The Rampa Story/Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR
OUTSIDE the Lubianka three soldiers were waiting. The prison guard who thrust me through the opened door handed a paper to the senior soldier, a corporal. "Sign here, Comrade, it is just to say you acknowledge receipt of a Deportee." The corporal dubiously scratched his head, licked the pencil and wiped his palms on his trouser legs before hesitatingly scribbling his name. The prison guard turned back without a word, and the Lubianka door slammed shut-fortunately this time with me on the outside.

The corporal scowled at me. "Now, through you, I have had to sign a paper. Lenin only knows what will happen, I might even end up in the Lubianka myself. Come on, get moving!"

The corporal took his place in front of me, and with a soldier on each side, I was marched through the streets of Moscow to a railway station. I had nothing to carry, every-thing I owned was upon me, my suit of clothes. The Russians had kept my rucksack, my watch, everything except the clothes which I actually wore. And those clothes? Heavy shoes with wooden soles, trousers, and a jacket. Nothing else. No underwear, no money, no food. Nothing. Yes, there was something! I had in my pocket a paper saying that I was deported from Russia and that I was free to make my way to Russian-occupied Germany where I should report to the nearest police station.

At the Moscow railway station we sat and waited in the freezing cold. One after the other the soldiers wandered off and returned so that another could go. I sat on the stone platform and shivered. I was hungry. I felt ill and weak. At long last a sergeant and about a hundred men appeared. The sergeant marched down the platform and took a look at me.

"Do you want him to die?" he bawled at the corporal.

"We have to deliver him alive at Lwow. See that he eats, we have six hours before the train leaves."

The corporal and an ordinary soldier each took one of my arms and dragged me to my feet. The sergeant looked me in the face and said, "H'mm. Not a bad sort of fellow. See you give us no trouble and we will cause you none." He looked at my papers, which the corporal was carrying. "My brother was in the Lubianka," he said, making sure that none of his men were within listening distance. "He did nothing either. They sent him to Siberia. Now I will have you taken for food. Eat well, for after we reach Lwow, you will be on your own." He turned away, and called two corporals. "Look after him, see he gets all the food and drink he wants, he has to leave us in good condition or the Commissar will say we kill prisoners."

Wearily I went off between the two corporals. At a little eating place outside the station the senior corporal ordered great bowls of cabbage soup and loaves of black bread. The stuff stank of decayed vegetation, but I managed to get it down, as I was so hungry. I thought of the "soup" we had had in the Japanese Prison Camps, where bits of gristle spat out by the Japanese, and food which they left was collected and made into "soup" for the prisoners.

With a meal inside us, we were ready to leave. A corporal ordered more bread and three copies of Pravda. We wrapped our bread in the papers, first being sure that we did not desecrate any pictures of Stalin in the process, and then returned to the railway station.

The wait was terrible. Six hours in the freezing cold, sitting on a stone platform. Eventually we were all herded into a weary old train, and set off for Kiev. That night I slept propped up between two snoring Russian soldiers. There was not room for any of us to lie down, we were crammed in very tightly. The hard wooden seats were uncomfortable, and I wished that I could sit on the floor. The train jolted on, coming to a creaky halt, so it seemed, every time I had just managed to go to sleep. Very late the following night, after a painful journey of some four hundred and eighty miles or so, we drew into a second-rate station at Kiev. There was much bustling, much shouting, and we all marched off to the local barracks for the night. I was shoved into a cell and after many hours I was awakened from my sleep by the entry of a Commissar and his assistant. They asked me questions, endless questions, and after perhaps two or two and a half hours, they went out again.

For some time I tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep. Violent hands smacked my face, shouting "wake up, wake up, are you dead? Here is food. Hurry - you have minutes only before you leave."

Food? More cabbage soup. More sour black bread, and water to drink. I gulped the stuff down, afraid that I should have to go before I had finished my miserable meal. Gulped it down, and waited. Waited hours. Late that afternoon two Military Policemen entered, questioned me all over again, took my fingerprints once more, and they said, "We are late. There is no time for you to have a meal now. You may be able to get something at the railway station.

Outside the barracks, three troop-carriers were waiting. Forty soldiers and I crammed unbelievably into one, the others climbed aboard the two other vehicles, and we were off, jolting dangerously along the road to the station. Jammed so tight that I could scarce breathe. The driver of our troop-carrier seemed to be mad, far outstripping the other two cars. He drove as if all the devils of Communism were after him. We swayed and jolted in the back, all of us standing as there was not room to sit. We caromed down the road in a frenzy of speed, there was the shrill squeal of brakes too hastily applied, and the carrier slithered sideways. The side in front of me ripped away in a shower of sparks as we collided with a thick stone wall. Screams, yells, and oaths, and a veritable sea of blood, and I found myself flying through the air. Flying, and I could see below me the wrecked carrier, now blazing furiously. A sensation of falling, a shattering crash, and blackness.

