T. LOBSANG RAMPA THE RAMPA STORY The Rampa Story - (Originally published in 1960) Dr. Rampa's journey continues as he travels from Korea into Russia, throughout Europe, sailing to the USA, finally ending up in England. Lobsang endures capture and further torture until he once again, escapes by driving luxury cars. In this book Lobsang inhabits (transmigration) the body of an English man (Cyril Henry Hoskins) eager to leave this world, enabling Lobsang to continue his special task. 1/335 It is better to light a candle than to curse the darkness. 2/335 TABLE OF CONTENTS TABLE OF CONTENTS .......................................... 3 THE INCREDIBLE TRUTH .................................... 3 AUTHOR'S FOREWORD ........................................ 5 CHAPTER ONE ....................................................... 6 CHAPTER TWO..................................................... 34 CHAPTER THREE ................................................. 71 CHAPTER FOUR ................................................. 103 CHAPTER FIVE ................................................... 139 CHAPTER SIX ..................................................... 172 CHAPTER SEVEN ............................................... 204 CHAPTER EIGHT ................................................ 237 CHAPTER NINE .................................................. 271 CHAPTER TEN .................................................... 304 “KINDNESS TO PUBLISHERS” DEPARTMENT ................................................................................... 333 THE INCREDIBLE TRUTH Few books have aroused more controversy in recent years than Lobsang Rampa’s THE THIRD EYE, and the other works which have come from his pen. The reason is simple enough. When an Englishman claims that his body has been taken over by the spirit of a 3/335 Tibetan Lama, he can reasonably expect mockery. When, in addition, he recounts extraordinary, highly detailed experiences which pre-suppose the possession of personal powers quite outside the laws of nature as we understand them, the reaction not surprisingly becomes an uproar. But uproars of this kind do sometimes spring from ignorance. To glimpse what was previously unknown is always disturbing. The fact that Dr. Rampa now has many thousands of readers throughout the world is evidence that not all minds are closed against the unfamiliar. It is for this great body of readers—and, no less, for the skeptics who have been able neither to disprove his story nor to explain how he came by his knowledge if his story is untrue—that Dr. Rampa wrote this, his third book. THE RAMPA STORY is Lobsang Rampa’s reply to all his critics, and every page carries his own unswerving guarantee of the truth. ********************************** DEDICATED to my friends in Howth, Ireland They were my friends when the "winds blew fair." 4/335 They were loyal, understanding, and greater friends when the unfair winds blew foul, for the people of Ireland know persecution; and they know how to judge Truth. So— Mr. and Mrs. O'Grady The Loftus Family Dr. W. I. Chapman and Brud Campbell (to mention just a few) THANK YOU! (Published in 1960) ************************************** AUTHOR'S FOREWORD “No bitterness,” said Mr. Publisher. “All right,” I thought to myself, “but why should I have any bitterness? I am merely trying to do my job— writing a book as directed.” 5/335 “Nothing against the Press!” said Mr. Publisher. “Nothing!!” “Dear, dear,” I said to myself “What does he take me for?” So it shall be. Nothing against the Press. After all, they think they are doing their job, and if they are fed incorrect information, then I suppose they cannot be held wholly responsible. But my idea about the Press? Tut, tut, No. Nothing more about the subject. This book follows on from The Third Eye, and from Doctor from Lhasa. At the very outset I am going to tell you that this is Truth, not fiction. Everything that I have written in the other two books is true, and is my own personal experience. What I am going to write about concerns the ramifications of the human personality and ego, a matter at which we of the Far East excel. However, no more Foreword. The book itself is the thing! ************************************ CHAPTER ONE THE jagged peaks of the hard Himalayas cut deeply into the vivid purple of the Tibetan evening skies. The setting sun, hidden behind that mighty range, threw scintillating, iridescent colours on the long spume of 6/335 snow perpetually blowing from the highest pinnacles. The air was crystal clear, invigorating, and giving almost limitless visibility. At first glance, the desolate, frozen countryside was utterly devoid of life. Nothing moved, nothing stirred except the long pennant of snow blowing high above. Seemingly nothing could live in these bleak mountainous wastes. Apparently no life had been here since the beginning of time itself Only when one knew, when one had been shown time after time, could one detect—with difficulty—the faint trace that humans lived