There are certain devotees whose lives are inseparable from the life of Yogi. They lived in him, and he lived in them. Through their intimate association with Yogi, their lives underwent profound transformation. Some attained God-realisation, while others were firmly placed on the path toward it. Among such blessed souls stands Sri Murugeshji, a great devotee, a noble human being, and a sincere sadhaka.

Sri Subbaiah Nadar and Smt Annammal were blessed with five daughters. The eldest was Smt Thayammal and the youngest Smt Shenbagammal; Smt Pushpammal was the second daughter. All five were ardent devotees of Lord Siva. Smt Thayammal, in particular, would not partake of food unless she had first fed a sadhu. She was married to Sri Sinnamani Nadar of Tuticorin, a distinguished industrialist and the founder of Tamilnad Mercantile Bank Ltd., Tuticorin Spinning Mills Ltd., and several other enterprises.

Sri Sinnamani Nadar’s only son, Sri Ganesan, married Padmavati of Sivakasi. Sri Ganesan was deeply involved in public activities and showed little interest in business affairs. Consequently, Sri Sinnamani Nadar personally trained his eldest grandson, Sri Murugesan, to manage the vast industrial empire he had built. Murugeshji learned diligently under his grandfather’s guidance. He had three younger brothers, one elder sister, and two younger sisters, and the entire family lived together in a large ancestral home in Tuticorin.

After the passing of Sri Sinnamani Nadar, Murugeshji assumed responsibility for the mills and other family businesses. He married Smt Rajakumari of Tuticorin. Following her husband’s demise, Smt Thayammal withdrew from worldly life, moved into a small house, and spent her remaining years in constant remembrance of Lord Siva.

In his early years, Murugeshji lived life on his own terms, unconcerned about people or consequences. Marriage brought some restraint, but soon life delivered its first profound sorrow. Despite seven years of marriage, the couple remained childless. Though Murugeshji possessed wealth, health, and social standing, this unfulfilled longing wounded him deeply and turned his heart toward God.

Their family deity was Lord Muruga of Thiruchendur. Every year, the couple observed Sashti Vratham for six days, staying within the temple precincts, fasting, and immersing themselves entirely in prayer. They continued this sacred observance for several years. At last, they were blessed with a son, whom they named Sinnamani, in loving remembrance of Murugeshji’s grandfather. In later years, they were further blessed with a daughter, Meena, and another son, Senthil. With the arrival of children, Murugeshji’s life blossomed with joy and prosperity.

Murugeshji’s mother was a devoted follower of Sri Ramakrishna and Sri Sarada Devi. At her insistence, Murugeshji was educated at a Ramakrishna Mission school in Thirupparaithurai, under the guidance of Sri Sidbhavananda Swami, a compassionate yet strict disciplinarian. Though Murugeshji initially disliked the disciplined atmosphere, the values he absorbed there later shaped his life profoundly. Remembering this, he enrolled his own sons, Sinnamani and Senthil, in a Ramakrishna Mission school in Madras, despite their protests.

By 1975, Murugeshji began to experience deep inner restlessness. Almost all his businesses were stagnant. For the first time in his life he experienced a deep financial crunch. That made him even more restless.

To overcome that anxiety, Murugeshji studied the lives of Sri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda, along with various scriptures. Everywhere he encountered the same truth: the eternal reality is God, and all worldly phenomena are transient illusions. Repeatedly, he found emphasis on the indispensable role of the Guru—the one who alone could guide a seeker to Truth. A burning longing for a guru arose within him.

He began searching earnestly. Whenever time permitted, he visited saints, mutts, ashrams, and holy places across the country. Yet none drew his heart. His search continued without fulfilment until 1976.

On 31 May 1976, Murugeshji visited Tiruvannamalai with his Christian friend, Mr Peres. From his grandmother, Smt Thayammal, he knew that her father, Sri Subbaiah Nadar, had spent his final years in Tiruvannamalai as a sanyasi and had attained samadhi there. Murugeshji first visited the samadhi and paid homage, then went to the sacred Arunachaleswarar Temple.

At the temple, he enquired whether any saintly person could be seen in Tiruvannamalai. Someone mentioned a mysterious ascetic known as “Visiri Samiyar”, who sat in the evenings at the Theradi Mandapam and slept at night in the corridor of a nearby metal-vessel shop. Murugeshji carefully noted the details. After visiting Ramanashram, he returned to his lodge to rest and later came to the Theradi Mandapam in the evening.

He purchased flowers to offer to the Visiri Samiyar. As he approached the mandapam, he heard a loud, joyous laughter—unlike anything he had ever heard before. Drawn instinctively toward it, he saw the Visiri Samiyar seated there. Though outwardly he looked like a beggar—dirty clothes, unkempt appearance—there was something extraordinary about him. Murugeshji, who had never been drawn to any saint before, felt an immediate and powerful attraction.

Overcoming hesitation, he climbed the steps, placed the flowers at the Samiyar’s feet, and prostrated. The Samiyar took hold of his hand and asked him to sit. Surrounded by companions who also appeared like wanderers, the Samiyar radiated immense divine energy. Gunny bundles lay around them, and the gathering looked outwardly strange, yet spiritually vibrant.

The Samiyar spoke in refined English, and his joy was infectious. Murugeshji felt an unfamiliar calm and homeliness in his presence. The Samiyar asked his name and place, then enquired how he had come to know about him. On hearing the answer, the Samiyar laughed joyously and said, “My Father has sent you here!”

Murugeshji remained seated silently, his mind becoming increasingly still. Around 10:30 p.m., the group moved to the corridor of the vessel shop. A mat was spread on the raised platform. The Samiyar sat in the centre, attendants on his left, Murugeshji and his friend on his right.

The Samiyar then asked Murugeshji if he knew the beggar’s name, pointing to himself. When Murugeshji replied that he did not, the Samiyar said slowly and solemnly, “This beggar’s name is Yogi Ramsuratkumar. Will you repeat?”

Murugeshji repeated the name. Yogi repeated it again; Murugeshji followed. The third time, the name was uttered once more and repeated again. In that very first meeting, the initiation was silently completed between the Guru and the disciple.

After a long silence, Yogi said gently, “Now you may go, my friend. This beggar leaves you.”

Murugeshji rose, left immediately, vacated his lodge, and returned straight to Tuticorin. His long and painful search for a Guru had ended—suddenly, effortlessly, and completely. He felt that by God’s grace he had been led to a supreme spiritual master, none other than the Lord Himself, manifest in the form of Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

After returning to Tuticorin, Murugeshji found it impossible to forget the Samiyar of Tiruvannamalai—Yogi Ramsuratkumar. The very sound of the name Yogi Ramsuratkumar arose in his mind again and again, and he discovered an inexplicable sweetness in uttering it. He remembered Yogi almost constantly, and an intense longing to see him once more grew within his heart.

Unable to resist this inner pull, Murugeshji returned to Tiruvannamalai the very next weekend, accompanied again by his Christian friend. He arrived early in the morning, completed his ablutions, and went straight to the corridor of the metal-vessel shop where he had last seen Yogi. But Yogi had already left.

On enquiring with the people nearby, Murugeshji was told that during the daytime Yogi usually stayed beneath a large punnai tree behind the railway station. Murugeshji immediately set out in that direction. At the railway station, he enquired again and was guided to the exact spot. He hurried forward, eager to see his Guru.

The punnai tree stood majestically in the midst of fertile farmland. The land was cared for by Manicka Gounder and his wife Rajammal—hard-working, kind-hearted people who not only tended the fields but also lovingly provided food to Yogi and his companions whenever they were in need.

Beneath the shade of the punnai tree, seated upon a mat, was Yogi Ramsuratkumar. To his left stood his attendants—Perumal, George, Durai, and Jagannathan—singing in chorus: “Yogi Ramsuratkumara, Jaya Guru, Jaya Guru, Jaya Guru Raya.”

