The Hill of Fire Monica Bose

THE HILL OF FIRE MONICA BOSE TABLE OF CONTENTS Part One Earth First Steps Part Two Water Theosophist Suzanne Meets Krishnamurti At the Theosophical Convention Part Three Air Buddhist Priestess Mission to the North Tromo Geshe Rinpoche Suzanne and the Rinpoche Suzanne’s Monastic Life at the Yiga-Cho-Ling Journey to Tibet Back to the Swamiji Adyar Revisited Part Four Fire Bhagavan Sri Ramana Maharshi Suzanne comes to the Maharshi The Start of Practice Our Life in Tiruvannamalai 1 Departure from the Sri Ramanashram The Abode of Bliss Last days and teachings of Sri Ramana Maharshi Dom Henri Le Saux--Swami Abhishiktananda The Last Peace PART ONE EARTH Crawl to your Mother Earth! May she save you from the void. (Rig Veda, X.18.10) 2 First Steps This is the account of the long search for Truth made by my mother, Dr Suzanne Alexandra Curtil Sen, known in India as Sujata. Although there were severe initial difficulties, it seems that the need to overcome them gave impetus and strength of purpose to her endeavour which, in the end, was to lead to far from ordinary achievement. She had an extraordinary life. She went to the distant lands of India, Ceylon and Tibet to obtain the instructions of the great Masters. She entered fields from which women were usually excluded. At the same time, out of compassion, she used her medical skills to alleviate the suffering of the local people. She had several remarkable spiritual experiences, culminating in the realization that Truth was the Self Absolute that dwelt in her heart and in the hearts of all others. In relating her story I have made use of her letters, of which she kept copies, if they were important, and of the replies she received. I have also relied on what people have said or written about her either to me, or in books and articles. Above all, I have drawn on my recollection of our conversations together and of my observations of her over the years, made possible because of our closeness to each other. In fact, I grew up in the developing understanding of my mother and of the ideas that motivated her. Suzanne was born in Paris on 13 December 1896, the daughter of Jeanne Curtil, a Parisian, and Gabriel Sursock, who came from a prominent banking family of Beirut. Born one month prematurely, she was a very frail child. She seemed to have so little hold on life that Jeanne felt fiercely protective towards her and gave up all her other interests to devote herself to her upbringing. But when Suzanne was three years old, the close relationship that she enjoyed with her mother was suddenly disrupted by the birth of her brother, Gabriel, since Jeanne turned her attention away from her to bestow it on her new child. Suzanne felt the loss of her mother’s attention as an exclusion from her love and, as a result, there arose in her mind doubts of self-worth that would persist for years. Nor could she feel that her father valued her, for he was often away from home, and when he was there it was evident that all his interest was centred on his son. At the age of six Suzanne spoke little and haltingly. Jeanne had her operated on for tongue-tie, but the operation did nothing to remedy her impediment. It seems likely that the real cause was Jeanne’s preoccupation with her son at a time when Suzanne was forming her meanings for things and ideas. By not correcting or confirming her meanings, thereby bringing them in line with what was generally accepted, she did not fulfill the mother’s intermediary function of helping her child to communicate with others. Suzanne’s understanding of things remained locked in her mind, too imperfect and uncertain for her to want to expose. During the cold bleak winter of 1903 she fell ill with diphtheria. She nearly succumbed to the illness, but got the better of it and started to recover. She was still convalescing when little Gabriel came down with the disease. At first he appeared only to have a mild attack, but after a few days meningitis set in and he lapsed into a coma. Jeanne would have done anything to help him, even given her own life, if it could have saved his. Yet she had to watch helplessly as he fought his losing battle against death. Gabriel was away in Beirut, and in his absence she had sent for two doctors who were said to be the best in Paris. When they did not come in answer to her urgent summons at the critical stage of little Gabriel’s illness, she knew that it was because 3 they did not want to be associated with his death. In a frenzy of despair, she wrapped the child in a blanket and carried him in her arms to the Church of the Black Madonna. Kneeling before her statue, which was said to have miraculous powers, she implored the Madonna to intercede for her son’s life. But he died that night, just before dawn. Jeanne’s grief at his death was so great, that, as she would one day tell me, she wept every day for him for over twenty years. Suzanne was taken into the room where her brother’s little body had been laid out. The veil with which they had covered his face was removed for a moment so that she could give him the last kiss. She saw then what it was to be dead. It was to be in the midst of others, and yet apart from them. It was to be unable to speak or do anything. Before the sight of death, perhaps Suzanne felt confronted with the concrete form of what her own state virtually was. At any rate, later events showed that she retained from this sad episode a fear of death, not only physical death, but death in its subtler forms as well such as self-ignorance and the inability to find self-fulfilment. The certainty of being loved would have removed these fears, but that certainty she did not have. One day, when her understanding had grown more mature, she would begin to see death of the ego not as a deprivation, but as plenitude; not as opposed to life, but as the very consummation of life. Her desire to know herself and to be fulfilled would then undergo a transformation and she would strive for something of immeasurably greater value, to realize the self that was of the Spirit. When the news of his son’s death reached him in Beirut, Gabriel rushed back to Paris, only to find that the tragedy has estranged his wife from him. She blamed him for not being there at the time of the children’s illness. He tried to comfort her by saying that they could have another child, but those were words for which she never forgave him, since they implied that little Gabriel was replaceable. The situation confirmed for Suzanne that she could never hope to take her brother’s place in her parents’ pride and affection. Gabriel had gone to Beirut to ask his family for financial help to save his business from bankruptcy. The family had come to his aid twice before when his business had come to the verge of ruin, but this time it had refused. Instead, through connections, it had secured for him a diplomatic post at the French Embassy in Vienna. At the time of his leaving, Jeanne had still not decided whether to rejoin him there or not and Gabriel left alone for Austria, a sad and lost man. On the long train journey he was suddenly taken ill and had to be taken off the train at a small station. A local doctor diagnosed acute appendicitis and performed an emergency operation on him in the station waiting room. No proper antiseptic precautions were taken and Gabriel died a few days later from his infected wound. It was six months before the news of his death reached Jeanne in Paris. Jeanne bravely bore her bereavement and the sudden change in her circumstances. Courage and fortitude in the face of adversity were, indeed, characteristic of the women of the family, starting with Jeanne’s mother, Claudia, who was descended from the old French nobility. An orphan, she had been brought up to be a lady by her grandfather who expected her to marry into aristocracy, although the family had lost practically everything during the Revolution. She, however, had set her heart on Jean Curtil, the son of a prosperous farmer. After they were married, the couple left their native Allier for Paris, hoping that with all the opportunities the great metropolis was reputed to offer they would be able to make good there. Instead, they were to have a hard struggle for existence. Jean found it difficult to hold down a job for long because 4 he had no special qualifications and, being proud by nature, did not like taking orders from his employers. Periods of relative prosperity alternated with periods of poverty and distress. Of the eight children born to them, only three--Jeanne and a younger sister and a brother--were to reach maturity. Yet the couple did not leave Paris in defeat. They held on to their dreams of achieving a better life, and their dreams would be passed on to Jeanne. When she was eight Jeanne was sent to a convent-school in Rheims.

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