Hilda and YogiRamsuratkumar

The New Sun

Chapter 15

Yogi Ramsuratkumar:
The Hidden Saint of India

There are saints who hide from the crowd's eyes that they may do their spiritual work on Earth unhindered by the clamor of fame. These hidden Great Ones help keep the balance of the world. Mystical to some, foolish to others, insane in the eyes of the worldly ones who are tied to customs of what is right and wrong, these masters of life break down the confining walls of customs which bind humanity. They are the spiritual ones who work silently, secretly, quietly changing the world, unnoticed by the masses. They care not for fame or recognition; in fact, they shun it. They walk softly through life as God's beacons of light and truth for those whose hearts and eyes are cleared of Earth enough to see.

One such saint is Yogi Ramsuratkumar of South India. I have never met Swami on the physical plane. (During a pilgrimage Hilda made to India later that year, she and Yogi Ramsuratkumar met in Tiruvannamalai.) He lives ten thousand miles away, yet we are friends and know each other. I often feel his presence in my home or at my meetings. We hear each other as if we were in nearby rooms. He helps many of those whom I am helping. There is no space or distance when divine love of humanity is the bond. True are the words "He who humbleth himself shall be exalted." (Lk. 14:11) When I receive a letter from him, referring to himself as "a beggar," "a sinner," "a servant," it only brings forth laughter from my heart, and all I can think of is would that the world had more sinners and beggars like Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

I asked Phyllis who attends my meetings to go and see Swami when she went to India. She returned looking radiant and happy and gave the following account:

"I have often read accounts of people first meeting with their guru, and I wondered if I would ever experience such a God-person. For me, India is Yogi Ramsuratkumar — a God-man beyond words and an experience whose depths I do not comprehend at this point in time. I went to Tiruvannamalai looking for Swami, but Swami found me. I was walking down the street and stopped for a moment near steps that seemed to descend from heaven. Coming toward me was a man not small, yet when he moved his gracefulness was remarkable. It was as if he weren't there. He just seemed to flow as though the wind were picking him up and as though he moved on clouds when he walked. As this man came toward me, I felt myself beam with untold joy. `Are you looking for me?' he asked. There he was. A smile came across my face: it was Swami. We would sit for hours, many times never a word spoken, our eyes meeting and our souls touching. I felt my heart melt into Swami and watched as tears poured out of my eyes in ecstasy. There was nothing to say, nothing to do — just to be with Swami fulfilled every fiber of my being. The total communication I was experiencing with Swami went beyond words. I felt he knew everything about me, and I knew I was home.

"Swami asked me a variety of questions and we spoke about the guru and initiation. When I asked Swami if he initiated, his reply was, `This beggar doesn't initiate. He just talks,' and deep inside me I knew what Swami meant and what initiation really was. Initiation until Swami had always been some outward display — a touch, etc. With Swami, initiation took on a form that knows no words — it was all internal.

"One cannot be in his presence when he is laughing without being infected by him — it brings you total joy and happiness. There was a man visiting him from Madras who was telling Swami how fortunate he was to have met Swami on his last visit. He said that the next day he was in a car accident. Well, Swami roared laughing. `What fortune is this? You come to this beggar and then have a car accident,' he said laughingly. `But, Swami, by your grace I came out with a minor injury when I could have been killed,' was the man's reply. Swami then asked the man which destination he was headed for next and proceeded — all the time laughing — to bless his journey.

"Another time there was a group of Indians sitting before Swami, and Swami was telling them of Hilda and how much love she has for `this beggar' and how she sends him people all the way from America. `This beggar doesn't know how to act,' he said, shaking his head.

"When it came time for me to leave Swami the first time after only being with him for three days, it was very difficult. I wanted to stay with him forever — there was no need to go anywhere else. But Swami said to go, and so I left. When I arrived in Bangalore to meet with Sai Baba, I discovered it wasn't possible to meet with him since he was traveling. My initial reaction was frustration since the bus ride from Tiruvannamalai was seven hours — then the light shone through and I found myself laughing and laughing. How lucky I was. I could go back to be with Swami. As arduous as the seven-hour bus ride was, it seemed nothing compared with the joys of being with Swami again.

