Chapter Eighteen
Yogaswami’s Final Years
During Swami’s later years, in the early 60s, there was trouble between the two ethnic communities who live in Sri Lanka, the Tamils and the Sinhalese, between whom a rivalry has persisted for centuries. The Sinhalese Buddhists are a majority. At that time they were attempting to make their language, Sinhala, the official language of the country. Because of this effort and its implications, riots sprang up at different places all through the country. These conflicts came and went for years. §
On February 21, 1961, Yogaswami had, as usual, left the ashram in the morning and walked to Vannarpannai. Passing the old Dutch fort, where people were fighting in the streets, he witnessed first hand the violence and bloodshed. Solemn and withdrawn, he walked back to his hermitage, reaching there around noon. §
Usually upon returning to his hut, he washed his feet and gave his hands and face a scrubbing at the well on the other side of the road, where everyone washed before entering the compound. This day, however, he just got down from the car and walked directly through the gate past his hut and into the pasture, sixty yards or so, to the cattle shed where Valli, his cow, was tethered. He offered her a few bananas, as he often did, and petted her affectionately, despite the fact that Mr. Tirunavukarasu’s daughter had warned him two days earlier not to go near “that Valli cow,” due to her feisty demeanor the past few days. Suddenly Valli threw her head toward him, as playful bovines are wont to do, striking Swami with the strength of her thousand-pound frame. Eighty-eight years old and frail, Swami was thrown to the ground, unable to get up. He would later discover that his left hip had been broken by the fall. §
Fortunately, Mr. Balakumar and his wife, who had come to visit Swami and were waiting at his ashram, witnessed the accident and came running to help. They called a neighbor and urgently told him to convey the news to Mr. Tirunavukarasu, who was at the bank where he worked, and to Mr. Thivendram at his book shop. Thivendram summoned Mr. K. Brahmananda, and they all rushed to the site. §
For most of his life, Yogaswami wandered freely, often spending an entire day walking the lanes of his beloved Lanka. But a fall which broke his hip at 88 put him in a wheelchair, which meant devotees could visit him more readily.
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Placing Swami on a makeshift stretcher, they carried him to Mr. Brahmananda’s van and sped to Jaffna Hospital. Mr. A. Thillyampalam, who also had been alerted, joined them there and by phone conveyed the news to devotees in Colombo. The next morning, twenty devotees flew from Colombo, including two surgeons, Dr. V. Rasanayagam and Dr. A.J. Anthonis. Yogaswami was given a private room and the best of care. §
The moment he entered the hospital, it turned into a temple. Devotees gathered around and waited for news of his condition, singing quietly his favorite songs from Natchintanai and Sivapuranam. That evening Dr. V. Rasanayagam, an orthopedic surgeon, operated on Swami’s hip. He said afterwards that Swami would not be able to walk, though his hip would heal. During Swami’s stay, five doctors looked after him in turns: Dr. C. Gurusamy, Dr. S. Ramanathan, Dr. V.T. Pasupathy, Dr. S.A. Vettivelu and Dr. N. Waloopillai.§
Yogaswami urged devotees to “Wear the body like a sandal,” a call to not be overly concerned for their physical body, but use it well. One day while feeding his cow Valli bananas, she tossed her head, throwing him to the ground. His life changed, but his detachment never wavered.
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“Some Day You Will Understand”
A concern arose that he sleep soundly and not move at all that night. The doctors gathered around him and explained how important it was that he remain still so the healing could begin. Swami regarded the injury much differently than they did, saying, “Oh, you think it is important. To me it is nothing.” Because of their concern and insistence, however, he agreed to receive a sleep-inducing drug. The doctors gave the injection, telling him it would make him sleep until eight in the morning. Yogaswami fell into a sound sleep right away, and the doctors thought they had achieved their goal. But at about four in the morning, he awakened. §
Every morning after that he awoke early. By four o’clock he was sitting quietly, and people slowly gathered. Everyone came, doctors, nurses and devotees. From about 4:30 they were singing and chanting. Devotees burned incense and camphor. Sometimes Yogaswami spoke to them. Often he asked visitors to sing or chant from a certain scripture. §
At about 5:45 he ordered everyone go to their work and asked his attendants to clean the room and straighten the sheets. At six each morning an English nun came in to look after his medical needs, and he wanted everything to be just the way she would expect it. He made sure the ashes from the incense were cleaned up and the bed was properly made. Greeting him, she would say, “Hello, Father. How are you today?” He responded, “Good morning, Mother.” §
One day he asked when she had time to pray. She answered, “My work is my prayer. What I do with my hands, Father, is my prayer.” “We are also like that,” he responded. “That way we stay pure so that God within us can work through us.” When he mentioned God within, she held her hands over her ears, indicating that she just did not see God within and would not even hear of such an idea. Yogaswami laughed, “Oh, that’s all right. Some day you will understand.” §
