Ramana held the image of the insect in his mind, his full attention on the grasshopper, remembering not only the careful hours of detailed observation but also the many other times he had seen the colorful creatures during his childhood in the mountains. Titighodo, they were called, used as medicine by the village elders. His brother Venka had trapped one and brought it home. Believing it to be lonely, he had captured another as companion. In the morning only one remained, having eaten the other.
Ramana opened his eyes, looked at his teacher. “I have the answer, Maharishi.”
His teacher smiled.