The author came to know that Yogi might return to the Ashram from the hospital sometime during the second week of November 2000. Accordingly, he reached Tiruvannamalai in the first week of November and took a room near the Ashram, silently waiting for the return of his Guru.

Yogi was finally discharged from the hospital on 23 November 2000. The entire group started from Madras in the newly purchased van in the morning and reached the Ashram by noon. The van had been specially modified for Yogi’s comfort, yet the strain of the long journey was clearly visible on Yogi’s face.

Yogi was taken into the Ashram through the rear entrance of the Pradhan Mandir and allowed to rest.

For the next two days, Yogi did not give darshan. The devotees waited with intense longing. On 25 November 2000, Yogi was brought out of the abode and seated near the statue in the Pradhan Mandir, the very place where he used to give darshan earlier.

That day, Yogi was in a grave and fierce mood. There was also visible anger in him. What provoked this state has remained a mystery. Over two hundred devotees sat before him in deep reverence, overwhelmed at seeing Yogi after such a long separation.

The author, who was standing outside the Ashram gate, heard that Yogi had come out to give darshan. He rushed to the Pradhan Mandir. As he was just entering through the gate, he heard Yogi’s voice asking that lady whether it was the author who was coming. That lady replied in the affirmative.

Yogi called the author loudly by name. The author rushed forward. Yogi caught hold of his hand with immense love. The author broke down and wept uncontrollably, tears streaming down his face.

The author had not been able to see Yogi during the hospital stay. He had only been informed that Yogi was admitted in a hospital in Madras. On hearing this, the author immediately started from his place, driving through the night, and reached Madras early the next morning.

At the hospital, people around Yogi moved in and out, yet no one revealed anything about Yogi’s condition. When the author enquired, he received only evasive answers. No one was willing to speak the truth about Yogi’s health. This deeply disturbed him.

The author waited three full days at the hospital gate, silently and patiently. Only after three days did he learn that the doctors had taken complete control of Yogi’s condition and that Yogi was out of immediate danger. That news alone gave him peace, and only then did he leave Madras. Thereafter, friends in Madras regularly updated him by phone about Yogi’s health.

Back in the Pradhan Mandir, Yogi continued to hold the author’s hand tenderly, patting it with affection. Yogi’s own eyes were moist. He wiped his tears and asked when the author had come to Tiruvannamalai. The author replied that he had been waiting there for fifteen days.

Yogi asked where he was staying. The author replied that he was staying in Ramana Nagar.

There was a long silence. Yogi gazed deeply at the author for some time. Suddenly, Yogi asked: “Do you have cigarettes in your pocket?”

The author replied that he did. Yogi asked for them. The author handed over the cigarette packet along with the matchbox.

What followed was an eruption.

That lady, who was attending to Yogi’s physical frame, rushed violently towards Yogi and tried to snatch the cigarettes. Yogi firmly held the packet and pushed her hands away. The managing trustee ran forward to stop Yogi from smoking. Yogi angrily ordered him to return to his seat.

A former trustee then intervened, attempting to philosophically persuade Yogi, saying that the Father, through him, was instructing Yogi not to smoke. Yogi replied sharply: “This beggar knows that My Father will never speak through you.”

Yogi then lit a cigarette and smoked it.

A dreadful silence descended upon the entire hall. No one moved. No one breathed.

After finishing the cigarette, Yogi thundered:

“Don’t try to show your authority over this beggar. If you show your authority, this beggar will show his Father’s authority. This is this beggar’s Ashram. Here, this beggar will do whatever he wants.”

The devotees and the Ashram authorities stood stunned and terrified. Everyone sensed that something serious had gone against Yogi’s will.

Yogi took another cigarette.

That lady snatched the cigarette packet and handed it to a devotee, instructing him to throw it away. Yogi became furious.

The managing trustee again approached and pleaded, citing the doctor’s instructions. Yogi snapped:

“Don’t try to advise this beggar. Go and sit in your place.”

