A Biography of Swami Vivekananda - Gyan Ki Baatein Aur Sangrah

🌹A Biography of🌹

🌺Swami Vivekananda🌺

EARLY YEARS

Swami Vivekananda, the great soul loved and revered in East and West alike as the 

rejuvenator of Hinduism in India and the preacher of its eternal truths abroad, was born 

at 6:33, a few minutes before sunrise, on Monday, January 12, 1863. It was the day of 

the great Hindu festival Makarasamkranti, when special worship is offered to the

Ganga by millions of devotees. Thus the future Vivekananda first drew breath when

the air above the sacred river not far from the house was reverberating with the

prayers, worship, and religious music of thousands of Hindu men and women.

Before Vivekananda was born, his mother, like many other pious Hindu mothers, had

observed religious vows, fasted, and prayed so that she might be blessed with a son

who would do honour to the family. She requested a relative who was living in

Varanasi to offer special worship to the Vireswara Siva of that holy place and seek His

blessings; for Siva, the great god of renunciation, dominated her thought. One night

she dreamt that this supreme Deity aroused Himself from His meditation and agreed to

be born as her son. When she woke she was filled with joy.

The mother, Bhuvaneswari Devi, accepted the child as a boon from Vireswara Siva

and named him Vireswara. The family, however, gave him the name of Narendranath

Datta, calling him, for short, Narendra, or more endearingly, Naren.

The Datta family of Calcutta, into which Narendranath had been born, was well known

for its affluence, philanthropy, scholarship, and independent spirit. The grand father,

Durgacharan, after the birth of his first son, had renounced the world in search of God.

The father, Viswanath, an attorney-at-law of the High Court of Calcutta, was versed in

English and Persian literature and often entertained himself and his friends by reciting

from the Bible and the poetry of Hafiz, both of which, he believed, contained truths

unmatched by human thinking elsewhere. He was particularly attracted to the Islamic

culture, with which he was familiar because of his close contact with the educated

Moslems of North-western India. Moreover, he derived a large income from his law

practice and, unlike his father, thoroughly enjoyed the worldly life. An expert in

cookery, he prepared rare dishes and liked to share them with his friends. Travel was

another of his hobbies. Though agnostic in religion and a mocker of social

conventions, he possessed a large heart and often went out of his way to support idle

relatives, some of whom were given to drunkenness. Once, when Narendra protested

against his lack of judgement, his father said: 'How can you understand the great

misery of human life? When you realize the depths of men's suffering, you will

sympathize with these unfortunate creatures who try to forget their sorrows, even

though only for a short while, in the oblivion created by intoxicants.' Naren's father,

however, kept a sharp eye on his children and would not tolerate the slightest deviation

from good manners.

Bhuvaneswari Devi, the mother, was cast in a different mould. Regal in appearance

and gracious in conduct, she belonged to the old tradition of Hindu womanhood. As

mistress of a large household, she devoted her spare time to sewing and singing, being

particularly fond of the great Indian epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, large

portions of which she had memorized. She became the special refuge of the poor, and

commanded universal respect because of her calm resignation to God, her inner

tranquillity, and her dignified detachment in the midst of her many arduous duties.

Two sons were born to her besides Narendranath, and four daughters, two of whom

died at an early age.

Narendra grew up to be a sweet, sunny-tempered, but very restless boy. Two nurses

were necessary to keep his exuberant energy under control, and he was a great tease to

his sisters. In order to quiet him, the mother often put his head under the cold-water

tap, repeating Siva's name, which always produced the desired effect. Naren felt a

child's love for birds and animals, and this characteristic reappeared during the last

days of his life. Among his boyhood pets were a family cow, a monkey, a goat, a

peacock, and several pigeons and guinea-pigs. The coachman of the family, with his

turban, whip, and bright-coloured livery, was his boyhood ideal of a magnificent

person, and he often expressed the ambition to be like him when he grew up.

Narendra bore a striking resemblance to the grand-father who had renounced the world

to lead a monastic life, and many thought that the latter had been reborn in him. The

youngster developed a special fancy for wandering monks, whose very sight would

greatly excite him. One day when such a monk appeared at the door and asked for

alms, Narendra gave him his only possession, the tiny piece of new cloth that was

wrapped round his waist. Thereafter, whenever a monk was seen in the neighbourhood,

Narendra would be locked in a room. But even then he would throw out of the window

whatever he found near at hand as an offering to the holy man. In the meantime, he

was receiving his early education from his mother, who taught him the Bengali

alphabet and his first English words, as well as stories from the Ramayana and the

Mahabharata.

During his childhood Narendra, like many other Hindu children of his age, developed a

love for the Hindu deities, of whom he had learnt from his mother. Particularly

attracted by the heroic story of Rama and his faithful consort Sita, he procured their

images, bedecked them with flowers, and worshipped them in his boyish fashion. But

disillusionment came when he heard someone denounce marriage vehemently as a

terrible bondage. When he had thought this over he discarded Rama and Sita as

unworthy of worship. In their place he installed the image of Siva, the god of

renunciation, who was the ideal of the yogis. Nevertheless he retained a fondness for

the Ramayana.

At this time he daily experienced a strange vision when he was about to fall asleep.

Closing his eyes, he would see between his eyebrows a ball of light of changing

colours, which would slowly expand and at last burst, bathing his whole body in a

white radiance. Watching this light he would gradually fall asleep. Since it was a daily

occurrence, he regarded the phenomenon as common to all people, and was surprised

when a friend denied ever having seen such a thing. Years later, however, Narendra's

spiritual teacher, Sri Ramakrishna, said to him, 'Naren, my boy, do you see a light

when you go to sleep?' Ramakrishna knew that such a vision indicated a great spiritual

past and an inborn habit of meditation. The vision of light remained with Narendra

until the end of his life, though later it lost its regularity and intensity.

While still a child Narendra practised meditation with a friend before the image of

Siva. He had heard that the holy men of ancient India would become so absorbed in

contemplation of God that their hair would grow and gradually enter into the earth, like

the roots of the banyan tree. While meditating, therefore, he would open his eyes, now

and then, to see if his own hair had entered into the earth. Even so, during meditation,

he often became unconscious of the world. On one occasion he saw in a vision a

luminous person of serene countenance who was carrying the staff and water-bowl of a

monk. The apparition was about to say something when Naren became frightened and

left the room. He thought later that perhaps this had been a vision of Buddha.

At the age of six he was sent to a primary school. One day, however, he repeated at

home some of the vulgar words that he had learnt from his classmates, whereupon his

disgusted parents took him out of the school and appointed a private tutor, who

conducted classes for him and some other children of the neighbourhood in the

worship hall of the house. Naren soon showed a precocious mind and developed a keen

memory. Very easily he learnt by heart the whole of a Sanskrit grammar and long

passages from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Some of the friendships he made

at this age lasted his whole lifetime. At school he was the undisputed leader. When

playing his favourite game of 'King and the Court,' he would assume the role of the

monarch and assign to his friends the parts of the ministers, commander-in-chief, and

other state officials. He was marked from birth to be a leader of men, as his name

Narendra (lord of men) signified.

Even at that early age he questioned why one human being should be considered

superior to another. In his father's office separate tobacco pipes were provided for

clients belonging to the different castes, as orthodox Hindu custom required, and the

pipe from which the Moslems smoked was set quite apart. Narendra once smoked

tobacco from all the pipes, including the one marked for the Moslems, and when

reprimanded, remarked, 'I cannot see what difference it makes.'

During these early years, Narendra's future personality was influenced by his gifted

father and his saintly mother, both of whom kept a chastening eye upon him. The

father had his own manner of discipline. For example, when, in the course of an

argument with his mother, the impetuous boy once uttered a few rude words and the

report came to the father, Viswanath did not directly scold his son, but wrote with

charcoal on the door of his room: 'Narendra today said to his mother — ' and added the

words that had been used. He wanted Narendra's friends to know how rudely he had

treated his mother.

Another time Narendra bluntly asked his father, 'What have you done for me?'

Instead of being annoyed, Viswanath said, 'Go and look at yourself in the mirror, and

then you will know.'

Still another day, Narendra said to his father, 'How shall I conduct myself in the world?'

'Never show surprise at anything,' his father replied.

This priceless advice enabled Narendranath, in his future chequered life, to preserve

his serenity of mind whether dwelling with princes in their palaces or sharing the straw

huts of beggar

The mother, Bhuvaneswari, played her part in bringing out Narendranath's innate

virtues. When he told her, one day, of having been unjustly treated in school, she said

to him, in consolation: 'My child, what does it matter, if you are in the right? Always

follow the truth without caring about the result. Very often you may have to suffer

injustice or unpleasant consequences for holding to the truth; but you must not, under

any circumstances, abandon it.' Many years later Narendranath proudly said to an

audience, 'I am indebted to my mother for whatever knowledge I have acquired.'

One day, when he was fighting with his play-fellows, Narendra accidentally fell from

the porch and struck his forehead against a stone. The wound bled profusely and left a

permanent scar over his right eye. Years later, when Ramakrishna heard of this

accident, he remarked: 'In a way it was a good thing. If he had not thus lost some of his

blood, he would have created havoc in the world with his excessive energy.'

In 1871, at the age of eight, Narendra entered high school. His exceptional intelligence

was soon recognized by his teachers and classmates. Though at first reluctant to study

English because of its foreign origin, he soon took it up with avidity. But the

curriculum consumed very little of his time. He used most of his inexhaustible energy

in outside activities. Games of various kinds, many of which he invented or improvised

kept him occupied. He made an imitation gas-works and a factory for aerating water,

these two novelties having just been introduced in Calcutta. He organized an amateur

theatrical company and a gymnasium, and took lessons in fencing, wrestling, rowing,

and other manly sports. He also tried his hand at the art of cooking. Intensely restless,

he would soon tire of one pastime and seek a new one. With his friends he visited the

museum and the zoological garden. He arbitrated the disputes of his play-fellows and

was a favourite with the people of the neighbourhood. Everybody admired his courage,

straight-forwardness, and simplicity.

From an early age this remarkable youth had no patience with fear or superstition. One

of his boyish pranks had been to climb a flowering tree belonging to a neighbour,

pluck the flowers, and do other mischief. The owner of the tree, finding his

remonstrances unheeded, once solemnly told Naren's friends that the tree was guarded

by a white-robed ghost who would certainly wring their necks if they disturbed his

peace. The boys were frightened and kept away. But Narendra persuaded them to

follow him back, and he climbed the tree, enjoying his usual measure of fun, and broke

some branches by way of further mischief. Turning to his friends, he then said: 'What

asses you all are! See, my neck is still there. The old man's story is simply not true.

Don't believe what others say unless you your-selves know it to be true.'

These simple but bold words were an indication of his future message to the world.

Addressing large audiences in the later years, he would often say: 'Do not believe in a

thing because you have read about it in a book. Do not believe in a thing because

another man has said it was true. Do not believe in words because they are hallowed by

tradition. Find out the truth for yourself. Reason it out. That is realization.'

The following incident illustrates his courage and presence of mind. He one day

wished to set up a heavy trapeze in the gymnasium, and so asked the help of some

people who were there. Among them was an English sailor. The trapeze fell and

knocked the sailor unconscious, and the crowd, thinking him dead, ran away for fear of

the police. But Naren tore a piece from his cloth, bandaged the sailor's wound, washed

his face with water, and gradually revived him. Then he moved the wounded man to a

neighbouring schoolhouse where he nursed him for a week. When the sailor had

recovered, Naren sent him away with a little purse collected from his friends.

All through this period of boyish play Narendra retained his admiration for the life of

the wandering monk. Pointing to a certain line on the palm of his hand, he would say to

his friends: 'I shall certainly become a sannyasin. A palmist has predicted it.'

