In the mid-1980s, a middle-aged woman working as an assistant professor in a women’s college, heard about Yogi Ramsuratkumar. She had long been in search of saintly beings who could initiate her into divinity. As part of that quest, she had been visiting many holy places, mutts, and ashrams.

That lady’s search eventually brought her to Tiruvannamalai and to the teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi. She was deeply moved by Ramana’s life and philosophy and felt the powerful spiritual vibrations of Tiruvannamalai. She began visiting the town regularly and, at Ramanashram, became acquainted with several devotees of Ramana. Expressing her longing to meet a living saint like Ramakrishna or Ramana, she was told about Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

That lady went to the Sannathi Street house and saw Yogi for the first time. Instantly, she was drawn to his spiritual splendor. Initially, she visited Yogi every weekend, but over time her devotion intensified.

She was awestruck by Yogi’s complete oneness with his Supreme Father, God. Gradually, that lady developed a strong desire to remain with Yogi constantly, believing that becoming one with Yogi was the same as becoming one with God.

Her colleague and close friend also became a devotee of Yogi. Soon, another woman from Chennai joined them. All three were unmarried and shared a deep yearning for spiritual life. The three friends decided to build a small house in Tiruvannamalai so that they could stay there whenever they came to see Yogi.

They sought Yogi’s permission, and he consented to their building a house in Ramana Nagar. Through their close association with Ramanashram, one of that lady’s friends arranged for a building contractor to help them purchase a plot and construct the house. A small, aesthetically pleasing home was built, and Yogi himself attended the house-warming ceremony and even named the house.

Around the same time, a physician from Thrissur, Kerala, became a devotee of Yogi. He had a deep passion for the Vedas, which Yogi appreciated greatly, and he soon became very close to Yogi. Along with a Bangalore-based devotee of Anandashram, the physician and the three women formed a close group.

Throughout the early 1990s, this group frequently visited Yogi together, and Yogi spent considerable time with them. They would stay with him for a few days and then return to their respective places.

In 1993, that lady who later became Yogi’s physical caretaker, expressed her desire to take voluntary retirement from her teaching position. So that she could live in Tiruvannamalai permanently, serve Yogi, and attain salvation. When she shared this intention with Yogi, he became visibly annoyed and said firmly, “No, you should not do that.”

However, she remained adamant. During one of the group gatherings, Yogi asked the physician to counsel her against resigning from her job.

The physician tried his best, even warning her that once she came to Tiruvannamalai, Yogi might not even allow her to see him. But that lady replied that even then she would remain in Tiruvannamalai, remembering Yogi’s name constantly and attain salvation. Her conviction was so intense that no one could dissuade her.

Eventually, she took voluntary retirement and moved to Tiruvannamalai.

Yogi repeatedly taught that spiritual sadhana can be pursued even while fulfilling one’s worldly responsibilities. To some devotees, he suggested living in Tiruvannamalai; to others, he clearly advised remaining where they were and practicing sadhana through remembrance of the Guru’s name.

Yogi understood the inner limitations and capacities of each individual and guided them accordingly. Sadly, only a few were able to truly listen to him.

Most devotees failed to receive Yogi’s grace fully because they could not obey him without hesitation or inner resistance. Had they done so, many could have attained God-realisation.

Instead, due to ignorance and disobedience, they acquired only a form of egoistic piety, imitating the outer expressions of Yogi’s life. As Swami Chidanandaji of Sivananda Ashram, Rishikesh, aptly said, “Reverence and disobedience to the Guru cannot go together.”

Some devotees whom Yogi asked to live in Tiruvannamalai later became confused and resentful after his mahasamadhi, questioning why he had asked them to come there at all.

Internally dissatisfied, they concealed their doubts behind superficial reverence, projecting themselves as great sacrificers for Yogi’s sake. Over time, many could not withstand the hardships of life and quietly left Tiruvannamalai. Others remained but occupied themselves with excessive rituals and preaching, attributing these actions to Yogi’s will.

In this manner, they unconsciously attempted to elevate themselves as gurus. As J. Krishnamurti sharply observed about these type of gurus, “The gurus destroy the disciples, and the disciples destroy the gurus.”

In a profound way, Yogi allowed this drama to unfold so that people might learn how not to live a spiritual life.

The attempt by some devotees to possess Yogi led to their fall from dharma. Fear arose when they discovered they were unable to live authentically spiritual lives.

To protect their social and spiritual image, they clung to rituals and authority. Rituals gave them a sense of control; authority made them feel secure. But this authority eventually became the seed of division and downfall.

