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Yogi
Ramsuratkumar
December 1st, 1918 – February 20, 2001
On December 1st, 1918, the child Ramsurat Kunwar was
born into a righteous and devout religious family. His birthplace in Bihar
was a village close to the sacred river Ganges, not far from Varanasi (Benares).
From childhood, the child evinced an intense spiritual thirst and had
extraordinary devotion towards the river Ganges. Playing along its shores
brought him happiness and contentment and he would often fall into a deep,
peaceful sleep by the banks of the sacred river.
In his early childhood, his father recounted
stories from the epics Ramayana and Mahabharata, which made a
deep impression upon the young boy. He was also very attracted to sadhus
and would rush from school to spend time with them along the river Ganges
and to listen to their singing, talks of God and stories of avatars,
rishis, mahatmas.
Although the boy went to school,
and excelled in his studies and sports (and even played
on the school volleyball team), his attraction was only for the banks
of the river Ganges. It was there that he heard stories and legends
recounted by sadhus, who saw in the young boy a great soul. Even from
a young age, his compassion was great and he often took food from his home
to give to religious mendicants at the river. Sometimes he even brought
beggars and sannyasins right into his mother’s kitchen to eat, and as
his family was not wealthy, the boy would offer his own
food to them.
At about 12 years of age,
Ramsurat Kunwar
had his initial spiritual awakening. One moonlight night, whilst pulling
water from a well, he saw a sparrow chirping on the edge of the stones. In
an impulsive manner, he threw the well rope towards it thereby striking the
bird and causing it to fall to the ground. Stricken with uncontrollable
sorrow and drenched in tears, he took the bird in his hands and poured a few
drops of water into its beak, but the bird was dead. The boy then immersed
the creature into the river Ganges. This incident raised a number of
questions in the anguished boy’s mind, who acknowledged it was his own
impetuous action that was responsible for the bird’s death. It was this
suffering that began to open his heart to compassion towards all.
At about
16 years of age, moved by an intense
impulse to search for God, and guided by
an extraordinary spiritual power, the boy wandered from his home and
proceeded to the
railway station. It was there that a stranger
approached and gave him a meal and rail ticket to Varanasi, ‘The City of
Light’. While at Varanasi and within the Temple of Lord Viswanatha, the
young boy experiencing the presence of his heavenly Father became ecstatic
and stayed for over a week in contemplation.
Two more times after this
he moved from his village, travelling on both occasions to Sarnath, five
miles outside Varanasi, to the place where Gautama Buddha gave his first
teachings.
Returning to his studies,
the young boy still spent as much time as possible on the Ganges with sadhus and holy men,
conversing with them on Divine matters. However, the playtimes of joy and
innocence were quickly passing away.
In 1937 after High School he
attended and graduated from Lucknow University. After his studies were
complete he first became a High School teacher of English and History and
later Headmaster of a school in the Bihar region. Ramsurat Kunwar was highly
educated and conversant in several languages, fluent in Hindi and English
and had a deep knowledge of both Eastern and Western culture, politics,
classical literature and religious scripture.
As was to be expected,
eventually the young man’s family began to exert pressure upon him to
conform to a customary Hindu life and take a wife. So, bowing to the
inevitable, and conforming to parental pressure and the long standing custom
of society, Ramsurat Kunwar finally took a wife, Ramaranjini. They were to
have a son Amitab and three daughters : Yashoda, Maya and Veena.
In his early twenties Ramsurat
Kunwar followed the path of a Hindu householder and professional man. He
played the part of a normal householder and although always of an
introspective nature, fufilled his duties of loving husband and father.
However, he was increasingly unable to deny the summons that he should
dedicate his life entirely and exclusively to God.
Consequently he became restless
and began to behave in strange, unpredicable ways. He spent many hours on
the Ganges with an aged sage, known as Swami Ramashram, discussing spiritual
matters and it was
with this Swami, that he shared his yearning and glimpses of his spiritual
goal. Swami Ramasharam advised Ramsurat to find a guru to guide him in his
search for spiritual awakening, and urged him to visit Sri Aurobindo Ghose
in Pondicherry, and also alluded to another sage who lived not far away from
Pondicherry – who Ramsurat was later to find was none other than Sri Ramana
Maharshi.
