had stopped. His acts were dramatic and deeply impressive. He would avoid rich food from wealthy persons but beg for cold gruel at a poor man’s house or share food with beggars or left overs on a banana leaf with a dog. Sometimes he would take no food at all and on other occasions consume enough for ten people. He would eat and drink like one swallowing medicine or one being forcibly fed.
Although he did not accept money he would sometimes receive expensive clothes but immediately transfer them to a poor person or tear the clothes into pieces and garland the tail and horns of a calf. If he was given plain new clothes, within a couple of hours, they would reach the state of his original clothes. He wore only a dhoti which would cover his toes and another piece of cloth swathed over his back and shoulders. He would squat anywhere regardless whether it was slush, dirt or refuse. When sitting, it was always in his favourite swastika asana.
Swamiji was handsome of medium height and fair countenance. His hair hung in short ringlets to the nape of his neck. His voice was soft and his smile was as sweet and sunny as a child. His body would not be at rest for a moment. Even, when sitting he would catch something, put it down, lift it and then repeat it all over again a hundred times. He walked fast and those following had to run to keep up with him. No sound emanated from his walking or running, it was as if his body was light like a ball. He would seldom bathe, but occasionally pour a pint of oil on himself and roam in the streets with oil still glistening on his head. If he allowed himself to be shaved he would often stop it abruptly, with half of his face or head unshaved and appear in public with equanimity and total disregard for public opinion. He discarded rules and observances of caste, sanctity, prudence and decency but always avoided animal food and intoxicants.
He loved music, delighting his devotees with songs. If one asked, he would break forth into melodious song often drumming rhythms on nearby surfaces. Sometimes he would place his hands on his hips and dance. He was often taken to be a lunatic and at times purposely simulated madness. It was difficult to explain his general behaviour and impossible to account for the course of his conduct. He was always original and free, an ascetic who maintained a thorough control of his mind and senses up to the end of his life. He was always playing pranks. Suddenly he would laugh without stopping and those who witnessed his fun would be reduced to hilarity. Swamiji utilised a strange manner of speech to ward off crowds building up around him. He would go on speaking very fast, without any respite and with no end or meaning. Sometimes if someone spoke to him, he would reply in Sanskrit, not caring if he was understood or not.
He was a tapaswi of a very high order. One result of the mantras and sadhanas he practiced from his earliest years was the development of various siddhis and psychic powers. He could tell about the past and the future and read minds with ease. With this power, he fulfilled the desires of people by showing visions they wanted to see, both in dreams and while being awake.
His miraculous touch is said to have cured many of those who came to him with devotion. Often when people saw him in the streets they would prostrate before him and he would get near to enable them to touch his feet. But, he would never allow bad characters to touch his feet. He would run away and if they forced themselves on him, he would abuse them or even pelt them with stones. Seeing this, many people did not go near him. But when he knew about the good qualities of a person, he would himself catch their hands and play. He would joke and run with young children. He never distinguished between males and females and sometimes would put his arms around the neck of a girl and walk along with her, and lie down in the street with his head in her lap.
Swamiji’s interaction with the world was very strange. A person couldn’t take advantage of previous proximity – every moment was a new moment. People loved him, but some fearing they might be beaten, were frightened to come close. Generally, he would not call people by name, ask them how they were doing, suggest they come or question why a person did not come. He would neither talk sarcastically nor show intimacy on account of a past connection.
Sri Seshadri Swami had deep devotion to God especially in the form of the Goddess Kamakshi, Lord Ram and Arunachala. In the practice of concentration (for days in his boyhood at Tindivanam and at Tiruvannamalai), he sat steeped in samadhi, oblivious of his body. He loved service and by his own example showed it as a noble ideal to live up to. He was regarded with great respect and he was thought to be a sage not a mad man. People would say, ‘He is a talking God,’ ‘A divine incarnation, a great yogi, a great siddha’. Others would say there were three lingas in Tiruvannamalai: One, Lord Arunachala, another Ramana Maharshi and the third Seshadri Swamiga