As Narendra grew into adolescence, his temperament showed a marked change. He

became keen about intellectual matters, read serious books on history and literature,

devoured newspapers, and attended public meetings. Music was his favourite pastime.

He insisted that it should express a lofty idea and arouse the feelings of the musician.

At the age of fifteen he experienced his first spiritual ecstasy. The family was

journeying to Raipur in the Central Provinces, and part of the trip had to be made in a

bullock cart. On that particular day the air was crisp and clear; the trees and creepers

were covered with green leaves and many-coloured blossoms; birds of brilliant

plumage warbled in the woods. The cart was moving along a narrow pass where the

lofty peaks rising on the two sides almost touched each other. Narendra's eyes spied a

large bee-hive in the cleft of a giant cliff, and suddenly his mind was filled with awe

and reverence for the Divine Providence. He lost outer consciousness and lay thus in

the cart for a long time. Even after returning to the sense-perceived world he radiated

joy.

Another interesting mental phenomenon may be mentioned here; for it was one often

experienced by Narendranath. From boyhood, on first beholding certain people or

places, he would feel that he had known them before; but how long before he could

never remember. One day he and some of his companions were in a room in a friend's

house, where they were discussing various topics. Something was mentioned, and

Narendra felt at once that he had on a previous occasion talked about the same subject

with the selfsame friends in that very house. He even correctly described every nook

and corner of the building, which he had not seen before. He tried at first to explain

this singular phenomenon by the doctrine of reincarnation, thinking that perhaps he had

lived in that house in a previous life. But he dismissed the idea as improbable. Later he

concluded that before his birth he must have had previsions of the people, places, and

events that he was to experience in his present incarnation; that was why, he thought,

he could recognize them as soon as they presented themselves to him.

At Raipur Narendra was encouraged by his father to meet notable scholars and discuss

with them various intellectual topics usually considered too abstruse for boys of his

age. On such occasions he exhibited great mental power. From his father, Narendra

had learnt the art of grasping the essentials of things, seeing truth from the widest and

most comprehensive standpoints, and holding to the real issue under discussion.

In 1879 the family returned to Calcutta, and Narendra within a short time graduated

from high school in the first division. In the meantime he had read a great many

standard books of English and Bengali literature. History was his favourite subject. He

also acquired at this time an unusual method of reading a book and acquiring the

knowledge of its subject-matter. To quote his own words: 'I could understand an author

without reading every line of his book. I would read the first and last lines of a

paragraph and grasp its meaning. Later I found that I could understand the subject-

matter by reading only the first and last lines of a page. Afterwards I could follow the

whole trend of a writer's argument by merely reading a few lines, though the author

himself tried to explain the subject in five or more pages.'

Soon the excitement of his boyhood days was over, and in 1879 Narendranath entered

the Presidency College of Calcutta for higher studies. After a year he joined the

General Assembly's Institution, founded by the Scottish General Missionary Board and

later known as the Scottish Church College. It was from Hastie, the principal of the

college and the professor of English literature, that he first heard the name Sri

Ramakrishna.

In college Narendra, now a handsome youth, muscular and agile, though slightly

inclined to stoutness, enjoyed serious studies. During the first two years he studied

Western logic. Thereafter he specialized in Western philosophy and the ancient and

modern history of the different European nations. His memory was prodigious. It took

him only three days to assimilate Green's History of the English People. Often, on the

eve of an examination, he would read the whole night, keeping awake by drinking

strong tea or coffee.

About this time he came in contact with Sri Ramakrishna; this event, as we shall

presently see, was to become the major turning-point of his life. As a result of his

association with Sri Ramakrishna, his innate spiritual yearning was stirred up, and he

began to feel the transitoriness of the world and the futility of academic education. The

day before his B.A. examination, he suddenly felt an all-consuming love for God and,

standing before the room of a college-mate, was heard to sing with great feeling:

Sing ye, O mountains, O clouds, O great winds!

Sing ye, sing ye, sing His glory!

Sing with joy, all ye suns and moons and stars!

Sing ye, sing ye, His glory!

The friends, surprised, reminded him of the next day's examination, but Narendra was

unconcerned; the shadow of the approaching monastic life was fast falling on him. He

appeared for the examination, however, and easily passed.

About Narendra's scholarship, Professor Hastie once remarked: 'Narendra is a real

genius. I have travelled far and wide, but have not yet come across a lad of his talents

and possibilities even among the philosophical students in the German universities. He

is bound to make his mark in life.'

Narendra's many-sided genius found its expression in music, as well. He studied both

instrumental and vocal music under expert teachers. He could play on many

instruments, but excelled in singing. From a Moslem teacher he learnt Hindi, Urdu, and

Persian songs, most of them of devotional nature.

He also became associated with the Brahmo Samaj, an important religious movement

of the time, which influenced him during this formative period of his life.

The introduction of English education in India following the British conquest of the

country brought Hindu society in contact with the intellectual and aggressive European

culture. The Hindu youths who came under the spell of the new, dynamic way of life

realized the many shortcomings of their own society. Under the Moslem rule, even

before the coming of the British, the dynamic aspect of the Hindu culture had been

suppressed and the caste-system stratified. The priests controlled the religious life of

the people for their own selfish interest. Meaningless dogmas and lifeless ceremonies

supplanted the invigorating philosophical teachings of the Upanishads and the

Bhagavad Gita. The masses were exploited, moreover, by the landlords, and the lot of

women was especially pitiable. Following the break-down of the Moslem rule, chaos

reigned in every field of Indian life, social, political, religious, and economic. The

newly introduced English education brought into sharp focus the many drawbacks of

society, and various reform movements, both liberal and orthodox, were initiated to

make the national life flow once more through healthy channels.

The Brahmo Samaj, one of these liberal movements, captured the imagination of the

educated youths of Bengal. Raja Rammohan Roy (1774-1833), the founder of this

religious organization, broke away from the rituals, image worship, and priestcraft of

orthodox Hinduism and exhorted his followers to dedicate themselves to the 'worship

and adoration of the Eternal, the Unsearchable, the Immutable Being, who is the

Author and the Preserver of the universe.' The Raja, endowed with a gigantic intellect,

studied the Hindu, Moslem, Christian, and Buddhist scriptures and was the first Indian

to realize the importance of the Western rational method for solving the diverse

problems of Hindu society. He took a prominent part in the introduction of English

education in India, which, though it at first produced a deleterious effect on the newly

awakened Hindu consciousness, ultimately revealed to a few Indians the glorious

heritage of their own indigenous civilization.

Among the prominent leaders of the Brahmo Samaj who succeeded Rammohan Roy

were Devendranath Tagore (1817-1905), a great devotee of the Upanishads, and

Keshab Chandra Sen (1838-1884), who was inclined to the rituals and doctrines of

Christianity. The Brahmo Samaj, under their leadership, discarded many of the

conventions of Hinduism such as rituals and the worship of God through images.

Primarily a reformist movement, it directed its main energy to the emancipation of

women, the remarriage of Hindu widows, the abolition of early marriage, and the

spread of mass education. Influenced by Western culture, the Brahmo Samaj upheld

the supremacy of reason, preached against the uncritical acceptance of scriptural

authority, and strongly supported the slogans of the French Revolution. The whole

movement was intellectual and eclectic in character, born of the necessity of the times;

unlike traditional Hinduism, it had no root in the spiritual experiences of saints and

seers. Narendra, like many other contemporary young men, felt the appeal of its

progressive ideas and became one of its members. But, as will be presently seen, the

Brahmo Samaj could not satisfy the deep spiritual yearning of his soul.

About this time Narendra was urged by his father to marry, and an opportunity soon

presented itself. A wealthy man, whose daughter Narendra was asked to accept as his

bride, offered to defray his expenses for higher studies in England so that he might

qualify himself for the much coveted Indian Civil Service. Narendra refused. Other

proposals of similar nature produced no different result. Apparently it was not his

destiny to lead a householder's life.

From boyhood Narendra had shown a passion for purity. Whenever his warm and

youthful nature tempted him to walk into a questionable adventure, he was held back

by an unseen hand. His mother had taught him the value of chastity and had made him

observe it as a matter of honour, in loyalty to herself and the family tradition. But

purity to Narendra was not a negative virtue, a mere abstention from carnal pleasures.

To be pure, he felt, was to conserve an intense spiritual force that would later manifest

itself in all the noble aspirations of life. He regarded himself as a brahmacharin, a

celibate student of the Hindu tradition, who worked hard, prized ascetic disciplines,

held holy things in reverence, and enjoyed clean words, thoughts, and acts. For

according to the Hindu scriptures, a man, by means of purity, which is the greatest of

all virtues, can experience the subtlest spiritual perceptions. In Naren it accounts for

the great power of concentration, memory, and insight, and for his indomitable mental

energy and physical stamina.

In his youth Narendra used to see every night two visions, utterly dissimilar in nature,

before falling asleep. One was that of a worldly man with an accomplished wife and

children, enjoying wealth, luxuries, fame, and social position; the other, that of a

sannyasin, a wandering monk, bereft of earthly security and devoted to the

contemplation of God. Narendra felt that he had the power to realize either of these

ideals; but when his mind reflected on their respective virtues, he was inevitably drawn

to the life of renunciation. The glamour of the world would fade and disappear. His

deeper self instinctively chose the austere path.

For a time the congregational prayers and the devotional songs of the Brahmo Samaj

exhilarated Narendra's mind, but soon he found that they did not give him any real

spiritual experience. He wanted to realize God, the goal of religion, and so felt the

imperative need of being instructed by a man who had seen God.

In his eagerness he went to Devendranath, the venerable leader of the Brahmo Samaj,

and asked him, even before the latter had uttered a word, 'Sir, have you seen God?'

Devendranath was embarrassed and replied: 'My boy, you have the eyes of a yogi. You

should practise meditation.'

The youth was disappointed and felt that this teacher was not the man to help him in

his spiritual struggle. But he received no better answer from the leaders of other

religious sects. Then he remembered having heard the name of Ramakrishna

Paramahamsa from Professor Hastie, who while lecturing his class on Wordsworth's

poem The Excursion, had spoken of trances, remarking that such religious ecstasies

were the result of purity and concentration. He had said, further, that an exalted

experience of this kind was a rare phenomenon, especially in modern times. 'I have

known,' he had said, 'only one person who has realized that blessed state, and he is

Ramakrishna of Dakshineswar. You will understand trances if you visit the saint.'

Narendra had also heard about Sri Ramakrishna from a relative, Ramchandra Datta,

who was one of the foremost householder disciples of the Master. Learning of

Narendra's unwillingness to marry and ascribing it to his desire to lead a spiritual life,

Ramchandra had said to him, 'If you really want to cultivate spirituality, then visit

Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar.'

Narendra met Ramakrishna for the first time in November 1881 at the house of the

Master's devotee Surendranath Mitra, the young man having been invited there to

entertain the visitors with his melodious music. The Paramahamsa was much

impressed by his sincerity and devotion, and after a few inquiries asked him to visit

him at Dakshineswar. Narendra accepted. He wished to learn if Ramakrishna was the

man to help him in his spiritual quest.

AT THE FEET OF RAMAKRISHNA

Ramakrishna, the God-man of modern times, was born on February 18, 1836, in the

little village of Kamarpukur, in the district of Hooghly in Bengal. How different were

his upbringing and the environment of his boyhood from those of Narendranath, who

was to become, later, the bearer and interpreter of his message! Ramakrishna's parents,

belonging to the brahmin caste, were poor, pious, and devoted to the traditions of their

ancient religion. Full of fun and innocent joys, the fair child, with flowing hair and a

sweet, musical voice, grew up in a simple countryside of rice-fields, cows, and banyan

and mango trees. He was apathetic about his studies and remained practically illiterate

all his life, but his innate spiritual tendencies found expression through devotional

songs and the company of wandering monks, who fired his boyish imagination by the

stories of their spiritual adventures. At the age of six he experienced a spiritual ecstasy

while watching a flight of snow-white cranes against a black sky overcast with rain-

clouds. He began to go into trances as he meditated on gods and goddesses. His father's

death, which left the family in straitened circumstances, deepened his spiritual mood.