The trustee replied that it was a prayer, not advice. Yogi retorted:

“This beggar knows which is a prayer and which is an advice.”

Yogi then called out to a lady and asked her to bring him a cigarette. Despite strong protests from the Ashram administration, Smt. Rajalakshmi reverently brought a cigarette and handed it to Yogi.

Yogi smoked it calmly.

After finishing, he crushed the remaining butt into tiny fragments, grinding it completely.

That was the last cigarette Yogi Ramsuratkumar ever smoked.

Yogi again accused the people around him of trying to exercise authority over him.

That lady, who was seated next to the author, signalled to the managing trustee. The trustee came running towards her, paying little attention to Yogi’s presence. That lady said to him in a low voice:

“It seems Bhagavan wants to create a scene before the devotees. Why don’t you send the devotees for lunch?”

The trustee immediately went to Yogi and said, “Bhagavan, shall we send the devotees for lunch?”

Yogi replied emphatically, “This beggar wants these friends here for some more time. You go and sit in your place.”

Yogi once again spoke strongly about the authority being imposed on him by those around him.

Suddenly, Yogi called Parthiban and asked whether he had his camera. Parthiban replied that he had kept it in his room. Yogi asked him to bring it immediately. Parthiban brought the camera and stood before Yogi.

Throughout this episode, the author was seated close to Yogi, whose hand remained firmly holding the author’s hand.

Yogi instructed Parthiban to take a photograph of both Yogi and the author together. Parthiban took the photograph. To this day, Parthiban has not found time to show this photograph to the author, despite repeated requests.

Yogi again returned to the subject of authority exercised over him. This time, that lady became visibly disturbed and again signalled the managing trustee to come to her. He rushed to her side. She once again asked him to send the devotees for lunch.

The managing trustee approached Yogi and said, “Bhagavan, it is already 12:30. The devotees must be hungry. Shall we send them for lunch?”

Yogi became angry and replied sharply, “This beggar has already told you that this beggar wants these friends here for some more time. Don’t try to advise this beggar. This beggar knows what should be done. You go and sit in your place.”

The managing trustee of the Ashram, stood shocked and bewildered. He returned silently and occupied his seat.

Yogi then shouted that the administration had changed the Ashram in his absence.

The people around him tried to pacify him, saying that nothing had changed and that everything was exactly as it was before Yogi left for the hospital. They attempted to convince Yogi repeatedly.

But Yogi refused to accept their explanations. Again and again, Yogi accused them of having changed the Ashram during his absence.

They showed him different parts of the Ashram, trying desperately to prove that no changes had been made. Yet Yogi persisted in his accusation. His direct words baffled them. They struggled further, unable to understand what Yogi was pointing toward.

Only later could one understand that Yogi had foreseen the future.

He had foreseen that the Ashram would be transformed from a spiritual centre into a religious institution—something Yogi had always opposed.

A religious place is one where rituals, dogma, and formal worship dominate. A spiritual place, on the other hand, teaches one to transcend religion itself, to transcend rituals, identity, and ego, and to merge with Guru or God through constant remembrance.

To put it simply: Religion strengthens the self through identities, and rituals.

Spirituality erases the self, dissolving it in Guru or God.

Yogi, being a pure spiritual master, wanted the ashram to remain spiritual, radiating God-consciousness in every activity, without rituals, without authority, and without institutional control.

There are innumerable religious temples in every village, town, and city. Those who wish to perform rituals for worldly or religious merit can go to such places. Spiritual spaces must be left untouched for genuine seekers and sadhakas, those who wish to dissolve themselves in God.

After the Maha Samadhi of the great spiritual master Yogi Ramsuratkumar, the Ashram administration converted the place into a religious institution, introducing rituals and ceremonial worship—precisely what Yogi had foreseen and strongly objected to during his lifetime.