In the evening, after the main work of the hospital was finished, people again gathered in Swami’s room to sing and sit within his darshan. They lit lamps and again burned incense and camphor. §
Yogaswami had always been immediate and vibrant, a dynamic presence to all who came to him. Some grew fearful in that incredible presence. Others experienced it as a motherly compassion. He was aware of every aspect of their lives. After his accident, though, he spent more and more time within and was outwardly softer and remote. He had a luminance that made those around him feel as if he were in a celestial realm. Even those whom he had treated harshly before he now greeted with gentleness. §
Sometimes Yogaswami would slip into contemplation and forget his body altogether. It was then that people began to realize that Swami had veiled his presence while he was with them as fully and as successfully as he said Chellappaguru had hidden his. Just from the way he was during these times, devotees could glimpse the true nature of the guru. Pointing to his body he would say, “You must not think of this person as the guru. The guru is vastly different from this.”§
A devotee wrote of visiting Swami in the hospital, recounting what Swami said about his injury.§
I went to see him in the hospital with my father-in-law. While in the car on our way, my father-in-law told me that Yogaswami’s condition was deteriorating. I replied, “He is superhuman, and such incidents occur only to show the world how one should face any adversity in life.” On our arrival, Yogaswami clasped the doctor’s hand and said, “Rajah, you think that I am very ill, don’t you? There is nothing wrong with me. The body which did the bad deed is paying the penalty.” That he said with his leg in bandages, his mind so detached that his face was as fresh as a new rose! §
In Words of Our Master, Swami elaborates on the above theme: §
This [illness] is a gift. Karma must be gone through. I have no connection whatever with this body. This body brought with it the seed of all else in life. Illness is part of it. People who understand the cause of this will merely note this as the end of all suffering and remain undisturbed. The ignorant become restless and sad.Ӥ
When devotees anguished aloud about his condition, Yogaswami consoled, “Do you think you can forestall my karma?” They realized that from his perspective all was in perfect order and their best help to him was to be a loving witness to his condition. §
Yogaswami was a robust man, but he suffered from diabetes. From the early 50s he received daily insulin shots from a doctor-devotee.
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When people began blaming the cow, Yogaswami stopped them. “We put ourselves in Valli’s way. It was not she who did what was settled in the beginning.” Many devotees believed Swami foresaw that the Tamil community was going to face many problems and hardships in the future and through his injury intentionally took some of their suffering on himself in an effort to ease the horrific karmas he anticipated.§
S. Shanmugasundaram said that, years earlier, when someone asked Swami why he didn’t take medicine for his ailments, or why he got ill at all, Yogaswami replied, “I could die now if I wanted to, just close my eyes and in a short time be dead.” But he said he had a few more things to do, and he still needed to overcome anger a little bit. He wanted to go permanently when he died, and not come back, so he was making sure he left nothing undone. §
Swami gradually recovered his strength and began to move about in a comfortable wooden wheelchair and a walker. Sandaswami had air-lifted from the UK a modern stainless steel chair for him, but he preferred the old-fashioned one. §
During his recuperation in the hospital, devotees worked day and night to build a new hermitage for him on the north side of his old hut. Similar in size to the thatched hut, it had concrete walls and floor, a clay tile roof, wheelchair access, indoor plumbing, electric lighting, a proper bed and other conveniences that Swami would need when he returned from the hospital. In fact, the doctors would not release him until the building was finished. §
“We Learned Silence in His Presence”
In June of 1961, after three months in Jaffna General Hospital, Swami returned to Columbuthurai and moved into his new hermitage. People took turns caring for him. There was always someone on duty to look after Swami’s needs, and Dr. Rajakaruna visited the ashram every morning to do physical therapy for Swami. In spite of this, he never regained the ability to walk.§
As his strength returned, Swami would take excursions in his wheelchair. He was often sighted kilometers from his hermitage in his chair, pushed by Sivayogeswaran, nephew of Mr. Tirunavukarasu. He also moved about freely by car in the mornings. At noon, he would have lunch and then take a nap until 4pm. In the evenings he received devotees in the ashram. §
A special activity each weekend was driving to the beach. He especially loved to visit the seaside in those days; it seemed to give him physical solace. A. Thillyampalam and his teenage son T. Sivayogapathy would arrive in their Rover with their driver at 4:30pm. The son’s duty was to sponge Swami’s body, dress him for the outing and ever-so-slowly move him into the wheelchair for the short ride to the road. §
Swami sat in the front seat with the driver as they drove to the beach. Once there, they parked the car, with doors wide open and the skylight pulled back, so he could enjoy the sea breeze. From the seaside, Swami and his hosts proceeded to Sivathondan Nilayam, where, from the car, he would call Chellathurai over for a short talk. §