Murugeshji reached the spot and prostrated before Yogi. Yogi gently patted his back and uttered, “Rama… Rama.” He asked Murugeshji to sit before him on the mat, which Murugeshji did with reverence. Yogi then enquired about the friend accompanying him. Murugeshji introduced him as Peres, his friend and assistant. Yogi asked Peres also to sit.

Yogi then asked Murugeshji what he did for a living. Murugeshji handed over his visiting card. Yogi studied it carefully for a long time.

“So,” Yogi said, “you are the Managing Director of a spinning mill. What can this beggar do for you, my friend?” Murugeshji remained silent. He did not know how to answer. His mind was full, yet words would not come.

Yogi waited quietly, lit a cigarette, and smoked deeply while gazing intently at Murugeshji. Murugeshji felt the urge to speak but found himself unable to articulate his inner state.

Yogi then asked about Murugeshji’s education. Murugeshji replied that he had studied at Thirupparaithurai under the guidance of Swami Sidbhavananda. Yogi was visibly delighted. “Oh!” he exclaimed, “You had the blessing of associating with a great disciple of the direct disciple of Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. You are truly blessed.” Yogi added that the Swami had done immense service by translating the Bhagavad Gita into Tamil and thus bringing its wisdom into countless homes across Tamil Nadu.

Yogi enquired about Murugeshji’s family background. Murugeshji explained that his parents were Sri Ganesan Nadar and Smt Padmavati; his grandparents were Sri Sinnamani Nadar and Smt Thayammal; and that his great-grandfather, Sri Subbaiah Nadar, had renounced worldly life and come to Tiruvannamalai to attain God. Yogi expressed deep joy on learning that Murugeshji was Sri Subbaiah Nadar’s great-grandson. He further asked whether Murugeshji knew Smt Shenbagammal and her children, to which Murugeshji replied that they were his relatives.

Yogi then asked how Murugeshji had finally found him. Murugeshji narrated his inner turmoil over the past months, his study of saints and scriptures, and his growing conviction that only a Guru could lead one to God. He spoke of visiting many saints and ashrams, popular and obscure alike, without his heart accepting anyone. He even described his visit to Puttaparthi to see Sri Sai Baba, where too his mind found no resting place.

Then, suddenly remembering his great-grandfather, he felt drawn to Tiruvannamalai. He came to pay homage at Sri Subbaiah Nadar’s samadhi, visited the Arunachaleswarar Temple, and enquired about any saint living there—thus being directed to Yogi.

After listening patiently, Yogi said, “You were guided by Sai Baba, and he sent you to this beggar.” Murugeshji replied softly, “Sai Baba did not tell me to come here, and I felt nothing there. But when I came to your feet, I felt that I had reached my home.”

Yogi laughed joyously and said, “No, Murugeshji. You were guided by Sai Baba himself and brought here.” At that very moment, the dog Sai Baba came running toward them. Yogi laughed heartily and called out, “Sai Baba, see who has come!” Murugeshji felt shy and blushed as Yogi laughed again and again in childlike delight.

Yogi then enquired about the condition of the spinning mill. Murugeshji replied honestly that the mill was struggling, facing the usual ups and downs common to industries. Yogi became serious and silent for a few moments. Then he asked about Tuticorin and its renowned Siva temple. He remarked that Tuticorin was once known as Thirumantiram Nagar and that the town must have many peepul trees.

Murugeshji was astonished by Yogi’s knowledge and asked whether he had ever visited Tuticorin. Yogi replied that he had passed through Tuticorin while returning from Swamithoppu, the place of Muthukutti Swamigal. Murugeshji marvelled at the depth and breadth of Yogi’s knowledge of India’s sacred geography.

Finally, Yogi expressed a wish to meet Murugeshji’s family. Murugeshji promised that he would bring them along on his next visit.

After enquiring into Murugeshji’s business, family, and place of origin, Yogi Ramsuratkumar began speaking about Muthukutti Swamigal and his immense service to the Nadar community. He explained how the sacred work Akilathirattu had been revealed through a devotee’s dream and narrated by Muthukutti Swamigal himself. Yogi spoke repeatedly about this scripture, unfolding its inner meaning with clarity and reverence. As he listened, Murugeshji developed a deep longing to study the book in its entirety.

Yogi then spoke about Swami Ram Tirtha, the great saint from Punjab, a contemporary of Swami Vivekananda. He narrated how Swami Vivekananda had once gifted Swami Ram Tirtha a pocket watch that always showed one o’clock, symbolising the eternal truth that there is only One—God. Yogi explained:

“Swami Ram Tirtha was a professor of mathematics. He renounced worldly life and performed intense penance on the banks of the Ganga, chanting ‘Om’ ceaselessly. He loved Mother Ganga deeply. He realised my Supreme Father and went on to preach His truth to people. He travelled to America and other countries, spreading the message of the Father. Later, his disciples compiled his talks into six volumes titled In the Woods of God Realisation.”

Yogi urged Murugeshji to study these works and even guided him to locate the address in Lucknow from where the books could be obtained. The way Yogi spoke about Swami Ram Tirtha ignited an immediate and powerful desire in Murugeshji to procure and study those books without delay.

Murugeshji then asked whether Swami Ram Tirtha was Yogi’s Guru. Yogi replied that Swami Ram Tirtha had left his body in 1906 but had spiritually guided Yogi toward his own Guru. When Murugeshji asked about Yogi’s Guru, Yogi became solemn and said:

“This beggar has three Fathers—Ramana Maharishi, Sri Aurobindo, and Swami Ramdas. Ramana ignited the fire, Aurobindo took it deeper, and my Father Swami Ramdas completed the process. My Father wanted this beggar to chant Ram Nam day and night. But this beggar only smokes, eats, and talks. Still, my Father loves and protects this beggar.”

As Yogi spoke of his Guru, his entire being transformed. A charged stillness filled the space. A powerful spiritual vibration spread through the atmosphere. Yogi seemed to glow with divine brilliance. Such moments awakened deep longing for God in sincere seekers. Murugeshji felt with certainty that he had finally found his true Guru. Overwhelmed, he prostrated reverentially. Yogi gently patted his back and allowed him to return to Tuticorin.

Upon returning home, Murugeshji immediately enquired among his North Indian business associates about Swami Ram Tirtha. After much effort, he obtained all six volumes of In the Woods of God Realisation. He also travelled with his wife and children to Swamithoppu, visited the shrine of Muthukutti Swamigal, and acquired the Akilathirattu. He further gathered information about Anandashram, the abode of Swami Ramdas at Kanhangad in Kerala.

Murugeshji immersed himself completely in the works of Swami Ram Tirtha. The teachings absorbed him so deeply that he began speaking and quoting only Ram Tirtha’s words. His life pattern changed entirely. His vision became clear and penetrating, and he gradually began to perceive the workings of maya, the cosmic illusion. After studying Akilathirattu, he became convinced that Muthukutti Swamigal had returned in the form of Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

He soon returned to Tiruvannamalai with his wife and children and formally placed his family at Yogi’s feet, declaring that they belonged to Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

Murugeshji was then thirty-seven years old—the same age at which Swami Ramdas had renounced the world. Swami Ramdas had been a spinning master by profession, and Murugeshji too was academically trained in spinning technology. These parallels deeply moved and strengthened Murugeshji’s resolve to walk the divine path.

From then on, Murugeshji regularly spent time with Yogi at Tiruvannamalai, often accompanied by his family. Yogi became immensely fond of them, calling Murugeshji his “King,” Rajakumari his “Queen,” and their children his “Prince and Princess.” Yogi showered extraordinary love and attention upon this family. In the author’s twenty-five years of association with Yogi, he never witnessed Yogi extending such sustained affection toward anyone else as he did toward Murugeshji.

Murugeshji developed the firm conviction that everything unfolded solely by the will of God and Guru—who were one and the same to him. His faith was unshakable. At that time, his spinning mill was facing severe financial difficulties. Yogi asked him to appoint Thirugnanam, the son of Manicka Gounder—who had cared for Yogi beneath the punnai tree—as an office assistant. Murugeshji complied instantly, without hesitation. Within months, the mill entered a boom period and soon became financially strong.

