“You know a person in your vicinity who often stays in deep jungles alone, and recently went to one, and nearly died.Tell this urgent message from me to that person, not to return to that jungle now, as a terribly hellish form of death would meet that person there, if returned to that same jungle this time, this danger exists for at least a few months!” my new European friend suddenly came to me, forwarding this strange message. He was on a telephone call with the cousin of Taklung Tsetrul Rinpoche, Head of the Nyingma Tradition, a widely revered old Buddhist teacher who lived in Shimla, India. “Dying in that jungle this time would bring the soul of that person to a very dark realm” was the further explanation. This was a message from Tsetrul rinpocche, who due to his age asked his cousin, his helper, to forward it to my friend.
Featured image: Please visit Buddhistdoor.net
It does not happen too often that someone whom you have never met, someone who have never heard of you, living somewhere you had never been, sends you a message through someone whom you have known just a few days, and that message happens to save your life! Yet exactly this had happened to me, in the already massively mysterious Nepal, in the late 2012…
My new foreigner friend staying in a Buddhist enclave near Kathmandu, who helped me with getting new shoes and food, after I happened to rent a room in the same building, was a long-time Buddhist, with a surprising familiarity with Nepal’s and India’s many famous rinpocches and khenpos. Yet even he was quite bewildered by the strange message from the old Tsetrul rinpocche, who had instructed his helper cousin to forward his urgent message to a totally unknown person, when on phone call with him.
At first he did not know who could that mysterious person be, it is not so usual to have friends with a strange “hobby” to stay in Nepal’s deep jungles infested with wild animals and snakes…. We had just met a few days before. Then he remembered me! Oh yes, this Marici had spoken about just having returned from a jungle in Southern Nepal! So he managed to identify the addressee of the rinpocche’s message: “I was thinking long who that person could be, as I really don’t know anyone in Nepal who would often stay in deep jungles. Then I had realized it must be you!” he came to me with the news.
I had just returned from Halkhoriya, where I narrowly survived four days without finding water and food, and lost my trekking equipment and even my shoes, the story which I had described in 2012 to a circle of my friends in my newsletters under the title “Four days in Halkhoriya”. Moreover, during the last two nights, some group of people had been chasing me, so I spent the nights with running barefoot in total dark, just anywhere far from the flashlights blinking towards me. They had dogs, so I thought they could have been poachers misconsidering me for some wild animal to shoot down. Yet what I had learned later, after I managed to survive and get out of the jungle, was quite a shaking information…
It was a very unusual message, from a rinpocche whom I myself had never met, and who had stayed far away from me, in Northern India, forwarded through his cousin to a new acquaintance whom I have not even known before. But the message was very clear and very concrete.
“How could your rinpocche know I had just returned from Halkhoriya?” I was shocked. “How could he know, moreover, that even the dangers I encountered did not deter me from trying to return there again soon, and find out the secrets of that cursed place? The place where Ram Bomjon had chained me to a tree for three months, tortured and celebrated the hellish suffering by organizing a Maitri Puja during it?”. The fact that someone somewhere in a monastery in India cares about my survival and wants to protect me from Bomjon’s repeated danger, was quite a surprise to me. It reminded me of the belief of Christians in a “guarding angel” that oversees us all our life.
I never give up, this is my character. I can weep and complain, get terrorized and broken, but I always stand up and try to find out the reasons, the cause, the deep source of that dramatic and dark experience during Bomjon’s brutal torture in captivity for three months in Halkhoriya in 2012. Why me? Why this lie to the world about spirituality while in reality it is all hell and crime around Nepal’s celebrated “Buddha Boy”? Are there others too? How many? What was my deep “karmic” connection to that jungle? Why did Bomjon pick up me and Mata then, for those terrifying three months of 2012, for his prolonged ritual torture? Such questions got never answered by anyone after my release, and I have decided to find them out. Personally, by myself, in that very place!
On my way to return to Halkhoriya I had been nearly kidnapped again in a family in Amlekhganj where I spent a night, and did not realize they had been Bomjon’s followers, until seeing his photos in the room and hearing the prolonged phone conversation about how much Bomjon’s people would be ready to pay for me…. This re-kidnap attempt is described in the Kati dincha? article.
Yet, escaping from the danger in the early morning hours, I simply entered the deep jungle still in the dark, and crossed around 15 km in four days. Ram Bomjon and his followers had been officially evicted from Halkhoriya in the summer of 2012, but after my return from the four days trip, I had learned in Simara that this was not really true. Locals had warned me that those criminals who had kidnapped and tortured me in 2012, had been seen around Halkhoriya and the surrounding villages even after their official eviction, and that especially Darshan Limbu and other violent men of Bomjon had settled in the jungles West from the Halkhoriya area, with access paths to the scene of Bomjon’s former compound, the place of my torture. Apparently they had some plans in Halkhoriya, at Bomjon’s order.