Typically they proceeded to Nallur Temple. Parked at a distance in front of the teradi, Swami sang Sivapuranam and worshiped. Money, coconuts and camphor were sent inside the temple in a basket so that a special puja could be performed invoking the blessings of the Deity. §
As sadhus and others invariably approached, Swami personally handed a plantain to each one, while, on the other side of the car, Thillyampalam reached into his coin purse, carefully prepared for just this moment, and gave each one a coin, ten or fifty rupees—a generous sum, as in those days an ample meal could be purchased with a single rupee. This remained the pattern until January of 1964.§
People were no longer afraid of the once-fearsome sage, and many who had not dared approach him earlier now came. Often he sent them to the Sivathondan Nilayam. §
Increasingly, efforts were made to ensure Swami’s comfort. His legs were swollen with excess fluid, and it helped if someone rubbed them. He allowed only a few men to massage his legs, and they considered it such a blessing that they would have massaged forever if he had not sensed their fatigue and asked them to stop. §
Ratna Ma Navaratnam gives us a glimpse into these final years.§
Swami’s sacrificial illness from 1961 to 1964 lit an unquenchable flame of devotion amongst his devotees, whence came the realization that even bhakti could be just as imperfect as karma or dhyana. We learnt to be silent in his presence and awaited the manna that fell from his lips. Day was indistinguishable from night, and the play of opposites preyed less and less on our captive minds, released to enjoy serene peace. Swami would take us backwards and forwards. He would recall many illuminating reminiscenses of Chellappaswami, his peerless Gurunathan.§
The resonant voice of the guru became softened with love in his last days on Earth. He would call upon the Divine Mother, Devi Thaiyalnayaki, and avow that She abides in the conscious core of each one’s heart, and would therefore know each one’s pain and pleasure intimately, and would swiftly respond to the call of Her unswerving children. He would make us sing the four lines on Thaiyalnayaki for hours together. Was She no other than the beloved guru, the healer of all life’s ills and forebodings? Can it be the Supreme Identity hailed by the sacred scriptures?§
Doing pujas and abhishekams at Nallur Temple, and at the Vannarpannai Vaitheeswaran-Thaiyalnayaki Sivan Temple, was a prescription he often gave in these last three years at the ashram. Another was to conduct padayatra, pilgrimage by foot, from Sivathondan Nilayam to Nallur Temple and then to his ashram. §
He told devotees to study the Kandapuranam in temples and in homes. As his mahasamadhi approached, Swami arranged for the study of the Markandeya Padalam, a chapter of the Kandapuranam, in a style of teaching in which one person sings the poet’s verses and another sings the explanation in his own words. At that session, Thambaiyah, a teacher, rendered the explanations. Swami attended this kind of spiritual discourse off and on and encouraged others to do likewise. §
One month before his mahasamadhi, foreseeing the hardships ahead, Yogaswami cried out in a loud voice, “O Thaiyalnayaki Amma! Please bless and save the Tamils from the hardships they will undergo in the future. They will find it difficult to have even a cup of rice porridge per person per day!” He decreed, “All Tamils must start paddy cultivation and agriculture to cultivate various grains in order to manage food during difficult times!”§
That visit to the future proved uncannily accurate, as the entire Sri Lankan Tamil community learned twenty years later, when the ethnic war broke out, bringing with it thirty years of conflict, hunger and suffering.§
Three photographs were taken of Yogaswami when he returned from the hospital, captured by a devotee who knew that soon he would no longer be on this plane. They were among a handful taken throughout his life, as he generally did not allow photos to be taken of him. Many people thought they had managed to get a photo, only to have the negatives emerge from the developing room blank. Only these taken as he sat on his bed and two taken by 19-year-old Sami Pasupati in 1951 had his blessing. These five, and one more taken as he walked away from the camera, umbrella held above his head, were the only known photos captured during his long life. In 2006, Sami Pasupati told of taking his photos. §
At that time we had no photograph of Swamiji to pray to. Many people had attempted to take a photo and had failed. One day, while Yogaswami was staying at our home, my mother, Tamilammaiyar, said to me, “Tomorrow morning, when Swamiji is saying his prayers, why don’t you take a photo of him.” I was frightened that he might scold me. Mother said, “Don’t worry, if he scolds you, I will take responsibility.” §
The next morning at 6:30, Mother woke me up saying, “Swamiji is praying now. You are not to go inside the room where he is meditating, but you can take the photo from outside.” I took a picture. Later when he was having his breakfast, Swamiji asked, “Did anyone come into my room?” My mother responded, “No. No,” and then kept quiet. Later, when we were seated with him outside, my mother said, “Swami, we have made a big blunder.” Swami replied, “You couldn’t have made a mistake.” He had known her since she was a little girl. “We took a picture of you without your permission,” she confessed. At that, Swami was silent, and we were a bit worried about what he would say. Then he burst out laughing, which greatly relieved us. Then I asked, “Swamiji, can I take another picture of you?” He answered, “You have already taken one; there is no need to take another.” Having said that, a minute later he volunteered, “All right, you have taken one, no harm in taking another.” So, while he was seated in the chair on the porch, I took a picture. §