Of this anguish-filled time of his
life Yogi Ramsuratkumar was to later recall :
‘Years of this life have passed
and I have not been able to come by Your side. I have not yet had Your
vision. Father, I am Your child. I plead to You with humility. Take me away.
I will always serve Your will.’
It was with this prayer in his
heart that the Yogi set off on his quest and arrived
(now 29 years of age), in 1947 at Sri Aurobindo Ashram, Pondicherry. To
Ramsurat the presence and influence of Aurobindo was the confirmation of the
existence of a higher life. During his short stay, a young aspirant advised
him to visit Sri Ramana Maharshi at Tiruvannamalai. So, leaving Pondicherry, Ramsurat made
his way to Tiruvannamalai and Ramanashram. After spending a few days in the
presence of Ramana Maharshi, a stranger walked up and presented a
newspaper clipping about another sage. Quick to heed what he considered
Divine guidance, he thus soon found himself in Kerala at the ashram
of Swami Ramdas. This was the third time he had been mysteriously guided to
a spiritual Adept. However, unlike his meetings with Sri Aurobindo and Sri
Ramana Maharshi, he felt no attraction to Ramdas.
‘This beggar was not impressed
with Swami Ramdas as he had been with Ramana Maharshi and Aurobindo. This
beggar was not able to understand Ramdas at that time. He understood
immediately that the other two Masters were spiritual giants. With Ramdas,
however, it was different. It was kind of reaction . . . he was living
luxuriously and people were serving him like a king.’
He left unimpressed and returned
to the North and Varanasi. The following year he returned south, first to
Sri Aurobindo ashram and thereafter to Ramanashram where he stayed for two
months in the proximity of Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi. Living amidst the
strange forces emanating from the Maharshi aided the young man towards his
goal and helped him in his spiritual transfiguration.
In 1948, he visited Swami Ramdas
for the second time, but experiencing the same feeling as before, quickly
retreated to the Himalayas. Until:
‘On April 14th, 1950
when this beggar was moving somewhere in the Himalayas in search of Masters,
Maharshi passed away. In the same year, December 5th, 1950, the
other great Master, Aurobindo, also passed away. This beggar felt a type of
restlessness that he had lost the golden opportunity of keeping company with
those two great Masters.’
Feeling that with the death of
these two spiritual Masters, the Higher Life, which had been revealed to
him, was now lost as there was no one to guide him onward; he thought he
should try once more to open himself to the other renowned sage, Swami
Ramdas. His third opportunity to meet the saint came in 1952:
‘Then one thing very important,
it was the third chance to visit Ramdas. The two great Masters had passed
away. This beggar thought to himself, ‘Let me try again to visit Ramdas, for
he is recognized as a great Sage’. So in 1952 this beggar did not go to
Tiruvannamalai, nor did he go to Pondicherry, for the Masters were not
there. But this time Swami Ramdas turned out to be an entirely different
person. At the very first sight, Ramdas could tell a number of intimate
things about the life and mission of this beggar which nobody but this
beggar knew.’
Yogi Ramsuratkumar once explained
that he never would have kept wandering had either Ramana Maharshi or Sri
Aurobindo been right for him. According to him, the five years of guidance
under Sri Aurobindo and Ramana Maharshi was a period of spiritual maturation
and stabilization. The consummation of their efforts was then taken up by a
third perfected man, one who had all along been guiding him, his true
spiritual Father – Swami Ramdas. Yogi Ramsuratkumar later stated:
‘Most men wouldn’t like to say
they had three fathers, but this beggar had three Fathers. There was much
work done on this beggar. Aurobindo started, Ramana Maharshi did a little,
and Ramdas finished.’
Living with Swami Ramdas, the young Yogi
eventually developed an intense desire to receive initiation. Ramdas gave
the mantra, Om Sri Ram Jaya
Ram Jaya Jaya Ram to Ramsuratkumar.
When the initiation was complete, Swami Ramdas remained silent for a moment
and then said, ‘Go and repeat this mantram day and night, all the
twenty-four hours.’
‘At that moment, some force entered this beggar's
body, mind, soul or whatever you may call it. It began to control all the
movements. Then this beggar died. Now only this force directs everything.’