"Lobsang!" said a well-loved voice, the voice of my Guide, the Lama Mingyar Dondnp. "You are very ill, Lobsang, your body is still on Earth, but we have you here in a world beyond the Astral. We are trying to help you, because your task on Earth is not yet finished."

Mingyar Dondup? Ridiculous! He had been killed by the treacherous Communists when trying to arrange a peaceful settlement in Tibet. I had seen the dreadful wounds made when he was stabbed in the back. But of course, I had seen him several times since he had passed to the Heavenly Fields.

The light hurt my closed eyes. I thought that I was again facing that wallin the Lubianka Prison, and that the soldiers would again club me between the shoulders with their rifle-butts. But this light was different, it did not hurt my eyes; that must have been the association of ideas, I thought dully.

"Lobsang, open your eyes and look at me!" The kind voice of my Guide warmed me and sent a thrill of pleasure through my being. I opened my eyes and looked about me. Bending over me I saw the Lama. He was looking better than I had ever seen him on Earth. His face looked ageless, his aura was of the purest colours without trace of the passions of Earth people. His saffron robe was of a material not of Earth, it positively glowed as if imbued with a life of of its own. He smiled down at me and said, "My poor Lobsang, Man's inhumanity to Man has indeed been exemplified in your case, because you have lived through that which would have killed others many times over. You are here for a rest, Lobsang. A rest in what we call 'The Land of the Golden Light'. Here we are beyond the stage of reincarnating. Here we work to help peoples of many different worlds, not merely that called Earth. Your soul is bruised and your body is shattered. We have to patch you up, Lobsang, for the task has to be done, and there is no substitute for you."

I looked about me and saw that I was in what appeared to be a hospital. From where I lay I could look out over beautiful parkland, in the distance I could see animals grazing, or at play. There seemed to be deer, and lions, and all those animals which could not live together in peace on Earth, here were friends who gambolled as members of one family.

A rasping tongue licked my right hand, which hung limply over the side of the bed. As I looked, I saw Sha-lu, the immense guard cat of the Chakpori, one of my first friends there. He winked at me, and I felt the goose-pimples start out all over me as he said, "Ah, my friend Lobsang, I am glad to see you again even for this short while. You will have to return to Earth for a time, after leaving here, then in a few short years you will return to us for always."

A cat talking? Telepathic cat talk I knew well, and fully understood, but this cat actually uttered words, not merely telepathic messages. Loud chuckles caused me to look up at my Guide, the Lama Mingyar Dondup. He really was enjoying himself-at my expense, I thought. My scalp prickled again; Sha-lu was standing on his hind legs by the bed, resting his elbows beside me. He and the Lama looked at me, then at each other; both chuckled. Both chuckled, I swear it!

"Lobsang," said my Guide, "you know there is no death, you know that upon leaving Earth at so-called 'death' the ego goes to that plane where he or she rests a while-before preparing to reincarnate in a body which will afford opportunities for learning other lessons and progressing ever upwards. Here we are in a plane from whence there is no reincarnating. Here we live, as you see us now, in harmony, at peace, and with the ability to go anywhere at any time by what you would call 'super-astral travelling'. Here animals and humans, and other species too, converse by speech as well as by telepathy. We use speech when close, and telepathy when distant."

In the distance I could hear soft music, music which even I could understand. My tutors at the Chakpori had lamented long over my inability to sing or make music. Their hearts would have been gladdened, I thought, if they could have seen how I enjoyed this music. Across the luminous sky colours flitted and wavered as if accompanying the music. Here, on this glorious landscape, the greens were greener, and the water bluer. Here were no trees gnarled by disease, no leaves with blight upon them. Here was only perfection. Perfection? Then what was I doing here? I was painfully far from perfect, as I well knew.

"You have fought the good fight, Lobsang, and you are here, for a holiday and to be encouraged, by right of attainment." My Guide smiled benevolently as he spoke.

I lay back, then started up in fright, "My body, where is my Earth body?"

"Rest, Lobsang, rest," replied the Lama. "Rest and we will show you much when your strength is greater."

Slowly the light in the room faded from golden to a restful purplish haze. I felt a cool, strong hand placed upon my forehead, and a soft, furry paw rested in the palm of my right hand, and I knew no more.

I dreamed that I was again upon Earth. I gazed down, emotionless while Russian soldiers raked through the ruined troop-carrier, pulling out burned bodies and bits of bodies. I saw a man look up, and point. Heads turned upwards in answer to his gestures, and I looked as well. There was my broken body teetering across the top of a high wall. Blood was running from the mouth and nostrils. I watched while my body was removed from the wall and placed in an ambulance. As the car drove off to a hospital I hovered above and saw all. My Silver Cord was intact, I observed; it glistened like blue morning mists in the valleys.