Every attempt to record his voice also failed. People would receive his blessings to record a song he was leading, and everything in the room could be heard in the recording except Swami’s voice, even though he was singing the loudest. §
“I Have Never Forgotten This, and Never Will”
Every once in a while, beginning in December of 1963, special alerts went out. One day Yogaswami said he saw the time coming when he would leave his body. He asked a close devotee to call the others. People came from Colombo and the Eastern Province, traveling long distances to be there for their guru’s mahasamadhi. §
The Shastras say that when a guru or a saint leaves his body he gives forth a shakti greater than at any other time in his life. So, devotees came anticipating extraordinary blessings. Also, they were deeply attached to him and came with sad faces. When a large group had gathered, Swami just looked at them and laughed and laughed, then sent them away. §
After that he would be fine for days and weeks at a time and would go on long rides in automobiles. Mr. Thivendram, Mr. Kasipillai Navaratnam, Mr. Kathirgesan and Mr. Rajendram, with their families, regularly brought their car to Columbuthurai to take Swami for rides.§
When devotees came to see him at his hut, Swami asked them to sing, and he almost always joined in. His voice was still strong. Sometimes they sang for two or three hours. Once, upon arriving at a devotee’s house, he asked that certain parts of the Sivapuranam be sung. They sang and sang, revelling in the presence of the guru. §
Nagendran, a devotee who visited Yogaswami during his final months, offered the following narrative. §
My Uncle Sivanathan and I went to Columbuthurai a few months before Swami’s mahasamadhi. It was about 8pm and Yogar was seated on a bed. A white shawl covered his loins. His upper body was bare. The silver hair was a bit rumpled. His face was gaunt and his eyes sunken. His two arms were placed behind him to support his weight as he leaned back. The room was flooded with electric light. I have a picture of Yogar from this day in my shrine room. As Uncle Siva and I paid our obeisances to him, devotional songs burst out of his lips. The songs were loud and clear and resonated around the room. He sang for about ten minutes. His eyes sparkled, and love poured out from them and suffused his face. I have never forgotten this and shall never will. §
“Everything Is Golden”
Near the end of January, Swami became disinterested in going out to the beach, or anywhere for that matter, and limited his wheelchair travels to short distances. Ratna Ma Navaratnam shares: §
It was during this period that he became accessible to all, being confined to his ashram. Devotees sought him in large numbers and, with infinite patience and love, he meted out inconspicuously his sanctifying grace. He extended his healing touch in his own peculiar technique of hot and cold compresses, and took upon himself the still sad music of humanity. He generated a force that never was on sea or land, and electrified all those who for one reason or other flocked to him by his soul-stirring Natchintanai songs and homely discourses. Thus his accident was looked upon by his devotees as an outlet for the outpouring of God’s grace. In the last phase of his earthly life, Swami taught the supreme sovereignty of the Lord’s Will. “His will prevails within and without. Abide in His will” was his insistent plea.§
Devotees regarded Yogaswami’s fall as a sacrificial injury, for it allowed them unfettered access to their beloved satguru. They gathered with devotion each day at the new hermitage, singing, meditating, listening to his wisdom and reveling in a closeness never experienced before.
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He remained mentally alert. Just a month before his grand departure, he was visited by Mr. Ampikaipaakan. While approaching the compound, the former principal of Vaitheeswaran College mused that Swami’s mental state must be sadly diminished and wondered how he would converse with him. Entering the hut, he heard Swami laugh heartily and call out, “Can you remember, Ampikaipaakan, fifteen years ago, when I shouted at that man, in your presence, just opposite the Vaitheeswaran Temple?” The principal was delighted that Swami was as keen as ever. §
T. Sivayogapathy shares the story of the blessing his father received from Swami during this time. §
Just a few weeks prior to the mahasamadhi of Swami, as usual, his devotee and confidant Mr. A. Thillyampalam visited Swami’s hermitage. After they conversed for a while, Swami’s tone turned serious: “Thillyampalam! There are many people in this world counting money day and night, calculating their respective bank balances and leading an unhappy life. But nobody in this world can touch or calculate your bank balance, because it is something unique, which is the value of your charity and large-hearted service to the community. Charity for the deserving is noble Sivathondu!” So saying, Swami blessed his devotee with a kind smile.§
Swami seemed to assume that everyone was in the same realm as he was. That was the magic of the last days. He would talk to them and to unseen beings, the devas or even the Deities, as if they were all together on one plane of existence. He would tell a devotee to take an unseen being for a ride in his car. The devotee—accustomed to doing precisely what Swami asked of him—now just didn’t know how. Feeling helpless, he would murmur, “Swami, I don’t see anyone there.” Swami would answer, “Surely you do. He’s right there, standing beside you. Just take him on a short ride and bring him back.” §
