Swami Rama of Hardwar (Ram Kunj)

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Late one afternoon when I was staying for a while with Srimati Rani Bhan and her family in Delhi she told me that we (Rani, her son and I) would be going to see a Kashmiri saint in a nearby neighborhood. The length of the walk belied the description of “nearby” but I trusted Raniji’s respect for the saint who was simply named Swami Rama.

He was not a Shankara swami but one who had taken what Ma Anandamayi in a conversation with me called “shukla sannyas,” white sannyas. In such a sannyas there are no formal rites of any kind. Rather, from deep within the impulse to declare oneself a sannyasi arises and the person does so spontaneously, adopting a name and henceforth leading the sadhu life. Some, such as Swami Paramananda the chief sannyasi of the Anandamayi Ashram, wore gerua clothing and others dressed in white. It all depended on their intuition. Rani had not told me which Swami Rama was.

The swami was staying in a fairly large house, but it was filled with people. Because of the universal respect Rani had in Delhi both for her personal spiritual character and the fact that Prime Minister Nehru was her cousin, we were taken to the front row of the room where the swami would be when he appeared. It was a good bit of a wait, so I meditated until Rani touched my shoulder and said, “He is coming.”

A fiery swami

I stood up and turned around and knew that the radiant man in simple white with no trappings of religion whatsoever coming toward us was The One. He brought with him an atmosphere of inner spiritual fire. He smoldered. Looking at him I thought: “The Pope has to be dressed in great finery and carried into Saint Peter’s on a throne to let people know who he is, but this man needs none of that.” I was impressed and meant no disrespect to the Pope. But I was glad I was there instead of in Saint Peter’s.

Swamiji spoke in Hindi, of which I knew little, but I can tell you from later conversations that he always spoke directly and simply yet profoundly. People came from all over India to spend time in spiritual study with him. The last time we met there were some pandits from Maharashtra staying with him in Hardwar for several weeks. Yet he adamantly refused to play the guru game. He gladly taught yoga of various sorts to aspirants, but would not pretend to empower them with some kind of initiation. Instead he assured them that by drawing on their own inner resources they could gain realization.

There was personal motivation, too. “If I allow you to claim you are my disciples you will not do what I tell you, but you will tell people that I teach what I do not teach, and deny that I teach what I do teach. And you will try to control me at the same time.” Buddha said much the same.

Swami Rama’s teacher

Whether Swami Rama considered he had a guru, I do not know, but he definitely had a teacher. When he was only nine years old, playing in the streets of his village in Kashmir, an old yogi came walking through and said to him: “Boy! Come with me.” So he followed him out of the village. When they were out of anyone’s sight, the yogi taught him the japa and meditation of a mantra, telling him to say the mantra always. Then the sadhu walked on and disappeared. That was it. He had not even told the boy his name.

Many years later in the Himalayas Swamiji was in great danger. The yogi suddenly appeared, saved his life and disappeared. These two times were his only contact with him. But I can tell you that the sadhana given him by the yogi certainly worked. Swami Rama was one of the greatest yogis I have met. When he quietly intoned Om everyone’s hair would stand on end.