Biography

Coming from afar are the Voices of the Silence. Rarely are they heard, save by the mystics and the sages. And when one of these Voices becomes embodied as sound audible to mortal hearing—blessed is the time and blessed are those who hear. Formless is the Spirit and subjective is the vision thereof ; dense is the illusion that hangs as the cosmic veil before Reality! How divine, therefore, must be the personality which makes objective the vision of the Spirit! How priceless the history of one who has lifted even a fringe of the veil! The illusion becomes transparent through the effulgence of such a spiritual personality. Verily, the Spirit Itself becomes revealed ; and those who sec are brought face to face with Reality!

To introduce the life of Swami Vivekananda is to introduce the subject of the spiritual life itself. All of the intellectual struggle, all of the doubts, all of the burning faith, all of the unfolding process of the spiritual illumination were revealed in him. As a man and as a Vedantist he manifested the manliness which was sanctity, and the sanctity which was manliness ; he manifested the patriotism which came from the vision of the Dharma ; and he manifested the life of intense activity as well as of Supreme Realisation, as the fruit of the true Insight of Divine Wisdom. His life revealed throughout the glory of the Suprasensuous Life.

To the task of writing his life one sets oneself fervently, conscious of unworthiness, for who can know the inner self of even the least of men, much less the soul of a Vivekananda! And who can sound the depths of his personal realisation! The task is almost beyond thinking—and yet must the world know the greatness of that life which has thrilled it through its Eastern heart and Western mind.

The Datta family of Simla, a northern district of Calcutta, was rich and powerful, renowned for many generations for charily, learning and strong independent spirit. Ram Mohan Datta. the great-grandfather of the Subject of this chronicle, Narendra Nalli, was the managing clerk and associate of an English solicitor. He amassed a great fortune in the exercise of his profession, and lived happily, surrounded by a numerous family in a large mansion in Gour Mohan Mnkherjee Lane. The house is still standing, but because of the subsequent straitened circumstances of the family that part of it which had been once used as a temple has passed into the hands of strangers. The doorway that fronts upon the street is massive. The covered hall with a room on one side and seating space on the other gives on a second doorway, beyond which is the courtyard with the living quarters. To the right are the rooms for the male members of the family. Across the courtyard and facing the doorway rises the zenana, two storeys in height, the lower floor containing the kitchens, the upper the living apartments. From the latticed enclosure the Purdah ladies in the olden days could look into the courtyard when the great religious ceremonies were being performed to the beating of drums and the blowing of touch-shells.

Ram Mohan Datta left two sons, Durga Charan Datta and Kali Prasad Datta. Durga Charan was a gifted youth, well versed in Persian and Sanskrit, and so skilled in law that his father made him partner. But lie had such a strong leaning towards the monastic life that, after the birth of his son he renounced the world and became a monk at the age of twenty-five and was riot heard of by any member of the family until the twelve years of Sadhana (spiritual effort) prescribed bv the monastic rule had been accomplished.

In the meantime, his son, Vishwanath, who had been left as an infant with his mother, was growing up. The mother was fearless, devout and worthy in every way of accepting the great responsibility that Fate had thrust upon her. When Vishwanath was three years old he was taken by her on a pilgrimage to the holy cilv of Varanasi. As the railroad was unknown in those days the entire party set out by boat on the five hundred mile trip. What a thrilling adventure that excursion was—a combination of hardships and romance ! New cities, new scenes, new customs, new peoples—even new languages were encountered as the boat, with its precious height glided on. One morning, as Vishwanath was playing about on the deck lie slipped and fell into the Ganga. Without a second s hesitation, the mother, though slie could not swim, jumped overboard, fully clothed as she was, to save him. Fortunately, she was in time and held her tiny son up by the hand until help came and they were both hauled aboard. So tight was her grip on him that he bore the marks of it for many years.

At last Varanasi was reached. Delighted with the holy atmosphere of the place she visited all the temples, including that of Vireshwar Shiva. One day after she had bathed and was on her way to the temple of Vishwanath she slipped and fell with enough force to make her lose consciousness. A passing monk went to her assistance, picked her up and laid her on the temple steps. When she opened her e\es, what was her amazement to hnd that the monk who was bending over her was her husband! Instantly, both were overwhelmed with a tremendous emotion. But worldly attachments were not for them. She as well as he had renounced. In a moment he disappeared, murmuring, “Oh, Maya, Maya!” And she continued on her pious round. These two incidents are cited to show how well lilted she was to be the wife of Durga Charan!