Russian orderlies pulled out the stretcher, not being particularly careful. Joltingly they carried it into an operating theatre and rolled my body on to a table. Nurses cut off my blood-stained clothes and dropped them in a refuse bin. An X-ray unit took photographs, and I saw that I had three broken ribs, one had perforated my left lung. My left arm was broken in two places, and my left leg was broken again at the knee and at the ankle. The broken end of a soldier's bayonet had penetrated my left shoulder, narrowly missing a vital artery. The women surgeons sighed noisily, wondering where to start. I seemed to float over the operating table, watching, wondering if their skill would be great enough to patch me up. A gentle tugging upon my Silver Cord, and I found myself floating up through the ceiling, seeing in my passing, patients in their beds in wards above. I drifted up and away, out into space, out among the limitless stars, beyond the astral, through etheric plane after plane, until I reached again the "Land of the Golden Light".

I started, trying to peer through the purple mist. "He has returned," a gentle voice said, and the mists receded, giving way to the glorious Light again. My Guide, the Lama Mingyar Dondup, stood beside me, looking down. Sha-lu was lying on the bed beside me, gently purring. Two other High Personages were in the room. When I saw them, they were looking out of the window watching the people strolling many feet below.

At my gasp of surprise they turned and smiled upon me. "You have been so very ill," said one, "we feared that your body would not endure."

The other, whom I knew well in spite of the exalted position he had had on Earth, took my hands between his. "You have suffered too much, Lobsang. The world has been too cruel to you. We have discussed this and feel that you may like to withdraw. There would be very much more suffering for you if you continued. You can abandon your body now and remain here through eternity. Would you prefer it so?"

My heart leaped within me. Peace after all my sufferings. Sufferings which, but for my hard and special training, would have ended my life years ago. Special training. Yes, for what? So that I could see the aura of people, so that I could influence thought in the direction of auric research. And if I gave up-who would continue that task? "The world has been too cruel to you. No blame will attach to you if you give up." I must think carefully here. No blame from others, but throughout eternity I would have to live with my conscience. What was life? Just a few years of misery. A few more years of hardship, suffering, misunderstanding, then, provided I had done all I could, my conscience would be at peace. For eternity.

"Honoured Sir," I replied, "you have given me my choice I will serve as long as my body will hold together. It is very shaky at this moment," I added. Happy smiles of approval broke out among the assembled men. Sha-lu purred loudly and gave me a gentle, playful bite of love.

"Your Earth body, as you say, is in a deplorable condition through hardship," said the Eminent Man. "Before you make a final decision, we must tell you this. We have located a body in the land of England, the owner of which is most anxious to leave. His aura has a fundamental harmonic of yours. Later, if conditions necessitate it, you can take over his body."

I nearly fell out of bed in horror. Me take over another body? My Guide laughed, "Now Lobsang, where is all your training? It is merely like taking over the robe of another. And at the passing of seven years the body would be yours, molecule for molecule yours, with the self-same scars to which you are so attached. At first it would be a little strange, as when you first wore Western clothes. I well remember that, Lobsang."

The Eminent Man broke in again, "you have your choice, my Lobsang. You can with a clear conscience relinquish your body now and remain here. But if you return to Earth, the time of the changing of bodies is not yet. Before you decide, I will tell you that if you return, you will return to hardship, misunderstanding, disbelief, and actual hatred, for there is a force of evil which tries to prevent all that is good in connection with human evolution. You will have evil forces with which to contend."

"My mind is made up," I replied. "You have given me my choice. I will continue until my task is done, and if I have to take over another body, well, so be it."

Heavy drowsiness assailed me. My eyes closed in spite of my efforts. The scene faded and I lapsed into unconsciousness.

The world seemed to be spinning round. There was a roaring in my ears, and a babble of voices. In some way that I could not explain, I seemed to be tied up. Was I in prison again? Had the Japanese caught me? Was my journey across Russia a dream, had I really been to the "Land of the Golden Light"?

"He is coming to," said a rough voice. "Hey! WAKE UP!" yelled someone in my ear. Drowsily I opened my aching eyes. A scowling Russian woman stared into my face. Beside her a fat woman doctor glanced stonily around the ward. Ward? I was in a ward with perhaps forty or fifty other men. Then the pain came on. My whole body came alive with flaming pain. Breathing was difficult. I could not move.

"Aw, he'll do," said the stony-faced doctor as she and the nurse turned and walked away. I lay panting, breath coming in short gasps because of the pain in my left side. No pain-relieving drugs here. Here one lived or died on one's own, neither expecting nor getting sympathy or relief from agony.

Heavy nurses stomped by, shaking the bed with the weight of their tread. Every morning callous fingers tore off the dressings and replaced them by others. For one's other needs, one had to depend on the good offices of those patients who were ambulant, and willing.

For two weeks I lay there, almost neglected by the nurses and medical staff getting what help I could from other patients, and suffering agonies when they could not or would not attend to my needs. At the end of two weeks the stony-faced woman doctor came, accompanied by the heavyweight nurse. Roughly they tore the plaster off my left arm and left leg. I had never seen any patient treated like this before, and when I showed signs of falling, the stalwart nurse supported me by my damaged left arm.

