S.
Ramaswamier was a Hindu who belongs to the
Brahmanic caste, who lived in Tinnevelly (a city in the
South India), where he worked for the Government as District Registrar
of Assurances.
In 1881, he became a devoted
member of the Theosophical Society.
Photo taken at the Adyar Convention in December, 1883
Standing is the colonel Olcott. Below Olcott is Blavatsky. And below
Blavatsky is Ramaswamier. And to the left, dressed in black clothes, is
Damodar. And more to the left, dressed in white clothes is Subba Row.
The Ramaswamier’s acceptance as a
disciple of Master Morya was confirmed by a letter that he received on
September 28, 1881 (this letter was materialized in a phenomenal way by Master
Morya).
And this letter says:
« Greetings to my faithful chela [disciple]. He is
accepted even from now, so that he may consider him self as an accepted chela
of mine. Upasika [Blavatsky] has all the instructions. Let my chela Rama B.
Yogi 2 follow the instructions he will receive from her. I bless you, son.
M.·. »
(Letters from the Masters of the
Wisdom, 2nd Series, N°48.)
(Ramaswami was his ordinary name,
“Iyer” being the Brahminical caste
ending. And he had a secret name given to him at his “thread ceremony” which
was Rama Bhadra, and it is by this sacred name he is here addressed as Rama B.)
The next year, Ramaswamier decide
go to the search for Master Morya no
matter the dangers, and the following text is part of a personal letter
he wrote to his friend Damodar, where he narrates the feats he went through,
when he undertook that journey in search of his Master.
And this text, later, was printed
in the Theosophist magazine, in December, 1882, with the title:
HOW A DISCIPLE
FOUND HIS MASTER (1)
(Being Extracts from a private
letter [written by S. Ramaswamier] to Damodar K. Mavalankar, Joint-Recording
Secretary of the Theosophical Society.)
«. . . When we met last at Bombay I told you what had happened to me at
Tinnevelly. My health having been disturbed by official work and worry, I
applied for leave on medical certificate and it was duly granted.
One day in September last, [1882] while I was reading in my room, I was
ordered by the audible voice of my blessed Master, M——— Maharsi, to leave all
and proceed immediately to Bombay, whence I had to go in search of Madame
Blavatsky wherever I could find her and follow her wherever she went.
Without losing a moment, I closed up all my affairs and left the
station. For the tones of that voice are to me the divinest sound in nature;
its commands imperative I travelled in my ascetic robes.
Arrived at Bombay, I found Madame Blavatsky gone, and learned through
you that she had left a few days before; that she was very ill; and that,
beyond the fact that she had left the place very suddenly with a Chela, you
knew nothing of her whereabouts. And now, I must tell you what happened to me
after I had left you.
FOLLOWING BLAVATSKY
Really not knowing whither I had best go, I took a through ticket to
Calcutta; but, on reaching Allahabad, I heard the same well-known voice
directing me to go to Berhampore.
At Azimgunge, in the train, I met, most providentially I may say,
with some Babus (I did not then know they were also Theosophists since I had
never seen any of them), who were also in search of Madame Blavatsky. Some had
traced her to Dinapore, but lost her track and went back to Berhampore.
They knew, they said, she was going to Tibet and wanted to throw
themselves at the feet of the Mahatmas to permit them to accompany her. At
last, as I was told, they received from her a note, informing them to come if
they so desired it, but that she herself was prohibited from going to Tibet
just now.
She was to remain, she said, in the vicinity of Darjeeling and would see
the BROTHERS on the Sikkhim Territory, where they would not be allowed to
follow her.
Brother Nobin, the President of the Adhi Bhoutic Bhratru Theosophical
Society, would not tell me where Madame Blavatsky was, or perhaps did not then
know it himself. Yet he and others had risked all in the hope of seeing the
Mahatmas. On the 23rd at last, I was brought by Nobin Babu from Calcutta to Chandernagore
where I found Madame Blavatsky, ready to start, five minutes after, with the
train.
A tall, dark-looking hairy Chela (not Chunder Cusho), but a
Tibetan I suppose by his dress, whom I met after I had crossed the river with
her in a boat, told me that I had come too late, that Madame Blavatsky had
already seen the Mahatmas and that he had brought her back.