And so, though at the age of sixteen he joined his brother in Calcutta, he refused to go

on there with his studies; for, as he remarked, he was simply not interested in an

education whose sole purpose was to earn mere bread and butter. He felt a deep

longing for the realization of God.

The floodgate of Ramakrishna's emotion burst all bounds when he took up the duties of

a priest in the Kali temple of Dakshineswar, where the Deity was worshipped as the

Divine Mother. Ignorant of the scriptures and of the intricacies of ritual, Ramakrishna

poured his whole soul into prayer, which often took the form of devotional songs.

Food, sleep, and other physical needs were completely forgotten in an all-consuming

passion for the vision of God. His nights were spent in contemplation in the

neighbouring woods. Doubt sometimes alternated with hope; but an inner certainty and

the testimony of the illumined saints sustained him in his darkest hours of despair.

Formal worship or the mere sight of the image did not satisfy his inquiring mind; for

he felt that a figure of stone could not be the bestower of peace and immortality.

Behind the image there must be the real Spirit, which he was determined to behold.

This was not an easy task. For a long time the Spirit played with him a teasing game of

hide-and-seek, but at last it yielded to the demand of love on the part of the young

devotee. When he felt the direct presence of the Divine Mother, Ramakrishna dropped

unconscious to the floor, experiencing within himself a constant flow of bliss.

This foretaste of what was to follow made him God-intoxicated, and whetted his

appetite for further experience. He wished to see God uninterruptedly, with eyes open

as well as closed. He therefore abandoned himself recklessly to the practice of various

extreme spiritual disciplines. To remove from his mind the least trace of the arrogance

of his high brahmin caste, he used to clean stealthily the latrine at a pariah's house.

Through a stern process of discrimination he effaced all sense of distinction between

gold and clay. Purity became the very breath of his nostrils, and he could not regard a

woman, even in a dream, in any other way except as his own mother or the Mother of

the universe. For years his eyelids did not touch each other in sleep. And he was finally

thought to be insane.

Indeed, the stress of his spiritual practice soon told upon Ramakrishna's delicate body

and he returned to Kamarpukur to recover his health. His relatives and old friends saw

a marked change in his nature; for the gay boy had been transformed into a

contemplative young man whose vision was directed to something on a distant horizon.

His mother proposed marriage, and finding in this the will of the Divine Mother,

Ramakrishna consented. He even indicated where the girl was to be found, namely, in

the village of Jayrambati, only three miles away. Here lived the little Saradamani, a girl

of five, who was in many respects very different from the other girls of her age. The

child would pray to God to make her character as fragrant as the tuberose. Later, at

Dakshineswar, she prayed to God to make her purer than the full moon, which, pure as

it was, showed a few dark spots. The marriage was celebrated and Ramakrishna,

participating, regarded the whole affair as fun or a new excitement.

In a short while he came back to Dakshineswar and plunged again into the stormy life

of religious experimentation. His mother, his newly married wife, and his relatives

were forgotten. Now, however, his spiritual disciplines took a new course. He wanted

to follow the time-honoured paths of the Hindu religion under the guidance of

competent teachers, and they came to him one by one, nobody knew from where. One

was a woman, under whom he practised the disciplines of Tantra and of the Vaishnava

faith and achieved the highest result in an incredibly short time. It was she who

diagnosed his physical malady as the manifestation of deep spiritual emotions and

described his apparent insanity as the result of an agonizing love for God; he was

immediately relieved. It was she, moreover, who first declared him to be an

Incarnation of God, and she proved her statement before an assembly of theologians by

scriptural evidence. Under another teacher, the monk Jatadhari, Ramakrishna delved

into the mysteries of Rama worship and experienced Rama's visible presence. Further,

he communed with God through the divine relationships of Father, Mother, Friend, and

Beloved. By an austere sannyasin named Totapuri, he was initiated into the monastic

life, and in three days he realized his complete oneness with Brahman, the

undifferentiated Absolute, which is the culmination of man's spiritual endeavour.

Totapuri himself had had to struggle for forty years to realize this identity.

Ramakrishna turned next to Christianity and Islam, to practise their respective

disciplines, and he attained the same result that he had attained through Hinduism. He

was thereby convinced that these, too, were ways to the realization of God-

consciousness. Finally, he worshipped his own wife — who in the meantime had

grown into a young woman of nineteen — as the manifestation of the Divine Mother of

the universe and surrendered at her feet the fruit of his past spiritual practices. After

this he left behind all his disciplines and struggles. For according to Hindu tradition,

when the normal relationship between husband and wife, which is the strongest

foundation of the worldly life, has been transcended and a man sees in his wife the

divine presence, he then sees God everywhere in the universe. This is the culmination

of the spiritual life.

Ramakrishna himself was now convinced of his divine mission on earth and came to

know that through him the Divine Mother would found a new religious order

comprising those who would accept the doctrine of the Universal Religion which he

had experienced. It was further revealed to him that anyone who had prayed to God

sincerely, even once, as well as those who were passing through their final birth on

earth, would accept him as their spiritual ideal and mould their lives according to his

universal teaching.

The people around him were bewildered to see this transformation of a man whom

they had ridiculed only a short while ago as insane. The young priest had become

God's devotee; the devotee, an ascetic; the ascetic, a saint; the saint, a man of

realization; and the man of realization, a new Prophet. Like the full-blown blossom

attracting bees, Ramakrishna drew to him men and women of differing faith,

intelligence, and social position. He gave generously to all from the inexhaustible store

house of divine wisdom, and everyone felt uplifted in his presence. But the Master

himself was not completely satisfied. He longed for young souls yet untouched by the

world, who would renounce everything for the realization of God and the service of

humanity. He was literally consumed with this longing. The talk of worldly people was

tasteless to him. He often compared such people to mixture of milk and water with the

latter preponderating, and said that he had become weary of trying to prepare thick

milk from the mixture. Evenings, when his anguish reached its limit, he would climb

the roof of a building near the temple and cry at the top of his voice: 'Come, my boys!

Oh, where are you all? I cannot bear to live without you!' A mother could not feel more

intensely for her beloved children, a friend for his dearest friend, or a lover for her

sweetheart.

Shortly thereafter the young men destined to be his monastic disciples began to arrive.

And foremost among them was Narendranath.

The first meeting at Dakshineswar between the Master and Narendra was momentous.

Sri Ramakrishna recognized instantaneously his future messenger. Narendra, careless

about his clothes and general appearance, was so unlike the other young men who had

accompanied him to the temple. His eyes were impressive, partly indrawn, indicating a

meditative mood. He sang a few songs, and as usual poured into them his whole soul.

His first song was this:

Let us go back once more,

O mind, to our proper home!

Here in this foreign land of earth Why should we wander aimlessly in stranger's guise?

These living beings round about,

And the five elements,

Are strangers to you, all of them; none are your own.

Why do you so forget yourself,

In love with strangers, foolish mind?

Why do you so forget your own?

Mount the path of truth,

O mind! Unflaggingly climb,

With love as the lamp to light your way.

As your provision on the journey, take with you

The virtues, hidden carefully;

For, like two highwaymen,

Greed and delusion wait to rob you of your wealth.

And keep beside you constantly,

As guards to shelter you from harm,

Calmness of mind and self-control.

Companionship with holy men will be for you

A welcome rest-house by the road;

There rest your weary limbs awhile, asking your way,

If ever you should be in doubt,

Of him who watches there.

If anything along the path should cause you fear,

Then loudly shout the name of God;

For He is ruler of that road,

And even Death must bow to Him.

When the singing was over, Sri Ramakrishna suddenly grasped Narendra's hand and

took him into the northern porch. To Narendra's utter amazement, the Master said with

tears streaming down his cheeks: 'Ah! you have come so late. How unkind of you to

keep me waiting so long!

My ears are almost seared listening to the cheap talk of worldly people. Oh, how I have

been yearning to unburden my mind to one who will understand my thought!' Then

with folded hands he said: 'Lord! I know you are the ancient sage Nara — the

Incarnation of Narayana — born on earth to remove the miseries of mankind.' The

rationalist Naren regarded these words as the meaningless jargon of an insane person.

He was further dismayed when Sri Ramakrishna presently brought from his room some

sweets and fed him with his own hands. But the Master nevertheless extracted from

him a promise to visit Dakshineswar again.

They returned to the room and Naren asked the Master, 'Sir, have you seen God?'

Without a moment's hesitation the reply was given: 'Yes, I have seen God. I see Him as

I see you here, only more clearly. God can be seen. One can talk to him. But who cares

for God? People shed torrents of tears for their wives, children, wealth, and property,

but who weeps for the vision of God? If one cries sincerely for God, one can surely see

Him.'

Narendra was astounded. For the first time, he was face to face with a man who

asserted that he had seen God. For the first time, in fact, he was hearing that God could

be seen. He could feel that Ramakrishna's words were uttered from the depths of an

inner experience. They could not be doubted. Still he could not reconcile these words

with Ramakrishna's strange conduct, which he had witnessed only a few minutes

before. What puzzled Narendra further was Ramakrishna's normal behaviour in the

presence of others. The young man returned to Calcutta bewildered, but yet with a

feeling of inner peace.

During his second visit to the Master, Narendra had an even stranger experience. After

a minute or two Sri Ramakrishna drew near him in an ecstatic mood, muttered some

words, fixed his eyes on him, and placed his right foot on Naren's body. At this touch

Naren saw, with eyes open, the walls, the room, the temple garden — nay, the whole

world — vanishing, and even himself disappearing into a void. He felt sure that he was

facing death. He cried in consternation: 'What are you doing to me? I have my parents,

brothers, and sisters at home.'

The Master laughed and stroked Naren's chest, restoring him to his normal mood. He

said, 'All right, everything will happen in due time.'

Narendra, completely puzzled, felt that Ramakrishna had cast a hypnotic spell upon

him. But how could that have been? Did he not pride himself in the possession of an

iron will? He felt disgusted that he should have been unable to resist the influence of a

madman. Nonetheless he felt a great inner attraction for Sri Ramakrishna.

On his third visit Naren fared no better, though he tried his utmost to be on guard. Sri

Ramakrishna took him to a neighbouring garden and, in a state of trance, touched him.

Completely overwhelmed, Naren lost consciousness.

Sri Ramakrishna, referring later to this incident, said that after putting Naren into a

state of unconsciousness, he had asked him many questions about his past, his mission

in the world, and the duration of his present life. The answer had only confirmed what

he himself had thought about these matters. Ramakrishna told his other disciples that

Naren had attained perfection even before this birth; that he was an adept in

meditation; and that the day Naren recognized his true self, he would give up the body

by an act of will, through yoga. Often he was heard to say that Naren was one of the

Saptarshis, or Seven Sages, who live in the realm of the Absolute. He narrated to them

a vision he had had regarding the disciple's spiritual heritage.