"Before leaving Bangalore, I went to the airlines to change my flight date from March 9th to March 16th. Back in Tiruvannamalai with Swami, it became apparent that Swami was with me even when I had left. For example, Swami knew I was leaving for New York on the 9th. When I met with Swami the second time, although he seemed surprised to see me back in Tiruvannamalai, he commented, `Then you are not leaving on the 9th, you will be leaving on the 16th.' Well, what more did I need! He knew it all. After that statement, my inner conviction was satisfied, and when I took leave of Swami for the second time, it was all okay. I knew, deep inside, we were not really parting — it only appeared so.

There is meaning in every movement. When he puts a stone in a certain place or a teacup in a certain way, he has a reason in his seeming craziness, as he calls himself "this mad fellow." An example of this occurred when William was with Swami. He says, "Swami usually sent out for tea in the evenings. When the devotee brought the teacups and teapot, Swami would distribute the cups and pour the tea himself. The cups seemed to be very randomly distributed, that is, without any particular order. Likewise, the tea was poured in a similar manner. Once when the teacups were placed before us by Swami and we were waiting for them to be filled with tea, I unconsciously moved the cup about an inch closer to myself. Swami stopped instantly and said sharply, `What, you moved that cup! Don't you think this beggar knows what he is doing? You have spoiled this beggar's work!' It was the last time I made that mistake. It also showed me that his every action had a purpose in the work that he was doing.

"On the first day I met Swami, four of us were in a field at the foot of Arunachala hill. Swami had us sit three across in a row. Suddenly the mood changed; I saw Swami standing in front of me raising his right hand up in the air, palm facing me. I felt my eyes getting heavy, and the next thing I knew, I was in a very deep meditative state. It was such a deep state that I felt I could stay there forever. The surroundings were totally blanked out and there was only a deep, inner space filled with light. I felt the presence of a powerful light moving slowly around me in a circular motion. Swami completed the circle and spoke to me. `Come this side, Mr. Will, come this side. No good tea on that side.' Then he said in a very slow but firm voice, `Two, nine, zero, eight.' The next thing I remember is that my eyes were opening and looking at Swami standing in front of me. `Two, nine, zero, eight' and I was back instantly into the physical consciousness. Swami looked at the devotees sitting there and said, `Two, nine, zero, eight seems to be Mr. Will's number!' Then he roared with laughter."

A student brought back a tape of Swami on which was heard his laughter. It was total, captivating, and all present were affected. It brought joy and happiness. I feel this laughter of his breaks up the sorrows, the heaviness of the thought forms and the karma of those who sit at his feet.

Another disciple, Joan, says her thoughts often float back to the days she spent with Yogi Ramsuratkumar and with the group under a tree in a farmer's field by the railway station, or the nights in the bazaar near the great temple where the group would be tucked away in some corner, hardly noticed by the throngs of people passing by. She says: "Those times with Swami awakened within me the thrill of being on Earth — all the joy he imparted. His divine laughter still fills me with ecstasy to this day.

"Rarely does Swami call himself anything other than a `beggar,' a `sinner' or `this mad fellow.' But during some precious moments, far into the night, when it seemed the very Heavens and Earth stilled to hear his message, he has said that he is a Master doing the work of his Father and the Father is pleased with `this beggar's work.' He said it is not his lot to live protected in an ashram and to be recognized in the manner we would think proper."

Swami has revealed his vision to the world. He said that in the next few decades we will not be able to recognize this Earth. This Earth will be a beautiful and glorious place. He also talked about the young people who have not taken on the same values as their parents. They travel over the world, not recognizing national boundaries or carrying prejudices. He says that these young people are the first wave in the change of Earth consciousness, already living the promise of the future when there will be no boundaries, no passports for travel, when the Earth will be one unified place in which to live in peace and harmony. Swami has great respect for the United Nations and sees the urgency for a unified world. "Just as people should act morally and responsibly as laid down in the codes of all religions, nations have to live in a like manner," he says. "They have to realize that their conduct is responsible for the peace and well-being of the world."

Swami can be wise, childlike, joyous, stern. Many are his moods. The following fragments of his teachings confirm this. Once a visitor from America remarked to Swami that many times Swami has been seen in dreams helping and instructing people who did not even know of him at the time. They recognized him in pictures later on. To this, the Master remarked: "This beggar doesn't know. The Father must be helping them. The Father does some work and gives credit to this sinner. The Father loves this sinner. Don't know why."