He would not listen to my supplications to take me with him, saying he
had no other orders than what he had already executed, namely—to take her about
25 miles, beyond a certain place he named to me and that he was now going to
see her safe to the station, and return.
The Bengalee brother-Theosophists had also traced and followed her,
arriving at the station half an hour later. They crossed the river from
Chandernagore to a small railway station on the opposite side.
When the train arrived, she got into the carriage, upon entering which I
found the Chela! And, before even her own things could be placed in the
van, the train, against all regulations and before the bell was rung—started
off, leaving Nobin Babu, the Bengalees and her servant, behind.
Only one Babu and the wife and daughter of another (all Theosophists and
candidates for Chelaship) had
time to get in. I myself had barely the time to jump in, into the last
carriage.
All her things (with the exception of her box containing the
Theosophical correspondence) were left behind together with her servant. Yet,
even the persons that went by the same train with her did not reach Darjeeling.
Babu Nobin Banerjee, with the servant, arrived five days later; and they who
had time to take their seats, were left five or six stations behind, owing to
another unforseen accident (?) at another further place, reaching Darjeeling
also a few days later!
It requires no great stretch of imagination to know that Madame
Blavatsky had been or was, perhaps, being again taken to the BROTHERS, who, for
some good reasons best known to them, did not want us to be following and
watching her.
Two of the Mahatmas, I had learned for a certainty, were in the neighborhood
of British territory; and one of them was seen and recognized—by a person I
need not name here—as a high Chutuktu of Tibet.
Map of the long journey made by Ramaswamier
from Tinnevelly to Darjiling following Blavatsky
CROSSING THE FRONTIER
The first days of her arrival Madame Blavatsky was living at the house
of a Bengalee gentleman, a Theosophist; was refusing to see any one; and
preparing, as I thought, to go again somewhere on the borders of Tibet.
To all our importunities we could get only this answer from her: that we
had no business to stick to and follow her, that she did not want us,
and that she had no right to disturb the Mahatmas, with all sorts of questions
that concerned only the questioners, for they knew their own business best.
In despair, I determined, come what might (2), to cross the frontier
which is about a dozen miles from here, and find the Mahatmas, or—DIE. I never
stopped to think that what I was going to undertake would be regarded as the
rash act of a lunatic. I neither spoke nor did I understand one word of either
Bengalee, Urdu, or Nepaulese, nor of the Bhootan, or Tibetan languages.
I had no permission, no “pass” from the Sikkhim Rajah, and yet was
decided to penetrate into the heart of an independent State where, if anything
happened, the Anglo-Indian officials would not (if even they could) protect me,
since I would have crossed over without their permission. But I never even gave
that a thought, but was bent upon one engrossing idea—to find and see my
Master.
Without breathing a word of my intentions to any one, one morning,
namely, October 5, I set out in search of the Mahatma. I had an umbrella, and a
pilgrim’s staff for sole weapons, with a few rupees in my purse. I wore the
yellow garb and cap. Whenever I was tired on the road, my costume easily
procured for me for a small sum a pony to ride.
The same afternoon I reached the banks of the Rungit River, which forms
the boundary between the British and Sikkhim territories. I tried to cross it
by the aerial suspension bridge constructed of canes, but it swayed to and fro
to such an extent that I, who have never known in my life, what hardship was
could not stand it.
I crossed the river by the ferry-boat and this even not without much
danger and difficulty.
MEETING
WITH STRANGERS
That whole afternoon I travelled on foot, penetrating further and
further into the heart of the Sikkhim territory, along a narrow footpath.
I cannot now say how many miles I travelled before dusk, but I am sure
it was not less than twenty or twenty-five miles. Throughout, I saw nothing but
impenetrable jungles and forests on all sides of me, relieved at very long
intervals by solitary huts belonging to the mountain population.
At dusk I began to search around me for a place to rest in at night. I
met on the road, in the afternoon, a leopard and a wild cat; and I am
astonished now to think how I should have felt no fear then nor tried to run
away. Throughout, some secret influence supported me. Fear or anxiety never
once entered my mind. Perhaps in my heart there was room for no other feeling
but an intense anxiety to find my Master.
When it was just getting dark, I espied a solitary hut a few yards from
the roadside. To it I directed my steps in the hope of finding a lodging. The
rude door was locked. The cabin was untenanted at the time.