During the next week I hobbled round, helping patients as best I could. All I had to wear was a blanket, and I was wondering how I would get clothing. On the twenty-second day of my stay in the hospital two policemen came to the ward. Ripping off my blanket, they shoved a suit of clothes at me, and shouted, "Hurry, you are being deported. You should have left three weeks ago."

"But how could I leave when I was unconscious through no fault of mine?" I argued.

A blow across the face was the only answer. The second policeman loosened his revolver in its holster suggestively. They hustled me down the stairs and into the office of the Political Commissar.

"You did not tell us, when you were admitted, that you were being deported," he said angrily. "You have had treatment under false pretences and now you must pay for it."

"Comrade Commissar;' I replied, "I was brought here unconscious, and my injuries were caused by the bad driving of a Russian soldier. I have suffered much pain and loss through this."

The Commissar thoughtfully stroked his chin. "H'mm," he said, "how do you know all this if you were unconscious? I must look into the matter." He turned to the policeman and said, "Take him off and keep him in a cell in your police station until you hear from me."

Once again I was marched through crowded streets as an arrested man. At the police station my fingerprints were taken once more, and I was taken to a cell deep below the ground level. For a long time nothing happened, then a guard brought me cabbage soup, black bread and some very synthetic acorn coffee. The light in the corridor was kept on all the time, and there was no way of telling night from day, nor of marking the passing of the hours. Eventually I was taken to a room where a severe man shuffled his papers and peered at me over his glasses.

"You have been found guilty," he said, "of remaining in Russia after you had been sentenced to be deported. True, you were involved in an accident not of your making, but immediately you became conscious you should have drawn the attention of the Hospital Commissar to your position. In your treatment you have cost Russia much," he went on, "but Russia is merciful. You will work on the roads in Poland for twelve months to help pay for your treatment."

"But you should pay me," I answered hotly. "Through the fault of a Russian soldier I have been badly injured."

"The soldier is not here to defend himself. He was uninjured, so we shot him. Your sentence stands. Tomorrow you will be taken to Poland where you will work on the roads." A guard roughly grabbed my arm, and led me off to the cell again.

The next day I and two other men were taken from our cells and marched off to the railway station. For some time, in company with the police, we stood around. Then a platoon of soldiers appeared, and the policeman in charge of us went to the Sergeant in charge of the soldiers and presented a form to be signed. Once again we were in the custody of the Russian army!

Another long wait, and at long last we were marched off to a train which would eventually take us to Lwow in Poland.

Lwow was a drab place. The countryside was dotted with oil wells, the roads were terrible because of the heavy war traffic. Men and women worked on the roads, breaking stones, filling in holes, and trying to keep body and soul together on a starvation diet. The two men who had travelled from Kiev with me were very dissimilar. Jakob was a nasty-minded man who rushed to the guards with any tale he could trump up. Jozef was different altogether and could be relied upon to "pull his weight". Because my legs were bad and made it difficult for me to stand for long, I was given the job of sitting by the side of the road breaking stones. Apparently it was not considered that my damaged left arm and barely healed ribs and lungs were any drawback. For a month I stuck at it, slaving away for my food only. Even the women who worked were paid two zloty for each cubic yard of stone they broke. At the end of the month I collapsed, coughing blood. Jozef came to my aid as I lay by the roadside, ignoring the command of the guards. One of the soldiers raised his rifle and shot Jozef through the neck, fortunately missing any vital part. We lay by the side of the road together until a farmer came by in his horse-drawn cart. A guard stopped him and we were tumbled roughly on top of his load of flax. The guard jumped up beside him, and we trundled off to the prison hospital. For weeks I lay on the wooden planks that served as my bed, then the prison doctor said that I would have to moved out. I was dying, he said, and he would get into trouble if any more prisoners died that month, he had exceeded his quota!

There was an unusual consultation in my hospital cell. The prison Governor, the doctor, and a senior guard. "You will have to go to Stryi," said the Governor. "Things are not so strict, and the country is healthier."

"But Governor," I replied, "why should I have to move? I am in prison for no offence, for I have done no wrong at all. Why should I move and keep quiet about it? I will tell everyone I meet how it was arranged."

There was much shouting, much bickering, and at last, I, the prisoner, came up with a solution. "Governor," I said, "you want me out to save yourselves. I will not be shunted to another prison and keep quiet. If you want me to remain silent, let Jozef Kochino and I go to Stryi as free men. Give us clothes that we may be decent. Give us a little money that we buy food. We will remain silent and will go right away over the Carpathians."

The Governor grumbled and swore, and all the men rushed out of my cell. The next day the Governor came back and said that he had read my papers and saw that I was "a man of honor", as he put it, who had been jailed unjustly. He would do as I said.

For a week nothing happened, nothing more was said. At three o'clock on the morning of the eighth day a guard came into my cell, roughly awakened me, and told me I was wanted at "The Office". Quickly I dressed and followed the guard to the office. He opened the door and pushed me inside. A guard was sitting inside with two piles of clothing and two Russian army packs. Food was on a table. He motioned me to be silent and come to him.