Ramsurat was struck speechless. His Master’s
words had entered him with the forceful thrust of a dagger. The constant
reiteration of the mantra, accompanied by implicit faith in its
efficacy, was soon to carry him to the summit of human perfection. In those
days he was often called, ‘the mad Bihari’ and would roll on the ground in
ecstasy. He wanted to stay with his guru forever:
‘After nearly two months with Ramdas this
beggar wanted to prolong his stay at Anandashram. Thrice this beggar
approached Swami Ramdas; every time he was refused. The last time the sage
exclaimed, “There are a number of people who can be fit for ashram life. We
don’t want any more of such people”.’
So, in 1952, Ramdas sent him away, insisting
that:
‘In the shelter and proximity of a big tree, a
small tree cannot grow to its full stature and potential, capable of giving
shade and coolness to many beings.’
“Where will you go?”
asked Ramdas. “Arunachala,” came the spontaneous answer.
Subsequently Ramsurat Kunwar left with Arunachala as his sole destination.
But first, his Father’s
Will took him throughout India wandering barefoot for a period of seven
years. During these years he lived as a beggar and trained himself to see
Father as manifesting as all beings and to accept events, without demur, as
Father’s Will and Grace: ‘Only my Father exists: past, present and
future, nobody else, nothing else at all.’
In
the early spring of 1959, Ramsurat arrived at the small town of
Tiruvannamalai at the foot of Arunachala. For the first 18 years after his
arrival, the Yogi lived mostly under a tree near the Railway Station and
slept, at nights, near the big Arunachaleswara Temple Compound in town, on a
veranda of sellers of pots and pans. During the days, he would
sometimes sit beneath a tree or either walk in
the countryside or town. Sometimes he would sit alone in the Temple, silent
and rapt in communion with the Father. Whimsical and unpredictible in his
actions he often engaged in inexplicable acts. He was a joyous, innocent
child of God, who many regarded as either an eccentric sadhu or
madman. A rare few saw him as a ‘crazy
wisdom Master,’ an ‘unseen, unknown Great One,’ working in invisible realms
of human consciousness.
‘There are saints who hide from
the crowd’s eyes that they may do their spiritual work on Earth unhindered
by the clamour 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.’[1]
He was a colourful figure. He wore
whatever clothes he was given, covering himself by two to seven woollen
shawls wrapt round his body and a colourful turban over his flowing
gray-white hair. Whatever clothes were given,
he wore them till they were dirty and ragged, neither washing or changing
his clothes and only rarely washing his form. Even though he smoked (first
beedies, then cigarettes), most noticed only the fragrance of sandalwood or
roses, emanating from his body.
He always had a small
hand-polished coconut bowl in hand (used for both food and drink) and a
country fan (vishiri) in the other, and for a time, a staff. For some
years, ‘Vishiri Swami’ was often seen, holding aloft a stick
decorated with peacock feathers – some force in these sticks seemed to be
guiding and propelling his body here and there.
Years later, when his
Ashram was first being built, he was often seen with a coiled rope
around his neck. This rope was used to measure the grounds and floor spaces
but during satsangs, he would often playfully whirl it in the air,
like a lasso, as he walked amongst the seated devotees.
His pockets would be stuffed with
objects: papers, stones, old cigarette boxes, all kind of things destined to
be carefully placed at some specific point with intent and reasons known to
him alone, and sometimes later picked up, when its function had been
fulfilled.
He kept his personal and
household items, such as old clothes, newspapers, coconut shells, and
bedroll stored in gunny sacks. During the 1970’s devotees could be seen
following Vishiri Swami, carrying these sacks on their backs, as they
walked through fields and town. Often he would stand or sit, peering
intently, muttering to himself, thumb and forefinger brushing against one
another, as if turning the beads of an invisible japamala. When he
walked it was often so fast that those near had to almost run to keep up.
He had a beautiful singing
voice, which spontaneously moved people to devotion, delight or bliss.
Sometimes he seemed fearsomely intense, and at other times as innocent,
gleeful and playful as a child. This
innocent joy, amazing peals of laughter and bliss that emanated from his
form gave him the name Godchild of Tiruvannamalai. (His previous name
Ramsurat Kunwar metamorphised into Ramsuratkumar: Suratkumar means Child
of the Sun).