I examined it on all sides and found an aperture on the western side. It
was small indeed, but sufficient for me to jump through. It had a small shutter
and a wooden bolt. By a strange coincidence of circumstances the hillman had
forgotten to fasten it on the inside when he locked the door!
Of course, after what has subsequently transpired I now, through the eye
of faith, see the protecting hand of my Master everywhere around me. Upon
getting inside I found the room communicated, by a small doorway, with another
apartment, the two occupying the whole space of this sylvan mansion. I lay
down, concentrating my every thought upon my Master as usual, and soon fell
into a profound sleep.
Before I went to rest, I had secured the door of the other room and the
single window. It may have been between ten and eleven, or perhaps a little
later, that I awoke and heard sounds of footsteps in the adjoining room. I
could plainly distinguish two or three people talking together in a dialect
that to me was no better than gibberish.
Now, I cannot recall the same without a shudder. At any moment they
might have entered from the other room and murdered me for my money. Had they
mistaken me for a burglar the same fate awaited me. These and similar thoughts
crowded into my brain in an inconceivably short period. But my heart did not
palpitate with fear, nor did I for one moment think of the possibly tragical
chances of the thing!
I know not what secret influence held me fast, but nothing could put me
out or make me fear; I was perfectly calm. Although I lay awake and staring
into darkness for upwards of two hours, and even paced the room softly and
slowly, without making any noise, to see if I could make my escape, in case of
need, back to the forest, by the same way I had effected my entrance into the
hut—no fear, I repeat, or any such feeling ever entered my heart.
I recomposed myself to rest, and after a sound sleep, undisturbed by any
dream, I woke and found it was just dawning. Then I hastily put on my boots,
and cautiously got out of the hut through the same window. I could hear the
snoring of the owners of the hut in the other room. But I lost no time and
gained the path to Sikkhim (the city) and held on my way with unflagged zeal.
From the inmost recesses of my heart I thanked my revered Master for the
protection he had vouchsafed me during the night.
What prevented the owners of the hut
from penetrating to the second room?
What kept me in the same serene and
calm spirit, as if I were in a room of my own house?
What could possibly make me sleep so soundly under such
circumstances,—enormous, dark forests on all sides abounding in wild beasts and
a party of cut-throats (as most of the Sikkhimese are said to be) in the next
room with an easy and rude door between them and me?
TOWARD THE CITY OF SIKKIM
When it became quite light, I wended my way on through hills and dales.
Riding or walking, the paths I followed are not a pleasant journey for any man,
unless he be, I suppose, as deeply engrossed in thought as I was then myself,
and quite oblivious to anything affecting the body.
I have cultivated the power of mental concentration to such a degree of
late that, on many an occasion, I have been able to make myself quite oblivious
of anything around me when my mind was wholly bent upon the one object of my
life, as several of my friends will testify; but never to such an extent as in
this instance.
It was, I think, between eight and nine A.M. and I was following the
road to the town of Sikkhim whence, I was assured by the people I met on the
road, I could cross over to Tibet easily in my pilgrim’s garb, when I suddenly
saw a solitary horseman galloping towards me from the opposite direction. And from
his tall stature and the expert way he managed the animal, I thought he was
some military officer of the Sikkhim Rajah.
Now, I thought, am I caught!
He will ask me for my pass and what business I have on the independent
territory of Sikkhim, and, perhaps, have me arrested and—sent back, if not
worse.
But, —as he approached me, he reined the steed. I looked at and recognized
him instantly . . . I was in the awful presence of him, of the same Mahatma, my
own revered Master whom I had
seen before in his astral body, on the balcony of the Theosophical
Headquarters! (3)
It was he, the “Himalayan Brother” of the ever memorable night of
December last, who had so kindly dropped a letter in answer to one I had given
in a sealed envelope to Madame Blavatsky (whom I had never for one moment during
the interval lost sight of) but an hour or so before!
The very same instant saw me prostrated on the ground at his feet. I
arose at his command and, leisurely looking into his face, I forgot myself
entirely in the contemplation of the image I knew so well, having seen his
portrait (the one in Colonel Olcott’s possession) a number of times.
I knew not what to say: joy and reverence tied my tongue. The majesty of
his countenance, which seemed to me to be the impersonation of power and
thought, held me rapt in awe. I was at last face to face with “the Mahatma of
the Himavat” and he was no myth, no “creation of the imagination of a medium,”
as some sceptics suggested.