Absorbed, one day, in samadhi, Ramakrishna had found that his mind was soaring

high, going beyond the physical universe of the sun, moon, and stars, and passing into

the subtle region of ideas. As it continued to ascend, the forms of gods and goddesses

were left behind, and it crossed the luminous barrier separating the phenomenal

universe from the Absolute, entering finally the transcendental realm. There

Ramakrishna saw seven venerable sages absorbed in meditation. These, he thought,

must have surpassed even the gods and goddesses in wisdom and holiness, and as he

was admiring their unique spirituality he saw a portion of the undifferentiated Absolute

become congealed, as it were, and take the form of a Divine Child. Gently clasping the

neck of one of the sages with His soft arms, the Child whispered something in his ear,

and at this magic touch the sage awoke from meditation. He fixed his half-open eyes

upon the wondrous Child, who said in great joy: 'I am going down to earth. Won't you

come with me?' With a benign look the sage expressed assent and returned into deep

spiritual ecstasy. Ramakrishna was amazed to observe that a tiny portion of the sage,

however, descended to earth, taking the form of light, which struck the house in

Calcutta where Narendra's family lived, and when he saw Narendra for the first time,

he at once recognized him as the incarnation of the sage. He also admitted that the

Divine Child who brought about the descent of the rishi was none other than himself.

The meeting of Narendra and Sri Ramakrishna was an important event in the lives of

both. A storm had been raging in Narendra's soul when he came to Sri Ramakrishna,

who himself had passed through a similar struggle but was now firmly anchored in

peace as a result of his intimate communion with the Godhead and his realization of

Brahman as the immutable essence of all things.

A genuine product of the Indian soil and thoroughly acquainted with the spiritual

traditions of India, Sri Ramakrishna was ignorant of the modern way of thinking. But

Narendra was the symbol of the modern spirit. Inquisitive, alert, and intellectually

honest, he possessed an open mind and demanded rational proof before accepting any

conclusion as valid. As a loyal member of the Brahmo Samaj he was critical of image

worship and the rituals of the Hindu religion. He did not feel the need of a guru, a

human intermediary between God and man. He was even sceptical about the existence

of such a person, who was said to be free from human limitations and to whom an

aspirant was expected to surrender himself completely and offer worship as to God.

Ramakrishna's visions of gods and goddesses he openly ridiculed, and called them

hallucinations.

For five years Narendra closely watched the Master, never allowing himself to be

influenced by blind faith, always testing the words and actions of Sri Ramakrishna in

the crucible of reason. It cost him many sorrows and much anguish before he accepted

Sri Ramakrishna as the guru and the ideal of the spiritual life. But when the acceptance

came, it was wholehearted, final, and irrevocable. The Master, too, was overjoyed to

find a disciple who doubted, and he knew that Naren was the one to carry his message

to the world.

The inner process that gradually transformed the chrysalis of Narendra into a beautiful

butterfly will for ever remain, like all deep spiritual mysteries, unknown to the outer

world. People, however, noticed the growth of an intimate relationship between the

loving, patient, and forgiving teacher and his imperious and stubborn disciple. The

Master never once asked Naren to abandon reason. He met the challenge of Naren's

intellect with his superior understanding, acquired through firsthand knowledge of the

essence of things. When Naren's reasoning failed to solve the ultimate mystery, the

teacher gave him the necessary insight. Thus, with infinite patience, love, and

vigilance, he tamed the rebellious spirit, demanding complete obedience to moral and

spiritual disciplines, without which the religious life can not be built on a firm

foundation.

The very presence of Narendranath would fill the Master's mind with indescribable joy

and create ecstatic moods. He had already known, by many indications, of the

disciple's future greatness, the manifestation of which awaited only the fullness of

time, What others regarded in Naren as stubbornness or haughtiness appeared to Sri

Ramakrishna as the expression of his manliness and self-reliance, born of his self-

control and innate purity. He could not bear the slightest criticism of Naren and often

said: 'Let no one judge him hastily. People will never understand him fully.'

Ramakrishna loved Narendranath because he saw him as the embodiment of Narayana,

the Divine Spirit, undefiled by the foul breath of the world. But he was criticized for

his attachment. Once a trouble-maker of twisted mind named Hazra, who lived with

the Master at Dakshineswar, said to him, 'If you long for Naren and the other

youngsters all the time, when will you think of God?' The Master was distressed by

this thought. But it was at once revealed to him that though God dwelt in all beings, He

was especially manifest in a pure soul like Naren. Relieved of his worries, he then said:

'Oh, what a fool Hazra is! How he unsettled my mind! But why blame the poor fellow?

How could he know?'

Sri Ramakrishna was outspoken in Narendra's praise. This often embarrassed the

young disciple, who would criticize the Master for what he termed a sort of infatuation.

One day Ramakrishna spoke highly of Keshab Sen and the saintly Vijay Goswami, the

two outstanding leaders of the Brahmo Samaj. Then he added: 'If Keshab possesses

one virtue which has made him world-famous, Naren is endowed with eighteen such

virtues. I have seen in Keshab and Vijay the divine light burning like a candle flame,

but in Naren it shines with the radiance of the sun.'

Narendra, instead of feeling flattered by these compliments, became annoyed and

sharply rebuked the Master for what he regarded as his foolhardiness. 'I cannot help it,'

the Master protested. 'Do you think these are my words? The Divine Mother showed

me certain things about you, which I repeated. And She reveals to me nothing but the

truth.'

But Naren was hardly convinced. He was sure that these so-called revelations were

pure illusions. He carefully explained to Sri Ramakrishna that, from the viewpoint of

Western science and philosophy, very often a man was deceived by his mind, and that

the chances of deception were greater when a personal attachment was involved. He

said to the Master, 'Since you love me and wish to see me great, these fancies naturally

come to your mind.'

The Master was perplexed. He prayed to the Divine Mother for light and was told:

'Why do you care about what he says? In a short time he will accept your every word

as true.'

On another occasion, when the Master was similarly reprimanded by the disciple, he

was reassured by the Divine Mother. Thereupon he said to Naren with a smile: 'You

are a rogue. I won't listen to you any more. Mother says that I love you because I see

the Lord in you. The day I shall not see Him in you, I shall not be able to bear even the

sight of you.'

On account of his preoccupation with his studies, or for other reasons, Narendra could

not come to Dakshineswar as often as Sri Ramakrishna wished. But the Master could

hardly endure his prolonged absence. If the disciple had not visited him for a number

of days, he would send someone to Calcutta to fetch him. Sometimes he went to

Calcutta himself. One time, for example, Narendra remained away from Dakshineswar

for several weeks; even the Master's eager importunities failed to bring him. Sri

Ramakrishna knew that he sang regularly at the prayer meetings of the Brahmo Samaj,

and so one day he made his way to the Brahmo temple that the disciple attended.

Narendra was singing in the choir as the Master entered the hall, and when he heard

Narendra's voice, Sri Ramakrishna fell into a deep ecstasy. The eyes of the

congregation turned to him, and soon a commotion followed. Narendra hurried to his

side. One of the Brahmo leaders, in order to stop the excitement, put out the lights. The

young disciple, realizing that the Master's sudden appearance was the cause of the

disturbance, sharply took him to task. The latter answered, with tears in his eyes, that

he had simply not been able to keep himself away from Narendra.

On another occasion, Sri Ramakrishna, unable to bear Narendra's absence, went to

Calcutta to visit the disciple at his own home. He was told that Naren was studying in

an attic in the second floor that could be reached only by a steep staircase. His nephew.

Ramlal, who was a sort of caretaker of the Master, had accompanied him, and with his

help Sri Ramakrishna climbed a few steps. Narendra appeared at the head of the stair,

and at the very sight of him Sri Ramakrishna exclaimed, 'Naren, my beloved!' and went

into ecstasy. With considerable difficulty Naren and Ramlal helped him to finish

climbing the steps, and as he entered the room the Master fell into deep samadhi. A

fellow student who was with Naren at the time and did not know anything of religious

trances, asked Naren in bewilderment, 'Who is this man?'

'Never mind,' replied Naren. 'You had better go home now.'

Naren often said that the 'Old Man,' meaning Ramakrishna, bound the disciple for ever

to him by his love. 'What do worldly men,' he remarked, 'know about love? They only

make a show of it. The Master alone loves us genuinely.' Naren, in return, bore a deep

love for Sri Ramakrishna, though he seldom expressed it in words. He took delight in

criticizing the Master's spiritual experiences as evidences of a lack of self-control. He

made fun of his worship of Kali.

'Why do you come here,' Sri Ramakrishna once asked him, 'if you do not accept Kali,

my Mother?'

'Bah! Must I accept Her,' Naren retorted, 'simply because I come to see you? I come to

you because I love you.'

'All right,' said the Master, 'ere long you will not only accept my blessed Mother, but

weep in Her name.'

Turning to his other disciples, he said: 'This boy has no faith in the forms of God and

tells me that my visions are pure imagination. But he is a fine lad of pure mind. He

does not accept anything without direct evidence. He has studied much and cultivated

great discrimination. He has fine judgement

.'

TRAINING OF THE DISCIPLE

It is hard to say when Naren actually accepted Sri Ramakrishna as his guru. As far as

the master was concerned, the spiritual relationship was established at the first meeting

at Dakshineswar, when he had touched Naren, stirring him to his inner depths. From

that moment he had implicit faith in the disciple and bore him a great love. But he

encouraged Naren in the independence of his thinking. The love and faith of the Master

acted as a restraint upon the impetuous youth and became his strong shield against the

temptations of the world. By gradual steps the disciple was then led from doubt to

certainty, and from anguish of mind to the bliss of the Spirit. This, however, was not an

easy attainment.

Sri Ramakrishna, perfect teacher that he was, never laid down identical disciplines for

disciples of diverse temperaments. He did not insist that Narendra should follow strict

rules about food, nor did he ask him to believe in the reality of the gods and goddesses

of Hindu mythology. It was not necessary for Narendra's philosophic mind to pursue

the disciplines of concrete worship. But a strict eye was kept on Naren's practice of

discrimination, detachment, self-control, and regular meditation. Sri Ramakrishna

enjoyed Naren's vehement arguments with the other devotees regarding the dogmas

and creeds of religion and was delighted to hear him tear to shreds their unquestioning

beliefs. But when, as often happened, Naren teased the gentle Rakhal for showing

reverence to the Divine Mother Kali, the Master would not tolerate these attempts to

unsettle the brother disciple's faith in the forms of God.

As a member of the Brahmo Samaj, Narendra accepted its doctrine of monotheism and

the Personal God. He also believed in the natural depravity of man. Such doctrines of

non-dualistic Vedanta as the divinity of the soul and the oneness of existence he

regarded as blasphemy; the view that man is one with God appeared to him pure

nonsense. When the master warned him against thus limiting God's infinitude and

asked him to pray to God to reveal to him His true nature, Narendra smiled. One day

he was making fun of Sri Ramakrishna's non-dualism before a friend and said, 'What

can be more absurd than to say that this jug is God, this cup is God, and that we too are

God?' Both roared with laughter.

Just then the Master appeared. Coming to learn the cause of their fun, he gently

touched Naren and plunged into deep samadhi. The touch produced a magic effect, and

Narendra entered a new realm of consciousness. He saw the whole universe permeated

by the Divine Spirit and returned home in a daze. While eating his meal, he felt the

presence of Brahman in everything — in the food, and in himself too. While walking

in the street, he saw the carriages, the horses, the crowd, and himself as if made of the

same substance. After a few days the intensity of the vision lessened to some extent,

but still he could see the world only as a dream. While strolling in a public park of

Calcutta, he struck his head against the iron railing, several times, to see if they were

real or a mere illusion of the mind. Thus he got a glimpse of non-dualism, the fullest

realization of which was to come only later, at the Cossipore garden.

Sri Ramakrishna was always pleased when his disciples put to the test his statements or

behaviour before accepting his teachings. He would say: 'Test me as the money-

changers test their coins. You must not believe me without testing me thoroughly.' The

disciples often heard him say that his nervous system had undergone a complete

change as a result of his spiritual experiences, and that he could not bear the touch of

any metal, such as gold or silver. One day, during his absence in Calcutta, Narendra

hid a coin under Ramakrishna's bed. After his return when the Master sat on the bed,

he started up in pain as if stung by an insect. The mattress was examined and the

hidden coin was found.

