Biography of Archan Chum Chaikiri
Khao Or tradition • BE 2450–2525 (1907–1982) • Phatthalung lineage, later Bangkok
He was born in BE 2450 (1907), into a family that carried war stories and temple vows in equal measure. The elders said his bloodline reached back to Khun Chaikiri, a noble who helped defend Phatthalung two centuries earlier and studied the old Khao Or ways. That inheritance was less about titles than temperament — a steadiness that meets danger with discipline and devotion.
As a child he was simply Chum, a name given by Luang Phor Kong of Wat Chaimongkol. The stories of his youth are told with the half-smile of those who were there: at five, the boy who could still a snake with a gaze and a mantra; who quieted dogs that moments before seemed set on biting. At seven he learned an 11-word spell said to disable firearms — one day a pistol dismantled itself before it could fire, and the courtyard fell utterly silent.
At twenty he entered the robe under Luang Phor Kong (Wat Chaimongkol, Songkhla). Soon he was introduced to Khunpan Tharak Rachadej, who urged him to take up the full discipline of the Khao Or tradition. He sought out Archan Yied of Wat Don Sala — a senior disciple of Archan Thong Tao — and found in him a teacher whose lessons ran from meditation caves to healing halls. In those years he formed a lifelong friendship with Luang Phor Kong of Wat Ban Suan, another of Archan Yied’s disciples.
In BE 2484 (1941) he created his first batch of amulets. Archan Yied added Phong Mahawan to the sacred composition and joined the consecration. Devotees later said that wearing Archan Chum’s Phra Puttha Nimit felt akin to bearing Archan Yied’s Phra Kleep Bua Mahawan — different names, same current of protection. He had planned to remain a monk only a year; fifteen passed. At thirty-five he disrobed, married, and kept walking the old roads to pay respects and learn.
The trail carried him into mountains and hermit’s huts. For three years he studied with an elder Ruesi, who finally gave him two spare, potent formulas: “Na Wo Ah Mi” and “Ba Su Wu Cha.” He took them not as tricks but as reminders — that sattha (faith) is the engine behind every rite, and that power without restraint is only noise.
Back at Wat Khao Or, he poured his strength into teaching, healing, and the making of sacred objects when the temple needed to stand taller. The community began to call him, with affectionate precision, “the academic master of the Khao Or tradition.” In later years he moved to Bangkok, carrying the South with him in his methods and memory. He passed in BE 2525 (1982). What remains is not rumor but rhythm: a lineage kept intact, amulets held like prayers, and the quiet conviction that faith, rightly tended, can turn fear back at the threshold.