Through this episode, Yogi clearly expressed his dissatisfaction with the people and the direction of the Ashram administration.

In a profound way, Yogi awakened the devotees, conveying unmistakably that:

Yogi is far, far away from rituals and poojas. Yogi is very near to those who remember him.

Yogi belongs to those who dedicate their lives to him. Not through rituals, not through authority, but through constant remembrance and total surrender.

Those who remember Yogi, chant with faith and love the holy mantra: YOGI RAMSURATKUMARA JAYA GURU JAYA GURU JAYA GURU RAYA remain eternally close to him.

Soon afterward, Yogi dispersed the devotees, permitting them to go for lunch. That lady instructed an Ashram attendant to bring food for Yogi and for the people around him. When the food was brought, that lady served Yogi herself.

When another lady attempted to assist that lady in serving him, Yogi openly expressed his dissatisfaction. He clearly showed his dislike for that another lady serving him. Yogi then took a small portion of the food served by that lady.

Yogi asked the author to take his meal in the Bhojansala. The author went to the dining hall to eat. Soon afterward, Smt. Rajeshwari, who had been living in the Ashram from the beginning and had long been cooking and serving food for Yogi and those around him, came running to the author.

She told him that Yogi had asked her, “This beggar has sent Parthasarathy to take his meal in the Bhojansala, and you are here. Who will serve Parthasarathy there?”

Rajeshwari immediately replied to Yogi that she would go and serve the author. She was about to do so when, at that very moment, the managing trustee came there and called her away for some other work. She followed him and disappeared. Another man then came and served the author.

Thereafter, Yogi regularly resumed giving darshan to the devotees in the Ashram. A devotee had contributed a wheeled easy chair, adjustable for comfort. Yogi preferred this chair, and it suited him well.

Young devotees would gently push the wheeled chair, in which Yogi would stretch his legs and lean back majestically, followed by that lady and other ladies, towards the dais in the Pradhan Mandir. There was a narrow passage leading from the abode into the Pradhan Mandir.

Every morning at 10 o’clock, Yogi would come for darshan and return to the abode at 12 noon. Again in the evening, from 4 o’clock to 6 o’clock, Yogi would give darshan to the devotees.

During both morning and evening sessions, Yogi would often call devotees to talk, sing, or dance.

It was the period of Yogi’s Jayanti celebrations. Sri Lee Lozovic from the United States came with his disciples to have Yogi’s darshan. Every year, Sri Lee would come to India with his disciples, stay at the Ashram in Tiruvannamalai for about fifteen to twenty days, and then visit several holy places across the country.

Sri Lee’s disciples sang beautiful bhajans on Yogi in English and danced in harmony with the songs. Yogi took great delight in watching them sing and dance. He would also ask Sri Lee to give discourses before the devotees.

Yogi instructed the Ashram administration to arrange a separate place for Sri Lee and his disciples to sit before him. No one else was permitted to sit near them.

Whenever the author was among the devotees, Yogi would call him to the stage and say, “Parthasarathy, talk something which is good for these people.”

The author, having stage fear, would instead pray to Yogi for permission to sing. Yogi would allow him to sing songs composed by the author himself.

On December 1, Yogi’s Jayanti (Birthday) was celebrated in the Ashram. The devotees from the United States sang several of Sri Lee’s songs and danced in groups. It was a beautiful and blissful sight to see foreign devotees chanting Yogi’s name and dancing with devotion.

Yogi then called Sri Pon Kamraj, who had organized the construction of a temple for Yogi at Kanimadam near Kanyakumari, and asked him to sing and dance. Sri Pon Kamraj sang and danced, and Yogi visibly enjoyed the performance. It appeared as though Yogi himself was making the devotees dance to his tune.

Yogi then called the former life trustee Sri S. P. Janardhanan to the stage and asked him to narrate the Ramayana. Janardhanan narrated the Sundarakandam in his unique, colloquial style. Yogi and the devotees greatly enjoyed his narration.