The fellow had no choice but to take what he considered an imaginary being to his car, open the door for him, close the door, go around and get in the car and drive away. If he neglected his task in any way, such as not opening the door for the being, Yogaswami would shout out, “Well, you didn’t open the door! He’s standing in the road! Back up your car and let him in!” §
Swami sent many devotees off with these beings. Once he sent someone to the cremation grounds with an invisible guest. The man had no choice but to follow Swami’s bidding. If he did not, Swami would know and would send him off again to do so. §
On one occasion he asked a devotee to take a deva home for tea. The man dutifully went to his home and, rather embarrassed, announced to his wife, “I have brought a companion for tea. Please prepare some tea for us.” Sometimes people would lose courage and just drive around in their car for awhile and then come back. One man came back having done this, and Swami said, “He says you didn’t give him any tea. You’d better take him again for tea.” They were wonderful times, and everyone loved them, even if they were confusing. §
Swami also seemed to be in the constant company of an unseen child. He would ask a devotee to take the child and walk it around. “Oh, this baby needs to go to sleep. Here, my son, take him, walk him to sleep.” The devotee would hold out his arms and Swami would carefully hand the child to him. “Be very careful,” he would urge. “Make sure he goes to sleep.” Or he might ask someone to feed the infant. “He’s hungry. See that he has a little cup of milk.” When someone asked, “Swami, this is a soul child, isn’t it?” or “Swami, this child is the infant Murugan, isn’t it?” he would just ignore the query. §
Swami engaged in planning a store during these final days. “We’ll have a store. We’ll give people everything they want, won’t we? And we won’t make a profit, not even a penny’s profit, will we?” He spent days and days planning the store. When they asked, “Swami, is this a metaphysical store,” he ignored the question. Their queries must have seemed as strange to him as his plans were to them. To him, the distinction between different realms of mind had faded. The veil between the inner and outer worlds no longer was perceived. All was one, right there, in the moment, completely available. §
With just an oil lamp burning, the room seemed to glow with an inner light. And there was an inexplicable coolness in the air. At any moment, he might become transfixed, apparently oblivious to those around him. §
Once while in this state, he talked aloud to Mother Thaiyalnayaki. His face took on the look of a small boy, radiant with the love that was coming from the Mother Spirit. He whispered his praise of that love and spoke elatedly of the energy he felt in Her presence. Then he was with Chellappaswami. He talked to his guru, telling of his work and saying that he wasn’t ready to come with him yet. People who were with Swami at this time said that his face showed that he still assumed the role of disciple while with his Chellappaguru, open and receptive. For a long time he sat motionless, his expression blissfully effulgent. Everyone’s ears rang with the highest inner sounds, penetrating yet gentle. §
After awhile he came back into the presence of those sitting around him and asked if they had been with him. Had they seen what he had just seen? Then he told of that wondrous world: “Everything is golden. There is a soft and self-luminous light beyond anything you can imagine.” §
A few days before Swami’s mahasamadhi, a devotee placed an offering of fruit and flowers at Swami’s feet and worshiped him. Swami handed the offering to another devotee with instructions, “Take this and do an abhishekam in the Nallur Temple.” §
Yogaswami Leaves His Body
Swami became confined to his bed on March 20, 1964, refused to drink or eat anything, and told doctors to stay away. An alarm went out that he was failing. He barely moved all day and when awake talked to himself in the tones of a child. Many people gathered around. Though emotionally distraught, they sang quietly or chanted. All were visibly saddened by Swami’s imminent departure. The next three days saw a steady stream of devotees coming for his darshan, praying, seeking final blessings from their beloved master, knowing that he might leave his body at any moment. §
Every so often Swami withdrew completely into his inner world. His temperature dropped and his pulse rate slowed, sometimes nearly stopping altogether, which alarmed the doctors. In this state he kept only a tenuous hold on his body. §
On the night of March 23, about fifteen devotees sat quietly at Swami’s bedside, singing in turns. At about 10pm, a devotee arrived who had always had a direct channel to Swami. It was Dr. S.A. Vettivelu, who had gone daily to the ashram to monitor Swami’s blood pressure, as well as his blood sugar level and to give a daily insulin injection. Without hesitation, he approached and asked, “How are you feeling, Swami?” “Ellam saree” (“Everything is fine”), Swami answered in a full voice. Hearing these words, most of the devotees thought he had made a turn for the better and departed. §
On the day he died, Yogaswami was carried on a palanquin through the villages to the cremation ground. The entire nation mourned, and tens of thousands joined the procession to honor the Sage of Ceylon who had touched so many hearts.