An interesting story is told of Durga Gharan’s return to his birthplace, one that reveals the essential strength and quality of the man. Quite unostentatiously he slipped into Calcutta and, instead of going to his former home, puf up at the house of an old friend, after begging him not to let any one know of his return. But the friend was unable to contain the joyous news and informed Durga Charau’s relatives, who at once came and forcibly took him away with them. The monk, without a word, seated himself in a corner of the room provided for him, the door of which had been locked so that he might not escape. For three days lie stayed there without giving any sign or tasting a bite of food. The relatives, fearing that he might die on their hands finally opened the door. Later, the monk disappeared and was never heard of again. In striving to account for the peculiar genius of Swami Vivekananda one must not lose sight of the impressive figure of his grandfather, the man who deemed the world well lost in his search for God. Vivekananda’s pronounced tendency towards the monastic, life was “in the blood” as we say to explain those inexplicable outcroppings of family traits and tendencies that are so remarkable at times that in order to satisfy ourselves we must accept either the theory of reincarnation or that of heredity.

As Vishwanath grew to manhood he became the pride of the Dattas. The hearts of his people were set on him in high hopes and expectations, for they looked to him to carry fin the Datta tradition of learning. Nor were they disappointed. The boy was proficient in his studies, which included English and Persian, and finally adopted law as a profession and was enrolled as an Attorney-at-Law in the High Court of Calcutta. His career was a notable one, for aside from his intellectual attainments he was endowed with many qualities of character which made him respected and endeared him to all. His keen understanding of his fellowmcn was the origin of his deep compassion for the afflicted and wide charity and sympathy. His ample means he spent without thought of the morrow, giving to all who asked. Here it was that he showed a lack of discrimination, for he maintained some of his relatives in idleness—and even drunkenness. Criticised at one time by his eldest son Naren for bestowing charity upon such worthless persons, Vishwanath replied in his easy-going way, “How can you understand the great misery of human life? When you realise it, you will sympathise with the poor creatures who try to forget their sorrows in the momentary oblivion obtained through intoxicants!”

Vishwanath was a great lover of music and had a very good voice. He it was who insisted that Naren should study music, for he looked upon it as the source of much innocent pleasure. Ele took great delight in the study of the Bible, and in reciting the poems of the Persian poet, Hafiz, to his family.

In his attitude towards his children he showed considerable wisdom. If any of them misbehaved he did not reprimand him, but rather, in order to produce the required reform, exposed him to the ridicule of his friends.To cite an instance: One day Naren behaved very rudely to his mother. The father, instead of scolding the boy, wrote on the door of the room where Naren received his friends: Naren Babu said these words today to his mother—followed by the words actually said. Every time Naren or any of his friends entered that room they were confronted with this statement. It was not long before Naren showed signs of repentance.

Vishwanath was blessed with a wife, his peer in every respect. Graceful and devoted, expert in the management of household all airs, Bhuvaneshwari Devi cheerfully shouldered the responsibility of her husband’s large family. She was exceptionally intelligent and found time, even in the midst of her tremendous activities, for sewing, music and the study of the RaMayana and the Mahabharata. Full of the lire of one born, as it were, to regal estate, Bhuvaneshwari Devi commanded the respect and veneration of all who came in contact with her and her judgment was followed in the conduct of all affairs that mattered. Calm resignation to the will of God in all circumstances, power and reserve characterised this Hindu woman. The poor and the helpless were the special objects of her solicitude. She was noted for her unusual memory and knew by heart long passages from the RaMayana and the Mahabharata which she read daily and it was the essence of these readings, and the culture as well to which they are the key, that she passed on to her children as their greatest inheritance. It was this bequest that appeared later in her son, Swami Vivekananda, transmuted into a tremendous love for humanity, above all limitations of race, creed, caste, colour or sex.

It was to these two, Vishwanath and Bhuvaneshwari Devi, that the boy who was to become the greatest man of his age, whose influence was to shake the world and who was to lay the foundation of a new order of things, was born.