Throughout December 2000, whenever Yogi gave darshan, he would call the author every day and ask him to sit near him on the stage.

Yogi would also call Sri Lee daily to give discourses and occasionally invite Smt. Pankajamdas to sing. She had a sweet, enchanting voice that deeply moved the devotees. Yogi would also frequently call Sri Janardhanan to narrate episodes from the Ramayana.

One day, Sri Lee expressed his wish to distribute his book on Yogi to the devotees. On hearing this, Yogi instructed the former trustee to announce the availability and price of the book.

The former trustee announced that devotees could purchase the book and that Yogi would personally sign each copy. Hearing this, many devotees eagerly bought the book, received Yogi’s signature, and accepted the copy directly from Yogi’s hands.

One day in December 2000, Yogi asked the author to sing a song before the audience. The author sang a newly composed song on that occasion. Yogi liked the song very much.

The song was in Tamil language and it is as follows:

யோகிராம் சுரத்குமார் ஆனந்த அழகாம்

யோகிஸ்ரீ ஆலய ஆஸ்ரமம் அழகாம் - யோகிராம்

அபயம் திருக்கரம் காட்டுதல் அழகாம்

அருளும் ஞானம் திருவடி அழகாம்

அவலம் நீக்கும் திருவடி அழகாம்

அகந்தை போக்கும் ஆண்டவன் அழகாம் - யோகிராம்

தளிர்நடை பயிலும் பாங்கும் அழகாம்

தனித்தே குன்றென இருத்தல் அழகாம்

களிப்பொடு நடனம் ஆடுதல் அழகாம்

கதியாம் உயிர்க்கு காப்பவன் அழகாம் - யோகிராம்

விரிசடை நாதனின் வதனம் அழகாம்

விரிக்கும் விந்தைச் சொல்லும் அழகாம்

கனிவுறு விழியின் நோக்கும் அழகாம்

கலியுக தெய்வத்தின் நாமமும் அழகாம் – யோகிராம்

நாதனைக் கண்ட வாழ்வும் அழகாம்

நாதனைப் பற்றும் பக்தரும் அழகாம்

நாதனின் நாமம் சொல்பவர் அழகாம்

நாதனில் வாழ்வைப் பிணைப்பவர் அழகாம் - யோகிராம்

As soon as the author completed singing, Yogi asked him to sit near him and enquired whether he could translate the song into English. The author, knowing his own limitations and not considering himself qualified, prayed to Yogi that it would be better if someone well-qualified undertook the translation.

Yogi asked the author whom he preferred. The author suggested a young devotee, but the youth refused.

Yogi paused for a few minutes. During that pause, everyone on the stage—including that lady—approached the author and urged him to suggest the name of a particular devotee, a man considered highly qualified.

Yogi again asked the author whom else he would prefer to do the translation. With complete innocence, the author mentioned the name repeatedly recommended by the others. On hearing this, Yogi showed hesitation and clear dislike.

That lady asked Yogi whether that devotee should be called to the stage. Yogi replied that it was not necessary. He instructed the youth to take the paper containing the song to that devotee and ask him to complete the translation and bring it for the evening session.

In the meantime, that lady informed Yogi that the same devotee had also composed a new song and requested Yogi to call him to the stage to recite it. Yogi refused to call the devotee near him and instead instructed the youth to ask the devotee to sing from where he was already seated. This decision disappointed everyone seated on the stage near Yogi.

After some time, the morning session concluded and the devotees dispersed.

In the evening session, the particular devotee arrived with the translation prepared. As usual, Yogi called the author to sing some songs. After the author completed singing, Yogi held his hands affectionately and asked him to sit near him.

That lady informed Yogi that the devotee had brought the translation and prayed that he be called to the stage to read it aloud. Yogi ignored her request and instead asked a youth to bring the translation from the devotee.

