A few veins of critique tend to surface around “I Am That” and Nisargadatta Maharaj’s approach. For starters, the conversational style that feels like a warm cup of tea to some can strike others as jarring or abrupt. Maharaj’s blunt insistence on dropping all identities—“You are not the body, you are awareness”—sometimes reads as too sweeping, overlooking the messy realities of everyday life and emotional complexity.

Translation hiccups also get their share of attention. Maurice Frydman’s English renders the original Marathi dialogues poetic, yet occasional gaps or shifts in nuance leave readers wondering which shade of meaning slipped through the cracks. Scholars of Eastern philosophies occasionally point out that without a more rigorous commentary or footnotes, newcomers might miss key cultural or doctrinal layers.

Then there’s the perennial debate over guru-centric spirituality. In an era when conversations about power dynamics and #SpiritualBypassing are front and center, some critics worry that surrendering absolutely to Maharaj’s word can obscure personal agency or even foster dependency. Modern mindfulness teachers—mindful of trauma sensitivity—sometimes argue that his methods lack the psychological scaffolding needed for those carrying deep wounds.

Finally, the lack of a step-by-step “how-to” can feel like building a house without blueprints. This free-form dialectic demands a certain intellectual daring: leaning into paradox without clear markers can leave seekers adrift. Despite these quibbles, the book’s timeless pull hasn’t dimmed—but it certainly asks each reader to bring discernment, not blind faith, to the journey.