Today, many religious institutions—often under authoritarian leadership—cultivate conflict and fear rather than wisdom and devotion. Where there is love, there can be no authority. Authority divides, breeds violence, and thrives on fear. Out of fear, it seeks to possess even God, using rituals as tools.

True devotees are fearless. God is not for the cowardly. Real seekers transcend rituals naturally through the grace of the Guru. Rituals strengthen the ego of authoritarian minds and ultimately lead to spiritual stagnation.

God and Guru are one—the embodiment of love and compassion. God cannot be attained through authority or ritual. Love needs no ritual. Guru needs no ritual. The true sadhaka remembers the Guru effortlessly.

Spiritual masters radiate harmony and grace, relieving the suffering of sincere seekers. They guide earnest aspirants along the royal path to God, not through rituals, but often in spite of them.

Such devotees remain unnoticed—free of fear, desire, name, fame, or accumulation. They live simply, often incognito, merging inwardly with their Guru through deep and silent penance.

Once merged, their lives appear ordinary, yet their presence brings peace and joy to others. These silent beings become lighthouses for humanity, helping to balance existence itself. They reduce suffering, guide sincere aspirants safely, and uphold the unseen order of the world.

In late 1993, during the physician’s visit, Yogi Ramsuratkumar asked Janardhanan to take the physician to show him the ashram land. Janardhanan, along with his team, accompanied the physician to the site.

After examining the land, the physician expressed dissatisfaction. He was also unhappy with the architectural plan prepared by Sri Padmanabha Iyer. According to Vastu Sastra, he said, both the land and the plan were unsuitable.

The physician conveyed his observations to Yogi. Yogi calmly asked him what could be done.

The doctor replied that he would return to his place and consult Vedic pundits to prepare a fresh plan that could offset the perceived Vastu deficiencies of the land.

Yogi consented and informed Janardhanan to wait until the physician sent the revised plan. This development deeply disgusted and disheartened Janardhanan. Janardhanan was not able to accept the fact, a physician pointing vastu deficiencies in a land and plan approved by Yogi.

Only one question arose in Janardhanan’s mind “How could human calculations stand against the selection made by the wisdom of Guru?”

In the meanwhile, staying for long periods at Sivakasi Nadar Chatram was expensive for Janardhanan. He therefore requested Yogi’s permission to build a small cottage on the ashram land for his stay.

Yogi asked him whether he intended to stay permanently in the ashram complex. Janardhanan replied honestly that he had no such intention. Upon hearing this, Yogi refused permission to build the cottage.

Yogi, however, was fully aware of Janardhanan’s exhaustion after months of intense work for the ashram. Out of deep compassion, Yogi subtly began creating situations that would help Janardhanan gather the courage to withdraw and allow others to take responsibility for the ashram’s future.

Even after the ashram land was purchased, Yogi continued to reside at the Sannathi Street house. Every morning at exactly 10:00 a.m., Sasi, Yogi’s personal attendant, would spread the mat in the verandah.

Yogi would emerge from the inner chamber and take his seat promptly at the appointed hour. He would then ask Sasi whether any of the old, familiar devotees were waiting outside. Sasi, who knew almost all the devotees personally, would inform Yogi accordingly.

Yogi would usually instruct Sasi to allow that lady to enter first, followed by other known devotees. After that, Sashi would let the long queue of devotees standing in Sannathi Street enter one by one for darshan and blessings.

At 12 noon, Yogi would ask those seated around him to disperse and instruct Sasi to inform the remaining devotees to return for the 4:00 p.m. session.

One day, when Sasi called that lady to enter the verandah, she was engaged in conversation with another friend and did not notice his call. A large crowd was waiting, and time was passing.

Sasi raised his voice to get her attention. Hearing this, that lady hurried toward the gate. Sasi told her—within earshot of the crowd—that when one came to see Swami, one’s attention should be solely on Swami, as Swami was waiting to begin the session.

That lady felt deeply hurt by this remark, especially because it was made publicly. Later, she complained to Yogi that Sasi had behaved rudely toward her and was angry with her.

Yogi then asked Sasi several times, in a playful tone, whether he was angry. Sasi, feeling shy, did not respond and sat quietly near the gate.

Later, when Sasi was alone with Yogi inside the house, Yogi explained that that lady was a highly educated college professor and that she wished to be treated with visible respect before the crowd. Yogi asked Sasi to give her that respect.