Whosoever knows the longing of a mother that a son shall be horn to her, enters into the world where lived Bhuvaneshwari Datta, the wife of Vishwanath Datta. In common with mothers the world over she longed for a son to carry on the family tradition, to be the link, forged out of the materials of love and suffering, between the future and the past. As she went about her daily tasks she prayed silently that her desire might be fulfilled. Now, it was customary in those days—and still is—for one living a long distance from Varanasi who was in dire need, or desirous that some special event should come to pass, to make offerings and sacrifices to Shiva through any relatives and friends who might be residents of Varanasi. So Bhuvaneshwari Devi wrote to an old aunt of the Datta family in Varanasi to ask her to make the necessary offerings and praters to Vireshwar Shiva that a son might be born to her. When word came that this was being done she was content to wait in perfect assurance that the prayers would be answered. She spent her days in fasting and meditations, her whole soul given over to constant recollec-tedness. her entire heart fixed in love on the Lord Shiva. Often did her mind go to Varanasi, uniting in thought with the venerable aunt as she poured the sacred water of the Ganga on the symbol of the Most High or as she worshipped Him with flowers and Mantras. One night she had a vivid dream. She had spent the day in the shrine, and as evening deepened into night she fell asleep. Hushed in silence was the household, hushed in silence and rest. Then in the highest heavens the hour struck—the time was come for the saintly woman to touch the feet of the Lord. And in her dream she saw the Lord Shiva arouse Himself out of His transcendent meditation and take the form of a male child who was to be her own son. She awoke. Could this ocean of light in which she found herself bathed be but a dream? Shiva! Shiva! Thou fulfillest in various ways the prayers of thy devotees! From the inmost soul of Bhuvaneshwari Devi a joyous prayer welled up, for she was confident that her long months of expectancy were over and that the vision was but an announcement that her prayers were to be answered. Her faith was justified. And in due time her son was born.

The light of the world dawned for the first time upon the future Swami Vivekananda on Monday, January 12, 1863. It was the holy hour of dawn just six minutes before the sunrise. At the time of his birth the constellation Sagittarius was rising in the east, the moon was in the constellation Virgo, the planet Jupiter was in the eleventh house, and Saturn was in the tenth from that of his birth. It was the seventh day of the new moon in the month of Poush which is the ninth month of the Bengali year and as chance would have it. it was the day of Makara Sankranti, a great Hindu festival. The millions of men and women who were observing the festival unconsciously greeted the new-born babe with prayers and worship, little thinking that he who was to usher in a new age of glory and splendour for his country, who was to reorganise the spiritual and national consciousness of Hindusthan and become a great Apostle—another St. Paul—preaching unto the world the Gospel of another redemption—the message of Vedanta—had, on that day, first seen the light! And only a few miles north of Calcutta in the Garden of Dakshineswar there waited One for the coming of this babe who was to grow up and carry on his great work! Of which more later.

The infant grew and the time came when he had to be named. Some suggested that it should be Durga Das after the grandfather who had renounced the world. But the mother said, “Let it be Vireshwar”, after the aspect of Shiva which she worshipped before the child’s birth and Vireshwar it was. They called him Bileh for short. Later, Vireshwar became Narendra Nath.

Narendra Nath was a naughty child, subject to fits of restlessness during which he was beyond control. At such time he would wear the family out. Bribes, threats—nothing was of any avail. Everything was tried, but in vain. Finally, Bhuvaneshwari found that if she poured cold water on the head of the screaming child, at the same time chanting the name of Shiva in his ear, or threatened him with “Shiva will not let you come to Kailasa if you do not behave”, he would quiet down and become his eager, joyous self again. It was after such scenes that the mother used to say, “I prayed to Shiva for a son and He has sent me one of His demons”. Aside from these outbursts he was a sunny-tempered, sweet, loving child, but of such an extraordinary restlessness that it took two nurses to take care of him.

The boy had a great fancy for wandering monks. Whenever a Sadhu came to the door, Naren was delighted. One day a monk came and asked for alms. All that the boy had was a piece of new cloth wrapped round his waist. Straightway he gave it to the Sadhu who placed it on his head and went away. When asked what had become of the cloth, the boy replied, “The monk begged me for alms and I gave it to him.” Thereafter whenever a monk appeared the boy was locked up. But that did not disconcert him ; he would throw out of the window to the monk anything the room contained as an offering, and then enjoy the excitement. What a tease he was! He would annoy his sisters and when chased would take refuge in the open drain, grinning and making faces at them in safety, for they would not follow him there. The family cow was one of his playmates and he had a number of pet animals and birds among which were a monkey, a goat, a peacock, pigeons and two or three guinea pigs. Of the servants the coachman was his special friend and one of the ambitions of his childhood was to become a syce or groom. To him the syce with his turban and his whip which he flourished as the carriage rolled on was a magnificent person. The family tells how he would go to anyone who would take him on his lap, for he had implicit faith in all.