Naren, on the other hand, was often tested by the Master. One day, when he entered the

Master's room, he was completely ignored. Not a word of greeting was uttered. A week

later he came back and met with the same indifference, and during the third and fourth

visits saw no evidence of any thawing of the Master's frigid attitude.

At the end of a month Sri Ramakrishna said to Naren, 'I have not exchanged a single

word with you all this time, and still you come.'

The disciple replied: 'I come to Dakshineswar because I love you and want to see you.

I do not come here to hear your words.'

The Master was overjoyed. Embracing the disciple, he said: 'I was only testing you. I

wanted to see if you would stay away on account of my outward indifference. Only a

man of your inner strength could put up with such indifference on my part. Anyone

else would have left me long ago.'

On one occasion Sri Ramakrishna proposed to transfer to Narendranath many of the

spiritual powers that he had acquired as a result of his ascetic disciplines and visions of

God. Naren had no doubt concerning the Master's possessing such powers. He asked if

they would help him to realize God. Sri Ramakrishna replied in the negative but added

that they might assist him in his future work as a spiritual teacher. 'Let me realize God

first,' said Naren, 'and then I shall perhaps know whether or not I want supernatural

powers. If I accept them now, I may forget God, make selfish use of them, and thus

come to grief.' Sri Ramakrishna was highly pleased to see his chief disciple's single-

minded devotion.

Several factors were at work to mould the personality of young Narendranath.

Foremost of these were his inborn spiritual tendencies, which were beginning to show

themselves under the influence of Sri Ramakrishna, but against which his rational mind

put up a strenuous fight. Second was his habit of thinking highly and acting nobly,

disciplines acquired from a mother steeped in the spiritual heritage of India. Third were

his broadmindedness and regard for truth wherever found, and his sceptical attitude

towards the religious beliefs and social conventions of the Hindu society of his time.

These he had learnt from his English-educated father, and he was strengthened in them

through his own contact with Western culture.

With the introduction in India of English education during the middle of the nineteenth

century, as we have seen, Western science, history, and philosophy were studied in the

Indian colleges and universities. The educated Hindu youths, allured by the glamour,

began to mould their thought according to this new light, and Narendra could not

escape the influence. He developed a great respect for the analytical scientific method

and subjected many of the Master's spiritual visions to such scrutiny. The English poets

stirred his feelings, especially Wordsworth and Shelley, and he took a course in

Western medicine to understand the functioning of the nervous system, particularly the

brain and spinal cord, in order to find out the secrets of Sri Ramakrishna's trances. But

all this only deepened his inner turmoil.

John Stuart Mill's Three Essays on Religion upset his boyish theism and the easy

optimism imbibed from the Brahmo Samaj. The presence of evil in nature and man

haunted him and he could not reconcile it at all with the goodness of an omnipotent

Creator. Hume's scepticism and Herbert Spencer's doctrine of the Unknowable filled

his mind with a settled philosophical agnosticism. After the wearing out of his first

emotional freshness and naivete, he was beset with a certain dryness and incapacity for

the old prayers and devotions. He was filled with an ennui which he concealed,

however, under his jovial nature. Music, at this difficult stage of his life, rendered him

great help; for it moved him as nothing else and gave him a glimpse of unseen realities

that often brought tears to his eyes.

Narendra did not have much patience with humdrum reading, nor did he care to absorb

knowledge from books as much as from living communion and personal experience.

He wanted life to be kindled by life, and thought kindled by thought. He studied

Shelley under a college friend, Brajendranath Seal, who later became the leading

Indian philosopher of his time, and deeply felt with the poet his pantheism, impersonal

love, and vision of a glorified millennial humanity. The universe, no longer a mere

lifeless, loveless mechanism, was seen to contain a spiritual principle of unity.

Brajendranath, moreover, tried to present him with a synthesis of the Supreme

Brahman of Vedanta, the Universal Reason of Hegel, and the gospel of Liberty,

Equality, and Fraternity of the French Revolution. By accepting as the principle of

morals the sovereignty of the Universal Reason and the negation of the individual,

Narendra achieved an intellectual victory over scepticism and materialism, but no

peace of mind.

Narendra now had to face a new difficulty. The 'ballet of bloodless categories' of Hegel

and his creed of Universal Reason required of Naren a suppression of the yearning and

susceptibility of his artistic nature and joyous temperament, the destruction of the

cravings of his keen and acute senses, and the smothering of his free and merry

conviviality. This amounted almost to killing his own true self. Further, he could not

find in such a philosophy any help in the struggle of a hot-blooded youth against the

cravings of the passions, which appeared to him as impure, gross, and carnal. Some of

his musical associates were men of loose morals for whom he felt a bitter and

undisguised contempt.

Narendra therefore asked his friend Brajendra if the latter knew the way of deliverance

from the bondage of the senses, but he was told only to rely upon Pure Reason and to

identify the self with it, and was promised that through this he would experience an

ineffable peace. The friend was a Platonic transcendentalist and did not have faith in

what he called the artificial prop of grace, or the mediation of a guru. But the problems

and difficulties of Narendra were very different from those of his intellectual friend.

He found that mere philosophy was impotent in the hour of temptation and in the

struggle for his soul's deliverance. He felt the need of a hand to save, to uplift, to

protect — shakti or power outside his rational mind that would transform his

impotence into strength and glory. He wanted a flesh-and-blood reality established in

peace and certainty, in short, a living guru, who, by embodying perfection in the flesh,

would compose the commotion of his soul.

The leaders of the Brahmo Samaj, as well as those of the other religious sects, had

failed. It was only Ramakrishna who spoke to him with authority, as none had spoken

before, and by his power brought peace into the troubled soul and healed the wounds

of the spirit. At first Naren feared that the serenity that possessed him in the presence

of the Master was illusory, but his misgivings were gradually vanquished by the calm

assurance transmitted to him by Ramakrishna out of his own experience of

Satchidananda Brahman — Existence, Knowledge, and Bliss Absolute. (This account

of the struggle of Naren's collegiate days summarizes an article on Swami

Vivekananda by Brajendranath Seal, published in the Life of Swami Vivekananda by

the Advaita Ashrama, Mayavati, India.)

Narendra could not but recognize the contrast of the Sturm und Drang of his soul with

the serene bliss in which Sri Ramakrishna was always bathed. He begged the Master to

teach him meditation, and Sri Ramakrishna's reply was to him a source of comfort and

strength. The Master said: 'God listens to our sincere prayer. I can swear that you can

see God and talk with Him as intensely as you see me and talk with me. You can hear

His words and feel His touch.' Further the Master declared: 'You may not believe in

divine forms, but if you believe in an Ultimate Reality who is the Regulator of the

universe, you can pray to Him thus: "O God, I do not know Thee. Be gracious to reveal

to me Thy real nature." He will certainly listen to you if your prayer is sincere.'

Narendra, intensifying his meditation under the Master's guidance, began to lose

consciousness of the body and to feel an inner peace, and this peace would linger even

after the meditation was over. Frequently he felt the separation of the body from the

soul. Strange perceptions came to him in dreams, producing a sense of exaltation that

persisted after he awoke. The guru was performing his task in an inscrutable manner,

Narendra's friends observed only his outer struggle; but the real transformation was

known to the teacher alone — or perhaps to the disciple too.

In 1884, when Narendranath was preparing for the B.A. examination, his family was

struck by a calamity. His father suddenly died, and the mother and children were

plunged into great grief. For Viswanath, a man of generous nature, had lived beyond

his means, and his death burdened the family with a heavy debt. Creditors, like hungry

wolves, began to prowl about the door, and to make matters worse, certain relatives

brought a lawsuit for the partition of the ancestral home. Though they lost it, Narendra

was faced, thereafter, with poverty. As the eldest male member of the family, he had to

find the wherewithal for the feeding of seven or eight mouths and began to hunt a job.

He also attended the law classes. He went about clad in coarse clothes, barefoot, and

hungry. Often he refused invitations for dinner from friends, remembering his starving

mother, brothers, and sisters at home. He would skip family meals on the fictitious plea

that he had already eaten at a friend's house, so that the people at home might receive a

larger share of the scanty food. The Datta family was proud and would not dream of

soliciting help from outsiders. With his companions Narendra was his usual gay self.

His rich friends no doubt noticed his pale face, but they did nothing to help. Only one

friend sent occasional anonymous aid, and Narendra remained grateful to him for life.

Meanwhile, all his efforts to find employment failed. Some friends who earned money

in a dishonest way asked him to join them, and a rich woman sent him an immoral

proposal, promising to put an end to his financial distress. But Narendra gave to these a

blunt rebuff. Sometimes he would wonder if the world were not the handiwork of the

Devil — for how could one account for so much suffering in God's creation?

One day, after a futile search for a job, he sat down, weary and footsore, in the big park

of Calcutta in the shadow of the Ochterlony monument. There some friends joined him

and one of them sang a song, perhaps to console him, describing God's abundant grace.

Bitterly Naren said: 'Will you please stop that song? Such fancies are, no doubt,

pleasing to those who are born with silver spoons in their mouths. Yes, there was a

time when I, too, thought like that. But today these ideas appear to me a mockery.'

The friends were bewildered.

One morning, as usual, Naren left his bed repeating God's name, and was about to go

out in search of work after seeking divine blessings. His mother heard the prayer and

said bitterly: 'Hush, you fool! You have been crying yourself hoarse for God since your

childhood. Tell me what has God done for you?' Evidently the crushing poverty at

home was too much for the pious mother.

These words stung Naren to the quick. A doubt crept into his mind about God's

existence and His Providence.

It was not in Naren's nature to hide his feelings. He argued before his friends and the

devotees of Sri Ramakrishna about God's non-existence and the futility of prayer even

if God existed. His over-zealous friends thought he had become an atheist and ascribed

to him many unmentionable crimes, which he had supposedly committed to forget his

misery. Some of the devotees of the Master shared these views. Narendra was angry

and mortified to think that they could believe him to have sunk so low. He became

hardened and justified drinking and the other dubious pleasures resorted to by

miserable people for a respite from their suffering. He said, further, that he himself

would not hesitate to follow such a course if he were assured of its efficacy. Openly

asserting that only cowards believed in God for fear of hell-fire, he argued the

possibility of God's non-existence and quoted Western philosophers in support of his

position. And when the devotees of the Master became convinced that he was

hopelessly lost, he felt a sort of inner satisfaction.

A garbled report of the matter reached Sri Ramakrishna, and Narendra thought that

perhaps the Master, too, doubted his moral integrity. The very idea revived his anger.

'Never mind,' he said to himself. 'If good or bad opinion of a man rests on such flimsy

grounds, I don't care.'

But Narendra was mistaken. For one day Bhavanath, a devotee of the master and an

intimate friend of Narendra, cast aspersions on the latter's character, and the Master

said angrily: 'Stop, you fool! The Mother has told me that it is simply not true. I shan't

look at your face if you speak to me again that way.'

The fact was that Narendra could not, in his heart of hearts, disbelieve in God. He

remembered the spiritual visions of his own boyhood and many others that he had

experienced in the company of the Master. Inwardly he longed to understand God and

His ways. And one day he gained this understanding. It happened in the following way:

He had been out since morning in a soaking rain in search of employment, having had

neither food nor rest for the whole day. That evening he sat down on the porch of a

house by the roadside, exhausted. He was in a daze. Thoughts began to flit before his

mind, which he could not control. Suddenly he had a strange vision, which lasted

almost the whole night. He felt that veil after veil was removed from before his soul,

and he understood the reconciliation of God's justice with His mercy. He came to know

— but he never told how — that misery could exist in the creation of a compassionate

God without impairing His sovereign power or touching man's real self. He understood

the meaning of it all and was at peace. Just before daybreak, refreshed both in body

and in mind, he returned home.