Sasi explained why he had raised his voice, citing the pressure of time and the waiting devotees. Yogi listened patiently but repeated, smiling, that the lady wanted to be respected publicly and that Sasi should honour that wish.

Saying this, Yogi laughed. Sasi immediately apologised, but Yogi reassured him that he had done nothing wrong. After a pause, Yogi once again repeated—half in jest, half in instruction—that the lady wanted public respect and that Sasi should give it. Sasi laughed too and agreed.

On 23rd November 1993, Yogi Ramsuratkumar developed a very high fever. During the evening session, Yogi went inside the house and did not return for a long time.

Growing anxious, Sasi went inside and found Yogi lying unconscious in the toilet. He called Yogi repeatedly, but there was no response. Terrified, Sasi rushed to the verandah and called that lady inside.

That lady entered and saw Yogi lying on the floor. She too called him several times, but Yogi did not respond. She could feel the intensity of his fever.

With composure and care, she gently sprinkled water and attended to him until Yogi regained consciousness. As soon as Yogi sat up, that lady insisted that she should be allowed to stay with him to look after his health. Yogi replied that he was fine and did not require assistance.

However, that lady persisted, saying that either Yogi must come to her house or she should be permitted to stay with him, as his condition required physical and medical care.

Yogi finally agreed to go to her house. Sasi immediately informed Janardhanan of Yogi’s condition. Janardhanan rushed in his car and took Yogi and that lady to her house.

Upon reaching her home, that lady contacted the physician from Kerala and explained the situation. The doctor immediately set out from Kerala and reached Tiruvannamalai to examine and treat Yogi.

During this period, that lady did not wish to disclose the details of Yogi’s illness or treatment to Janardhanan, who was then the Life Trustee of the Yogi Ramsuratkumar Trust. She insisted that since the physician from Kerala was attending to Yogi, no further medical arrangements were required.

She also informed Janardhanan that Yogi had transferred his entire yogic power to her the previous night. That lady firmly believed that spiritual power could be transferred and imagined that Yogi had passed his power on to her. Many people accepted this narrative, but Yogi himself never uttered a word in support of such a claim.

Yogi always emphasised sadhana—unceasing spiritual effort. His blessings were never meant to replace sadhana but to enable it. Through his gaze, touch, words, prasadams, and remembrance, Yogi poured his grace upon seekers in subtle and mysterious ways. This grace transformed sincere devotees, strengthening their inner resolve and capacity for spiritual discipline.

Throughout his life, Yogi taught the supreme value of constant remembrance of God (or the Guru) and living a simple life free from fear, duplicity, and ego. Remembering God’s Name, he explained, was the only way to dissolve human sorrow and suffering.

Yogi’s teaching was not about acquiring titles, authority, or power, but about erasing the self, not reinforcing it. Without sadhana, salvation was impossible. Without surrender to the Guru’s will, recovery from spiritual downfall was equally impossible.

Yogi attained the state of supreme wholeness only after enduring intense suffering and relentless struggle. He burnt himself in the fire of total renunciation. He abandoned his loving family and his prestigious position as a high-school headmaster. He wandered like a beggar in search of God.

Though protected by the grace of his Guru, Swami Ramdas, he was made to suffer intensely. His Guru stripped him of all security and cast him into the wilderness of life, denying him shelter, assured food, or comfort in any ashram or devotee’s home.

Yogi begged for food. He often went without eating for days. Shelter was uncertain. His resting places were graveyards and remote jungle caves. Occasionally, the poorest of the poor offered him simple food with love.

Through scorching heat, cold nights, and relentless rain, Yogi endured everything while constantly remembering his Guru and accepting suffering as a divine gift. He never sought comfort, name, fame, or power. His sole focus was God.

After attaining God-realisation, name, fame, and comfort naturally came to him, yet he remained untouched by them. He lived eternally with his Father.

In stark contrast, some people around great mahatmas expect the masters to transfer their power so that they may gain recognition and popularity. A single gesture from a saint becomes fuel for their imagination. Such fantasies dilute true aspiration and corrupt the path.

The grace of a mahatma does not inflate the ego; it dissolves it. Grace teaches renunciation, solitude, and intensified sadhana. It enables constant remembrance of the Guru.

Grace reaches only those who are ready to come out of fear, ambition, and self-deception, and who genuinely seek eternal peace. Mahatmas like Yogi spent their lives teaching this simple truth, yet many failed to understand it.

Out of ambition, some misinterpreted Yogi’s words and convinced themselves that they had attained spiritual realisation. They propagated their imagined state among the gullible, gaining reverence but losing the Guru’s protection.