Once a disciple was sitting alone with the Master in the corner of a bazaar when a man walked up to the group and kindly offered Yogi Ramsuratkumar a pot of spiced milk. The Master jumped up and shouted at him and complained that he had interrupted his work. He loudly ordered the man to go away. Then Swami sat down with the group and resumed talking, exactly where he had left off. But one devotee was thinking to himself: How could he be so cruel? He is shameless! The devotee was speechless. When Swami saw his reaction, he became silent for a moment and then said, "There are saints who will throw stones at those people who come near them, but whoever is hit by those stones is blessed by them. There is as much joy in the fight as there is in the success." To be yelled at by a saint, to be pelted with a stone by a yogi, is to have your karma wiped out. It is pure grace.

One student who comes to me was given grace by Yogi Ramsuratkumar as follows: One morning as he was awakening and in that half-state between waking and sleep, he found himself chanting Yogi Ramsuratkumar's name. He saw himself standing on the shore of a vast ocean and meeting a disciple who took him to Swami. Yogi Ramsuratkumar appeared to be very stern and powerful when he said, "Shakti is the material out of which are made the blocks for constructing your house, but too much power can be a dangerous thing." At that moment a black-like substance was drawn out of the boy. Swami's demeanor changed to one of boyish laughter and love. He said, "But the question is, what are you going to put in your house when it is built? You are going to put love in your house." Then the black substance was transformed into a beautiful light radiating from the Master into the boy's solar plexus. The force of light and love took him into a state of the Absolute — no breath, no movement. Slowly the Master brought him back into Earth-awareness with the lesson of love learned and experienced. Grace.

A devotee of Yogi Ramsuratkumar tells his experience: "Swami was walking in the early days on the road from South India in Kerala District to Trivandrum. He observed a truck stuck way out on a lonely road, away from civilization. Swami said to the men who had for hours been trying to get it to start, `Please start it now.' He took one step forward and, raising his staff, touched the engine and called to God, saying, `By the grace of Ram, your engine will start.' The men were outraged; their tempers flared and they cursed this seeming beggar until the man sitting in the driver's seat turned the ignition. The engine started. Everyone was suddenly joyous, and all were saluting Swami and pouring forth words of appreciation as they drove away. As Swami was telling this story and talking to me, his words became inaudible, my breathing became slower and almost stopped, my mind was reeling, and I lost consciousness of the world. As I almost fell into Swami's lap, I realized that even though I couldn't hear his words, they were the source of this great power. Then, at that moment, he raised his staff in a gesture of power, and with a few last words, he stopped every atom of my body. I was engulfed in a scintillating and wonderful energy. This didn't seem to be the appropriate time to be laughing, but with the spinning in my solar plexus I couldn't stop. When I was composed enough to ask Swami what was happening, he interrupted, `You must be very hungry,' and he sped away to get food."

From the moment I heard of Yogi Ramsuratkumar, I knew in my heart he was one of the Great Ones who work quietly and silently for the world. With the power of his thought and action, he creates the world he wants. He places a teacup, tells devotees just where to sit, places a stone somewhere, and in so doing sends out into the ethers the power to unify the world. Some students were walking behind him in a rice field. He was walking swiftly and suddenly stopped short. The ones in back bumped into him. He was stern and said after a long silence, "You have spoiled this beggar's work!"

The following quotations from Yogi Ramsuratkumar illuminate his work on Earth:

"In the world there are various spiritual movements working to bring about great changes — a new world. It is in connection with the great world movement, the great spiritual world movement, that this beggar does his work.

"This beggar believes in the vision of his spiritual teacher, Sri Aurobindo." He then proceeded to explain that Aurobindo had a dream and vision of a universal unity and peace on Earth and, furthermore, of a race of spiritual supermen.

"This work must be done. It is all that we can do. But this beggar will tell you...it won't fail.

"It is not for this beggar to talk of these philosophies. He is here to talk with the people and mingle with them.

"This beggar has been assigned a great mission. And this beggar does his work in every step he walks. He gives advice or help to those few people who come to him, but as a general rule, his real work goes unnoticed. Please excuse him for giving some importance to this body!"

Yes, the Great Ones who work alone are helping to keep the balance of this world. Every step they take, every breath they breathe has a meaning. They are on Earth in hidden places, unseen, unsung by humanity, but their work goes on. When my thoughts go to Yogi Ramsuratkumar who dwells in the light of the Red Hill, Arunachala, Tiruvannamalai, my heart sings: "I love life. I love giving; I love receiving. I love the sun, the moon, the mud, the hardships. I love the glory. Yes, I love life, God's life in all its diversities and forms, but best of all, the Formless One. To the hidden saints of light, let us humbly bow."

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