The youth brought the paper and handed it to Yogi, who passed it to the author. Yogi instructed the author to read the translation carefully, again and again. The author went through it silently for some time.

Yogi then asked the author to stand up and read the translation loudly before the assembled devotees.

The translation read as follows:

Yogi Ramsuratkumar is a blissful beauty

The temple of Yogi, the Ashram, is also a beauty — Yogi Ramsuratkumar

The way He raises His hands to bless is a beauty

The Holy Feet that radiate wisdom are a beauty

The Holy Eyes that remove the ugliness of the mind are a beauty

And the God who destroys the ego is a beauty — Yogi Ramsuratkumar

The way He walks like a tender child is a beauty

The way He sits alone like a rock is a beauty

The way He dances in bliss is a beauty

He alone, the Source and Protector, is a beauty — Yogi Ramsuratkumar

With uncombed matted hair, the Lord’s face is a beauty

The awful words He spreads are a beauty

The compassionate glance of His eyes is a beauty

The Name of the God of Kali Yuga is a beauty — Yogi Ramsuratkumar

One’s life which sees The Lord is a beauty

A devotee attached to the Lord is a beauty

He who chants His Name is a beauty

He who merges with the Lord is a beauty — Yogi Ramsuratkumar

Every day there were songs and dances in Yogi’s durbar. Seated in his easy chair, Yogi observed every individual and radiated his benevolent grace upon all. Daily, Yogi called Sri Lee, Sri S. P. Janardhanan, and the author to speak or sing before the devotees.

The Karthigai Deepam Festival began in Tiruvannamalai. This is one of the most renowned festivals of the town. The Maha Deepam would be lit atop the sacred Arunachala Hill, witnessed by more than a million people, after which devotees would circumambulate the hill. The entire town overflowed with humanity, filling every available space.

In the Ashram, Yogi was seated on the dais, and the Pradhan Mandir was packed with devotees awaiting his darshan. As usual, Yogi invited Sri Lee and Sri S. P. Janardhanan to speak.

After Janardhanan completed his discourse on the Ramayana, he informed Yogi that Sri Jayakar, the younger brother of devotee Sri Sivasankaran, had arrived.

Yogi called Jayakar to the dais. Jayakar prostrated and informed Yogi that his sisters and their children had also come. Yogi patted his back affectionately and asked him to speak to the devotees.

Jayakar, meeting Yogi after a long time, became overwhelmed. Words failed him; only tears flowed. It became a silent discourse of devotion. He prostrated again, and Yogi blessed him with a fruit.

Yogi then announced through a devotee that anyone who wished to convey a meaningful message to the assembly could come forward. Several men and women raised their hands. Devotees were called one by one. Some spoke eloquently; others merely chanted Yogi’s name, prostrated, and received a gentle pat and fruit from Yogi.

It was a remarkable sight—Yogi ensured that every individual in the vast congregation was seen.

In the evening, Yogi sat outside the Pradhan Mandir, facing Arunachala, to witness the lighting of the Maha Deepam. As soon as the flame appeared atop the hill, a lamp was lit in the Ashram, and aarthi was offered to Yogi.

The author had been in Tiruvannamalai for nearly a month and believed that Yogi had completely recovered from cancer. He wished to return home.

One day, after singing as requested, the author prostrated before Yogi. Yogi lifted a fruit to give as prasadam. The author informed Yogi of his intention to leave. Yogi paused, holding the fruit in his hand, smiling mysteriously.

Thinking Yogi wanted him to stay longer, the author said, “If Swami wants me to stay for some more days, I will stay.”

Yogi replied emphatically, “Stay here.”

Later, Yogi called Sri S. P. Janardhanan to narrate the Ramayana. After finishing, Janardhanan expressed his wish to return home. Yogi instructed him also to remain.

Sri S. P. Janardhanan had an important family function in Bangalore and wished to attend it with his wife Smt. Vijaya. Since Yogi had earlier instructed him to stay, they hesitated to ask permission.