Such people live in constant fear, sustaining their image through rituals and authority. This is the fate of many so-called gurus of the present age. These too, perhaps, are part of the divine leela—a lesson showing how one should not walk the spiritual path.

For a few months, Yogi Ramsuratkumar stayed in that lady’s house at Ramana Nagar and gave darshan there. The house was close to the ashram site, and devotees began coming there regularly to have the darshan of their beloved Guru. During this period, Yogi himself told the devotees that lady had been sent by the Father to look after his physical frame.

Yogi Ramsuratkumar was a man of profound gratitude. Throughout his life, he never forgot even the smallest help rendered by anyone. Whether someone had offered him a cup of tea, coffee, or food on a few occasions, Yogi would remember it with deep appreciation.

His expressions of gratitude were so intense and overflowing that one often felt shy and embarrassed receiving such praise. Yogi’s memory was extraordinary—he remembered people, places, and acts of kindness across decades with absolute clarity.

At the same time, there were people who wanted Yogi to constantly praise and glorify them in public, before gatherings of devotees, so that their ego could be satisfied and their popularity enhanced.

Yogi fulfilled even those desires and praised them generously. His grace was always flowing effortlessly from his being, but only a few were able to truly receive it, undergo inner transformation, and take to sincere sadhana leading toward God.

Ironically, some devotees who appeared outwardly distant from Yogi experienced deep transformation after just a few meetings, while others who lived physically close to him for years failed to absorb his grace. As Papa Ramdas once remarked to Yogi, “A big tree cannot grow under another big tree. Only grass and thorny bushes grow beneath it.”

Yogi continued to give darshan regularly at that lady’s house in Ramana Nagar. That lady wished that Yogi would stay in her house permanently.

Darshan timings were fixed as usual—from 10 a.m. to 12 noon and from 4 p.m. to 6 p.m. Devotees thronged the house in large numbers. Gradually, that lady and her friends began imposing several conditions and restrictions on devotees who wished to see Yogi.

Devotees who earlier had free and simple access to Yogi at the Sannathi Street house became irritated. Some openly protested against the restrictions imposed by that lady and her associates.

On one occasion, one of that lady’s associates used harsh language against devotees standing outside the house. This provoked a strong reaction from the crowd. The associate rushed inside and complained to Yogi.

Yogi then came out and addressed the devotees, explaining that he was living in another person’s house and therefore had to follow the rules of his hosts. He also requested the devotees to maintain discipline. Calm was restored.

Meanwhile, Janardhanan, the Life Trustee of the Yogi Ramsuratkumar Trust, made elaborate arrangements to celebrate Yogi’s Jayanti at the ashram land. Two temporary thatched structures were erected—one for Yogi and another for devotees to sit and partake of food. At Janardhanan’s request, Yogi began visiting the ashram regularly.

That lady, who had assumed responsibility for Yogi’s physical care, did not approve of Yogi visiting the ashram frequently. She complained to Janardhanan that whenever Yogi visited the ashram, his health deteriorated, and she requested him not to invite Yogi there anymore.

Her possessive attitude irritated Janardhanan deeply. He wondered silently how Yogi could tolerate such possessiveness.

Despite this, Janardhanan went ahead and conducted the Jayanti celebrations on a grand scale. Yogi came to the ashram and spent considerable time with the devotees. There was joy, devotion, and a sense of deep bliss among the gathering.

During the occasion, that lady told Janardhanan that Yogi should not be asked to take food prepared at the ashram, as it was unsuitable for his health. Her manner of conveying this irritated Janardhanan again. He politely responded that Yogi himself should decide.

In a significant gesture, Yogi asked Janardhanan to mix the food brought by that lady with the food prepared at the ashram. Yogi ate the food prepared at the ashram

Sensing Janardhanan’s growing irritation, inner conflict, and his longing to return to his family and business, Yogi began creating situations that were harsh and challenging for him.

On one occasion, Yogi asked Janardhanan to take that lady to the ashram instead of Yogi, initiate certain works there, and give her due respect.

This instruction shocked Janardhanan deeply. His negative feelings towards that lady intensified, but he could not openly protest against Yogi. Internally, he grumbled, yet outwardly he obeyed.

Janardhanan took that lady to the ashram, garlanded her, and prostrated before her, as instructed by Yogi. That lady neither protested nor showed hesitation. She proudly accepted the reverence offered to her.

Yogi gave Janardhanan a framed photograph of Yogi Ramsuratkumar and that lady together. The photograph had been printed, framed, and offered to Yogi by a devotee, and Yogi instructed Janardhanan to fix it in the ashram. He also told him that if anyone objected, Janardhanan should inform him.