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By 11:30pm, five remained: Dr. S.A. Vettivelu, Mr. A. Thillyampalam, Mr. Kasipillai Navaratnam, Mr. K. Brahmananda and Mr. Tirunavukarasu. As soon as the crowd had departed, the feeling in the room changed from one of emotional upset to a peace hardly describable. Swami was quiet. At one point he spoke softly, indicating he wanted those around him to sing. They sang two songs Swami had always sung at profound moments: “Engal Gurunathan,” written by Swami, and “Namasivaya Valka” an ancient hymn by Saint Manikkavasagar. §
At 3:18 on the morning of Monday, March 24, 1964, Yogaswami released his body. Those present reported losing all consciousness and being consumed in a shakti so intense and pervading that it overshadowed every other experience of their lives. §
Death’s approach reminds us that life on Earth is temporary. All our possessions, power and ego will end. Seeing this truth, the Saivite Hindus of Jaffna were schooled to turn the mind toward God, toward life’s ultimate goal, moksha, liberation, and toward the path of dharma that will take the soul there. They did this not in trepidation, but in assurance, faith and gratitude for the opportunity to progress spiritually in this physical incarnation.§
Death is defined differently according to what people believe themselves to be. If they are only the body and brain (as with humanists or atheists), then death is the end of sensory experience, and thus of self. If we live once, death ends our only sojourn on Earth and is naturally dreaded. If we are born again and again, it loses its dread in light of the soul’s pilgrimage to eternity. §
No matter how ill, how infirm our condition, there is a serene and consoling center of our being to which we can adjourn, the Source within. It is more us than our body, more us than our mind and emotion. It will not die. It does not hurt or fear. As physical debility and death draw near, we seek this center, whether we call it Paramatman, God, Self or Divine Consciousness. In the Katha Upanishad, Yama, Lord of Death, explains: “Death is a mere illusion which appears to those who cannot grasp Absolute Reality. The soul is immortal, self-existent, self-luminous and never dies.”§
Sivaya Subramuniyaswami would later describe the process: §
In Saiva Siddhanta philosophy, it is the soul’s subtle body, linga sharira, that stores the “thought-energy” experiential impressions of life, called samskaras. When the body dies, this nonphysical sheath continues as a constellation of subtle elements—dispositions, memories, desires, etc. It is within this subtle body that the soul reincarnates, if necessary. Death, according to Hinduism, is not the contradiction of life. Death and birth are two sides of life’s cosmic cycle. The culmination of that cycle is liberation. As Yogaswami taught: “By getting rid of desire, man can put an end to birth altogether.” §
Many who have had a near-death experience speak of having come back to complete unfinished obligations to children, parents or friends. It is a great blessing to know of one’s impending transition. A Hindu approaching death works diligently to finish all his “business” of this lifetime, the allotted portion of his total karma carried into this birth to face and resolve. If death comes while loose ends remain—misunderstandings unresolved, misdeeds unatoned for or obligations unfulfilled—another lifetime may be required to expire that karma. Thus, it was not unusual in those and later days to see an aging or ailing Hindu going around to friends and enemies, giving love, help and blessings, working to resolve conflicts and differences, offering apologies and fulfilling all known obligations. In modern times he would also execute his own will, distribute his properties and duties to heirs, charities and endowments, not leaving such tasks to others.§
That done, the soon-to-transition soul turns to God, reads scriptures, attends the temple and amplifies meditation and devotion. He may pilgrimage to sacred spots or retire to a secluded place to practice japa and yoga sadhanas. The family takes care not to disturb these efforts, nor his retirement from social obligation or interaction, realizing he has entered life’s final stage, that of renunciation, or sannyasa.§
Swami had given hints about the time of his death and shared thoughts about leaving this world. A devotee recalls: §
About three months before Swami’s mahasamadhi, we used to go quite often to him, and he used to often ask the time, “Is it three o’clock? When it’s three o’clock, I must get out, so tell me when it’s three.” He used to always leave at three o’clock. Someone’s car would come for him at about that time, and he would go. One day he said, “I have done everything. Nobody must blame me. I have done everything for everyone. I have made arrangements for you all.” And he made a bow, a sort of farewell gesture. Finally, it was at 3am that he passed away. Later only we connected the facts, his always asking for the time. He was preparing for the final journey.§
Swami prepared everyone for his Great Departure, telling them that to him the body was unimportant. “Just throw it away when I have left it,” he said to some. “I have done everything that I have to do for more than fifty years. I have said everything that I have to say. I have no regrets.” He said he did not need his physical body to do his work or manifest his presence. And he told of a time when people all over the world would know him and feel the blessing of the guru. §
The following account of the funeral was published in Hindu Sadanam, under the title “Light of Jaffna.”§
On Tuesday, 24-3-1964, devotees, school students and others paid homage to His Holy body in Columbuthurai Ashram. Devotees in groups sang Tirumurai, Tamil prayer songs and Natchintanai songs with melodious music. On 25-3-1964, Wednesday, early morning, about 5:00 they did abhishekam with devotion to Swamigal’s body. §