For a long time people
were put off by his strange behavior and appearance. But a few saw the
Divinity emanating from this strangelooking form, or felt the silent
vastness of consciousness and tenderness of heart. Some came with troubles
and worries, and sitting in his presence, felt their burdens and problems
disappear and be replaced by a wordless peace and equanimity. Some were
surprised to find he could hear their thoughts and knew much about them on
first meeting. Some, that approached him were filled with wonder to see his
Beggar’s form disappear and be replaced by a vision of the deity or
Satguru they loved. Others, coming with grave, even terminal illness,
found themselves suddenly healed. When profoundly thanked, Yogi
Ramsuratkumar always refused credit, saying: ‘This beggar has done
nothing. It is all due to Father’s Grace and your faith, alone.’
In Tamil Nadu, South
India, during the 1970’s, a political
party came to power that was anti-religious and which persecuted both
beggars and sadhus. During these years, several attempts were made on
Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s life. Politically
he wasn’t liked
because he advocated the unity of
India, and at that time
Tamil Nadu advocated secession from India. Yogi Ramsuratkumar believed, ‘India
must be united. India must be whole. It must be, to do its work on the
Earth.’
He lived amongst people, sharing in
their lives, and keenly sensitive to their minds, and hearts. He brought
peace, joy and healing wherever he went. Those who knew Yogi Ramsuratkumar
in the early seventies remember how enigmatic his appearance was, long
before his ‘madness’ was broadly accepted as coming from a divine source. He
looked like nothing more than a crazy beggar with bizarre behaviour,
wandering around and living totally outside the norms of Indian society.
In speech, he cultivated
humility and self-effacement. He always spoke of himself as, ‘this dirty
beggar, this useless madcap fellow, this great sinner’ and of His Father
as, ‘very great’. Rarely he used the pronoun ‘I’ in speaking of
himself. Almost always it was ‘This dirty beggar, this madman, this
worthless fellow or, this great sinner’. Whenever miracles or miraculous
healings began to happen in his presence he always disclaimed any credit:
‘This beggar did nothing. This beggar doesn’t exist. It is all due to
Father’s Grace and your faith.’
He always acknowledged
with reverence his huge debt to sacred Arunachala and Arunachaleswarar
Temple, saying: ‘This hill and this temple,
they have saved this beggar,’ and with the
utmost gratitude for the sanctity of Mount Arunachala, he would later say:
‘This beggar wandering here and
there, tired of wandering but having no home – Arunachalesvara, in the form
of this hill, had mercy on this miserable sinner. So he gives thanks, a
thousand thanks, to this holy hill, this holy temple. Oh, the magnanimity of
the Lord! He has given me shelter for twenty long years. Whereas others who
come are enabled to stay only days or weeks . . . For thousands of years the
hill has given shelter to so many dirty sinners like me – and Arunachala
will give us shelter for thousand of years to come.’
When Yogi Ramsuratkumar used to
walk around the Hill, out of humility, he would always walk in the opposite
direction of all the other pilgrims.
Many times Yogi
Ramsuratkumar would say: ‘The mountain helps us.’ He himself spent
many years wandering on the mountain, taking shelter in its caves. Based on
his own comments, his transformation seems to have been connected in part to
his subtle relationship to the divine force within Arunachala.
Where is the Fire?
The Fire is there on the hill there.
But I don’t see it there.
You can see it if you are really bent upon seeing it.
Are you afraid of being engulfed by it?
Then you can’t see it
Have courage, no fear
You are sure to see it
Yogi Ramsuratkumar
The ‘Fire’ referred to by Yogi
Ramsuratkumar (as poet) is the mystical Fire of Creation, the light that is
perceived burning within Mount Arunachala as the embodiment of Shiva:
‘This holy Fire burned at the
core of the beggar’s absolute certainty: his faith in a Power that governs
everything, controls everything.’
Yogi Ramsuratkumar
Yogi Ramsuratkumar loved his
devotees. He loved laughter. He loved conversation. He loved human company.
He was always extremely available and accessible and open and communicative,
and at the same time there was something of the magician about him.
During these years he was
available to ‘friends’ at almost any time of the day or night
near the Temple Chariot, at the
corners of the roads or under the trees at the Temple.
Subsequently, accepting
the entreaties of devotees, he moved into a house with a small room and
veranda on Sannadhi street near the Arunachaleswarar Temple. People
started to visit and spend hours discussing spiritual and personal problems
with him. Yogi
Ramsuratkumar resided at this house until autumn of 1994, when he became ill
and thereupon accepted an alternative offer of shelter at Sudama House in
Ramana Nagar some miles west of the Temple.
When his fame began to spread,
large crowds started to gather waiting for his darshan.
