The Discovery in the Dusty Aisles

Let’s write about Tuesday Lobsang Rampa. I was introduced to Rampa as a teenager in Nigeria. I grabbed copies of his book *The Third Eye* from the far shelves of the school library in Mayflower School, Ikenne. The books on that part of the shelves were the least read. But they also held secrets.

That book, along with his other titles, opened up my eyes to another level of spiritualism. It offered incredible insights into astral traveling, astral projection, noticing auras, levitating, and a host of other mystical practices. They were such a foreign concept that I studied his books as though I was preparing for exams. One particular compendium crowned my reading effort; it was a book on metaphysics centered around Rampa’s teachings.

It broke the concepts down into steps so you could self-help and practice. I practiced on my bunk bed, sitting in the astral position with my palms in a praying position as I imagined that I astral traveled. I recollect sharing this passion with a colleague—Oluchukwu Onyemadu. I have not seen him in three decades. He also accidentally found the book and basked in the concepts freely. Oluchukwu had the personality to be dark, subtle, and quiet, and so no one could put the practice past him.

But I had a strong Christian background. My dad was the pastor’s warden in my childhood Anglican church—St. John Church, Satellite Town, Lagos. I had joined the choir since I was nine years old. Nothing in my upbringing permitted such an experiment. But seeing a kindred spirit in Oluchukwu, I was spurred on. We practiced communicating remotely in our bunks. It never worked, to be honest. Our teenage brains didn’t see anything wrong in it. We must be doing it wrong, we always thought.

We soon turned it into fun by tricking other colleagues, especially the very vulnerable ones, that we could astral travel and communicate with each other. Many were fooled, and we had a good laugh.

If only we knew that the man who gave our teenage years some mystic feel was actually a fraud!

The Escapism of the East

My fascination with the Tibetan culture started as it offered an escapism from the routine religious practices of Christianity. Concepts I had never heard of were introduced in popular books that sold millions, written by Rampa. The East was always a mysterious place, and very little knowledge was available at the time. Rampa filled that void with a narrative so compelling that it captured the imagination of millions around the globe.

In *The Third Eye*, published in 1956, Rampa claimed to be the son of a Lhasa aristocrat. He wrote that he entered the Chakpori lamasery at the tender age of seven, where he underwent a surgical operation to have a “third eye” drilled into his forehead. This procedure, he claimed, gave him extraordinary psychic abilities, allowing him to see human auras and determine people’s hidden motivations. He wrote about encountering yetis, finding a mummified body from his past incarnation, and learning that the Earth was once struck by another planet.

His published works didn’t stop there. He went on to write over twenty books, including *My Visit to Venus*, *Doctor from Lhasa*, *The Rampa Story*, and *Cave of the Ancients*. He even wrote a book titled *Living with the Lama*, which he claimed was dictated to him by his cat, Mrs. Fifi Greywhiskers. The audacity of it all!

The Unmasking of a Plumber

So, who was Tuesday Lobsang Rampa really, and how was he found out? How was he able to fool so many people?

The truth is as bizarre as the fiction he created. After *The Third Eye* became a massive bestseller, selling 500,000 copies in its first two years, scholars and Tibetologists became suspicious. The book’s emphasis on the occult and its wild inaccuracies about Tibetan life raised red flags. Heinrich Harrer, a renowned explorer and Tibetologist, hired a private detective from Liverpool named Clifford Burgess to investigate Rampa’s background.

In February 1958, the results of the investigation were published in the *Daily Mail*. The great Lama Lobsang Rampa of Tibet was none other than Cyril Henry Hoskin, a native of Plympton, Devonshire. He was a high school dropout and the son of a village plumber. Hoskin had never been to Tibet and spoke absolutely no Tibetan. Any expertise he had was gleaned from reading books in London libraries.

When confronted by the British press, Hoskin didn’t back down. Instead, he doubled down with a story that would make any fiction writer proud. He claimed that he had fallen out of a fir tree in his garden while attempting to photograph an owl. Concussed and lying on the ground, he was approached by the spirit of a Buddhist monk in saffron robes. The monk offered to take over his body, and Hoskin, dissatisfied with his current life, agreed. Thus, the spirit of Tuesday Lobsang Rampa entered the body of the Devonshire plumber through the transmigration of the soul.

The Legacy of a Lie

Despite being exposed as a fraud, Hoskin continued to write and sell books. He moved to Ireland to escape the badgering British press and later relocated to Canada, where he died in Calgary on January 25, 1981, at the age of 70. Throughout his life, he maintained that his books were true stories and vehemently denied any suggestions of a hoax.

The financial success of his deception was staggering. His books sold over 20 million copies worldwide, earning him the equivalent of £1 million in royalties. He lived a comfortable life, far removed from his humble beginnings as a plumber’s son.

But what was wrong about his accounts, and did the Tibetans agree with it? Tibetan scholars compiled lists of his inaccuracies. He mentioned gold candlesticks, which were unknown in Tibet. He described his mother wearing a single earring, a practice not customary for Tibetan women. He claimed the Tibetan highlands were at an altitude of 24,000 feet, when they are actually at 14,000 feet. He even stated that apprentices must memorize every page of the *Kan-gyur* to pass a test, a claim that scholars found laughable.

Yet, the most fascinating part of this story is the impact he had. Despite the glaring inaccuracies and the proven fraud, Rampa played a key role in the formation of the New Age movement and contemporary occultism. Many leading Tibetologists admit that his books set them on their paths. Even the Dalai Lama acknowledged Rampa’s role in drawing Western attention to the plight of Tibet under Chinese occupation.

Unlearning the Poison

Looking back, I realize how much I need to free my head from the teachings that poisoned my teenage mind. The audacity of Cyril Henry Hoskin to invent a persona, write books filled with fabricated spiritual practices, and sell them to millions of gullible readers is astounding. It is a testament to the human desire for escapism and the allure of the unknown.

But it also serves as a cautionary tale. We must be vigilant about the information we consume and the beliefs we adopt. The world is full of charlatans who will prey on our vulnerabilities and our search for meaning.

Yet, in a strange twist of fate, the fake monk from Devonshire taught me a valuable lesson. He showed me that sometimes, the most profound impacts can come from the most unexpected—and even deceptive—sources. His lies sparked a genuine interest in a culture and a spiritual path that many would never have discovered otherwise.

So, the next time you find yourself captivated by a story that seems too good to be true, remember Tuesday Lobsang Rampa. Remember the plumber who became a lama, and ask yourself: what are you choosing to believe, and why?

Because in the end, only the audacious survive. But it is the truth that ultimately sets us free.