Swamigal‘s body was covered with pure white cloth and flower garlands. His body was carried in a square box decorated with flower strings. Devotees carried it through Columbuthurai Street to Thundi Cremation Grounds. The procession route was decorated with leaves and flowers. The people living in the streets paid homage with lighted oil lamps and water pots in front of their homes and sang bhajan songs. §
About 9 o’clock the procession reached the funeral grounds. Thousands of people gathered to see the cremation. Volunteers arranged men and women to sit separately. There was silence, and it was peaceful. The body was placed on a wooden stack, which included one quarter ton of sandalwood. Everybody was meditating on the grace of Yoga Swamigal and their blessing to live in the same time as such a great siddha lived in this world. Kokuvil Mr. T. Kumaraswami Pulavar recited devotedly Tiruvasagam songs and one Puranam. Then the body was ritually lighted. Everybody loudly shouted, “Arohara” and worshiped the light. §
Sinhalese brothers, Muslims and Christians also were there to pay their respects. Like this, everybody watched Swamigal merge with light. The place looked like earthly Kailas. §
The following description was given by V. Muthucumaraswami.§
Never did Jaffna see a larger crowd, so many devotees of various faiths coming to pay last homage to the Sage of Columbuthurai. Hundreds of devotees were in attendance. It seemed as if all of Jaffna was there. Many who had feared to visit him all their lives for what they thought he might expose to them now paid homage to the sacrificial life of this saint. It was a solemn affair. Many were unable to contain their emotion, even though they knew that the soul is immortal. From childhood, their scriptures and teachings had taught that there is no real death, that the soul merely passes from body to body on its pilgrimage to God. And they knew that Swami was surely enjoying the bliss of liberation from samsara. They were crying more for their loss of Swami’s presence and the emptiness they felt.§
Sri Ananda Pereira gave the following eulogy in The Sivathondan:§
Most people are takers. Some, a very few, are givers. Yogaswami was a giver par excellence. His whole life was one long act of giving. §
I had the good fortune to meet him in 1952 and again in 1963. Time and a sad accident had wrought their inevitable changes in the interval. He who had been strong and well was now weak and virtually bed-ridden, dependent on others for even the most elementary physical needs. The eyes that had been so bright and piercing were now dim. The voice had lost is resonance. The once-steady hands now trembled, and pain carved lines on the noble face. He was living proof of the law of change to which all beings, even the highest, are subject.§
But I soon found that that flame of his heroic spirit still burned as brightly as ever. The dim eyes could still probe deep into the human heart. The voice had still the ring of authority. The trembling hands still held the scepter of true royalty. He was still the giver, and I the receiver.§
What did he give? Peace, strength, hope, courage and many other gifts too numerous to mention. But, above all, he gave love. It radiated from him as light and warmth radiate from the Sun.§
What did I receive? As much as I was capable of receiving. Take a little mug and stand under a waterfall. You emerge stunned by the impact of the water, but how much do you bring away? One little mugful.§
Ratna Ma Navaratnam echoed:§
For about ninety-two years, Swami was like a luminous ray reflecting the radiance of the Saiva saints down the ages. The Jaffna community in whose midst he lived and moved had grown imperceptibly to accept his presence as naturally as the beneficent sunlight, so that his mahasamadhi on March 24, 1964, created an unusual stir and sorrow among all ranks of people who had basked in his lustre from generation to generation. Swami was venerated as an illumined seer of the twentieth century, one who was God’s witness on Earth, a saint in whom the sacred was secret; he was like the Triveni, a confluence where met the streams of past, present and future. He seemed to have held the whole world in the kinship of the supreme will of Siva. The Master Sivathondan blazoned the trail of service and renunciation, by his universal gospel of Sivathondu, service unto Siva. To live every split second as servitors of Siva was his clarion call to the modern man.§
After the cremation, Swami’s ashes were kept in the new ashram. Feeling that a proper samadhi shrine should be created, Mr. Tirunavukarasu, owner of the ashram land, consulted with three senior devotees of Swami, Dr. C. Gurusamy, Mr. A. Thillyampalam and Mr. Srikhantha, and they together decided to take down the old hut and designate the spot as a samadhi shrine. Funds were raised by the Sivathondan Society, and in the coming months work commenced on a new structure on top of the old concrete flooring. A large alcove was created in the perimeter wall on the west side of the building above where Swami’s ashes would be kept in a crypt below ground, and a formal shrine, facing east, was established above it. The shrine was completed within a few months and the ashes were placed in the crypt during a small, informal ceremony.§
There his sandals are kept and a priest does puja daily. The area where Swami used to sit, meditate and sleep is also a place of worship. Behind it, against the wall, a large photo of Swami is enshrined, the one that was taken of him meditating. The priest does puja here as well. The area where he sat is demarcated with white ceramic tile. There flowers are spread each day and offerings are made. §
Swami Lives On
Some think that when a realized, liberated soul leaves his body, he is automatically released from further reincarnation on Earth. While this may be true for most, it is also said that liberated ones have a choice whether to come back again and serve. That possibility is suggested by the following story told by Yogaswami to a devotee. §