The photograph was wrapped, and Yogi himself had not seen it.

Janardhanan brought the photograph to the ashram and explained Yogi’s instructions to his friends. Parthasarathy openly stated that he objected to fixing the photograph in the ashram and told Janardhanan that he could convey this objection to Yogi. However, Janardhanan did not go back to complain, because he too did not like the idea of fixing the photograph in the ashram.

A few days later, Yogi enquired about the photograph. Janardhanan replied that someone had objected to fixing it in the ashram.

The next day, Janardhanan and his friends visited Yogi at the Sudama house to discuss ashram matters. Yogi beckoned Parthasarathy to sit near him and said affectionately:

“Parthasarathy, this beggar gave a photograph to Janardhanan to be fixed in the ashram. He told this beggar that somebody objected. Will you help this beggar? You bring the photograph when you visit this beggar in the evening.”

While saying this, Yogi was in a joyful mood and showered his love on Parthasarathy.

That evening, when Parthasarathy brought the photograph, Yogi turned to that lady and asked casually,

“What shall we do with this? Shall we give this burden to Makarand?”

Makarand, a devotee from Delhi who had deep adoration for both Yogi and that lady, was present among the devotees. On hearing Yogi’s words, Makarand said that it would be his privilege to receive the photograph. Yogi then handed the photograph to him.

In the first week of December 1993, that lady received a letter from her mother in Madurai. The letter stated that her mother was seriously ill and wished to see her daughter.

That lady informed Yogi about the letter. Yogi asked her gently whether she wished to go and see her mother. That lady replied that she did not feel inclined to visit her.

Yogi told her that her mother was ill and wanted to see her daughter, and that a daughter should oblige her mother in such a situation. But that lady refused.

Suddenly, Yogi said that he himself would come to Madurai to see her mother. Faced with this decision, that lady could not say anything further.

Yogi took that lady to Sivakasi Nadar Chatram, where Rajakumari Murugeshan, Rathika, and others were staying, having come to Tiruvannamalai for Yogi’s Jayanti celebrations.

Yogi informed Rajakumari of their plan to visit Madurai and requested the use of her car along with her driver, Vembu. He also asked that Senthil, Rajakumari’s son, accompany them, and that Rathika join the journey, as Rajakumari herself was not well enough to travel such a long distance.

Rajakumari gladly offered her car and her son in Yogi’s service.

Yogi, that lady and Rathika sat in the back seat of the Contessa car, while Senthil sat in the front with the driver. They began their journey around 9:30 p.m. on 3rd December.

During the journey, Yogi repeatedly enquired whether they had crossed Tapovanam, asking the exact moment they crossed it. Later, he similarly enquired about Gandhigramam. As they entered Madurai, Yogi remarked that Thilakavathi, a devoted follower of his, lived there.

They reached that lady’s mother’s house around 4 a.m. The house was small and in poor condition. That lady’s elder sister, a widow, lived there with their mother, who was lying seriously ill on a cot. On seeing that lady arrive with Yogi, the mother began to cry.

Yogi sat beside her on the cot, held her hand, and consoled her. Overwhelmed by Yogi’s compassion, the mother wept again. Yogi blessed her and said that the Father would look after her.

That lady asked Senthil to remain in the car. Rathika, who was suffering from fever, was asked to rest in another room. That lady instructed her sister to prepare coffee.

Yogi offered some money to that lady’s mother and presented several woollen shawls that had been brought from Tiruvannamalai.

The group had breakfast prepared by that lady’s sister and left Madurai around 9 a.m. to return to Tiruvannamalai.

At that time, a severe cyclone was crossing the coast, and its effects caused torrential rain throughout the return journey. On the way, that lady repeatedly requested Yogi to use his yogic power to stop the wind and rain, but Yogi did not respond. He appeared to be enjoying the situation.

Huge trees had fallen across the roads, causing multiple blockages. The hurricane winds, heavy rain, and traffic congestion made the journey extremely difficult.

The driver and Senthil struggled through water-logged roads and traffic jams. The return journey took seventeen hours, and they finally reached Tiruvannamalai around 2 a.m. the next day.

After reaching Tiruvannamalai, that lady requested Rajakumari and Rathika not to reveal anything about the trip to anyone and asked them to keep it a secret.