"You are being taken to Styri," he wispered. "When you get there ask the guard-there will be one only-to drive you a little farther. If you can get him on a quiet road, overpower him, tie him up and leave him by the side of the road. You have helped me with my illness, so I will tell you that there is a plot to shoot you as you as escapees."

The door poened and Jozef came in. "Now eat your breakfast", said the guard, "and hurry up. Here is a sum of money to help you on your way". Quite a large sum it was, too. I could see the plot. The Prison Governor was going to say that we had robbed him and escaped.

With breakfast inside us, we went out to a car, a four-wheel-drive jeep type. A surly police driver sat at the wheel, revolver on the seat beside him. Curtly motioning to us to get in, he let in the clutch and shot out of the open gate. Thirty-five miles on our way-five miles from Styrj-I thought it was time to act. Quickly I reached over and did a little Judo push under the guard's nose, with the other hand taking the steering wheel. The guard toppled, foot hard on the accelerator. Hastily Iswitched off and steered the car to the side of the road. Jozef was watching open mouthed. Hastily I told him of the plot.

"Quick, Jozef," I said. "Off with your clothes and put on his. You will have to be the guard."

"But Lobsang," wailed Jozef, "I cannot drive, and you do not look like a Russian".

We pushed the guard out of the way and I got into the driver's seat, started the engine, and drove on until we reached a rutted lane. We drove along a little way and stopped. The guard was stirring now so we propped him up. I held the gun at his side.

"Guard," I exclaimed as fiercely as I could manage, "if you value your life you will do as I say. You will drive us around the outskirts of Strj and on to Skol'ye. There we will let you go".

"I will do anything you say," whimpered the guard, but if you are going to cross the Border, let me cross with you, or I shall be shot."

Jozef sat in the back of the jeep, carefully nursing the gun and looking with considerable longing at the back of the guard's neck. I sat by the driver, in case he should try any tricks such as running off the road, or throwing away the ignition key. We sped along, avoiding the main roads. The countryside became more hilly as we moved up into the Carpathian Mountains. The trees became denser, providing better hiding places. At a suitable spot we stopped to strech our legs and have some food, sharing what we had with the guard. At Vel'ke-Berezni, almost out of petrol, we stopped and hid the jeep. With the guard between us we moved steathily along. This was "Border country", and we had to be careful. Anyone who has sufficient reason can cross the border of any country. It merely calls for a little ingenuity and enterprise. I have never had the slightest real trouble in crossing a frontier illegally My only difficulties have been when I had a perfectly legitimate passport. Passports merely inconvience the innocent traveller, causing him to be subjected to ridiculous red tape. Lack of a passport has never hindered a person who had to cross frontiers. However, presumeably there have to be passports in order to harass harmless travellers and give work to hordes of often very unpleasant officials. This is not a treatise on how to cross frontiers illegally, so I will just say that without difficulty the three of us entered Czechoslovakia. The guard went his way, and we went ours.

"My home is at Levice," said Jozef, "I want to go home.You can stay with me as long as you like."

Together we made our way to Kosice, Zvolen, and on to Levice, walking, getting lifts, and riding on trains. Jozef knew the country well, knew where to get potatoes or beets or anything which could be eaten.

At long last, we walked up a mean street in Levice to a small house. Jozef knocked, and as there was no reply, knocked again. With extreme caution, a curtain was drawn aside an inch or so. The watcher saw and recognized Jozef. The door was flung open and he was dragged inside. The door slammed in my face. I paced up and down outside. Eventually the door opened again and Jozef came out looking more troubled than I had thought possible.

"My mother won't have you in," he said. "She says there are too many spies about and if we have anyone else in, we may all get arrested. I'm sorry." With that he turned shame-facedly away and re-entered the house.

For long moments I stood dazed. I had been responsible for getting Jozef out of prison, I had saved him getting shot. My efforts had brought him here, and now he had turned and left me to manage the best way I could. Sadly I turned and retraced my way down the street and on the long road again. No money, no food, no understanding of the language. I marched on blindly, saddened at the treachery of one I had called "friend".

For hour after hour I plodded along by the side of the highway. The few passing cars gave me not a glance, there were too many people "on the march" for me to attract attention. a few miles back I had assuaged my hunger somewhat by picking up some half-rotten tomatoes which a farmer had put out for his pigs. Drink was never a problem, for there were always the streams. Long ago I had learned that streams and brooks were safe, but rivers were polluted.

Far ahead of me on the straight road I saw a bulky object. In the distance it appeared to be a police truck, or road blockage. For several minutes I sat by the side of the road watching. There was no sign of police or soldiers, so I resumed my journey, being very cautious about it. As I drew near I saw that a man was trying to do something to the engine. He looked up at my approach and said something which I did not understand. He repeated it another language, and then in another. At last I could roughly understand what he was saying. The engine had stopped and he could not make it go, did I know about motors? I looked, and fiddled about, looked at the points, and tried the starter. There was ample petrol. Looking under the dash at the wiring I saw where the insulation had worn away, cutting off the ignition when the car had hit a bump in the road and jolted two bare wires together. I had no insulating tape or tools, but it was merely the work of moments to wrap the wires in strips of cloth and tie them safely. The engine started started and purred smoothly. "Something wrong here," I thought. "This engine goes too well to be an old farmer's car!".