This revelation profoundly impressed Narendranath. He became indifferent to people's

opinion and was convinced that he was not born to lead an ordinary worldly life,

enjoying the love of a wife and children and physical luxuries. He recalled how the

several proposals of marriage made by his relatives had come to nothing, and he

ascribed all this to God's will. The peace and freedom of the monastic life cast a spell

upon him. He determined to renounce the world, and set a date for this act. Then,

coming to learn that Sri Ramakrishna would visit Calcutta that very day, he was happy

to think that he could embrace the life of a wandering monk with his guru's blessings.

When they met, the Master persuaded his disciple to accompany him to Dakshineswar.

As they arrived in his room, Sri Ramakrishna went into an ecstatic mood and sang a

song, while tears bathed his eyes. The words of the song clearly indicated that the

Master knew of the disciple's secret wish. When other devotees asked him about the

cause of his grief, Sri Ramakrishna said, 'Oh, never mind, it is something between me

and Naren, and nobody else's business.' At night he called Naren to his side and said

with great feeling: 'I know you are born for Mother's work. I also know that you will be

a monk. But stay in the world as long as I live, for my sake at least.' He wept again.

Soon after, Naren procured a temporary job, which was sufficient to provide a hand-to-

mouth living for the family.

One day Narendra asked himself why, since Kali, the Divine Mother listened to Sri

Ramakrishna prayers, should not the Master pray to Her to relieve his poverty. When

he told Sri Ramakrishna about this idea, the latter inquired why he did not pray himself

to Kali, adding that Narendranath suffered because he did not acknowledge Kali as the

Sovereign Mistress of the universe.

'Today,' the Master continued, 'is a Tuesday, an auspicious day for the Mother's

worship. Go to Her shrine in the evening, prostrate yourself before the image, and pray

to Her for any boon; it will be granted. Mother Kali is the embodiment of Love and

Compassion. She is the Power of Brahman. She gives birth to the world by Her mere

wish. She fulfils every sincere prayer of Her devotees.'

At nine o'clock in the evening, Narendranath went to the Kali temple. Passing through

the courtyard, he felt within himself a surge of emotion, and his heart leapt with joy in

anticipation of the vision of the Divine Mother. Entering the temple, he cast his eyes

upon the image and found the stone figure to be nothing else but the living Goddess,

the Divine Mother Herself, ready to give him any boon he wanted — either a happy

worldly life or the joy of spiritual freedom. He was in ecstasy. He prayed for the boon

of wisdom, discrimination, renunciation, and Her uninterrupted vision, but forgot to

ask the Deity for money. He felt great peace within as he returned to the Master's

room, and when asked if he had prayed for money, was startled. He said that he had

forgotten all about it. The Master told him to go to the temple again and pray to the

Divine Mother to satisfy his immediate needs. Naren did as he was bidden, but again

forgot his mission. The same thing happened a third time. Then Naren suddenly

realized that Sri Ramakrishna himself had made him forget to ask the Divine Mother

for worldly things; perhaps he wanted Naren to lead a life of renunciation. So he now

asked Sri Ramakrishna to do something for the family. The master told the disciple that

it was not Naren's destiny to enjoy a worldly life, but assured him that the family

would be able to eke out a simple existence.

The above incident left a deep impression upon Naren's mind; it enriched his spiritual

life, for he gained a new understanding of the Godhead and Its ways in the phenomenal

universe. Naren's idea of God had hitherto been confined either to that of a vague

Impersonal Reality or to that of an extracosmic Creator removed from the world. He

now realized that the Godhead is immanent in the creation, that after projecting the

universe from within Itself, It has entered into all created entities as life and

consciousness, whether manifest or latent. This same immanent Spirit, or the World

Soul, when regarded as a person creating, preserving, and destroying the universe, is

called the Personal God, and is worshipped by different religions through such a

relationship as that of father, mother, king, or beloved. These relationships, he came to

understand, have their appropriate symbols, and Kali is one of them.

Embodying in Herself creation and destruction, love and terror, life and death, Kali is

the symbol of the total universe. The eternal cycle of the manifestation and non-

manifestation of the universe is the breathing-out and breathing-in of this Divine

Mother. In one aspect She is death, without which there cannot be life. She is smeared

with blood, since without blood the picture of the phenomenal universe is not

complete. To the wicked who have transgressed Her laws, She is the embodiment of

terror, and to the virtuous, the benign Mother. Before creation She contains within Her

womb the seed of the universe, which is left from the previous cycle. After the

manifestation of the universe She becomes its preserver and nourisher, and at the end

of the cycle She draws it back within Herself and remains as the undifferentiated Sakti,

the creative power of Brahman. She is non-different from Brahman. When free from

the acts of creation, preservation, and destruction, the Spirit, in Its acosmic aspect, is

called Brahman; otherwise It is known as the World Soul or the Divine Mother of the

universe. She is therefore the doorway to the realization of the Absolute; She is the

Absolute. To the daring devotee who wants to see the transcendental Absolute, She

reveals that form by withdrawing Her phenomenal aspect. Brahman is Her

transcendental aspect. She is the Great Fact of the universe, the totality of created

beings. She is the Ruler and the Controller.

All this had previously been beyond Narendra's comprehension. He had accepted the

reality of the phenomenal world and yet denied the reality of Kali. He had been

conscious of hunger and thirst, pain and pleasure, and the other characteristics of the

world, and yet he had not accepted Kali, who controlled them all. That was why he had

suffered. But on that auspicious Tuesday evening the scales dropped from his eyes. He

accepted Kali as the Divine Mother of the universe. He became Her devotee.

Many years later he wrote to an American lady: 'Kali worship is my special fad.' But

he did not preach Her in public, because he thought that all that modern man required

was to be found in the Upanishads. Further, he realized that the Kali symbol would not

be understood by universal humanity.

Narendra enjoyed the company of the Master for six years, during which time his

spiritual life was moulded. Sri Ramakrishna was a wonderful teacher in every sense of

the word. Without imposing his ideas upon anyone, he taught more by the silent

influence of his inner life than by words or even by personal example. To live near him

demanded of the disciple purity of thought and concentration of mind. He often

appeared to his future monastic followers as their friend and playmate. Through fun

and merriment he always kept before them the shining ideal of God-realization. He

would not allow any deviation from bodily and mental chastity, nor any compromise

with truth and renunciation. Everything else he left to the will of the Divine Mother.

Narendra was his 'marked' disciple, chosen by the Lord for a special mission. Sri

Ramakrishna kept a sharp eye on him, though he appeared to give the disciple every

opportunity to release his pent-up physical and mental energy. Before him, Naren often

romped about like a young lion cub in the presence of a firm but indulgent parent. His

spiritual radiance often startled the Master, who saw that maya, the Great Enchantress,

could not approach within 'ten feet' of that blazing fire.

Narendra always came to the Master in the hours of his spiritual difficulties. One time

he complained that he could not meditate in the morning on account of the shrill note

of a whistle from a neighbouring mill, and was advised by the Master to concentrate on

the very sound of the whistle. In a short time he overcame the distraction. Another time

he found it difficult to forget the body at the time of meditation. Sri Ramakrishna

sharply pressed the space between Naren's eyebrows and asked him to concentrate on

that sensation. The disciple found this method effective.

Witnessing the religious ecstasy of several devotees, Narendra one day said to the

Master that he too wanted to experience it. 'My child,' he was told, 'when a huge

elephant enters a small pond, a great commotion is set up, but when it plunges into the

Ganga, the river shows very little agitation. These devotees are like small ponds; a

little experience makes their feelings flow over the brim. But you are a huge river.'

Another day the thought of excessive spiritual fervour frightened Naren. The Master

reassured him by saying: 'God is like an ocean of sweetness; wouldn't you dive into it?

Suppose there is a bowl filled with syrup, and you are a fly, hungry for the sweet

liquid. How would you like to drink it?' Narendra said that he would sit on the edge of

the bowl, otherwise he might be drowned in the syrup and lose his life. 'But,' the

Master said, 'you must not forget that I am talking of the Ocean of Satchidananda, the

Ocean of Immortality. Here one need not be afraid of death. Only fools say that one

should not have too much of divine ecstasy. Can anybody carry to excess the love of

God? You must dive deep in the Ocean of God.'

On one occasion Narendra and some of his brother disciples were vehemently arguing

about God's nature — whether He was personal or impersonal, whether Divine

Incarnation was fact or myth, and so forth and so on. Narendra silenced his opponents

by his sharp power of reasoning and felt jubilant at his triumph. Sri Ramakrishna

enjoyed the discussion and after it was over sang in an ecstatic mood:

How are you trying, O my mind,

to know the nature of God?

You are groping like a madman

locked in a dark room.

He is grasped through ecstatic love;

how can you fathom Him without it?

Only through affirmation, never negation,

can you know Him;

Neither through Veda nor through Tantra

nor the six darsanas.

All fell silent, and Narendra realized the inability of the intellect to fathom God's

mystery.

In his heart of hearts Naren was a lover of God. Pointing to his eyes, Ramakrishna said

that only a bhakta possessed such a tender look; the eyes of the jnani were generally

dry. Many a time, in his later years, Narendra said, comparing his own spiritual attitude

with that of the Master: 'He was a jnani within, but a bhakta without; but I am a bhakta

within, and a jnani without.' He meant that Ramakrishna's gigantic intellect was hidden

under a thin layer of devotion, and Narendra's devotional nature was covered by a

cloak of knowledge.

We have already referred to the great depth of Sri Ramakrishna's love for his beloved

disciple. He was worried about the distress of Naren's family and one day asked a

wealthy devotee if he could not help Naren financially. Naren's pride was wounded and

he mildly scolded the Master. The latter said with tears in his eyes: 'O my Naren! I can

do anything for you, even beg from door to door.' Narendra was deeply moved but said

nothing. Many days after, he remarked, 'The Master made me his slave by his love for

me.'

This great love of Sri Ramakrishna enabled Naren to face calmly the hardships of life.

Instead of hardening into a cynic, he developed a mellowness of heart. But, as will be

seen later, Naren to the end of his life was often misunderstood by his friends. A bold

thinker, he was far ahead of his time. Once he said: 'Why should I expect to be

understood? It is enough that they love me. After all, who am I? The Mother knows

best. She can do Her own work. Why should I think myself to be indispensable?'

The poverty at home was not an altogether unmitigated evil. It drew out another side of

Naren's character. He began to feel intensely for the needy and afflicted. Had he been

nurtured in luxury, the Master used to say, he would perhaps have become a different

person — a statesman, a lawyer, an orator, or a social reformer. But instead, he

dedicated his life to the service of humanity.

Sri Ramakrishna had had the prevision of Naren's future life of renunciation. Therefore

he was quite alarmed when he came to know of the various plans made by Naren's

relatives for his marriage. Prostrating himself in the shrine of Kali, he prayed

repeatedly: 'O Mother! Do break up these plans. Do not let him sink in the quagmire of

the world.' He closely watched Naren and warned him whenever he discovered the

trace of an impure thought in his mind.

Naren's keen mind understood the subtle implications of Sri Ramakrishna's teachings.

One day the Master said that the three salient disciplines of Vaishnavism were love of

God's name, service to the devotees, and compassion for all living beings. But he did

not like the word compassion and said to the devotees: 'How foolish to speak of

compassion! Man is an insignificant worm crawling on the earth — and he to show

compassion to others! This is absurd. It must not be compassion, but service to all.

Recognize them as God's manifestations and serve them.'