Later, Yogi asked Murugeshji to appoint Manicka Gounder’s second son, Pitchandi. Murugeshji did so immediately. Soon after, the mill began registering unprecedented profits. Yet Murugeshji remained calm, detached, and inwardly anchored in his Guru, unaffected by success or wealth.

Throughout 1976, Murugeshji visited Yogi frequently. Yogi guided him to study various scriptures and saintly works, including Narada Bhakti Sutra, Avadhuta Gita, Bhagavad Gita, and several Vedantic texts. Murugeshji constantly contemplated Yogi’s words and glorified his Guru’s wisdom and compassion whenever he met fellow devotees. Those who listened were spellbound. His family was astonished by the transformation in him—his love became expansive, his respect toward his father turned into reverence, his affection for his children brought them joy, and his care for his wife filled her with bliss.

Whenever his children cried at night, Murugeshji would place them on his lap and chant Yogi’s name. Within minutes, they would fall into deep, peaceful sleep. His faith in Yogi and in the sacred Name grew rapidly and carried him safely across the ocean of life.

On 8 January 1977, the author arrived at Tiruvannamalai with the intention of ending his life. Yogi saved him in a mysterious way. The following day, Murugeshji arrived with his family. Soon after, Sri Sivasankaran and his wife Prema arrived from Sivakasi with their children. Though these three families differed greatly in worldly status—Murugeshji being wealthy, Sivasankaran moderately prosperous, and the author a pauper—they were united by Yogi’s divine will.

Yogi stayed with them day and night. During the day, he engaged the women in singing devotional songs while the men cared for the children. The group spent mornings beneath the punnai tree and evenings walking to the mandapam along the railway line. Yogi would garland Murugeshji every morning and ask him to wear the garland throughout the day.

In the evenings, Yogi would walk holding Murugeshji’s hand, like a proud bridegroom walking with his bride. Murugeshji would blush shyly. At the railway gate, young nuns from a nearby church often gathered to watch the unusual procession. Seeing them, Yogi would smile shyly, then burst into laughter and dance in ecstasy, exchanging pleasantries with them, while the rest of the group walked with bowed heads.

After reaching the mandapam, Yogi allowed the group to rest, but later visited them again at Sivakasi Nadar Chatram, spending the entire night conversing with the men while the women rested with the children.

One evening, Yogi spoke in detail about the sufferings he had endured at the hands of violent elements in Tiruvannamalai. The atmosphere became heavy with emotion. The friends were deeply pained. Later, the women joined and sang devotional songs. Yogi lay down and fell asleep, his breathing merging musically with the songs.

Rajakumari then sang a song describing the sufferings of Lord Siva. When the song ended, there was a long silence. Yogi slowly rose and asked Murugeshji, “Murugeshji, what is the meaning of this song?”

With a choked voice, Murugeshji replied, “It is your story, Swami.”

Yogi smiled broadly—and returned to sleep.

Every mood of Yogi was deeply contagious. When he was immersed in joy, the entire atmosphere around him resonated with joy. When he became serious, the surroundings grew tense and silent. When sorrow passed through him, those near him felt its weight without words.

Around noon, at about twelve o’clock, Yogi rose and asked Murugeshji to arrange chapatis for everyone from Sundar Tea House. The tense atmosphere suddenly dissolved, as though Yogi had completed some unseen and intense inner work. Murugeshji immediately sent his assistant to fetch the food.

When the chapatis arrived, Murugeshji placed the parcel before Yogi. Yogi asked him to open it. Then he instructed Murugeshji, Sivasankaran, and the author to sit in a line facing him. They obeyed silently. Yogi placed the chapatis into his coconut shell, tore them into small pieces, poured gravy over them, and mixed them gently. Then, with his own hands, he fed each of them, a little at a time.

As he did so, Yogi remarked softly, “Murugeshji, there is a meaning behind this leela. One day you will understand.”

Years later, the significance of this act unfolded: the families of all three—Murugeshji, Sivasankaran, and the author—became inseparably close, united through Yogi Ramsuratkumar as their spiritual centre.

After lunch, Yogi reclined peacefully while the friends sat before him. Casually, Yogi recited a Hindi couplet. Whenever Yogi recited verses in Hindi or Sanskrit, the sound itself bypassed the intellect and touched the heart directly.

Murugeshji asked for its meaning. Yogi explained with laughter:

“Walking, walking, and walking.

The destination—home—is only eighteen miles away.

I am exhausted, my legs ache, I can go no further.

Now tell me—who is to be blamed?”

After saying this, Yogi burst into long, joyous laughter. The group watched in awe.

The following day, the families gathered as usual beneath the punnai tree. Yogi taught the women how to sing the first song composed in his name, “Ulagam Unai Vanangum.” The women practised throughout the day, while the men took care of the children.

In the evening, the group walked back to the mandapam. That night, after ten o’clock, everyone moved to the corridor of the vessel shop. Yogi lay down on the raised platform, while the others spread themselves on the floor nearby.

The night was cold, with a biting wind that unsettled the women. Around midnight, Yogi suddenly rose and asked the men and women to follow him, instructing the attendants to remain behind and watch the children. He led them to a house on Sannathi Street and knocked on the door.

A middle-aged man opened it. On seeing Yogi, he immediately prostrated. He was Sri Iyyachamy Iyer, the owner of Bell Studio, a photographic shop. Yogi asked him gently whether the women could use the toilet. Sri Iyyachamy Iyer at once called his wife, who kindly attended to the women.

Since evening, the women had been in discomfort but were unable to express it out of modesty, especially in Yogi’s presence. Observing Yogi’s quiet sensitivity and concern, Murugeshji was moved to tears.

Sri Iyyachamy Iyer then asked whether he could offer milk. Yogi enquired if there would be enough for everyone. When assured, Yogi and the group sat together in the hall. Hot milk was served to all, and everyone drank silently.

Suddenly, Yogi rose and began walking back and forth, looking intently at each person. Then, in a flash of clarity and authority, he declared:

“Murugeshji, this beggar used to call himself a beggar. But there is nothing in this world or the heavens that this beggar needs to beg. This beggar used to call himself a sinner. But such purity cannot be found anywhere—neither on earth nor in heaven—except in this beggar. My Father has sent this beggar for a specific work. This beggar needs a few people to carry out my Father’s work. And this beggar is doing that work, Murugeshji.”

The group sat in stunned silence. After some time, they thanked Sri Iyyachamy Iyer and quietly returned to the vessel shop. Soon after, Yogi relieved the families and asked them to return to the Sivakasi Nadar Chatram to rest.

The following day, Murugeshji was seated on the western side of the punnai tree, practising pranayama in silence. From that spot he was not visible to Yogi Ramsuratkumar, who was resting on his mat. Suddenly, Yogi rose and looked around for Murugeshji. Not seeing him, Yogi asked where he was. Murugeshji immediately emerged and came forward.

Yogi asked him what he had been doing. Murugeshji replied that he was attempting pranayama. Yogi’s expression instantly turned grave. “Who asked you to practise pranayama?” he asked sharply.

Murugeshji was startled by Yogi’s seriousness and replied that Swami Ramtirtha had written about pranayama in his books. Yogi responded firmly:

“Pranayama should be practised only under the guidance of a realised guru and in a proper environment. Otherwise, it will not give the desired result. On the contrary, it may create negative effects and cause serious disturbance in one’s system.”

After a brief pause, Yogi’s tone softened, filled with compassion.

“Murugeshji, my King, all your tapas and efforts will ultimately lead you to your Guru’s feet. After that, you need not worry about spiritual growth at all. The Guru will take full responsibility for you and ensure that you reach God. Even if you try to escape from the Guru, the Guru will not leave you. Like a frog in the mouth of a cobra, the disciple cannot escape.

