Handwritten notebooks sitting in the quiet corridors of Ramanasramam form the bedrock of authenticity for “Talks with Sri Ramana Maharshi.” Visitors and devotees—among them Arthur Osborne, S. S. Cohen and a handful of shorthand secretaries—jotted down Maharshi’s replies during daily darshans. These notebooks, often bound in red or green covers and stamped with the Ashram seal, still rest in the Ashram’s archives, complete with marginal notes and occasional corrections made at Maharshi’s urging.

Whenever a scribe got something slightly off, a brief nod or subtle shake of the head from Maharshi would set the record straight. Those silent approvals count for more than any autograph: they’re a living footnote to each exchange. In recent years, the Ashram has begun digitizing these precious pages. High-resolution scans went online in 2024, giving global seekers a peek at the very pages where Maharshi’s words first took shape.

Beyond the notebooks, eyewitness accounts reinforce the picture. Pilgrims like Robert Adams and Paul Brunton wrote personal journals—still in circulation—that describe note-taking sessions held under the cool shade of the Banyan tree. Even today, guides at Ramanasramam point out the spot where a shorthand artist would crouch, pen flying, as disciples waited for the next pearl of self-inquiry.

No tape recorders or modern gadgets were around—just pencils, paper and unwavering attention. Yet the convergence of multiple, independently kept diaries and the ashram’s preserved manuscripts weaves an unbroken chain back to the Master himself. In an age where digital forgeries abound, those well-worn notebooks remain as solid proof as anything short of having a time machine at hand.