One day, after Janardhanan narrated the Ramayana, he expressed his wish to go to Bangalore. Yogi appeared annoyed and called out loudly, “Parthasarathy!”

The author approached. Yogi pointed to Janardhanan and said, “He wants to go to Bangalore. You go with him.”

The author was puzzled—Janardhanan lived in Bangalore, while the author lived in Sivakasi, in a different direction. Still, he complied.

The author drove Janardhanan and his wife to Bangalore, followed by Janardhanan’s own car. After dropping them at their home, the author stayed overnight at Smt. Rajini Rajagopal’s house. Early the next morning, he returned to Tiruvannamalai, reaching by evening.

During the 4 p.m. session, the author sat among the devotees. Seeing him, Yogi called him to the dais and asked him to sing. After singing, the author prostrated and received prasadam. Yogi did not enquire about the Bangalore trip.

Days passed. Daily, Yogi called the author to the dais during morning and evening sessions, asked him to sing, and then made him sit near him.

After a few days, Yogi began saying that he wished to have a long sleep. Saying this, he would ask Sri Lee to conduct the session for the remaining time.

However, as soon as Yogi retired into his abode to rest, the devotees would disperse. Only Sri Lee’s followers and a few casual visitors would remain to listen to him. Occasionally, some devotees would sit for a short while. Sri Lee would then disperse the gathering at the appropriate time.

One day, in the middle of December 2000, Yogi instructed the author, Sri Lee, and Sri Alan from Germany to accompany a youth who was assisting Yogi to the Veda Patasala, to discuss the youth’s ideas regarding it.

The four went together to the Patasala premises, located just behind the Pradhan Mandir where Yogi usually conducted darshan. Shortly thereafter, the former trustee also joined them.

The author asked the youth about his intentions regarding the Veda Patasala. The youth replied that his intention was not to run a Veda Patasala but to conduct research on the Vedas.

The author asked which Veda he intended to research. The youth replied that he intended to research all four Vedas.

The author pointed out that it was difficult enough to find a master of even one Veda, and that finding someone proficient in all four would be extremely rare. Even if such a scholar existed, the author observed, it was unlikely that the person would leave his place to participate in such a project.

The author then asked the youth whether he personally knew anyone who had mastered all four Vedas. The youth said that he had some names in mind.

The author further asked whether those names had been confirmed with Yogi, who alone had deep knowledge of genuine Vedic masters in India. The youth admitted that he had not yet discussed this with Yogi.

The author then asked what the youth intended to do with the research works produced by the Vedic scholars. The youth replied that he planned to market them in Europe and other countries.

At that moment, the author sensed the commercial intent behind the proposal and immediately withdrew from further discussion. Yogi had great reverence for the Vedas, but he never intended them to be commercialised.

Thereafter, the youth began discussing with the other two participants and the former trustee about how the Vedic works could be marketed. The group went on to discuss methods of storing and preserving the research in a scientific manner. The entire discussion became meaningless, as it was completely against Yogi’s intent and spirit.

Yogi, it appeared, had wished to establish a genuine Veda Patasala. For this reason, he had urged Sri Anjaneyalu, the building contractor, to complete the Patasala building quickly. Anjaneyalu completed the work within fifty days and received abundant blessings and appreciation from Yogi.

No Vedic research were done there now. The Veda Patasala is run with help of a person named Muralidharan.

The next day, the author asked the youth whether he had informed Yogi about the discussion. The youth replied that he had narrated everything, but Yogi had not responded at all.

A few days later, Sri Lee and his followers left for North India for sightseeing and subsequently returned to the United States. (After Yogi’s Mahasamadhi, Sri Lee continued visiting the Ashram for a few more years, and then stopped coming altogether. He passed away in November 2010 in the US.)

One day during darshan, Yogi appeared extremely serious and resolute. He remained silent for a long time, gazing intensely at everyone seated before him.