The only thing the disciple needs to do is to remember the Guru and the Guru-mantra constantly. That alone is sufficient. Do not attempt any methods to reach God. Remember your Guru, Murugeshji—that is enough.”

After a short silence, Yogi continued:

“Whatever happens, happens by the will of my Father. Nothing is wrong, Murugeshji. Everything is perfectly right. My Father never commits mistakes. Have faith in my Father. Have faith in my Father’s Name.

This name, Yogi Ramsuratkumar, is not this dirty beggar’s name. It is my Father’s Name. Remember this Name—that alone is enough.”

Overcome with emotion, Murugeshji burst into tears and began chanting softly, “Yogi Ramsuratkumara, Jaya Guru, Jaya Guru, Jaya Guru Raya.”

Everyone present joined him. The atmosphere became intensely charged with divinity, and Yogi appeared radiant, glowing with inner brilliance.

Soon after, an elderly swami arrived, carrying a handful of arugampul (sacred grass) as an offering. He bowed to Yogi and sang a song he had composed, likening Yogi to cotton that undergoes immense suffering before becoming a flawless garment. Yogi listened with delight. He asked the swami to sit beside him, gently touched his body with affection, peeled a banana, and fed him lovingly. After sitting for a while, the swami sought Yogi’s permission, bowed once again, and departed.

Years later, in 1989, Yogi took a few friends—including the author—to the Arunachala Hill and later to the Great Temple. There, Panju Swami—now over ninety years old and completely blind—was brought before Yogi. When told that Yogi was present, Panju Swami asked to be led to him.

Yogi welcomed him with great tenderness, playfully took his walking stick, and waved it as if shooting stars into the sky. He gently touched the swami’s entire body, showering him with love and blessings. Panju Swami remained serene, radiating divine peace. As he was led away, Yogi remarked quietly, “My Father has made Panju Swami whole.”

In later years, finding Panju Swami helpless on the streets of Tiruvannamalai, Yogi arranged for his stay at Atithi Ashram near Yogi Ramsuratkumar Ashram. Yogi personally requested Swami Hamsananda, the founder of Atithi Ashram, to take care of Panju Swami, which he did with devotion.

On one occasion, while passing by, Yogi stopped his car at the ashram and asked for Panju Swami. When the swami was brought out, he expressed his wish to touch Yogi’s feet. Yogi lifted his feet to the car window, and Panju Swami touched them with deep joy. A few months later, Panju Swami passed away peacefully.

Murugeshji and the devotees were deeply attached to the punnai tree behind Tiruvannamalai Railway Station. It provided shade throughout the day. Yogi would sit facing the sacred Arunachala Hill, while devotees sat facing him. The view of the hill from there was majestic and complete.

Nearby, water flowed continuously from a well, pumped by an electric motor. During summer, devotees would cool their feet in the flowing water while listening to Yogi. Sri Manicka Gounder and his wife, Smt Rajammal, who cultivated the land, lovingly served Yogi and his attendants with simple but nourishing food. At times, Yogi would distribute vegetables and herbs like mint and coariander leaves from their field as prasad to devotees.

Murugeshji once expressed his desire to purchase the land with the punnai tree to build an ashram for Yogi. Yogi cautioned him that the land title was legally complex. Despite Yogi’s reservations, Murugeshji sent a legal team from Tuticorin to investigate. They discovered that the land belonged to the Arunachaleswara Temple and had passed through many hands, making its purchase legally impossible. The plan was abandoned.

Today, the punnai tree no longer exists, and the farmland has become a residential township. Yet, for those who were blessed to sit beneath its shade, the memory remains eternal.

There was no indication that Yogi Ramsuratkumar wished to send his friends back to their respective homes. The author, of course, had no home to return to, but he had a court case to attend. The women gently urged their husbands to take leave of Yogi and return home, yet the friends were deeply intoxicated by Yogi’s presence.

Rajakumari, Murugeshji’s wife, grew anxious, as she had not informed her mother-in-law or other relatives about their prolonged absence with the children. After Yogi fed the friends with his own hands, a profound transformation occurred in their attitude—particularly in Murugeshji. His concern for family and business diminished, and he began to say that his Guru knew everything and that the Guru alone was the doer of all actions.

This manner of speech alarmed Rajakumari. She feared that her husband might renounce worldly life altogether and become a mendicant, leaving her and the children behind. Overwhelmed by this fear, she became hysterical. One day, when Yogi visited the Sivakasi Nadar Chatram, Rajakumari refused to come before him and wept alone in another room.

Yogi noticed her absence and enquired about her. Murugeshji explained the situation. After a long silence, Yogi instructed that the friends should disperse. He specifically told Murugeshji that he should not visit him again unless Rajakumari herself wished to see Yogi and came along with him. Until then, Murugeshji was not to visit him. Murugeshji accepted this instruction with a heavy heart.

The friends then departed—Murugeshji returned to Tuticorin, Sivasankaran to Sivakasi, and Parthasarathy travelled to Bangalore via Vellore.

Back in Tuticorin, Murugeshji lived constantly absorbed in the remembrance of his Guru. Yogi’s thunderous laughter echoed ceaselessly within him. Though he outwardly managed his business and family responsibilities, inwardly he longed for solitude. He would often sit beneath a large peepul tree in his garden, repeatedly reading Swami Ram Tirtha’s In the Woods of God-Realisation (all six volumes). A silent inner renunciation gradually transformed his entire being.

This inner transformation unsettled Rajakumari. She sensed a profound stillness and radiance in her husband and felt unable to reach him. Murugeshji remained serene, withdrawn, and immersed in remembrance of his Guru. Alarmed, Rajakumari complained to her mother-in-law.

Murugeshji’s mother, Smt Padmavati, attempted to counsel her son using scriptural references, but Murugeshji calmly explained his Guru’s mission, quoting saints and scriptures in return. She too was left baffled.

Rajakumari fell ill, and relatives advised Murugeshji to stop remembering Yogi and to remove his photographs from the house. Murugeshji felt that his Guru himself was orchestrating these events and understood that Yogi preferred to reside secretly within his heart. He did not protest when the photographs were removed. He concealed his devotion outwardly, even from his wife, while inwardly remaining firmly anchored in his Guru.

About six months later, in mid-1977, Murugeshji suffered a severe heart attack and was hospitalized for several months. During this period, he had ample time to deepen his inner communion with Yogi. Somehow, news of his condition reached Yogi through relatives. After his recovery, Murugeshji resumed normal life outwardly, but inwardly he had completely renounced everything, dedicating all at the holy feet of his Guru.

In 1980, Murugeshji took his family on a pilgrimage to Maharashtra, visiting Shirdi to pay homage at Sai Baba’s samadhi and Nashik to bathe in the Godavari River. They also trekked to a nearby hill believed to have sheltered Rama, Sita, and Lakshmana during the exile. After reaching the summit and resting, they began their descent but lost their way repeatedly, returning to the same spot again and again.

As darkness approached, Rajakumari grew frightened and the children panicked. Murugeshji searched silently. Suddenly Rajakumari remembered Yogi’s assurance that whoever remembered him would be rescued by his Father. She began chanting, “Yogi Ramsuratkumar.”

Within minutes, a sadhu appeared from a hidden trail and asked “What are you still doing in the mountain?” He also told them they should decend the hill before it is dark. Murugeshji explained that they lost the path. The sadhu guided them along the correct path, and disappeared after leading them safely to their parked car. The family was overwhelmed with relief.

Rajakumari realized the power of the Guru’s Name and felt remorse for ignoring Yogi for years. Though she longed to see him, she hesitated to express this to her husband. Murugeshji, trusting fully in his Guru, remained silent, knowing that Yogi would create the necessary circumstances.

Soon after their return to Tuticorin, Yogi’s devotee Sri Janardhanan from Bangalore visited the town for a wedding and came to Murugeshji’s home. He recited passages from Kamba Ramayanam with great enthusiasm, rekindling Yogi’s remembrance in Rajakumari’s heart. Her longing to see Yogi intensified.