The first education is always at the knee of the mother. Naren used to tell later how his mother had taught him his first English words and he mastered the Bengali alphabet under her tutorship. It was at her knee that he first heard the tales of the RaMayana and the Mahabharata, and it was no doubt that he thus caught some of the dramatic fire and force that he exhibited later.

The first seed of spiritual life was sown at this period. His boyish imagination was captivated by the life of Rama, and he purchased a clay image of Sita-Rama and worshipped it with flowers. One day, when no one was about, he and a little Brahmin boy climbed the stairs that led to a room on the roof above the women’s quarters. They installed the image, closed and locked the door and sat down to meditate. After some time Naren was missed and an anxious search for him was begun. The hunt led at last to the little locked room on the roof. The searchers knocked and shouted, but there was no response. In great fright, fearing that something had happened to Naren they forced the door and found the two boys seated in deep meditation before the flower-decked image. One day Naren heard someone vehemently denouncing marriage. The difficulties and absurdities of married life were painted in such dark colours, that he was terror-stricken and he thought of his little image of Sita-Rama which he had been worshipping. ‘‘If marriage is so bad what has a God to do with it?” said the surprised boy to himself.

So he threw away his cherished image of Sita-Rama and bought one of Shiva instead on which to lavish his devotion. But what suffering this entailed! For poorer than the man despoiled of his wealth through no fault of his own is the mind of the child which has been bereft of its illusion. And yet this incident shows not only the fearlessness and sincerity of the boy who gave up his ideal, no matter how great the wrench, when he found that it did not match up with his conception of the Truth, but it also made evident the deep desire of Naren’s soul for freedom from the bondage of the senses which was expressed later in those ringing words: “Ever shall the soul be free! We must have freedom from bondage however sweet.”

Nevertheless the RaMayana had still a great fascination for him and whenever it was to be read in the neighbourhood he was sure to be there. Sometimes he was so rapt in the thrilling episodes of Rama’s life that he forgot all about home. Once when the reading told of how Hanuman (the monkey-chief devoted to Rama) lived in banana groves, he was so deeply impressed that afterwards, instead of returning home, he went to a banana grove and spent some hours of the night there for a glimpse of him.

Every night brought some strange vision to Naren. Singular was the manner in which he was ushered into sleep. As soon as he closed his eyes, there appeared between his eyebrows a wonderful spot of light of changing hues, which would expand and burst and bathe his whole body with a flood of white radiance. As the mind became preoccupied with this phenomenon, the body would fall asleep. It was a daily occurrence which he would court by lying down on his chest; as soon as drowsiness overtook him, the light appeared. Thinking it to be a perfectly natural thing which happened to everybody he never mentioned it, until long after when he asked a school-mate, “Do you sec a light between your eyebrows at night when you go to sleep?” The friend answered in the negative. “I do,” said Naren. “Try to remember. Do not fall into sleep as soon as you go to bed. Be on the alert for a while and you will see it.” There was some one else, however, who put this question to Naren in later years, “Naren, my boy, do you see a light when you go to sleep?” The questioner was his spiritual teacher. But of this later on. This phenomenon remained with him until the end, although in the latter part of his life it was not so frequent or so intense* and bespoke a host of things. It told, assuredly, of a great spiritual past in which the soul had already learned so to steep itself deep in the waters of meditation that it had become instinctive with him.

Young Naren played at meditation in those days. Though it was play, it awakened in him deep spiritual emotions. The boys of the neighbourhood sometimes joined him in this pastime. Once as he was meditating with his playmates, a cobra appeared. The boys were frightened and shouting a warning to Naren ran away. But he did not hear them and remained where he was. The snake stayed about for a while and then glided away. Later in response to his parents’ inquiries as to why he did not run, Naren said, “I knew nothing of the snake or anything else, I was feeling inexpressible bliss.”