Within a few days after the Madurai trip, Parthasarathy reached Tiruvannamalai. By then, Rajakumari and her friends had returned to their respective places. Whenever in Tiruvannamalai, Parthasarathy would be the car driver for Yogi Ramsuratkumar.

One day, Parthasarathy drove Yogi and the ladies from that lady’s house to the ashram. After Yogi alighted at the ashram, Parthasarathy parked the car outside and stood near it. Suddenly, a devotee, Sri Ramamurti, came running towards him and said that Yogi wanted him immediately.

Parthasarathy went to Yogi, who asked him to sit near him. Yogi showered his love and compassion on Parthasarathy. There were more than two hundred devotees seated in front of Yogi. Suddenly, Yogi said aloud, in a clear and elevated tone:

“Thank you, Parthasarathy. Without your permission, this beggar took Rathika to such a far-away place, Madurai. This beggar asked Rathika whether she should seek your permission to accompany this beggar. But she said that you would not object if this beggar took her. Thank you, Parthasarathy.”

That lady was sitting close by. She turned pale and became visibly grim.

On 1st January 1994, devotees of Anandashram from Madras came to Tiruvannamalai to perform Nama japam, chanting the Ram nam “Om Sri Ram Jai Ram Jai Jai Ram” at Oya Madam.

The group was led by Sri Rangarajan, who referred to himself as Sadhu Rangarajan. He ran his own spiritual organisation and published a magazine titled Tattva Darshan.

Sri Rangarajan invited Yogi to Oya Madam to bless the devotees on New Year’s Day. Yogi informed Janardhanan and his friends of the programme and asked them to bring a car to that lady’s house at 5 a.m. to take Yogi and the ladies to Oya Madam.

Parthasarathy drove for Yogi on such occasions. Raghunath, the auditor, would arrive from Pondicherry in his car and hand it over to Parthasarathy for Yogi’s exclusive use. Parthasarathy would not allow anyone else to sit in the car while it was being used for Yogi.

Exactly at 5 a.m., Janardhanan and his friends arrived at the Sudama house in two cars. On hearing the sound of the engines, Yogi himself came out.

The friends prostrated before him, and Yogi greeted them warmly, saying, “Happy New Year.” The friends returned the greeting with joy.

Yogi and the ladies got into the Ambassador car driven by Parthasarathy, while the others followed in Janardhanan’s Maruti van. The vehicles moved slowly towards Oya Madam.

On the way, Yogi remarked that the Anandashram devotees had requested him to be there exactly at 5 a.m., and he appreciated that Parthasarathy had arrived punctually.

When they reached Oya Madam, Yogi and the others got down from the cars. There was no one at the gate to receive him, nor anyone inside the hall. Mats had been spread on the floor.

Yogi took a seat on one of the mats, and the ladies sat near him. After a few minutes, Sri Rangarajan arrived and greeted Yogi.

Janardhanan and the other friends then took leave, as they had work to attend to at the ashram. Yogi asked them to return in the evening to take him back to that lady’s house, and they agreed.

As the friends walked back to their cars, Sri Rangarajan’s daughter handed them copies of the magazine Tattva Darshan.

Parthasarathy noticed an article titled “The Eternal Slave”, authored by Sri Rangarajan. In the article, that lady was described as the eternal slave of Yogi Ramsuratkumar. She was lavishly glorified and compared to goddesses. The article further stated that Yogi had fallen down on seeing that lady’s love.

On reading the article, the friends—especially Parthasarathy—were shocked and disturbed. They felt deeply upset and annoyed by the content and its tone.

In the evening, the friends returned to Oya Madam to take Yogi back to the Sudama house. Yogi informed them that he wished to stay the night at Oya Madam with the Anandashram devotees.

During that night and throughout the following day, Yogi repeatedly asked the devotees to read aloud the article “The Eternal Slave.”

He invited each devotee to read it and to express their opinion. Almost everyone praised both the article and its author, treating the words as if they were Yogi’s own.

All the while, Yogi laughed continuously—laughing gently, laughing heartily—appearing to take delight in the situation, while playfully exposing the nature of praise, projection, and human imagination.

The next day as well, Yogi Ramsuratkumar continued to stay at Oya Madam with the devotees. The entire day and night were again spent in reading the article “The Eternal Slave” repeatedly.

At Yogi’s insistence, each person present read the article aloud several times. Yogi himself frequently asked that it be read again.

On the third day, Yogi informed the friends that he would leave Oya Madam in the evening. Around 3 o’clock in the afternoon, Parthasarathy parked the car in front of the gate of Oya Madam and waited, seated quietly in the verandah.