Later that year, during Christmas holidays, the family travelled to Madras. From there, Rajakumari finally expressed her desire to see Yogi. Murugeshji suggested first visiting Swami Mayananda at Tindivanam. After meeting him on January 1, 1981, and hearing him glorify Yogi, Rajakumari gained courage. They proceeded to Tiruvannamalai.

After four long years, Murugeshji’s family arrived and stayed at Sivakasi Nadar Choultry. Murugeshji handed his business card to his assistant. Murugeshji asked him to visit Yogi and request permission to meet Yogi in Sannidhi Street house.

The assistant went to Sannidhi Street house. A young boy named Ramakrishna was at the gate. The assistant handed over the business card to the boy and requested permission. The boy passed on the business card to Yogi.

During that time Sivasankaran, his wife Prema and their children were with Yogi. Yogi asked Sivasankaran to go to Sivakasi Nadar choultry and bring Murugeshji’s family. Sivasankaran met with Murugeshji. Rajkumari, who was still little hesistant, got ready immediately knowing that Prema and children are with Yogi.

After four years, Murugeshji fulfilled Yogi’s condition by returning with his wife. When Yogi received him at the entrance of Sannathi Street house, the reunion was marked by uncontrollable laughter and overflowing joy. Yogi thanked Sivasankaran for bringing back Murugeshji.

That was the first time Murugeshji came to Sannidhi Street house. Yogi held Murugeshji’s hand for a long time, garlanded him, and blessed the family. Every now and then Yogi looked at his king Murugeshji and laughed thunderously. Murugeshji too was in a state of ecstasy meeting his guru after four year.

Murugeshji had learned during separation how to be in solitude, in awareness. These disciplines led him to realize his Guru and his Guru’s mission fully. Their reunion marked Murugeshji’s ascent to the highest spiritual state.

Yogi said that Murugeshji’s hand was extremely warm and enquired Murugeshji how he felt. Murugeshji accepted that his hand was warmer than Yogi’s hand. Yogi concentrated for sometime, holding Murugeshji’s hand and then asked how Murugeshji felt. Murugeshji replied that both were of the same temperature. Yogi again concentrated for some more time and asked again whose hand was warmer. Murugeshji replied that now Yogi’s hand was warmer than his. Yogi expressed his happiness that he could bring down the temperature of Murugeshji.

Then Yogi entered into normal conversation, enquiring about the family and the business. Murugeshji replied that everything was going on very smoothly. Yogi enquired about his health. Murugeshji said that there was no problem. Yogi requested Murugeshji to take nellikkai (amla) daily.

Yogi enquired Murugeshji how he spent time in the past four years. Murugeshji replied that it was not a problem because Yogi was always in his heart.

Murugeshji also said, “Swami, people use to say that you are free from all attachments, but, it is not true because I have bonded myself tightly with you and you cannot be free from me ever.”

Yogi on listening to Murugeshji’s words, started laughing and laughing and the whole atmosphere was in pure spiritual joy. Yogi responded that he was happy to be attached with a great soul like Murugeshji. After a few hours, Yogi relieved Murugeshji and his family to leave for Madras.

From that day onward, Rajakumari’s fear dissolved completely. She accepted Yogi as divine and became firmly rooted in faith. Murugeshji and his family thereafter visited Yogi frequently, often accompanied by Sivasankaran and his family, forming a close spiritual circle centered on Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

From 1981 to 1984, Murugeshji was truly a king in Yogi’s eyes. Not a single day passed in Yogi’s life without the mention of Murugeshji’s name. During this period, Murugeshji also became an instrument in setting right several lives through Yogi’s grace.

Murugeshji played a crucial role in reconciling the author’s life with Rathika—a reconciliation that had long been the passionate wish of Rathika and her relatives. Rathika was the author’s wife, whom he had deserted for several years.

Murugeshji also facilitated the author’s move from Bangalore to Sivakasi, strictly with Yogi’s approval. In addition, he helped many of Yogi’s devotees financially and in numerous other ways.

Between 1981 and 1984, the trio—Murugeshji, Sivasankaran, and Parthasarathy—along with their families, visited Yogi frequently. Once, during the spring of 1981, they planned a pilgrimage covering South India, starting from Bangalore by van. Before reaching Bangalore, they decided to stay with Yogi for three days. The friends travelled in two cars and reached Tiruvannamalai, staying at the Sivakasi Nadar Chatram.

During the evening, as they sat casually on the staircase of the chatram, Yogi suddenly appeared before them. The friends immediately prostrated. They escorted Yogi upstairs to their room. Yogi recited a Hindi couplet and explained its meaning: “Krishna has grown up enough—calling Nanda his father, Yashoda his mother, and Balarama his elder brother.”

Yogi remained with the friends at the Sivakasi Nadar Chatram for an entire week. The pilgrimage plan was cancelled, as Yogi declared, “This beggar is enough for you people. There is no need for you to go anywhere in search of my Father.”

For a whole week, Yogi stayed with them, ensuring that no disturbance entered their sacred space. It was a profoundly divine period, during which the friends tasted the nectar of direct association with a realised soul. They became intoxicated with divine madness through their Guru.

During this time, Yogi once spoke in a choked voice: “This beggar committed a great mistake by running away from his family to remember my Father all the time. But this beggar feels immense joy seeing you friends—living in family life and yet remembering my Father constantly. This beggar feels at home with you. This is Vaikuntha for this beggar. As long as this beggar’s name exists in this world, the names of Murugesan, Parthasarathy, and Sivasankaran will also exist.”

One of the group members, Smt Devi—a distant relative and friend of Smt Padmavati, Murugeshji’s mother—wanted to return to Sivakasi since the tour had been cancelled. Murugeshji informed Yogi that the group wished to leave and asked for guidance. Yogi instructed them to go to Madurai, rest for a few hours at Rathika’s parents’ house, then proceed to Kodaikanal, stay there together for a week, and disperse afterward.

They departed late in the evening and reached Madurai early the next morning. After resting briefly at Rathika’s parental home, they travelled to Kodaikanal and stayed in a large villa for a week.

Throughout that week, the friends lived immersed in remembrance of Yogi—relishing his words, recalling his presence, and feeling as though they were living in another world altogether. After this blissful stay, the group dispersed.

Murugeshji, when he was with his friends, used to talk about Yogi along. His life revolved around the constant rememberance of his Guru Swami Yogi Ramsuratkumar. With the abundance of love flowing because of his devotion towards Yogi, he used to address Yogi in various ways. In one instance he addressed Yogi with a word that was inappropriate and wrong in the eyes of the world.

Few devotees objected it. Everybody was aware of Murugeshji’s love toward his guru and the privilege he enjoyed with Yogi. Inspite of that a devotee took this matter to Yogi and made it an issue.

During that time, the author has just completed his business trip in Northern part of India. He had come alone to Tiruvannamalai to meet with Yogi. Yogi, with his usual compassion, welcomed the author and took him inside the Sannidhi Street house.

Several devotees including an orthodox Brahmin were seated in the house. Yogi asked to author to sit in front him and asked “What is word that Murugeshji is using to address this beggar?”

The author replied it was a bad word. Yogi immediately handed a paper and pen to the author. Yogi requested to write down that word. The author obliged and gave the pen and paper back to Yogi.

Yogi asked “Do you know the meaning of this word?” The author replied that he did not know the meaning.

Yogi turned to the orthodox Brahmin devotee and gave the paper to him and asked if he knew the meaning of the word. With a disgusting look the Brahmin replied “Swami, this is filthy language Swami”.

Yogi tried to understand the true meaning of that word. None of them present there were able to give the true meaning. Then Yogi requested the Brahmin devotee to bring a Tamil dictionary. He went out and came with a handy Tamil Dictionary. Yogi asked him to search for that word. But that word was present in that dictionary.

Yogi smiled and told, “If my king Murugeshji is using a word, definitely there will be a meaning to it. You please go and get a bigger dictionary.”