It was no night dream; it is between nine and ten o’clock of the
forenoon. There is the sun shining and silently witnessing the scene from
above. I see Him before me in flesh and blood; and he speaks to me in accents
of kindness and gentleness.
What more do I want?
My excess of happiness made me dumb. Nor was it until a few moments
later that I was drawn to utter a few words, encouraged by his gentle tone and
speech. His complexion is not as fair as that of Mahatma Kuthumi; but never
have I seen a countenance so handsome, a stature so tall and so majestic.
As in his portrait, he wears a short black beard and long black hair
hanging down to his breast; only his dress was different. Instead of a white,
loose robe he wore a yellow mantle lined with fur, and, on his head, instead of
a pagri, a yellow Tibetan felt cap, as I have seen some Bhootanese wear
in this country. When the first moments of rapture and surprise were over and I
calmly comprehended the situation, I had a long talk with him.
He told me to go no further, for I would come to grief. He said I should
wait patiently if I wanted to become an accepted Chela; that many were
those who offered themselves as candidates, but that only a very few were found
worthy; none were rejected—but all of them tried, and most found to fail
signally, especially —— and ——. Some, instead of being accepted and pledged
this year, were now thrown off for a year.
The Mahatma, I found, speaks very little English—or at least it so
seemed to me—and spoke to me in my mother-tongue—Tamil.
(This observation shows me that
the narration is true, because it is a detail that almost nobody knew (since
almost nobody had communicated verbally with Master Morya). I know this because
in a letter the Mahatma Kuthumi says to Sinnett: "Morya knows very little
English and he hates writing" [CM14, p84]. But the Mahatma Letters became public until 1923. 40 years later! )
He told me that if the Chohan permitted Madame Blavatsky to go to
Pari-jong next year, then I could come with her.
The Bengalee Theosophists who followed Madame Blavatsky would see that
she was right in trying to dissuade them from following her now. I asked the
blessed Mahatma whether I could tell what I saw and heard to others. He replied
in the affirmative, and that moreover I would do well to write to you and
describe all.
I must impress upon your mind the whole situation and ask you to keep
well in view that what I saw was not the mere “appearance” only, the
astral body of the Mahatma, as we saw him at Bombay, but the living man, in
his own physical body.
He was pleased to say when I offered my farewell namaskarams (prostration)
that he approached the British Territory to see the Upasika.
Before he left me, two more men came on horseback, his attendants I
suppose, probably Chelas, for they were dressed like lama-gylongs,
and both, like himself, with long hair streaming down their backs. They
followed the Mahatma, as he left, at a gentle trot.
RETURN TO INDIA
For over an hour I stood gazing at the place that he had just quitted,
and then, I slowly retraced my steps. Now it was that I found for the first
time that my long boots had pinched me in my leg in several places, that I had
eaten nothing since the day before, and that I was too weak to walk further.
My whole body was aching in every limb. At a little distance I saw petty
traders with country ponies, taking burden. I hired one of these animals. In
the afternoon I came to the Rungit River and crossed it. A bath in its cool
waters renovated me. I purchased some fruits in the only bazar there and ate
them heartily.
I took another horse immediately and reached Darjeeling late in the
evening. I could neither eat, nor sit, nor stand. Every part of my body was aching.
My absence had seemingly alarmed Madame Blavatsky. She scolded me for my rash
and mad attempt to try to go to Tibet after this fashion.
When I entered the house I found with Madame Blavatsky, Babu Parbati
Churn Roy, Deputy Collector of Settlements and Superintendent of Dearah Survey,
and his Assistant, Babu Kanty Bhushan Sen, both members of our Society. At
their prayer and Madame Blavatsky’s command, I recounted all that had happened
to me, reserving of course my private conversation with the Mahatma.
They were all, to say the least,
astounded!
After all, she will not go this year to Tibet; for which I am sure she
does not care, since she saw our Masters, thus effecting her only object. But
we, unfortunate people! We lose our only chance of going and offering our
worship to the “Himalayan Brothers” who—I know—will not soon cross over
to British Territory, if ever again.
I write to you this letter, my dearest Brother, in order to show how
right we were in protesting against “H. X.’s”
letter in the Theosophist magazine.