The man was hopping up and down with joy. "Brava, brava", he kept exclaiming. "You have saved me!"

I looked at him in some puzzlement, how had I "saved him" by starting his car? He looked me over carefully.

"I have seen you before," he said. "You were with another man, and you were crossing the River Hron Bridge at Levice."

"Yes," I replied, "and now I am on my way alone."

He motioned for me to get into the car. As he drove along I told him about all that had happened. By his aura I could see that he was trustworthy and well-intentioned man.

"The war ended my profession," he said, and I have to live and support my family. You are good with cars and I can use a driver who will not get stuck on the road. We take foodstuffs and a few luxury articles from one country to another. All you have to do is to drive and maintain a car."

I looked very dubious. Smuggling? I had never done it in my life. The man looked at me and said, "No drugs, no weapons, nothing harmful. Food to keep people alive, and a few luxury articles for women to keep them happy."

It seemed peculiar to me, Czechoslovakia did not appear to be a country which could afford to export food and luxury goods. I said so, and the man replied, "You are perfectly correct, it all comes from another country, we merely forward it on. The Russians steal from the Occupied peoples, taking all their possessions. They put all the valuable goods on trains and send back loads of stuff to high party leaders. We merely intercept those trains which have the most good food which we can direct to other countries who are in need. All the Frontier Guards are in it. You would merely have to drive, with me beside you".

"Well," I said, "show me in this truck. If there are no drugs, nothing harmful, I will drive you wherever you wish".

He laughed and said, "Come on in the back. Look as much as you want. My regular driver is ill, and I thought I could manage this car myself. I cannot for I know nothing of mechanical things. I was a well-known lawyer in Vienna before the war put me out of work."

I rummaged, and turned out the back. As he said, there was only food and a few silk things which women wear. "I am satisfied," I said. "I will drive you."

He motioned me to the driver's, and we were off on a journey which took me through Bratislava, into Austria, through Vienna and Klagenfurt, and eventually into Italy, where the journey ended at Verona. Frontier Guards stopped us, made a show of inspecting the goods, then waved us on when a little package was placd in their hands. Once a police car raced ahead of us, stopped suddenly, and caused me to really stand on the brakes. Two policemen dashed at us with drawn revolvers. Then on production of certain papers, they backed away, looking very embarassed and muttering profuse apologies. My new employer seemed to be very pleased with me. "I can put you in touch with a man who runs trucks to Lausanne, in Switzerland," he said, "and if he is as satisfied as I am, he can pass you on to someone who will get you to Ludwigshafen in Germany."

For a week we lazed in Venice while our cargo was being unloaded and other goods put aboard. We also wanted a rest after the exhausting drive. Venice was a terrible place for me, I found it difficult to breathe in that lowland. It appeared to me that the place was merely an open sewer.

From Venice, in a different truck, we went on to Padua, Vicenza, and Verona. Among all the officials we were treated as public benefactors, and I wondered who my employer really was. From his aura, and the aura cannot lie, it was obvious he was a good man. I made no enquiries, as I was not really interested. All I wanted was to get going, to get on with my own task in life. As I knew, my task could not start until I could settle down, free from all this jumping from country to country.

My employer walked into my room in the Verona hotel. "I have a man I want you to meet. He is coming here this afternoon. Ah, Lobsang, you would do better if you shaved off your beard. Americans seem to dislike beards, and this man is an American who reconditions trucks and cars and moves them from country to country. Now about it?"

"Sir," I replied, "if the Americans or anyone else dislike my beard, they will have to go on disliking. My jaw bones were shattered by Japanese boots, and I wear a beard to disguise my injuries."

My employer talked with me for quite a time and before we parted he gave mea a very satifactory sum of money, saying that I had kept my side of the bargain, he would keep his.

The American was a flashy individual, rolling a huge cigar between his thick lips. His teeth were liberally studded with gold fillings, and his clothes really dazzled with their gaudiness. Dancing attendance upon him was a very artifically-blonde woman whose clothing scarce concealed those portions of her anatomy which Western convention decreed should be covered.

"Sa-ay," she squealed as she looked at me. Isn't he cute? Isn't he a doll?"

"Aw, shut it, Baby," said the man who provided her income. "Scram, go take a walk. We got business." With a pout and a jiggle that shook everything dangerously, and placed a heavy strain on flimsy fabric, "Baby" flounced out of the room in search of drinks.

"We gotta get a swell Mercedes out," said the American. "No sale for it here, it will fetch plenty money in another country. It used to belong to one of Musso's Big Shots. We liberated it and painted it over. I got a dandy contact in Karlsruhe, in Germany, if I can get it there, I stand to make a packet."