Actually even Bomjon himself, I had learned, tried to return again and again, with his smaller entourage, yet those times hundreds of local police troops (APF) had been mobilized to guard the entrance roads to Halkhoriya, not to allow the controversial cult leader to establish his crime base there again:
Hearing these news in Simara, after I came out thorn and exhausted from Halkhoriya, I felt grateful to God that this time I had been not kidnapped by them again. It was foolish of me, I thought, to want to find out the truth by risking my life again. But in a country where police is so painfully corrupt that they had never investigated Bomjon and his crime attendants for the kidnapping and torture of two women (there was Mata Ani during my captivity held there too), even the victim of his crimes has no other option than to investigate alone! Police in Nepal is supporting the criminality of Bomjon, because of their huge bribes and political connections at the highest level.
But still, I was not able to grasp and accept what the Nepali “Buddha Boy” did to me in 2012, as I went to Nepal then with spiritual idealism and the purest wishes to support him and volunteer for him in translations. The return to Halkhoriya’s crime scene was a personal investigation, I expected to kind of feel, re-wind and analyze those hellish days by entering the very same place, and get some deep understanding of the strange experiences.
Of course I lost my way. Of course my food reserves had been also lost. Of course I could not find any more water source after the two or three ones in the first day. Drinking only water drops from the top of leaves in the hot sun, hardly walking and hallucinating from thirst, I somehow arrived to the highway, where I stopped a Madeshi man arriving on motorbike, as during the hot noon sun there was no other traffic. To my shock, that Madeshi wanted to have sex with me. I told him that first I needed to eat and drink, and that then we could do “that thing” (a trick that many women know). After we stopped in a small tea-shop, the owner immediately understood my situation, warned the Madeshi man seriously that if he even tries to harm me, they had written down his plate number etc., and he offered me a liter of buffalo milk! He also gave me the sandals of his daughter, which did not fit, but it was the greatest gift for me that moment!
(Some months later I wanted to return to that tea shop and bring a pair of new sandals to the owner’s daughter. To my surprise, there was no tea shop anywhere in that area, near that small bridge that I knew so well from my long time stay in the area in 2012. There was not even a trace of any building… )
I have reached Simara safely and no one of my friends could understand how could I be so foolish to return to the place where I was kept in extreme tortures.
Yes, I had realized that it was not too wise to return to Halkhoriya alone and without proper equipment. I have lost my tent and many clothes there. I did not have enough lighters and so on… Yet I did NOT get answer to my burning question, “Why did Bomjon kidnap, hold hostage and torture me in 2012, why did he let me repeatedly sexually abused during the prayers to their god Maitriya, why did he break my wrists, thrashed my head in his “holy meditation compound”…?” And my main question still remained: “How it is that whole Nepal and even foreigners who had seen me tortured, did not consider this all a crime, and continue to support Bomjon and consider me an enemy, a witch? Even if I suffered so much. What is behind all this enchanting black -magic of the “Buddha Boy”? Is he a god who punished me for my sins, or is he a demon who wanted to destroy me for my spiritual attainment?”
So, realizing my condition after the 4 days in Halkhoriya without water, I was more than happy to leave for Kathmandu and get a room in a normal place. And there I was making the new plan, a more “professional” one, how to return to Halkhoriya’s crime scene and not get re-kidnapped. I thought about taking some villagers with me, taking a camera, good mobile, a film crew etc.
Yet, I met that Buddhist friend, and in a few days he came with a strange message from Tsetrul rinpocche! And it was convincing. We do need a body, even when we search for the truth and justice, still. If Bomjon and his followers harm my body, how will I ever get justice and how will I ever learn what and why happened to me by that dark cult?
I have never returned to Halkhoriya, thanks to the rinpocche’s advice. At least not alone and not during night times. I have visited the site once, for a few hours, with shepherds, who often take their herds in big groups from Ratanpuri, through the jungle, to Halkhoriya, because a special high grass (Phanta) grows there. I also joined a group of fisher-women who went to Halkhoriya Daha Lake. Yet, apart from very dark feelings in the compound where Bomjon did most of his crimes, and the frightening crows, strange stench of rotting and many flies, I was not able to find out much. Nowhere had been any flowers growing, and no bird song was heard. Only a single red flower grew on the spot where Bomjon hit my head and my blood was pouring to the earth…
Yet, on a very deep level of meditation, I had finally received the answer a little later, without the need to endanger my life again by physically visiting the scene of Bomjon’s crime against me. That answer is so appalling and so clear, that I have never again had any doubts who and what Ram Bahadur Bomjon, Nepal’s famous “Buddha Boy” is. And because of that answer am I doing what I am doing: this website and YouTube videos.
An unknown Tsetrul rinpocche, whom I have never met and I cannot meet again, as he had died in 2015, had been kind enough to enable me to survive my daring quest for the full truth by his very clear message.
Let’s hope that the hellish darkness which had settled on Halkhoriya in 2012, follows Bomjon where he goes and the once so enchanting forest regenerates from it and remains in the hands of the local villagers and the Parsa Wildlife Reserve.
(I cannot wish in the hands of the Government, because, as it became clear this year, the Nepali Government supports Bomjon against his victims, its own citizens and foreigners, altogether 46 people from whom 4 had died and another 6 are feared dead).