That devotee went out again and returned with a bigger dictionary. Yogi gave the dictionary to the author and requested to search for that word. The author carefully scanned the dictionary and found out that word. The author told to Yogi that the meaning of the word if “Hidden Part”. Yogi jumped in joy.

“Now this beggar understands why my king Murugeshji used this word. There is word in Vishnu Sahasra Nama. The meaning of that word and the meaning of the word Murugeshji used are one and the same. My king Murugeshji is not scolding this beggar, instead he is glorifying this beggar!” Yogi exclaimed.

On Yogi’s instruction, the author, Sivasankaran, and Murugeshji met either at Tuticorin or Sivakasi every month and stayed together for three days. At times, they chose secluded places and spent those days remembering their Guru continuously.

During one such gathering at Tuticorin, the friends decided to walk all the way to Tiruvannamalai—a distance of nearly 500 kilometers. Murugeshji undertook this pilgrimage three times: twice with the author and once with an assistant.

The first attempt in 1981, involving Murugeshji, Sivasankaran, and the author, had to be abandoned near Ettayapuram, about 50 kilometers from Tuticorin. Severe leg pain and a sudden cloudburst drenched them completely before even covering the initial stretch. Exhausted and soaked, they abandoned the attempt and dispersed by bus.

When they later narrated this to Yogi, he laughed heartily but encouraged them to try again. Thereafter, the friends walked in stages—three days every month—and completed the pilgrimage over six months.

In the final stretch, their families joined them. The last 65 kilometers proved extremely difficult, especially for the women, who had to stop five kilometers before Tiruvannamalai and travel the remainder by car.

They reached Yogi at the Sannathi Street house. Yogi listened compassionately to their account and consoled them. After spending a few days in ecstatic communion with Yogi, they returned home. The following month, they completed the remaining five kilometers on foot and reached Yogi once again.

Yogi granted the friends complete freedom. Once, they expressed their wish to cook food for him. Yogi consented and even gave them the menu: suraikkai soru (bottle gourd rice). His only condition was that the women should not assist in the cooking. Though none of the men knew how to cook, they accepted the task.

Under Yogi’s supervision, they prepared the dish along with coconut thuvaiyal. The food tasted heavenly—not due to culinary skill, but because of Yogi’s divine presence.

During that visit, Yogi asked everyone—including the children—to write poems on him. All composed verses, which Yogi appreciated and asked them to sing aloud.

Then Yogi handed a bundle of papers to the author and instructed him to write freely about Yogi. Yogi declared that the writing would become an Amarakavyam—an immortal work. (This book indeed took shape only after Yogi’s mahasamadhi, entirely by his grace.)

In 1983, during one of the trio’s visits, Yogi received a telegram from friends in the United States informing him of their arrival in India to meet him.

On the third day, they arrived directly at Yogi’s Sannathi Street house from Madras airport. Yogi welcomed them warmly. Among them was a woman with two children bearing Hindu names, accompanied by a scientist friend visiting India for the first time.

As Yogi conversed, his attention suddenly fixed on the scientist. Though initially indifferent, the scientist abruptly rose, knelt before Yogi, and declared with tears streaming down his face that he could see Jesus in Yogi’s form.

Overcome with emotion, he asked if he might kiss Yogi’s hand. Laughing, Yogi replied, “This beggar is dirty. You cannot bear the smell.” The scientist replied, “It is the purest I have ever known. It is my Jesus’ hand,” and kissed it reverently.

After an hour of vibrant interaction, Yogi gently told the American visitors that they could leave and proceed with their plans. When they asked if they could visit again, Yogi replied that he was busy and that there was no need for them to return. They were deeply disappointed and left for Ramanashram.

Murugeshji felt uneasy witnessing Yogi’s apparent indifference. Sensing this, Yogi explained: “These friends from the US visit many places and many people like this beggar. But you people travel all the way from Tuticorin and Sivakasi to see only this beggar—and return directly without wandering elsewhere. That is why my Father says this beggar must spend time with you.”

Yogi retained the friends for an entire week. They stayed with him at the Sannathi Street house, singing, dancing, and living in blissful ecstasy.

In December 1982, Yogi Ramsuratkumar instructed his close friends to travel to Madras and stay near the Krishnamurti Foundation at Vasantha Vihar, Greenways Road, Adyar. He asked them to see J. Krishnamurti daily and attend his talks.

Obeying Yogi’s instruction, Murugeshji, Sivasankaran, and the author went to Madras and stayed at the Andhra Mahila Sabha, close to Vasantha Vihar. For over fifteen days, they met Krishnamurti daily and attended four of his public talks.

After the third talk, the author was blessed with an unexpected and deeply moving experience. Standing at a distance and quietly observing Krishnamurti as he moved among the listeners, the author was suddenly approached by Krishnamurti himself. With gentle concern, he asked, “What are you waiting for here, sir?” The author replied softly, “Just to see Krishnaji.”

Krishnamurti smiled warmly and embraced him with great affection. The author felt his entire being vibrate with an indescribable divine ecstasy. After the fourth talk as well, Krishnamurti once again came close, gently patted the author on the back, and walked away.

After returning to their respective places, the friends soon went to Tiruvannamalai to meet their beloved Guru. Yogi enquired who among them had received the opportunity to touch Krishnamurti.

On New Year’s Day in 1983, all except the author had shaken Krishnamurti’s hand to greet him. Each of them shared this with Yogi. The author remained silent. Curious, Yogi asked him directly whether he had touched Krishnamurti. The author replied, “I did not touch him—but he touched me.” Hearing this, Yogi burst into laughter, while the author stood blushing in humility.

Earlier in 1982, during one of their visits, Yogi had instructed the friends to meet once every month and spend three continuous days together in complete seclusion. They followed this instruction faithfully.

During these gatherings, day and night were spent discussing and reflecting upon Yogi’s life and teachings. Sleep was minimal; food and comfort were of little concern. They preferred isolated places, far removed from human habitation.

After Murugeshji’s passing in 1984, Yogi asked the author to continue this practice alone. From then on, the author spent three days every month in solitude, immersed entirely in remembrance of his Guru.

One day, while Murugeshji, Sivasankaran, and the author were with him, Yogi repeatedly declared with great intensity, “Remembering Father is life. Forgetting Father is death.”

Murugeshji humbly asked whether any yogic method or discipline was required to remember Father. Yogi replied that he knew of no such yoga. He said his own Guru, Swami Ramdas, had instructed him to remember the Name of Ram at all times. After a pause, Yogi asked the author to chant, “Yogi Ramsuratkumara, Jaya Guru, Jaya Guru, Jaya Guru Raya.” All present joined in chanting.

After stopping them, Yogi said quietly, “They say it takes thirty-two years to master the Vedas and scriptures. Only then does one realise the value of Father’s Name. So let us skip the Vedas and yogas and remember Father’s Name alone. Remembering Father is life; forgetting Father is death. Let us live eternally with Father—He will take care of everything.”From morning until night that day, Yogi repeatedly spoke of the supreme power of the Guru’s Name.

Murugeshji remembered Yogi constantly—silently and inwardly. Outwardly, he never displayed any signs of spiritual practice. He carried his Guru deep within his heart, unnoticed by others.

Though he lived as the managing director of a large spinning mill, inwardly he remained utterly detached, free like his Guru. He spoke sparingly, remained mostly silent, and spent long hours beneath the peepul tree in his home garden, absorbed in remembrance.

The friends visited Yogi countless times, each visit steeped in bliss. Often they wondered why, among so many advanced seekers, Yogi focused so much attention on them—simple people from the business world. Once Murugeshji said, “Swami, people may think you are transforming us into realised souls, but here we are only talking casually about history and politics. Perhaps you have chosen the wrong people.”