"Why do you not drive it yourself?" I asked. "I do not know Switzerland or Germany."

"Gee, me drive it? I have done it too often, all the Frontier Guards know me."

"So you want me to get caught?" I replied. "I have come too far too dangerously to get stopped now. No, I do not want this job."

"Aw, man! It's a cinch for you, you look honest and I can provide papers saying that it is your car and you are a tourist. Sure I can give you all the papers." He fished in a large brief-case which he was carrying, and shoved a whole sheaf of papers and forms at me. I idly glanced at them. Ship's engineer! I saw that they referred to a man, a ship's engineer. His union card and all were there. Ship's engineer! If I could get those papers I could get aboard a ship. I had studied engineering as well as medicine and surgery in Chungking; I had a B.Sc. in engineering, I was a fully qualified pilot...my mind raced on.

"Well, I am not keen on it." I said. "Too risky. These papers do not have my photograph on them. How do I know that the real owner will not turn up at the wrong moment?"

"The guy is dead, dead and buried. He got drunk and he was driving a Fiat at speed. Guess he fell asleep; anyhow he spattered himself along the side of a concrete bridge. We heard about him and picked up his papers."

"And if I agree, what will you pay me, and can I keep these papers? They will help me across the Atlantic."

"Sure, Bud, sure. I give you two-fifty bucks and all expenses, and you keep all the papers. We will get your photograph put on them instead of his. I got contacts. I fix it real good!"

"Very well," I replied, "I will drive the car to Karlsruhe for you."

"Take the girl along with you, she will be company and it will get her out of my hair. I gotta fresh one lined up."

For some moments I looked at him in a daze. He evidently mistook my expression. "Aw, sure, She's game for anything. You'll have plenty of fun."

"No!" I exclaimed, "I will not take that woman with me. I would not stay in the same car with her. If you distrust me, let us call it off, or you can send a man, or two men, but no woman."

He leaned back in his chair and roared, opening his mouth wide; the display of gold reminded me of the Golden Objects on display in Temples of Tibet. His cigar fell to the floor and became extinguished in a shower of sparks. "That dame," he said when he could finally speak, "she costs me five hundred bucks a week. I offer to give her to you for the trip and you refuse. Well, ain't that sump'n!"

Two days later the papers were ready. My photograph had been fixed on, and friendly officials had carefully examined the papers and covered them with official seals as necessary. The great Mercedes was gleaming in the Italian sunlight. I checked, as always, the fuel, oil and water, got in and started the engine. As I drove off the American gave me a friendly wave.

At the Swiss border, the officials very carefully inspected the papers which I presented. Then they turned their attention to the car. A probe into the fuel tank to make sure there was no false compartment, tapping along the body to make sure that nothing was hidden behind the metal panels. Two guards looked underneath, under the dash, and even looked at the engine. As they gave me clearance and I moved off, shouts broke out behind me. Quickly I braked. A guard ran up, panting. "Will you take a man to Martigny?" he asked. "He is in rather a hurry and has to go on a matter of some urgency."

"Yes," I replied, "I will take him if he is ready now."

The guard beckoned, and a man hurried out of the Frontier offices. Bowing to me, he got into the car and sat beside me. By his aura I saw that he was an official and was suspicious. Apparently he was wondering why I should be driving alone, with no woman friends.

He was a great talker, but he left time enough to ply me with questions. Questions which I could answer. "No women, Sir?" he said, "but how unusual. Perhaps you have other interests?"

I laughed and said, "You people think only of sex, you think that a man travelling alone is a freak, someone of whom you must be suspicious. I am a tourist, I am seeing the sights. I can see women anywhere.

He looked at me with some understanding in his eyes, and I said, "I will tell you a story, which I know, is true. It is another version of the Garden of Eden."

"Throughout history in all the great religious works of the world there have been stories which some have believed, but which others, with perhaps greater insight, have regarded as legends, as legends designed to conceal certain knowledge-which should not fall before any chance person because such knowledge can be dangerous in such hands.

"Such is the story or legend of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, wherein Eve was tempted by a serpent and in which she ate the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, and having been tempted by the serpent, and having eaten of the Tree of Knowledge, they gazed upon each other and saw that they were naked. Having obtained this forbidden knowledge, they were no longer allowed to remain in the Garden of Eden.

"The Garden of Eden, of course, is that blissful land of ignorance in which one fears nothing because one understands nothing, in which one is, to all intents and purposes, a cabbage. But here, then, is the more esoteric version of the story.

"Man and woman are not just merely a mass of protoplasm, of flesh stuck upon a bony framework. Man is, or can be, a much greater thing than that. Here on this Earth we are mere puppets of our Overself, that Overself which temporarily resides in the astral and which obtains experience through the flesh body which is the puppet, the instrument of the astral.