Yogaswami’s body was consumed on a pyre that included pure sandalwood. Many experienced him in his subtle body in the years to follow, sensing his continuing presence in their lives and knowing that his death was not his end.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •§
Many years ago in Nallur, Chellappaguru’s birth star happened to fall on the day before Mohammed’s birthday, and Chellappar took Swami to Nallur Temple, ushering him to a tomb where a great Muslim guru had been buried at the time the temple was destroyed by the Portuguese. Initially a shrine had been built around his burial site; the samadhi was reconstructed some time later. Yogaswami said Chellappar told him the Muslim saint who was buried there was Chellappar. In other words, Chellappaguru had held that body before as a liberated guru and had returned to Earth again as Chellappar. While narrating the story, Yogaswami looked his devotee in the eye and said, “That is the kind we are.” §
Even during Yogaswami’s earthly life, many devotees saw him appear in his subtle body. After his passing, people in India and Malaysia, Sri Lanka and America had similar experiences. Since then, many have seen Swami’s etheric form, as it was when he walked on Earth. Even those who never knew him in his physical form have experienced his unembodied darshan. Close devotees have seen him in quiet moments. He has manifested himself in their meditations, giving just the things they needed to keep focused on their spiritual work. §
Several months after Swami’s mahasamadhi, a man in Jaffna felt a subtle, inexplicable change in his home during the night. It was a feeling so strong that he could not dismiss it. He got up to investigate and, after checking several places, entered his shrine room. There was Yogaswami, just as in the famous photo, sitting in meditation, luminous and clear as day, one meter above the floor. The man worshiped, then went to call his wife and children to come. When they arrived, the figure was just fading into the wall, but they saw it, too. Other households had the same experience. §
Devotees who knew Yogaswami have told of hearing his voice as clearly as when he was with them physically. One day, not long after his passing, a lady who had been close to Swami went to his compound and sat down in the simple hut. She missed him deeply and was sad over her loss. She began singing a song she had sung for Swami many times, to invoke the fulfillment she had felt when she was there with him. Part way through the song she stopped and sat quietly. Then she heard Swami speak, as clearly as ever before, “I am as I always have been. I am here, there and everywhere. Have no thought of sadness.” §
Swami often came to devotees in dreams during this time. Some who had problems that they would have taken to Swami for his advice had such dreams in which he gave the solution. In some dreams, devotees vividly experienced the intense presence of his shakti, as if they were sitting with him. These profound encounters inspired and gave them new direction. §
Little by little, this kind of experience subsided. After 1968 he became less immediate and active. He now lives totally on subtle planes of the mind, emanating shakti. A person has to make a deeper pilgrimage to be with him. §
In 1972, Satguru Sivaya Subramuniyaswami revealed from his mystical perspective in Saivite Shastras how Yogaswami “lives in a simple cavern, as that was his association with the inside of a small room in his ashram in Sri Lanka. He could make it larger with but a twinkling of the eye, but he sits there in deep samadhi, radiating darshan to the sanctified places that do puja in his name. When a puja is conducted in his name, his wall opens up and he is at the puja. He does not go to it; it comes to him, if the vibration of the puja penetrates deeply enough.” Subramuniyaswami also encouraged his own disciples to learn and sing Natchintanai, often noting that Yogaswami attends in the inner worlds when devotees sing his songs.§
All through his life, Yogaswami foresaw the emergence of monistic Saiva Siddhanta in the West, especially in the United States. He told close devotees that there had always been Siva worship on the American continent. He once explained that a group of ancient people living on the Colorado River basin, near the Grand Canyon, worshiped Siva with as much understanding as the ancient seers of India. Swami foretold of a time in the near future when many highly evolved Hindus would be born in America to restore the purity of ancient Saivite worship on Earth. Thus would be ushered in a new age of profound spiritual life on the planet. §
During his life, Yogaswami purified the way called Advaita Siddhanta, or monistic Saiva Siddhanta. Where there were rough edges, he made the path clear and sharp. He embodied the beauty and the depths and the transcendence of Siva. Now, in Jaffna and in India, Yogaswami is remembered as the modern saint of Saiva Siddhanta, the being whose life harmonized the reality of ancient Saivite worship with the present era. §
Swami would allow no fuss about the divine plan as it revealed itself before those who sat around him observing and enacting their parts in it. To him, it was completely natural and unworthy of special notice. To people who were astonished by what they saw unfolding in front of them he would say, “There is nothing amazing in the world. Your ignorance shows when you find this amazing. It all happened long, long ago.” “What can be wonderful?” he would ask. “I am you and you are me. I am eternal, birthless, deathless, changeless, secondless.”§
One day a lady asked, “Swami, you are getting older now; are you going to make a guru to take your place?” Yogaswami answered, “Not a Jaffna man. I have a man in America.” §