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vol. title: vol. period: 1882 pages in vol.: 174 |
The Indian Mirror.
CALCUTTA, THURSDAY, DEC. 7, 1882.
HOW A CHELA FOUND HIS GURU.*
(Theosophist, December 1882.)
(Being Extracts from a private letter 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, while I was reading in my room, I was ordered by the audible voice of my blessed Guru, 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.
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 Thibet, 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 Darjiling, and would see the Brothers on the Sikkhim Territory, where they would not be allowed to follow her . . . Brother Nobin, the President of the Adi Bhootic 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 Blavatasky, ready to start, five minutes after, with the train. A tall, dark-looking hairy Chela (not Chunder Cusho), but a Thibetan 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 Bengali 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 Bengalis 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 Darjiling. Babu Nobin Banerji, 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 unforeseen accident (?) at another further place, reaching Darjiling 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 neighbourhood of British territory; and one of them was seen and recognised—by a person I need not name here as a high Chutukhtu of Thibet.
The first days of her arrival Madame Blavatsky was living at the house of a Bengali gentleman, a Theosophist; was refusing to see any one; and preparing, as I thought, to go again somewhere on the borders of Thibet. 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,† 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 Bengali, Urdu, or Nepaulese, nor of the Bhutian, or Thibetan 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 Guru. 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 may purse. I wore the yellow garb and cap. Where’er 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. That whole afternoon I travelled on foot, penetrating further and further into the heart of the Sikkhim territory, along a narrow foot-path. 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 Guru. When it was just gathering 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 huge 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 Guru everywhere around me. Upon getting inside I found the room communicated, by a small door-way, with another apartment, the two occupying the whole space of this sylvan mansion. I lay down, concentrating my every thought upon my Guru 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 case availed 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<... continues on page 14-74 >
* Published by permission.
† I call the special 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. Gurus 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. Mavlankar.
Editor's notes
- ↑ How a Chela Found His Guru. by Ramaswamier, S. (signed as S. Ramaswamier, F. T. S), Indian Mirror, The, Calcutta, Thursday, December 7, 1882; reprinted from The Theosophist, December 1882; letter dated Darjiling, October 7, 1882
Sources
-
The Theosophist, v. 4, No. 3 (39), December 1882, pp. 67-69 (original publication)