here. Familiarity alone would guide one's footsteps in this harsh, forbidding place. Then only would one see the shadow-enshrouded entrance to a deep and gloomy cave, a cave which was but the vestibule to a myriad of tunnels and chambers honeycombing this austere mountain range. For long months past, the most trusted of lamas, acting as menial carriers, had painfully trudged the hundreds of miles from Lhasa carrying the ancient Secrets to where they would be forever safe from the vandal Chinese and traitorous Tibetan Communists. Here too, with infinite toil and suffering, had been brought the Golden Figures of past Incarnations to be set up and venerated in the heart of a mountain. Sacred Objects, age-old writings, and the most venerable and learned of priests were here in safety. For years past, 7/335 with a full knowledge of the coming Chinese invasion, loyal Abbots had periodically met in solemn conclave to test and pick those who should go to the New Home in the far distance. Priest after priest was tested, without his knowledge, and his record examined, so that only the finest and most spiritually advanced should be chosen. Men whose training and faith was such that they could, if need be, withstand the worst tortures that the Chinese could give, without betraying vital information. So, eventually, from a Communist overrun Lhasa, they had come to their new home. No aircraft carrying war loads would fly this high. No enemy troops could live off this arid land, land devoid of soil, rocky and treacherous with shifting boulders and yawning chasms. Land so high, so poor in oxygen, that only a hardy mountain people could breathe. Here, at last, in the sanctuary of the mountains, was Peace. Peace in which to work to safeguard the future, to preserve the Ancient Knowledge, and to prepare for the time when Tibet should rise again and be free of the aggressor. Millions of years ago this had been a flame-spewing range of volcanoes erupting rocks and lava over the changing face of the young Earth. The world then was semi plastic and undergoing the birth-pangs of a new age. Over countless years the flames died down and the half molten rocks had cooled. Lava had flowed for the 8/335 last time, and gaseous jets from the deep interior of the Earth had expelled the remnants into the open air, leaving the endless channels and tunnels bare and empty. A very few had been choked by rock falls, but others had remained intact, glass hard and streaked with traces of once-molten metals. From some walls trickled mountain springs, pure and sparkling in any shaft of light. For century after century the tunnels and caves had remained bare of life, desolate and lonely, known only to astral-traveling lamas who could visit anywhere and see all. Astral travelers had scoured the country looking for such a refuge. Now, with Terror stalking the land of Tibet, the corridors of old were peopled by the elite of a spiritual people, a people destined to rise again in the fullness of time. As the first carefully chosen monks wended their way northwards, to prepare a home within the living rock, others at Lhasa were packing the most precious articles, and preparing to leave unobtrusively. From the lamaseries and nunneries came a small trickle of those chosen. In small groups, under cover of darkness, they journeyed to a distant lake, and encamped by its bank to await others. In the “new home” a New Order had been founded, the School of the Preservation of Knowledge, and the Abbot in charge, a wise old monk of more than a 9/335 hundred years, had, with ineffable suffering, journeyed to the caves within the mountains. With him had traveled the wisest in the land, the Telepathic Lamas, the Clairvoyants, and the Sages of Great Memory. Slowly, over many months, they had wended their way higher and higher up the mountain ranges, with the air becoming thinner and thinner with the increasing altitude. Sometimes a mile a day was the most their aged bodies could travel, a mile of scrambling over mighty rocks with the eternal wind of the high passes tearing at their robes, threatening to blow them away. Sometimes deep crevices forced a long and arduous detour. For almost a week the ancient Abbot was forced to remain in a tightly closed yak-hide tent while strange herbs and potions poured out life-saving oxygen to ease his tortured lungs and heart. Then, with superhuman fortitude he continued the appalling journey. At last they reached their destination, a much reduced band, for many had fallen by the wayside. Gradually they became accustomed to their changed life. The Scribes carefully penned the account of their journey, and the Carvers slowly made the blocks for the hand printing of the books. The Clairvoyants looked into the future, predicting, predicting the future of Tibet and of other countries. These men, of the utmost purity, were in touch with the Cosmos, and the Akashic Record, that Record which tells all of the past and of 10/335 the immediate present everywhere and all the probabilities for the future.