Portrait image of Dr Rampa in his russet robe.

Mama Ra'ab Rampa

Portrait image of Dr Rampa in his russet robe.
Yesterday was once today and tomorrow will be soon. Today is all that matters!

Mrs. Sheelagh Rouse sat grimly at her desk, her gold rimmed glasses were perched precariously on the bridge of her nose and every so often she would put a finger up and push them back into place. She looked at the wheelchair passing her door and said, somewhat fiercely, 'You've only written sixteen books, why not write another, the seventeenth, telling people what they CAN believe? Look at all the letters you've had asking for another book, asking you to tell them what they can believe - I'll type it for you!' she concluded brightly.

Miss Tadalinka and Miss Cleopatra Rampa sat in the corridor in front of the wheelchair and smiled contentedly. Miss Taddy, deep in thought, had to scratch her left ear with her left foot while she concentrated on the implications of yet another book. Satisfied she rose to her legs and waddled away back to her favourite chair.

Mama San Ra'ab Rampa looked up with a rather pale bemused expression on her face. Without a word - perhaps she was speechless! - she handed me a piece of blue card with a heading of 'Mama San Ra'ab Rampa, Pussywillow', and then in the centre of the page I saw my own face in blue just as if I had been dead for too long and dug up too late. And below that, the weirdest looking Siamese cat face I have ever seen. Well, for a time it left me speechless, but I suppose that it is nice to see the first cover of one's first book. I am biased because this is my seventeenth and there is no longer any novelty. But, 'Mama San,' I said, 'what do YOU think of another book? Is it worth all the effort with me stuck in bed like a stupid dummy, or shall I give it up?'

Mama San metaphorically uncrossed her eyes after the impact of her first book cover, and said, 'Oh yes, of course you should write a book. I am thinking of writing my second!'

Miss Cleo Rampa and Miss Taddy Rampa took a good sniff at the cover and walked away with their tails in the air. Apparently it met with their approval.

Sarah Rampa (Mama Ra'ab Rampa) only ever wrote 5 books and they are listed here in their correct publication order.

PussywillowPussywillow - (1976) I love cats, any cats; small cats, big cats, thin cats, fat cats, skinny cats, toms and queens, kittens and adults, black, white, or pussy willow like Taddy. The Lady Ku'ei, one of my Cat Children, was very fond of remarking to the Guv: `My Ma will stop and chat with any old tom cat she may happen to meet: But she did not disapprove for Miss Ku'ei was no snob.

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TigerlillyTigerlilly - (1978) It was my good fortune to be born in an era when family life meant something, when mothers found fulfilment in the home and had no need of a second occupation to allow them to function more fully as a complete being. A rare occasion indeed to return home from school and find an empty house; mother was always there, sewing perhaps, or busy crocheting (an art which she taught me when I was quite young), and always a nice tea awaited a hungry child.

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Autumn LadyAutumn Lady - (1980) She was an autumn lady therefore it was fitting she should depart in the autumn. One of Miss Taddy's friends made the above comment, and it seems a fitting tribute to our Tadikins who had always appeared older than her years, she who in her own special way had frightened our lives, especially mine, during the whole span of her life. She earned the name Tad because, as a kitten, she was so tiny, much smaller than her sister, who enjoyed the royal name of Cleopatra.

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Le Testament de RampaLe Testament de Rampa - (1983) Released in English as Wild Brair. One day, in chat, my husband asked me: If you had the opportunity to find a certain person, who would you choose? After a moment of reflection I answered: Well, it must be the Egyptian President, Mr. Sadat. When he asked me about the reasons that influenced that choice, knowing that the Master also admired Sadat, I exposed him as he felt in relation to the President.

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Flor SilvestreFlor Silvestre - (1984) I want to witness the truthfulness of this statement: “The people sometimes fear and they try to destroy that which they do not understand”. The Love in the Work. But what is the one to work with love? It is to weave with pulled up threads of its heart, as if the dear person will use the fabric. It is to build a house with love, as if the dear person will live in it. It is to plant seeds with tenderness and to harvest the crop with happiness, as if the dear person will eat of that fruit. It is to impregnate everything that moulds with a blow of its own spirit. It is to know that the blessed deads are close observing. There is debate if it was originally written in Brazilian or French as they both have the same publication date, but I have managed to obtain a copy of the Brazilian version translated into English. This was a summery of Lobsang's life from her point of view. This is Ra'ab's fifth and final book.

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