Yogi became grave and replied, “Murugeshji, this beggar cannot see a person without the direction from my Father. Talking about other subjects may be insignificant, but being together with this beggar is the most significant event. The real work done goes unnoticed. It has been covered with these significant or insignificant talks. The masters have their own way to do Father’s work. The real work is, uniting, merging the chosen beings with MY FATHER. That’s all.” He continued, his voice trembling, “You don’t know, Murugeshji, we were together, we are together and we will be together. We cannot exist without each other. When Lord Siva comes, He comes along with His Ganas. When a guru comes, he comes along with his dearest devotees. When the guru departs, the devotees also shall go, after finishing my Father’s work. We are all together Murugeshji, eternally.”

On another occasion, Yogi explained, “The king bee would bring any potential worm to its nest and would go on stinging it, till it becomes another king bee. Likewise a guru also works on his disciples till the disciples get the state of the guru. The process is painful but there is no escape.”

Once, when the author expressed concern that fewer devotees were visiting Yogi, the friends immediately decided to see him again—though they had visited only a week earlier.

Surprised, Yogi asked the reason. After listening, Yogi pointed to the door and said, “See the door. This door is always closed. This beggar sees only those people whom my Father wants this beggar to see. This beggar is not meant for the masses. Let the people go to Sai Baba and J.Krishnamurti. This beggar does not need a crowd. This beggar needs only a few people who can do my Father’s work.”

Until the end of 1983, whenever the friends visited Tiruvannamalai, Yogi spent all his time exclusively with them. He showered boundless love on Murugeshji, affectionately calling him “My King”. Once someone asked, “Swami, if Murugeshji is your King, where is his kingdom?” Yogi replied instantly, touching his chest, “My heart.”

During the spring of 1983, Yogi Ramsuratkumar expressed his wish that Murugeshji should produce an audio cassette of the devotional songs composed by Periasamy Thooran in praise of Yogi. Yogi further advised Murugeshji to seek Thooran’s personal guidance in selecting suitable singers.

On returning to Tuticorin, Murugeshji devoted himself wholeheartedly to this task. For nearly four months he worked tirelessly and successfully completed the production of the cassette. The detailed account of this sacred work has already been narrated earlier in this book in the chapter dedicated to Sri Periasamy Thooran.

On another occasion, Yogi asked the author to compose songs on Yogi that would also include the names of the three close friends. The author wrote such a song. Yogi was delighted in the song and repeatedly asked the author to sing it whenever the friends visited him.

In the same year, 1983, Murugeshji, the author, and Anand—a young and devoted follower of Yogi—once again undertook the sacred walk from Tuticorin to Tiruvannamalai.

It was the season of the Deepam festival. As they neared Madurai, Murugeshji and Parthasarathy suddenly felt a deep longing to witness Yogi interacting with other devotees during the festival.

They imagined that amidst the large gathering they could quietly sit in a corner and observe the divine play of their Guru. Acting on this impulse, they discontinued the walk and travelled by bus from Madurai to Tiruvannamalai.

They arrived early in the morning and went straight to the Sannathi Street house. When they knocked, Yogi himself opened the door and led them inside. As was his custom whenever these friends were with him, Yogi did not allow anyone else to enter.

Due to the Deepam festival, Tiruvannamalai was overflowing with devotees eager to catch even a glimpse of Yogi. The knocking at the door continued persistently. Wanting uninterrupted time with the friends, Yogi led them to the backyard of the house near the well, where the sounds from outside could not reach them.

Though the friends felt a tinge of disappointment at being secluded from the larger gathering, they were immersed in profound divine ecstasy simply being in Yogi’s presence. They remained in the house for four days. Venturing outside was impossible, as devotees continuously waited at the door.

During these four days, Yogi fed the friends with whatever fruits were already available in the house, along with a few biscuits, which were shared among all. On the third day, Yogi instructed the author to collect the remaining fruits, biscuits, honey, and other eatables and place them in a large aluminium vessel.

He asked the author to mash and mix everything by hand. The author requested permission to wash his hands first, but Yogi gently touched his hands and said, “Your hands are holy, Parthasarathy. You may do it now.” Obediently, the author mixed the offerings.

Yogi then asked him to bring a lotus leaf kept near the water pot. The author washed the leaf, placed it before Yogi, and served the mixture upon it. Yogi invited Murugeshji and the author to sit before him and eat from the same leaf. They hesitated, but Yogi smiled and said, “We are all friends here. There should be no formalities among friends.” Thus, the three of them shared that sacred meal.

Throughout those four days, no one had taken coffee. On the fourth day, Murugeshji suggested that the author be sent to fetch coffee for all. Yogi declined gently but firmly, saying, “Murugeshji, we are here doing my Father’s work. Let us not waste time. We need not bother about coffee or other comforts.”

Unknown to the friends, Murugeshji had only four more months to live. Yogi, aware of this, wished to remain constantly with him to make him Whole—fully merged with the Father.

On the evening of the Deepam, Yogi asked the friends to go upstairs to witness the sacred flame atop Arunachala Hill. Yogi himself stood on the staircase of the house. Numerous devotees approached and prostrated before him. Yogi watched the Deepam from the staircase, while the friends observed it from the open terrace above.

After the Deepam, Yogi and the friends once again gathered in the hall, speaking late into the night. Though it is impossible to recall all that Yogi spoke during those days, every moment was saturated with joy, celebration, and deep peace. After two more days, Yogi allowed the friends to return to their respective places.

In mid-January 1984, the friends visited Yogi again. During this meeting, Yogi instructed Murugeshji and the author to travel to Anandashram in Kerala and stay there for three days. Accordingly, in February, they went to Anandashram and remained there as directed.

Yogi had asked them to enquire with Swami Satchidananda about Yogi’s past association with Swami Ramdas, lovingly known as Papa Ramdas. He also instructed them to consult the old editions of The Vision, Anandashram’s monthly magazine, from 1950 to 1955, for references to that period.

Earlier, Yogi had mentioned that the Gospel of Swami Ramdas, compiled by Swami Satchidananda, contained a reference to him. The author had responded that he had read the Gospel several times and found no mention of Ramsuratkumar by name. Yogi smiled and explained that he had been referred to under a different name—Bihari.

Instantly, the author recollected the passages describing that individual and realised they indeed referred to Yogi. With his characteristic shy smile, Yogi silently acknowledged this recognition.

During their stay, the friends examined all available copies of The Vision from the relevant years but found nothing beyond what was already known. However, they noticed that Yogi was referred to as R. S. Kunwar rather than Bihari. When asked why the name had been changed in the Gospel, Swami Satchidananda replied with a gentle smile, “Bihari sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Each day at Anandashram, the friends met Mataji Krishnabai and Swami Satchidananda, listening to their words and absorbing the spiritually charged atmosphere of the Ashram. The friends and their wives spent three blissful days there. When it was time to leave, they took leave of Mataji Krishnabai and Swami Satchidananda with heavy hearts.

They travelled by train to Coimbatore and from there drove in Murugeshji’s car to Puravipalayam near Pollachi to meet Koti Swami, as instructed by Yogi. Koti Swami received them with immense love and grace and offered food as prasadam. The friends spent over two hours alone with him, deeply moved by his unique spiritual presence. After this meeting, they returned to their respective homes.

Within a week of returning from Anandashram, the author visited Yogi at Tiruvannamalai. During this visit, Yogi informed him that a renowned spiritual magazine editor wished to interview him on 3 March 1984. Yogi requested that both Murugeshji and the author be present during the interview. He instructed the author to personally convey this message to Murugeshji and to confirm their arrival by letter.

The author travelled to Tuticorin and delivered Yogi’s message. Murugeshji immediately arranged for both of them to be in Tiruvannamalai on 2 March 1984. He reserved the entire first floor of Sivakasi Nadar Chatram and organised the interview with Manian. He coordinated the venue, date, and time, ensuring everything was ready for what would become a significant moment in Yogi’s outward mission.

On the early morning of 2 March 1984, Murugeshji and the author arrived at Tiruvannamalai and went directly to Yogi Ramsuratkumar’s residence on Sannathi Street. Yogi received them with great joy and affection. He told them that it was his Father’s wish that both Murugeshji and the author should remain with him during the forthcoming interview.