The influx of devotees grew
steadily in size creating the need for an ashram.
Yogi who always verbally refused
the role of Guru of Teacher, had previously refused offers of an ashram,
but to fulfil the desire of devotees, in 1993
Swamiji acceded to the acquisition, enabled by contributions, of a site of
3½ acres once called Agrahara Collai close to the Sri Seshadri Swamigal
and Ramana Ashrams.
The construction of an
Ashram started once the land was cleaned and prepared. Yogi
Ramsuratkumar was involved in every step of the large building programme
which at one point involved the participation of up to 250-300 workers
working long hours. The first Ashram structure to be completed was a
small stone thatched-roof darshan mandir which could sit 200 people.
It was located by the front gate of the developing Ashram and was the
location of Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s regular darshans.
The plans for the
Ashram were elaborate and included a huge Temple, 350 feet long and 150
wide which would be big enough to accommodate 5,000 people, a kitchen and
dining hall, cottages for ashram residents and guests, meditation hall,
library, several buildings devoted to worship, and a Veda Patashala,
which Yogi Ramsuratkumar was to say would be the ‘heart of the Ashram’,
and was intended to be a place where visiting pandits and scholars
could stay and conduct Vedic research.
The ashram began to flourish. When
it was first being built, Yogi Ramsuratkumar said that it was not just for
Tiruvannamalai or India, but it was universal – a place of pilgrimage for
all races and religions.
From 1996 Yogi Ramsuratkumar
started experiencing continuous bouts of ill health which included high
blood pressure, stomach ulcers and diabetes. In July 1999 although he was
diagnosed to have a tumour he refused to allow allopathic treatment or tests
of any kind. Despite the tremendous suffering he was undergoing, he
maintained his close supervision of various projects within the ever-growing
Ashram. In spite of the pleadings of many of his devotees, Yogi
Ramsuratkumar stood firm in his refusal to allow allopathic treatment to
prolong his life, he consistently pronounced, ‘Father will take care of this
body’.
By early August 2000 his
health reached a crisis point and those who were caring for him felt he
would die very soon without medical intervention. So on 17th
August, after he had given a reluctant consent, he was taken to a hospital
at Chennai (Madras) and surgery took place on 11th September. A
devotee, Vijayalakshmi wrote about this time:
‘In this period of one
year, Bhagavan’s enormous reserves of strength were tested again and again.
The peace and love which he continued to radiate through the months of
illness, was phenomenal. During the months of recover, while at the hospital
in Chennai, there was daily
satsang. Bhagavan’s quotation from Tulasidas,
Kabirdas, Mahaperiyaval etc., anecdotes from the lives of saints were
feasts, which left one hungry for more. His cheerfulness and peace through
all the extreme pain and suffering made one increasingly aware of this
enormous presence in the form of Bhagavan. Perfect strangers were
immediately attracted by him and wanted to serve him. His reiteration that
one is not the body began to be understood’.[2]
He finally return to Tiruvannamalai
on November 23, 2000. The surgery which doubtlessly prolonged his life for
six months, also prolonged his suffering.
‘Yogi Ramsuratkumar was a very
long way from the ecstatic years on the streets when he was a hidden beggar
saint, free to move and work as he wished. The story becomes thick with
pathos . . . Perhaps if his destiny had not cast him into the hands of the
world in the way it did, he would have simply lain down under a tree . . .
and passed away from his body, but was obligated to act out his last days
bound in the golden case of love.
All this too was the will of God, the beggar’s manifest destiny.
The final result was that it gave a short reprieve from his impending death
and made it possible for the enactment of the final play of his vast
lilas.’[3]
By mid December, 2000, Yogi
Ramsuratkumar gave his last two public darshans in the Temple where
he was able to consciously interact with devotees. The last two months of
his life were spent in an apartment open to the view of all. His devotees
were allowed to come and stand outside the glass wall of his room and take
his darshan whilst he lay on his bed amidst a plethora of tubes,
nursing attendants and medical apparatus.
Over the next weeks his condition
quickly declined, until by mid-February it was clear that his physical death
was imminent. Hearing of his serious condition many devotees came to say
goodbye.
For days Yogi seemed to hover back
and forth between death and life.
A few days before his mahasamadhi, while several
devotees sat at his bedside, he suddenly opened his eyes, looked his devotee
Ma Devaki in the eyes and said, ‘I am everyone, everything, here, there,
everywhere. I alone exist.’