During this time, a young devotee named Parthiban from Aruppukottai arrived. He wished to take Yogi to the Sudama house in his new car. Parthiban went inside and expressed his wish. Yogi asked him whether the car normally used by Yogi, driven by Parthasarathy, was ready.

Parthiban replied that the Trust people might be busy with their work and that his car was ready. He also expressed his strong desire to drive Yogi himself. Yogi calmly asked him to go out and see whether the car used by Yogi was ready.

Parthiban came out and saw that Parthasarathy’s car was indeed ready. He then requested Parthasarathy to move the car away from the gate so that he could park his own car in front and take Yogi.

Seeing the young devotee’s aspiration, Parthasarathy obligingly started the car and moved it aside. At that moment, Raghunath, the owner of the car, objected strongly and insisted that Yogi should use only his car. This placed Parthasarathy in an awkward position.

Parthiban returned inside and informed Yogi that both cars were ready. He again prayed that he be given the opportunity to take Yogi in his car. Yogi responded gently but firmly:

“This beggar will go in whichever car Parthasarathy drives.”

Hearing this, Parthiban rushed back to Parthasarathy and pleaded with him to drive his car instead, so that his vehicle might have the privilege of carrying Yogi.

But Raghunath remained adamant that Parthasarathy must drive only his car. Unable to reconcile the situation, Parthasarathy sought Parthiban’s pardon.

Around 7 o’clock in the evening, Yogi came out and got into the car. Parthasarathy drove Yogi to the Sudama house.

On the way, Yogi asked Parthasarathy how long he had been waiting. Parthasarathy replied that he had been waiting for more than four hours.

Yogi then asked where he had been sitting all that time. Parthasarathy replied that he had been sitting in the verandah of Oya Madam.

Turning to that lady, Yogi exclaimed:

“Parthasarathy was waiting for this beggar for more than four hours, sitting in one place!”

Yogi paused for a few moments. Then, with deep compassion, he patted Parthasarathy on the back. Parthasarathy continued driving in silence.

Suddenly Yogi said to that lady:

“We are all safe in the hands of Parthasarathy!”

In later years, Parthiban’s devotion bore fruit. His family eventually donated their car to the ashram for Yogi’s exclusive use. He was also later blessed with many opportunities to drive Yogi, both in that car and in the van later purchased by the ashram administration.

On 5th January 1994, Janardhanan and the other friends went to meet Yogi at the Sudama house to discuss matters related to the ashram. They did not wish to disturb the regular morning darshan session between 10 a.m. and 12 noon, so they arrived after noon, when Yogi would usually have relieved the devotees.

One of the ladies noticed the arrival of the group and informed Yogi immediately. Yogi instructed her to let them in at once.

When the friends entered the house, they found a large gathering present. These were devotees of Anandashram from Madras, led by Rangarajan, the author of the article “The Eternal Slave.” They had come again to chant Ram nam at Oya Madam.

Yogi asked Janardhanan and the friends to sit quietly in a corner of the verandah.

Yogi Ramsuratkumar suddenly stood up and walked a few times up and down the room. He picked up the book Tattva Darshan in his hand and carefully opened it at the page where the article “The Eternal Slave” was printed.

Yogi first called Janardhanan to stand up and read the article aloud. As Janardhanan began reading, Yogi stood directly in front of him, holding a stick raised upward, as though he were about to strike him. Janardhanan continued reading.

After that, Yogi asked Parthasarathy to read the article in the same manner. Parthasarathy disliked the article intensely, yet he obeyed.

As he read, whenever he reached portions that disturbed him deeply, he read them even louder, staring intensely at Yogi. Each time Parthasarathy did this, Yogi would lower the stick and burst into laughter. Parthasarathy completed the reading.

Yogi then walked up and down the room again for a few minutes. Suddenly he stopped and asked Parthasarathy, who was still standing in the same place,

“Parthasarathy, is the article alright?”

Parthasarathy replied immediately, “No, Swami.”

A dreadful silence followed. The atmosphere became tense and grim. Yogi became very serious and sat down. He beckoned Parthasarathy to sit before him and asked why he did not like the article.

Parthasarathy replied that it was improper for a sadhu to write such an article suggesting that a great mahatma had fallen down because of the love of some ladies. Yogi responded that every word in the article had been uttered by him.

Parthasarathy instantly asked,

“Is this the way a sadhu should interpret the words of a great Yogi?”

Parthasarathy became highly emotional. Provoked by Yogi, he poured out all his feelings. He said that Yogi was never partial, that for Yogi all were one—ladies, Parthasarathy, everyone. Yogi loved all equally. He was pure. He was God. God could never fall down.