On 3 March 1984, around nine in the morning, Yogi took both of them to Sivakasi Nadar Chatram, where Murugeshji had arranged rooms for the interview. Around eleven o’clock, the well-known author and editor Sri Manian, accompanied by his assistants and a cameraman, arrived. They professionally arranged the setting, placed the microphone of a tape recorder in front of Yogi, and began the interview.

As was his nature, Yogi ignored all formalities. He drew Sri Manian close to him, repeatedly patting him affectionately, laughing with uninhibited joy. The cameraman took photographs from various angles, but Yogi remained completely unconcerned, absorbed in laughter and divine playfulness.

The interview team posed several questions related to Hindu rituals and religious customs. Yogi humbly replied that he knew nothing about the rituals or formal practices of any religion. At one point, one of the assistants asked why Hinduism did not have institutions serving humanity in the same wholehearted manner as Christian missionary organizations.

Yogi suddenly became serious. With great clarity and spiritual authority, he spoke of noble souls such as Mataji Krishnabai, and institutions like Ramakrishna Mission and Anandashram. He explained that these individuals and organizations served humanity in every dimension—physical, psychological, and spiritual. They did not merely address bodily needs, he said, but also cared for the mind and imparted divine wisdom.

As Yogi spoke, his spiritual radiance intensified. The interview team realized that they were not sitting before an ordinary man, but before a great spiritual master. Overcome with reverence, the entire team bowed down and prostrated before Yogi.

The team had come prepared with conventional religious questions, intending to test his responses. But once they experienced Yogi’s spiritual presence, they found it impossible—even inappropriate—to continue questioning him. Silence itself became the most meaningful exchange.

Later, in their magazine, they published a striking photograph of Yogi along with a brief description of his spiritual power. That single photograph drew many new seekers toward Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

After the interview, Sri Manian and his team prostrated once again and took leave. Yogi and the friends remained at the Chatram for some time. Yogi listened attentively as Murugeshji and the author narrated their recent visits to Mataji Krishnabai, Swami Satchidananda at Anandashram, and Sri Koti Swami at Puravipalayam.

Yogi showed particular delight in hearing about Sri Koti Swami. The friends described how Koti Swami, when approached with requests or desires, would simply say, “Go and lie down,” pointing to a place—and how people would obey without question.

Yogi laughed heartily, repeating the same words in the same tone. When the friends began asking about Yogi’s own past lives, Yogi playfully accused them of extracting secrets from him and once again repeated Koti Swami’s words, especially to Murugeshji “Go and lie down.”

Throughout that visit, Yogi focused his entire attention on Murugeshji, allowing no interruptions. During 3rd and 4th March, he poured his abundant grace upon him continuously. On the evening of 4 March, around four o’clock, Murugeshji again asked questions about Yogi’s earlier lives. Each time, Yogi responded playfully yet compassionately, repeating, “Go and lie down.”

On the morning of 5 March 1984, Yogi finally relieved the friends to return to their places. They prostrated before him and walked out onto the street. Normally, when Yogi dismissed his devotees, they would leave without turning back. But on this occasion, Murugeshji repeatedly turned around, gazing at Yogi with deep reverence.

Yogi initially stood at the doorway to bid farewell to his beloved King. Seeing Murugeshji turning back again and again, Yogi stepped down onto the street and raised both his hands in blessing. Murugeshji prostrated once more and walked ahead, still turning back to look at his Guru. Yogi remained there, hands raised in blessing.

When the friends reached the turning point of the road, Yogi disappeared from view.

That was the final meeting between Murugeshji and his Guru, Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

On the evening of 4 April 1984, Murugeshji was in Calcutta, introducing his younger brother to some of his business associates. At that time, Murugeshji had already resolved to withdraw from all worldly activities. Together with the author, he had secretly planned to undertake Ganga Pradakshina, without informing anyone. All necessary arrangements in his worldly life had been quietly made.

However, Yogi had ordained a different course for Murugeshji.

While Murugeshji was at the office of one of his business clients in Calcutta, he suddenly suffered a massive heart attack. Alarmed, the client immediately summoned a renowned cardiologist. The doctor arrived promptly, examined Murugeshji, and instantly understood the gravity of his condition. An ambulance was arranged without delay to take him to a nearby hospital.

Within minutes, the ambulance arrived. Murugeshji was placed on a stretcher and preparations were made to rush him to the hospital. Seeing Murugeshji’s condition, the business client tried to console him, saying that there was no need to fear, as he was in the hands of the best doctor.

In a feeble yet composed voice, Murugeshji responded, “Everybody is in the hands of God.”

These were the last words Murugeshji uttered.

At exactly 4:00 p.m. on 4 April 1984, Murugeshji breathed his last. His passing was peaceful. He was 45 years old. On the evening of 5 April 1984, his body was brought from Calcutta by a chartered flight. The same evening, the funeral rites were performed, and the pyre was lit by his sons, Sri Sinnamani and Sri Senthil.

Thus ended, all too abruptly, a glorious and meaningful life.

Three days later, the author—broken and devastated by the sudden loss—went to Tiruvannamalai to see Yogi Ramsuratkumar. As soon as the author knocked at the door, Yogi himself came out and gently led him inside. Yogi then slowly enquired about Murugeshji’s passing, asking in detail how the body was brought back, who lit the pyre, and even what had happened to the coffin in which the body had been transported from Calcutta.

After listening carefully to everything, Yogi finally declared, “Murugeshji has become one with my Father. Murugeshji is worshipable.”

Smt. Lalita, Murugeshji’s younger sister, had become an ardent devotee of Yogi in the early 1980s. Witnessing the profound transformation, devotion, and total surrender of her brother, she too came under the divine influence of Yogi. The change in Murugeshji’s life strengthened her faith immeasurably in Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

She visited Yogi several times, either with her mother Smt. Padmavati or with friends. On every visit, Yogi showered his grace upon her and devoted his full attention to her.

Yogi once advised her to read Savitri, the great spiritual epic of Sri Aurobindo. Lalita obtained the book and immersed herself in it completely. Savitri absorbed her so deeply that she would invariably quote from it whenever she spoke about Yogi, life, or God. Her involvement with both Yogi and Savitri was remarkable.

After Murugeshji’s demise, while the faith of many other relatives faded, Lalita’s devotion remained unwavering. Her mind was filled with the remembrance of Yogi, and she constantly chanted his name. During her last but final visit to Yogi, she presented him with a woollen shawl embroidered with a peacock. Yogi greatly appreciated her artistic work and wore the shawl for a long time.

In 1985, during one of her visits, Lalita expressed her desire to see the temple and the caves of the holy hill Arunachala. Yogi personally took her and her friends to the temple and around the hill. He spent the entire day with them, showering Lalita with special care, love, and grace. The next day, Yogi relieved her to return home.

Tragically, within a few days of reaching Tuticorin, Lalita was murdered in broad daylight in her own house, for the petty gain of a six-sovereign gold chain.

After Murugeshji’s passing, his wife Smt. Rajakumari was completely shattered. Their children—Sinnamani, Meena, and Senthil—felt deeply the loss of their beloved father. Yet, instead of diminishing, their devotion to Yogi only grew stronger. Despite their young age, their faith and love for Yogi were profound. In mysterious ways, Yogi arranged everything in their lives, guiding their marriages and future with his blessings.

By Yogi’s direct instruction, a cottage in the ashram was allotted exclusively to Smt. Rajakumari. Yogi firmly instructed that the cottage should never be assigned to any other devotee. Rajakumari alone was permitted to stay there, either with her children or friends.

Every year, she spent several months in the ashram. When her health declined and she found it difficult to stay there, she would return to Tuticorin to live with her children. Despite the immense loss of her husband and the subsequent material setbacks faced by the family, the steadfast faith of Smt. Rajakumari and her children in Yogi Ramsuratkumar remains both inspiring and extraordinary.