Suddenly, Yogi beckoned the youth and instructed him to announce that the devotees should stand up one by one and state their names and the places they had come from. One after another, the devotees stood and introduced themselves.

Yogi then asked the youth to announce that all devotees present should return for the evening session, as Yogi had something important to convey.

That evening, most of the devotees gathered again in Yogi’s durbar at the Pradhan Mandir. Yogi blessed each devotee individually, saying either, “My Father blesses you,” or simply, “Rama Rama.”

When the author’s turn came, he approached Yogi on the dais. Yogi asked him, “Do you want to say anything?”

The author replied, “Swami, I am waiting for your instructions.”

Yogi asked, “What are you talking about?”

The author answered, “Swami, you asked me to stay here, and I have been staying. Now I am waiting for your instructions.”

Hearing this, Yogi appeared to become annoyed and suddenly said, “You can go now.”

The author was shocked and bewildered. That same evening, the author left Tiruvannamalai and reached his home around midnight.

After this incident, Yogi ceased giving public darshan. He stopped speaking to people altogether and remained with his eyes closed. He withdrew completely from the external world and rested wholly in his Supreme Father.

Even when people around him shouted loudly into his ears in an attempt to communicate, Yogi remained undisturbed. He stayed calm, serene, and absorbed, with closed eyes, totally merged in his Father.

When food was offered, he would swallow it silently without opening his eyes. His physical frame developed various complications, but Yogi had completely detached from the body. He no longer reacted to pain, discomfort, or the happenings around him. He had withdrawn beyond the physical, abiding only in the Supreme.

In mid-January 2001, around 10 o’clock in the morning, while the author was at his office in Sivakasi, he received a phone call from the Ashram at Tiruvannamalai. The youth spoke on the phone and said that for the past two days Yogi had been repeatedly remembering the author. He asked whether it was possible for the author to come to Tiruvannamalai.

The author replied immediately that he would start at once.

His wife was out of station at that time. He informed her over the phone about his journey. He then went home, packed a few sets of clothes, and started from his house at Thiruthangal towards Tiruvannamalai in his car.

It was around 12 noon. Within five hours, covering nearly 440 kilometres, driving non-stop through rugged highways and heavy traffic snarls, the author reached Tiruvannamalai.

As soon as he arrived at the Ashram, the youth informed him that for the past two days Yogi had been repeatedly uttering the author’s name, even though his eyes remained closed. The people around Yogi then asked him loudly whether he wished to see the author. Suddenly Yogi opened his eyes and replied in Tamil, “Aama” (Yes). Immediately, they called the author over the phone.

The author waited in the left-side room of the abode, overwhelmed by indescribable emotions. A few hours passed. It was around 8 o’clock in the evening when he was finally called inside.

Yogi was lying on a bed placed on a cot, completely withdrawn from the external world and totally merged with his Supreme Father. His eyes were closed. His face glowed with a rare golden radiance. The room was utterly still. A deep, divine silence filled the space.

The author stood silently near Yogi’s bed, motionless, dissolved in that infinite ocean of Grace.

Those around Yogi announced the author’s arrival loudly into Yogi’s ears, again and again. After a few long minutes, Yogi slowly opened his eyes. Seeing the author standing before him, Yogi smiled—a broad, joyful, compassionate smile. The author was thrilled beyond words. He silently touched the Holy Feet of the great Master.

Still smiling, Yogi slowly raised his right hand, asking for the author’s hand. The author placed his right hand into Yogi’s. Yogi held it gently and pressed it with immense love.

At that moment, the author melted into the vast ocean of the LORD’s Mercy.

“Thank you, Parthasarathy, for coming here,” Yogi whispered softly, the same smile adorning his beautiful golden face.

These were the last words of Yogi. After this, he spoke to no one until his final breath.

After a few bliss-filled minutes, Yogi gently released the author’s hand, closed his eyes again, and returned fully into his Father’s abode. The author left the room silently, in a state that cannot be described by words.