The other devotees heard the words of the Master but could hardly understand their

significance. Naren, however fathomed the meaning. Taking his young friends aside,

he said that Sri Ramakrishna's remarks had thrown wonderful light on the philosophy

of non-dualism with its discipline of non-attachment, and on that of dualism with its

discipline of love. The two were not really in conflict. A non-dualist did not have to

make his heart dry as sand, nor did he have to run away from the world. As Brahman

alone existed in all men, a non-dualist must love all and serve all. Love, in the true

sense of the word, is not possible unless one sees God in others. Naren said that the

Master's words also reconciled the paths of knowledge and action. An illumined person

did not have to remain inactive; he could commune with Brahman through service to

How did Narendra impress the other devotees of the Master, especially the youngsters?

He was their idol. They were awed by his intellect and fascinated by his personality. In

appearance he was a dynamic youth, overflowing with vigour and vitality, having a

physical frame slightly over middle height and somewhat thickset in the shoulders. He

was graceful without being feminine. He had a strong jaw, suggesting his staunch will

and fixed determination. The chest was expansive, and the breadth of the head towards

the front signified high mental power and development.

But the most remarkable thing about him was his eyes, which Sri Ramakrishna

compared to lotus petals. They were prominent but not protruding, and part of the time

their gaze was indrawn, suggesting the habit of deep meditation; their colour varied

according to the feeling of the moment. Sometimes they would be luminous in

profundity, and sometimes they sparkled in merriment. Endowed with the native grace

of an animal, he was free in his movements. He walked sometimes with a slow gait and

sometimes with rapidity, always a part of his mind absorbed in deep thought. And it

was a delight to hear his resonant voice, either in conversation or in music.

But when Naren was serious his face often frightened his friends. In a heated

discussion his eyes glowed. If immersed in his own thoughts, he created such an air of

aloofness that no one dared to approach him. Subject to various moods, sometimes he

showed utter impatience with his environment, and sometimes a tenderness that melted

everybody's heart. His smile was bright and infectious. To some he was a happy

dreamer, to some he lived in a real world rich with love and beauty, but to all he

unfailingly appeared a scion of an aristocratic home.

And how did the Master regard his beloved disciple? To quote his own words:

'Narendra belongs to a very high plane — the realm of the Absolute. He has a manly

nature. So many devotees come here, but there is no one like him.

'Every now and then I take stock of the devotees. I find that some are like lotuses with

ten petals, some like lotuses with a hundred petals. But among lotuses Narendra is a

thousand-petalled one.

'Other devotees may be like pots or pitchers; but Narendra is a huge water-barrel.

'Others may be like pools or tanks; but Narendra is a huge reservoir like the

Haldarpukur.

'Among fish, Narendra is a huge red-eyed carp; others are like minnows or smelts or

sardines.

'Narendra is a "very big receptacle", one that can hold many things. He is like a

bamboo with a big hollow space inside.

'Narendra is not under the control of anything. He is not under the control of

attachment or sense pleasures. He is like a male pigeon. If you hold a male pigeon by

its beak, it breaks away from you; but the female pigeon keeps still. I feel great

strength when Narendra is with me in a gathering.'

Sometime about the middle of 1885 Sri Ramakrishna showed the first symptoms of a

throat ailment that later was diagnosed as cancer. Against the advice of the physicians,

he continued to give instruction to spiritual seekers, and to fall into frequent trances.

Both of these practices aggravated the illness. For the convenience of the physicians

and the devotees, he was at first removed to a house in the northern section of Calcutta

and then to a garden house at Cossipore, a suburb of the city. Narendra and the other

young disciples took charge of nursing him. Disregarding the wishes of their

guardians, the boys gave up their studies or neglected their duties at home, at least

temporarily, in order to devote themselves heart and soul to the service of the Master.

His wife, known among the devotees as the Holy Mother, looked after the cooking; the

older devotees met the expenses. All regarded this service to the guru as a blessing and

privilege.

Narendra time and again showed his keen insight and mature judgement during Sri

Ramakrishna's illness. Many of the devotees, who looked upon the Master as God's

Incarnation and therefore refused to see in him any human frailty, began to give a

supernatural interpretation of his illness. They believed that it had been brought about

by the will of the Divine Mother or the Master himself to fulfil an inscrutable purpose,

and that it would be cured without any human effort after the purpose was fulfilled.

Narendra said, however, that since Sri Ramakrishna was a combination of God and

man the physical element in him was subject to such laws of nature as birth, growth,

decay, and destruction. He refused to give the Master's disease, a natural phenomenon,

any supernatural explanation. Nonetheless, he was willing to shed his last drop of

blood in the service of Sri Ramakrishna.

Emotion plays an important part in the development of the spiritual life. While intellect

removes the obstacles, it is emotion that gives the urge to the seeker to move forward.

But mere emotionalism without the disciplines of discrimination and renunciation

often leads him astray. He often uses it as a short cut to trance or ecstasy. Sri

Ramakrishna, no doubt, danced and wept while singing God's name and experienced

frequent trances; but behind his emotion there was the long practice of austerities and

renunciation. His devotees had not witnessed the practice of his spiritual disciplines.

Some of them, especially the elderly householders, began to display ecstasies

accompanied by tears and physical contortions, which in many cases, as later appeared,

were the result of careful rehearsal at home or mere imitation of Sri Ramakrishna's

genuine trances. Some of the devotees, who looked upon the Master as a Divine

Incarnation, thought that he had assumed their responsibilities, and therefore they

relaxed their own efforts. Others began to speculate about the part each of them was

destined to play in the new dispensation of Sri Ramakrishna. In short, those who

showed the highest emotionalism posed as the most spiritually advanced.

Narendra's alert mind soon saw this dangerous trend in their lives. He began to make

fun of the elders and warned his young brother disciples about the harmful effect of

indulging in such outbursts. Real spirituality, he told them over and over again, was the

eradication of worldly tendencies and the development of man's higher nature. He

derided their tears and trances as symptoms of nervous disorder, which should be

corrected by the power of the will, and, if necessary, by nourishing food and proper

medical treatment. Very often, he said, unwary devotees of God fall victims to mental

and physical breakdown. 'Of one hundred persons who take up the spiritual life,' he

grimly warned, 'eighty turn out to be charlatans, fifteen insane, and only five, maybe,

get a glimpse of the real truth. Therefore, beware.' He appealed to their inner strength

and admonished them to keep away from all sentimental nonsense. He described to the

young disciples Sri Ramakrishna's uncompromising self-control, passionate yearning

for God, and utter renunciation of attachment to the world, and he insisted that those

who loved the Master should apply his teachings in their lives.

Sri Ramakrishna, too, coming to realize the approaching end of his mortal existence,

impressed it upon the devotees that the realization of God depended upon the giving up

of lust and greed. The young disciples became grateful to Narendranath for thus

guiding them during the formative period of their spiritual career. They spent their

leisure hours together in meditation, study, devotional music, and healthy spiritual

discussions.

The illness of Sri Ramakrishna showed no sign of abatement; the boys redoubled their

efforts to nurse him, and Narendra was constantly by their side, cheering them

whenever they felt depressed. One day he found them hesitant about approaching the

Master. They had been told that the illness was infectious. Narendra dragged them to

the Master's room. Lying in a corner was a cup containing part of the gruel which Sri

Ramakrishna could not swallow. It was mixed with his saliva. Narendra seized the cup

and swallowed its contents. This set at rest the boys' misgivings.

Narendra, understanding the fatal nature of Sri Ramakrishna's illness and realizing that

the beloved teacher would not live long, intensified his own spiritual practices. His

longing for the vision of God knew no limit. One day he asked the Master for the boon

of remaining merged in samadhi three or four days at a stretch, interrupting his

meditation now and then for a bite of food. 'You are a fool,' said the Master. 'There is a

state higher than that. It is you who sing: "O Lord! Thou art all that exists."' Sri

Ramakrishna wanted the disciple to see God in all beings and to serve them in a spirit

of worship. He often said that to see the world alone, without God, is ignorance,

ajnana; to see God alone, without the world, is a kind of philosophical knowledge,

jnana; but to see all beings permeated by the spirit of God is supreme wisdom, vijnana.

Only a few blessed souls could see God dwelling in all. He wanted Naren to attain this

supreme wisdom. So the master said to him, 'Settle your family affairs first, then you

shall know a state even higher than samadhi.'

On another occasion, in response to a similar request, Sri Ramakrishna said to Naren:

'Shame on you! You are asking for such an insignificant thing. I thought that you

would be like a big banyan tree, and that thousands of people would rest in your shade.

But now I see that you are seeking your own liberation.' Thus scolded, Narendra shed

profuse tears. He realized the greatness of Sri Ramakrishna's heart.

An intense fire was raging within Narendra's soul. He could hardly touch his college

books; he felt it was a dreadful thing to waste time in that way. One morning he went

home but suddenly experienced an inner fear. He wept for not having made much

spiritual progress, and hurried to Cossipore almost unconscious of the outside world.

His shoes slipped off somewhere, and as he ran past a rick of straw some of it stuck to

his clothes. Only after entering the Master's room did he feel some inner peace.

Sri Ramakrishna said to the other disciples present: 'Look at Naren's state of mind.

Previously he did not believe in the Personal God or divine forms. Now he is dying for

God's vision.' The Master then gave Naren certain spiritual instructions about

meditation.

Naren was being literally consumed by a passion for God. The world appeared to him

to be utterly distasteful. When the Master reminded him of his college studies, the

disciple said, 'I would feel relieved if I could swallow a drug and forget all I have

learnt' He spent night after night in meditation under the tress in the Panchavati at

Dakshineswar, where Sri Ramakrishna, during the days of his spiritual discipline, had

contemplated God. He felt the awakening of the Kundalini (The spiritual energy,

usually dormant in man, but aroused by the practice of spiritual disciplines. See

glossary.) and had other spiritual visions.

One day at Cossipore Narendra was meditating under a tree with Girish, another

disciple. The place was infested with mosquitoes. Girish tried in vain to concentrate his

mind. Casting his eyes on Naren, he saw him absorbed in meditation, though his body

appeared to be covered by a blanket of the insects.

A few days later Narendra's longing seemed to have reached the breaking-point. He

spent an entire night walking around the garden house at Cossipore and repeating

Rama's name in a heart-rending manner. In the early hours of the morning Sri

Ramakrishna heard his voice, called him to his side, and said affectionately: 'Listen,

my child, why are you acting that way? What will you achieve by such impatience?'

He stopped for a minute and then continued: 'See, Naren. What you have been doing

now, I did for twelve long years. A storm raged in my head during that period. What

will you realize in one night?'

But the master was pleased with Naren's spiritual struggle and made no secret of his

wish to make him his spiritual heir. He wanted Naren to look after the young disciples.

'I leave them in your care,' he said to him. 'Love them intensely and see that they

practise spiritual disciplines even after my death, and that they do not return home.' He

asked the young disciples to regard Naren as their leader. It was an easy task for them.

Then, one day, Sri Ramakrishna initiated several of the young disciples into the

monastic life, and thus himself laid the foundation of the future Ramakrishna Order of

monks.

Attendance on the Master during his sickness revealed to Narendra the true import of

Sri Ramakrishna's spiritual experiences. He was amazed to find that the Master could

dissociate himself from all consciousness of the body by a mere wish, at which time he

was not aware of the least pain from his ailment. Constantly he enjoyed an inner bliss,

in spite of the suffering of the body, and he could transmit that bliss to the disciples by

a mere touch or look. To Narendra, Sri Ramakrishna was the vivid demonstration of

the reality of the Spirit and the unsubstantiality of matter.