"Physiologists and others have dissected man's body, and they have reduced everything to a mass of flesh and bone. They can discuss this bone or that bone, they can discuss various organs, but these are all material things. They have not discovered, nor have they tried to discover, the more secret things, the intangible things, things which the Indians, the Chinese, and the Tibetans knew centuries and centuries before Christianity.

"The spine is a very important structure indeed. It houses the spinal cord, without which one is paralysed, without which one is useless as a human. But the spine is more important than that. Right in the centre of the spinal nerve, the spinal cord is a tube, which extends to another dimension. It is a tube upon which the force known as the Kundalini can travel when awakened. At the base of the spine is what the Easterners call the Serpent Fire. It is the seat of Life itself.

"In the average Westerner this great force is dormant, asleep, almost paralysed with disuse. Actually it is like a serpent coiled at the base of the spine, a serpent of immense power, but which, for various reasons, cannot escape from its confines for the time being. This mythical figure of a serpent is known as the Kundalini, and in awakened Easterners, the serpent force can arise through the channel in the spinal nerve, rise straight up to the brain and beyond, beyond into the astral. As it rises its potent, force activates each of the chakrams, or centres of power, such as the umbilicus, throat, and various other parts. When those centres are awakened a person becomes vital, powerful, dominant.

"With complete control of the serpent force one can achieve almost anything. One can move mountains, or walk on water, or levitate, or allow oneself to be buried in the earth in a sealed chamber from which one would emerge alive at any specified time.

"So we have it in the legend that Eve was tempted by a serpent. In other words, in some way Eve got to know about the Kundalini. She was able to release the serpent power coiled at the base of her spine and that rose up and surged through the spinal column, and awakened her brain and gave her knowledge. Thus in the story it can be said that she ate of the Tree of Knowledge, or of the fruit thereof. She had this knowledge and with it she could see the aura, the force around the human body. She could see the aura of Adam, his thoughts and intentions, and Adam, too being tempted by Eve, had his Kundalini awakened and then he could see Eve as she was.

"The truth is that each gazed upon the aura of the other, seeing the other's naked astral form, the form unclothed by the human body, and so could see all the other's thoughts, all his desires, all his knowledge, and that should not be at the stage of evolution of Adam and Eve.

"Old priests knew that under certain conditions the aura could be seen, they knew that the Kundalini could be awakened by sex. So in the old days priests taught that sex was sinful, that sex was the root of all evil, and because Eve tempted Adam, sex was the downfall of the world. They taught this because sometimes, as I have said, sex can stir the Kundalini, which rests dormant in most people at the base of the spine.

"The Kundalini force is coiled down low, a terrific force, like a clock spring the way it is coiled. Like a clock spring suddenly uncoiled it can do damage. This particular force is located at the base of the spine, part of it actually within the generative organs. People of the East recognize this; certain of the Hindus use sex in their religious ceremonies. They use a different form of sex manifestation, and a different sex position to achieve specified results, and they do achieve those results. The ancients, centuries and centuries ago, worshipped sex. They went in for phallic worship. There were certain ceremonies in temples which raised the Kundalini which gave one clairvoyance, telepathy, and many other esoteric powers.

"Sex used properly and in a certain way in love, can raise one's vibrations. It can cause what the Easterners call the Flower of the Lotus to open, and to embrace the world of the spirit. It can cause the Kundalini to surge and to awaken certain centres. But sex and the Kundalini should never be abused. One should complement and supplement the other. Those religions which say that there should be no sex between husband and wife are tragically wrong. This is often advocated by many of the more dubious cults of Christianity. The Roman Catholics come nearer to the truth when they advise husband and wife to have sexual experiences, but the Catholics advocate it blindly, not knowing why, and believing that it is merely for the procreation of children, which is not the main purpose of sex, although most people believe it is.

"These religions, then, which say that one should have no sexual experiences-are trying to stifle individual evolution and the evolution of the race. This is how it works: In magnetism one obtains a powerful magnet by arranging the molecules of the substance to face in one direction. Normally in a piece of iron, for example, all the molecules are in any direction like an undisciplined crowd. They are haphazardly arranged, but when a certain force is applied (in the case of iron, a magnetizing force) all the molecules face in one direction, and so one has the great power of magnetism without which there would be no radio or electricity, without which there would be no road or rail transport, or air travel either.

"In the human, when the Kundalini is awakened, when the Serpent Fire becomes alive, then the molecules in the body all face in one direction because the Kundalini force, in awakening, has pulled the molecules in that direction. Then the human body becomes vibrant with life and health, it becomes powerful in knowledge, it can see all.

"There are various methods of awakening the Kundalini completely, but this should not be done except with those who are suitably evolved because of the immense power and domination of others which a complete awakening would give, and power can be abused and used for ill. But the Kundalini can be partly awakened, and can vivify certain centres by love between a married couple. With the true ecstasy of intimacy, the molecules of the body become so arranged that many of them face in one direction, and so these people become people of great dynamic power.

"When all the false modesty and all the false teachings about sex are removed, then once again will Man arise as a great being, once again will Man be able to take his place as a traveller to the stars."