Though the author took a rented room near the Ashram, he spent most of his time within the Ashram premises.

Initially, Yogi was placed in a small room at the right corner of the abode. As it was inconvenient, he was later shifted to a larger, more comfortable room, where devotees could see him through a large window.

A few days after the author’s arrival, the two young attendants, Sri Parthiban and Sri Naresh, were absent for a few hours. Yogi’s bedcover needed to be changed. As only two ladies and two youths were present, one more person was required to lift Yogi. The youth called the author for help.

The author entered the room. The youth asked him to lift Yogi’s legs while the others would lift the shoulders and abdomen. The author hesitated, doubting whether he could lift the strong, muscular legs of Yogi. The youths encouraged him.

The author placed both his hands beneath Yogi’s legs. The moment his hands touched them, Yogi suddenly opened his eyes to see who was touching him. Yogi was extremely alert and sensitive; he could even distinguish differences in touch between people. Seeing that it was the author, Yogi’s entire face lit up with joy.

Miraculously, the heavy legs became weightless—like rose petals. This was no imagination or exaggeration. Truly, the author felt no weight at all. He held the holy legs until the bed and covers were changed.

The author was thrilled, overwhelmed with joy, witnessing his divine Swami unchanged by age or disease.

Within a few days, all vital parameters showed deterioration. The heart was enlarged, the lungs congested, and the kidneys weakened. Dr. Rangabashyam from Madras visited Yogi and arranged two of his best staff nurses to attend him day and night. Two to three devotee-doctors attended continuously under his guidance.

The room was converted into an intensive-care setup. Emergency equipment and oxygen cylinders were kept ready. The youth rendered tireless service, bringing medicines and oxygen even in the dead of night.

However, access to Yogi was strictly controlled by the youth and that lady. Other devotees could only receive information through them or the nurses, creating confusion and anxiety.

Dr. Rangabashyam advised that devotees be allowed to see Yogi through the glass window so they could understand the gravity of the situation. Only then did the seriousness dawn upon the administrators.

After that, devotees were allowed to see Yogi through the window. Whenever a dear devotee approached, Yogi—without opening his eyes—would raise his hand in blessing. Sometimes, his hands were gently tied to prevent removal of needles, yet he would still attempt to bless devotees when sensing their presence.

On 26 January 2001, a massive earthquake devastated Gujarat, especially the Kutch region, killing thousands. It seemed as though Yogi’s body absorbed the shock. His system suffered a sudden collapse. All vital organs deteriorated rapidly.

Doctors Dr. Nachiappan and Dr. Rajasabai reported the situation to Dr. Rangabashyam. The managing trustee, who was in Madras, was informed and rushed to Tiruvannamalai, cancelling a scheduled program.

The serious condition was conveyed to most devotees—but not to Yogi’s family. Devotees gathered in large numbers and prayed silently throughout the night.

Though the condition briefly stabilised the next day, Yogi remained critically ill. His heart weakened, kidneys failed, lungs flooded with fluid, intestines bled internally. Dialysis was attempted. A feeding tube was inserted. Oxygen was administered continuously.

Yet, Yogi’s determination to withdraw rendered all treatments ineffective.

On 19 February, his lungs were completely flooded. Breathing became extremely laboured.

On 20 February 2001, at exactly 3:00 a.m., Yogi breathed his last. Doctors attempted resuscitation, but it failed. At 3:19 a.m., they officially declared Yogi’s Mahasamadhi.

A great, noble, divine life—equal to that of the Gods—had concluded its earthly play.

The body, having borne the sorrows and sufferings of the world, reflected that immense burden even after the soul’s departure.

Yogi has gone, yet he lives—in all beings and non-beings, in time and timelessness, in emptiness and wholeness, in bondage and freedom.

May the sacred Name Yogi Ramsuratkumar ever abide with us. May peace and bliss shower upon all.