On February 20, 2001 at
3:19 a.m. in his Ashram at Tiruvannamalai, Bhagavan Sri Yogi
Ramsuratkumar attained mukti. His body was kept in the vast hall of
the Temple on the day of February 20 and thousands of people thronged the
Ashram to pay their respects. The next day, February 21st at
3 p.m., his body was carried on a bier in circumambulation around the
Ashram. Afterwards it was anointed with sacred substances, dressed and
lowered, sitting in the lotus position, into the samadhi site at the
Ashram Temple.
‘. . . And so a great beggar, a
true Godman, was gone from this world in his physical form and reborn in the
unseen worlds beyond the fives senses. His effulgent presence filled the
vast sky and pulsed in the hearts of those who loved him. There was never a
cessation of the communion of his heart with those who were receptive. To
hear, in joyful silence, the sound of the beggar’s laughter, which would
resound in the world forever. His body, exuding the splendour and sanctity
of the life that was lived, was laid in state in the temple, while thousands
of people came to pay homage to a beloved son of Mother India, and to the
great treasure that was his life – as one devotee said, “His life! His
wonderful life, mother! Such a glorious life, you know!”’[4]
*******************************************************************
There is one existence. MY SUPREME
FATHER is EXISTENCE :
Arunachala Shiva Arunaachala Shiva
Arunachala Shiva Aruna Jata,
Arunachala Shiva Arunachala Shiva
Arunachala Shiva Aruna Jata!
Blessings
from Yogi Ramsuratkumar
Yogi Ramsuratkumar
Yogi Ramsuratkumar
Yogi Ramsuratkumar
Jeya Guru roya
This beggar learnt at the feet of
Swami Ramdas the divine name of Rama, and beg, beg all of you not to forget
the divine name Rama. Whatever you do, wherever you are, be like Anjaneya –
Maruthi thinking of Rama and doing your actions in this world. At every
stage we face problems, today one problem, tomorrow another problem, the day
after tomorrow another problem. And on account of facing these problems
often we get dejected, disappointed, psychologically sick, if we don't
remember the name of Divine. So this beggar will beg all of you not to
forget the Divine name, Rama.
There are people who like
to remember the name of Siva. It is equally good – there are people who like
to remember the name of Ganapathi – equally good. whatever name you choose,
whatever form you choose but give to this beggar what he wants. Never forget
the Divine. Live in the world and the problems will be there. If we are
remembering the Divine name, we are psychologically sound. Maybe, we may
feel a little some of the problems. Even then the intensity with which we
feel if we don't have faith in God is much more than a man of faith – a man
who remembers the name of Rama. So this beggar is always begging, begging
for food, begging for clothes, begging that you should compose songs on this
beggar, build a house for me – a cottage for me – this thing – that thing –
so many things. But this beggar will beg of you this also, and you are
always giving what this beggar has begged. So this beggar begs please don't
forget the name of God. This Divine name has been always of great help to
all in the world.
You read Kabir, Tulsi,
Sur, Appar Swamy, Manickavasaga Swamy – how they emphasized Namasivaya.
Don't forget it – this is your heart – this is your soul. Whether it be Om
Namasivaya or Om Namo Narayana whether Rama, Siva or Krishna whatever name
you choose, whatever form you choose doesn't matter. But remember the lord
with any name, with any form of your choice. Just as when there is heavy
rainfall, we take an umbrella, and go on doing our work in the factory, in
the field, wherever we go for marketing and catching hold of the umbrella we
go though the rain is falling there. But still we work – still we work – do
our work. Similarly we have got so many problems all around. This divine
name is just like an umbrella in the heavy rainfall. Catch hold of the
divine name and go on doing your work in the world.
This beggar begs of you and this
beggar has received all he has begged of you. So I think none of you will
shrink away, when this beggar begs of you, don't forget the Divine Name.
This beggar prays to his Father to
bless you all who have come here. My Lord Rama blesses you – My Father
blesses you. Arunachaleswara blesses you. It doesn't matter to me what name
it is. All the blessings of my Father for all of you! Well, that is the end.
That is all.
[1]
Hilda Carlton
[2]
Chronicles of devotee
Vijayalakshmi
[3]
p.533, Under the Punnai Tree by M. Young
[4]
pp. 592-593, Under the Punnai Tree by M. Young
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