The ways of the Mahatmas may appear, to our limited vision, strange and
unjust, even cruel—as in the case of our Brothers here, the Bengalee Babus,
some of whom are now laid up with cold and fever and perhaps murmuring against
the BROTHERS, forgetting that they never asked or personally permitted them to
come, but that they had themselves acted very rashly.
And now that I have seen the Mahatma in the flesh, and heard his living
voice, let no one dare say to me that the BROTHERS do not exist. Come
now whatever will, death has no fear for me, nor the vengeance of enemies; for
what I know, I KNOW!
You will please show this to Colonel Olcott who first opened my eyes to
the Gnana Marga, and who will be happy to hear of the success (more than
I deserve) that has attended me. I shall give him details in person.
S. Ramaswamier, F.T.S.
Darjeeling, October 7, 1882. »
(Theosophist, December, 1882, vol. 4, p. 67-69
Notes
1.
Published by permission. [ED. Theosophist.]
2.
I call the especial attention of certain of my anxious
correspondents to this expression, and in fact to Mr. Ramaswamier’s whole
adventure. It will show the many grumblers and sceptics who have been
complaining to me so bitterly that the Brothers have given them no sign of
their existence, what sort of spirit it is which draws the Adepts to an
aspirant.
The too common notions, that the mere joining of our Society gives any right
to occult instruction, and that an inert sentimental desire for light
should be rewarded, arise from the lamentable ignorance which now prevails with
respect to the laws of mystical training.
Masters there are now, as there have always been in the past; and now as
heretofore, the true Chela can find among them one who will take him under his
care, if like our Tinnevelly Brother he has determined “to find the Mahatmas
or—die!”—D. K. Mavalankar
3.
I refer the reader to Mr. Ramaswamier’s letter in Hints
on Esoteric Theosophy (p.72-73) for a clearer comprehension of the
highly important circumstance he refers to.—D.K.M.
* * * * * * *
The meeting with Master Morya was
on October 6, 1882. And shortly after the events narrated in his letter, Ramaswamier
received a letter from Master Morya, in which in addition to confirming the
authenticity of his story, the Master asked him to recount what happened so
that people would know of the existence of the Trans-Himâlayan Masters.
This letter says:
« Ramaswamier will don the robes of a regular Vedantin
ascetic — even to the top-knot if necessary, and send his useless clothes to
Bombay. He must travel from town to town along the line to Allahabad, and
preach Theosophy and Vedantism.
Every one must know he is my
chela, and that he has seen me in Sikkim. He must let Upasika know of his
movements constantly, and finally join her at Allahabad — as also receive my
orders through her. His whole aspiration and concern must be directed towards
one aim convince the world of our existence.
. . .
More anon. Dress yourself as a
pilgrim from today, and tell your friends you have received direct orders from
me — how or in what way it is no one's business. Silence, discretion and
courage. Have my blessings upon your head, my good and faithful son and chela.
M.·. »
(Letters from the Masters of the
Wisdom, 2nd Series, N°50.)
The best evidence that Ramaswamier
followed his Master's instructions is shown by the fact that he founded four
lodges of the Theosophical Society as he traveled from Darjeeling to Bombay.
_ _ _
From what is known so far,
Ramaswamier received nine letters from the Masters, most of them containing
personal instructions to him.
And below I quote one letter,
which is very short, but shows that a direct relationship had been established
between him and the Masters, independently of Blavatsky (who was the one who
materialized most of the letters for the other people).
This letter says:
« In the name of M———, R. S. is ordered to take the enclosed to Subba Row. R. Swami has my
blessings, and is commanded not to reveal this to any one. He may, however, say
that he received this letter, which is a new proof of our reality independently
of Upasika [Blavatsky].
M.·. »
(Letters from the Masters of the
Wisdom, 2nd Series, N°53.)
And this correspondence that
Ramaswamier had with the Masters Morya is very important:
First, because it shows that this
closeness level of student-teacher with these Masters is achievable.
And two, because in this
correspondence, Blavatsky was not involved as an intermediary, and this is an
independent proof that proves the existence of the Trans-Himâlayan Masters.
Ramaswamier died in 1893, and he remained devoted to his Master and the theosophical cause until
the end of his life.
(Note: you can know more about Ramaswamier's life and his work as a disciple: here)
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