One day the Master was told by a scholar that he could instantly cure himself of his

illness by concentrating his mind on his throat. This Sri Ramakrishna refused to do

since he could never withdraw his mind from God. But at Naren's repeated request, the

Master agreed to speak to the Divine Mother about his illness. A little later he said to

the disciple in a sad voice: 'Yes, I told Her that I could not swallow any food on

account of the sore in my throat, and asked Her to do something about it. But the

Mother said, pointing to you all, "Why, are you not eating enough through all these

mouths?" I felt so humiliated that I could not utter another word.' Narendra realized

how Sri Ramakrishna applied in life the Vedantic idea of the oneness of existence and

also came to know that only through such realization could one rise above the pain and

suffering of the individual life.

To live with Sri Ramakrishna during his illness was in itself a spiritual experience. It

was wonderful to witness how he bore with his pain. In one mood he would see that

the Divine Mother alone was the dispenser of pleasure and pain and that his own will

was one with the Mother's will, and in another mood he would clearly behold, the utter

absence of diversity, God alone becoming men, animals, gardens, houses, roads, 'the

executioner, the victim, and the slaughter-post,' to use the Master's own words.

Narendra saw in the Master the living explanation of the scriptures regarding the divine

nature of the soul and the illusoriness of the body. Further, he came to know that Sri

Ramakrishna had attained to that state by the total renunciation of 'woman' and 'gold,'

which, indeed, was the gist of his teaching. Another idea was creeping into Naren's

mind. He began to see how the transcendental Reality, the Godhead, could embody

Itself as the Personal God, and the Absolute become a Divine Incarnation. He was

having a glimpse of the greatest of all divine mysteries: the incarnation of the Father as

the Son for the redemption of the world. He began to believe that God becomes man so

that man may become God. Sri Ramakrishna thus appeared to him in a new light.

Under the intellectual leadership of Narendranath, the Cossipore garden house became

a miniature university. During the few moments' leisure snatched from nursing and

meditation, Narendra would discuss with his brother disciples religions and

philosophies, both Eastern and Western. Along with the teachings of Sankara, Krishna,

and Chaitanya, those of Buddha and Christ were searchingly examined.

Narendra had a special affection for Buddha, and one day suddenly felt a strong desire

to visit Bodh-Gaya, where the great Prophet had attained enlightenment. With Kali and

Tarak, two of the brother disciples, he left, unknown to the others, for that sacred place

and meditated for long hours under the sacred Bo-tree. Once while thus absorbed he

was overwhelmed with emotion and, weeping profusely, embraced Tarak. Explaining

the incident, he said afterwards that during the meditation he keenly felt the presence

of Buddha and saw vividly how the history of India had been changed by his noble

teachings; pondering all this he could not control his emotion.

Back in Cossipore, Narendra described enthusiastically to the Master and the brother

disciples of Buddha's life, experiences, and teachings. Sri Ramakrishna in turn related

some of his own experiences. Narendra had to admit that the Master, after the

attainment of the highest spiritual realization, had of his own will kept his mind on the

phenomenal plane.

He further understood that a coin, however valuable, which belonged to an older period

of history, could not be used as currency at a later date. God assumes different forms in

different ages to serve the special needs of the time.

Narendra practised spiritual disciplines with unabating intensity. Sometimes he felt an

awakening of a spiritual power that he could transmit to others. One night in March

1886, he asked his brother disciple Kali to touch his right knee, and then entered into

deep meditation. Kali's hand began to tremble; he felt a kind of electric shock.

Afterwards Narendra was rebuked by the Master for frittering away spiritual powers

before accumulating them in sufficient measure. He was further told that he had

injured Kali's spiritual growth, which had been following the path of dualistic

devotion, by forcing upon the latter some of his own non-dualistic ideas. The Master

added, however, that the damage was not serious.

Narendra had had enough of visions and manifestations of spiritual powers, and he

now wearied of them. His mind longed for the highest experience of non-dualistic

Vedanta, the nirvikalpa samadhi, in which the names and forms of the phenomenal

world disappear and the aspirant realizes total non-difference between the individual

soul, the universe, and Brahman, or the Absolute. He told Sri Ramakrishna about it, but

the master remained silent. And yet one evening the experience came to him quite

unexpectedly.

He was absorbed in his usual meditation when he suddenly felt as if a lamp were

burning at the back of his head. The light glowed more and more intensely and finally

burst. Narendra was overwhelmed by that light and fell unconscious. After some time,

as he began to regain his normal mood, he could feel only his head and not the rest of

his body.

In an agitated voice he said to Gopal, a brother disciple who was meditating in the

same room, 'Where is my body?'

Gopal answered: 'Why, Naren, it is there. Don't you feel it?'

Gopal was afraid that Narendra was dying, and ran to Sri Ramakrishna's room. He

found the Master in a calm but serious mood, evidently aware of what had happened in

the room downstairs. After listening to Gopal the Master said, 'Let him stay in that

state for a while; he has teased me long enough for it.'

For some time Narendra remained unconscious. When he regained his normal state of

mind he was bathed in an ineffable peace. As he entered Sri Ramakrishna's room the

latter said: 'Now the Mother has shown you everything. But this realization, like the

jewel locked in a box, will be hidden away from you and kept in my custody. I will

keep the key with me. Only after you have fulfilled your mission on this earth will the

box be unlocked, and you will know everything as you have known now'.

The experience of this kind of samadhi usually has a most devastating effect upon the

body; Incarnations and special messengers of God alone can survive its impact. By

way of advice, Sri Ramakrishna asked Naren to use great discrimination about his food

and companions, only accepting the purest.

Later the master said to the other disciples: 'Narendra will give up his body of his own

will. When he realizes his true nature, he will refuse to stay on this earth. Very soon he

will shake the world by his intellectual and spiritual powers. I have prayed to the

Divine Mother to keep away from him the Knowledge of the Absolute and cover his

eyes with a veil of maya. There is much work to be done by him. But the veil, I see, is

so thin that it may be rent at any time.'

Sri Ramakrishna, the Avatar of the modern age, was too gentle and tender to labour

himself, for humanity's welfare. He needed some sturdy souls to carry on his work.

Narendra was foremost among those around him; therefore Sri Ramakrishna did not

want him to remain immersed in nirvikalpa samadhi before his task in this world was

finished.

The disciples sadly watched the gradual wasting away of Sri Ramakrishna's physical

frame. His body became a mere skeleton covered with skin; the suffering was intense.

But he devoted his remaining energies to the training of the disciples, especially

Narendra. He had been relieved of his worries about Narendra; for the disciple now

admitted the divinity of Kali, whose will controls all things in the universe. Naren said

later on: 'From the time he gave me over to the Divine Mother, he retained the vigour

of his body only for six months. The rest of the time — and that was two long years —

he suffered.'

One day the Master, unable to speak even in a whisper, wrote on a piece of paper:

'Narendra will teach others.' The disciple demurred. Sri Ramakrishna replied: 'But you

must. Your very bones will do it.' He further said that all the supernatural powers he

had acquired would work through his beloved disciple.

A short while before the curtain finally fell on Sri Ramakrishna's earthly life, the

Master one day called Naren to his bedside. Gazing intently upon him, he passed into

deep meditation. Naren felt that a subtle force, resembling an electric current, was

entering his body. He gradually lost outer consciousness. After some time he regained

knowledge of the physical world and found the Master weeping. Sri Ramakrishna said

to him: 'O Naren, today I have given you everything I possess — now I am no more

than a fakir, a penniless beggar. By the powers I have transmitted to you, you will

accomplish great things in the world, and not until then will you return to the source

whence you have come.

Narendra from that day became the channel of Sri Ramakrishna's powers and the

spokesman of his message.

Two days before the dissolution of the Master's body, Narendra was standing by the

latter's bedside when a strange thought flashed into his mind: Was the Master truly an

Incarnation of God? He said to himself that he would accept Sri Ramakrishna's divinity

if the Master, on the threshold of death, declared himself to be an Incarnation. But this

was only a passing thought. He stood looking intently at the Master face. Slowly Sri

Ramakrishna's lips parted and he said in a clear voice: 'O my Naren, are you still not

convinced? He who in the past was born as Rama and Krishna is now living in this

very body as Ramakrishna — but not from the standpoint of your Vedanta.' Thus Sri

Ramakrishna, in answer to Narendra's mental query, put himself in the category of

Rama and Krishna, who are recognized by orthodox Hindus as two of the Avatars, or

Incarnations of God.

A few words may be said here about the meaning of the Incarnation in the Hindu

religious tradition. One of the main doctrines of Vedanta is the divinity of the soul:

every soul, in reality, is Brahman. Thus it may be presumed that there is no difference

between an Incarnation and an ordinary man. To be sure, from the standpoint of the

Absolute, or Brahman, no such difference exists. But from the relative standpoint,

where multiplicity is perceived, a difference must be admitted. Embodied human

beings reflect godliness in varying measure. In an Incarnation this godliness is fully

manifest. Therefore an Incarnation is unlike an ordinary mortal or even an illumined

saint. To give an illustration: There is no difference between a clay lion and a clay

mouse, from the standpoint of the clay. Both become the same substance when

dissolved into clay. But the difference between the lion and the mouse, from the

standpoint of form, is clearly seen. Likewise, as Brahman, an ordinary man is identical

with an Incarnation. Both become the same Brahman when they attain final

illumination. But in the relative state of name and form, which is admitted by Vedanta,

the difference between them is accepted. According to the Bhagavad Gita (IV. 6-8),

Brahman in times of spiritual crisis assumes a human body through Its own inscrutable

power, called maya. Though birthless, immutable, and the Lord of all beings, yet in

every age Brahman appears to be incarnated in a human body for the protection of the

good and the destruction of the wicked.

As noted above, the Incarnation is quite different from an ordinary man, even from a

saint. Among the many vital differences may be mentioned the fact that the birth of an

ordinary mortal is governed by the law of karma, whereas that of an Incarnation is a

voluntary act undertaken for the spiritual redemption of the world. Further, though

maya is the cause of the embodiment of both an ordinary mortal and an Incarnation,

yet the former is fully under maya's control, whereas the latter always remains its

master. A man, though potentially Brahman, is not conscious of his divinity; but an

Incarnation is fully aware of the true nature of His birth and mission. The spiritual

disciplines practised by an Incarnation are not for His own liberation, but for the

welfare of humanity; as far as He is concerned, such terms as bondage and liberation

have no meaning, He being ever free, ever pure, and ever illumined. Lastly, an

Incarnation can bestow upon others the boon of liberation, whereas even an illumined

saint is devoid of such power.

Thus the Master, on his death-bed, proclaimed himself through his own words as the

Incarnation or God-man of modern times.

On August 15, 1886, the Master's suffering became almost unbearable. After midnight

he felt better for a few minutes. He summoned Naren to his beside and gave him the

last instructions, almost in a whisper. The disciples stood around him. At two minutes

past one in the early morning of August 16, Sri Ramakrishna uttered three times in a

ringing voice the name of his beloved Kali and entered into the final samadhi, from

which his mind never again returned to the physical world.

The body was given to the fire in the neighbouring cremation ground on the bank of

the Ganga. But to the Holy Mother, as she was putting on the signs of a Hindu widow,

there came these words of faith and reassurance: 'I am not dead. I have just gone from

one room to another.'

As the disciples returned from the cremation ground to the garden house, they felt great

desolation. Sri Ramakrishna had been more than their earthly father. His teachings and

companionship still inspired them. They felt his presence in his room. His words rang

in their ears. But they could no longer see his physical body or enjoy his seraphic

smile. They all yearned to commune with him.

Within a week of the Master's passing away, Narendra one night was strolling in the

garden with a brother disciple, when he saw in front of him a luminous figure. There

was no mistaking: it was Sri Ramakrishna himself. Narendra remained silent, regarding

the phenomenon as an illusion. But his brother disciple exclaimed in wonder, 'See,

Naren! See!' There was no room for further doubt. Narendra was convinced that it was

Sri Ramakrishna who had appeared in a luminous body. As he called to the other

brother disciples to behold the Master, the figure disappeared.