The open discussion continued for more than one hour.

Finally, Yogi said,

“Parthasarathy, if you do not like the article, then you write an article commenting on this article.”

Parthasarathy replied,

“Yes, Swami. I will write an article. But who will publish it?”

Yogi answered,

“This beggar will beg Rangarajan to publish your article. You write it.”

Parthasarathy agreed and said that he would write an article opposing “The Eternal Slave.” Yogi then asked Parthasarathy to return to his previous place and sit.

Yogi again walked up and down for a few minutes. Then he began asking every devotee present:

“What do you think of this beggar? Is he a sinner? Has this beggar fallen down?”

The devotees were bewildered and gave varied responses. Those who had been praising the article for the past two days now understood Yogi’s intention.

One devotee said that Yogi was at such a great height that he could never fall. Yogi instantly replied that if one fell from a great height, all the bones would break.

Another devotee became extremely emotional and started crying. Yogi commented sharply,

“This friend weeps on seeing this beggar’s fall.”

Finally, Yogi asked the same question to Parthasarathy. Parthasarathy replied,

“It is a wrong question, Swami.”

On hearing this, Yogi calmed down, returned to his seat, and called Parthasarathy near him. He held Parthasarathy’s hands and said gently,

“Parthasarathy, the author of the article has respectability in society. Let us not disturb it. We need not write an article.”

Parthasarathy agreed.

However, in the days that followed, Yogi himself requested Smt. Anuradha to write an article in The Mountain Path, the magazine of Ramanashram, commenting on Rangarajan’s article “The Eternal Slave.”

Yogi personally asked the editor, Sri V. Ganeshan, to publish it. The article was published in The Mountain Path in 1994, and in it Smt. Anuradha strongly criticised Rangarajan’s article.

One may wonder why Yogi chose to respond so decisively.

Rangarajan’s article projected that lady as a favourite devotee of Yogi and even as a goddess. This projection confused sincere sadhakas and devotees. They were left wondering whether that lady was being presented as Yogi’s successor or as his chosen favourite.

Great souls like Yogi exist to remove confusion, not to create it. Yogi therefore acted firmly to clarify that he was ever one with his Father and had never intended to project anyone as a successor or a special favourite.

He saw his Father in everyone and everything. He was never partial. His compassion reached all equally. To doubt this was a grave misunderstanding.[R1]

The entire episode was orchestrated by Yogi with extraordinary grace and precision to teach devotees not to comment upon, interpret, or compare a guru’s actions and words. A guru works uniquely with each individual, beyond the grasp of the intellect. One need not understand the guru’s ways, but one must never obstruct the guru’s work by commentary or judgment.

Meanwhile, Anjaneyalu, the founder of the Yogi Ramsuratkumar Trust, constructed a small but beautiful thatched-roof building with his own funds, after obtaining Yogi’s permission. The structure had granite walls, black stone flooring, and faced east.

The thatching grass was brought from the holy Arunachala Hill. This first building was named “Darshan Mandir.” From then on, Yogi gave darshan there daily, from 10 to 12 in the morning and 4 to 6 in the evening.

At the same time, the physician from Kerala consulted an architect named Ravi in Thrissur and prepared an enormous plan: a hall 350 feet long and 150 feet wide, with a lotus-shaped dome at the entrance and a height exceeding 50 feet, facing the holy hill to the north. The estimated cost ran into several crores of rupees.

Later, the architect admitted that while preparing the plan he never believed such a structure could actually be built. Yet when the plan was presented to Yogi, he approved it joyfully.

Yogi called Janardhanan and showed him the plan. Seeing its massive scale, Janardhanan was frightened. He reflected that collecting a few lakhs had already taken months of tireless travel across Tamil Nadu. To collect several crores seemed impossible and could consume his entire lifetime.

He grew restless but found it difficult to speak openly, as Yogi was constantly surrounded by that lady and her associates.

One day, Janardhanan gathered courage and asked Yogi for a confidential conversation. Yogi took him to a secluded place. Janardhanan poured out his fears and said that it was impossible for him to collect such vast funds.

Yogi replied immediately, “You need not go anywhere to collect money. This beggar will beg from friends.”

Then Yogi asked him, “Can you promise to be with this beggar for another ten years until the building is completed?”

Janardhanan promised.

Yogi told him not to worry about anything else and to focus solely on completing the ashram. Yogi added that he had come to that lady’s house to play a different leela.