Five or six years seem as five or six days in the counting up of life. At the age of six Naren went to the Pathashala, the school where the boys are initiated into the three R’s. But schools are strange places where one is apt to meet with strange comrades, and after a few days he had acquired a vocabulary which quite upset the family’s sense of propriety. Never again, determined all the household, should he go to school. Instead, a private tutor was engaged, who conducted classes in the ancient worship-hall for Naren and some of the other boys of the neighbourhood. Soon Naren was remarked for his exceptional intelligence. He learned to read and write while the other boys were wrestling with the alphabet. Naren’s memory was prodigious. He had only to listen to the tutor’s reading to get the lessons. At the age of seven he knew by heart almost the whole of Mugdhabodha, a Sanskrit grammar, as well as passages of great length from the RaMayana and the Mahabharata. On a certain occasion, a party of wandering minstrels who earned their livelihood by chanting the RaMayana, came to Naren’s house. They made a number of mistakes in the text, whereupon Naren stopped them and pointed out their errors, greatly surprising and pleasing them.

There is a lasting quality in the friendships formed in childhood which makes them endure through later years, sometimes even to death. The boys whom we see playing with Naren will be recognised later on as the friends of his manhood, over whom he still maintained the leadership acquired as a boy when none could approach him without first acknowledging his supremacy. His favourite game was “King and the Court”. The throne was the highest step of the stairs leading from the courtyard to the PujA-hall. There he would install himself. No one was allowed to sit on the same level. From there he created his Prime Minister, Commander-in-Chief, Tributary Princes and other state officials and seated them on the steps according to their rank. He enacted a Durbar and administered justice with royal dignity. The slightest insubordination was put down by a disapproving glare.

Many of Naren’s father’s clients of different castes used to come to the house. Every caste was provided with its own tobacco pipe—provision was made for even the Mohammedans. Now caste was a great mystery to the boy. Why could not a member of one caste eat with a member of another, or smoke his pipe? What would happen if he did? Would the roof fall in on him? He decided to see for himself. Accordingly, he made the circuit of the pipes, taking a whiff from everyone— including the Mohammedan’s. And nothing happened! When reprimanded for his action he said, “I cannot sec what difference it makes! ”

His boyish exuberance expressed itself in all sorts of ways, naughty and otherwise. One day while fighting with his playfellows he fell from the verandah of the worship-hall and struck his head against a stone. To his death he carried the scar of this on his forehead just above the right eye.

The Sage who was his teacher in later life said of this: “Had Naren’s powers not been checked by this accident, he would have shattered the world! ” As it was, he raised the world!

Those who are to change the thought of the world as did Plato and Aristotle, to alter its destinies as did Alexander and Caesar—are from their childhood conscious of their power— they are instinctively aware of the greatness which is to come. Narendra Nath, too, felt the spirit of greatness within him ; he saw things to which others of his age were blind, and he felt already, in the feeble and yet certain way of a child, the struggle which was to be his for expression.

In 1871, when Naren was eight years old he entered the ninth class of Pandit Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar’s Metropolitan Institution. His exceptional intelligence was at once recognised by teachers and classmates. But he was so restless that they say of him that he never really sat down at his desk at all.

When he played, he played furiously. The games were marbles, jumping, running and boxing. When the class was dispersed for tiffin, he would be the first to finish and run back to the playground. New games always fascinated him and lie invented many to amuse himself and his friends. He made toy gas works and aerated waters, which were then newly introduced in Calcutta, and interested himself in toy railways and all sorts of machinery. Disputes often arose among boys, and it was to Naren that the disputants came as to a court of arbitration. Sometimes to amuse himself he would set one party against the other. If this led to blows, he would rush in between the contending parties, sometimes at great risk of being injured, but his knowledge of boxing helped him to protect himself. Often the boy would turn the classroom into his playground. Even during the lessons, he would entertain his friends with stories of the wild pranks he had played at home or with tales from the RaMayana or the Mahabharata.

Once, during a lesson the teacher suddenly asked Naren and his friends who were talking amongst themselves to repeat what he had been saying. All were silent; but Naren, having the power to double his mind was able to listen to the lesson, the while he amused the boys. He answered correctly all the questions put to him. The teacher then asked who had been talking during the lesson, and would not believe the boys when they pointed to Naren. So he made them stand up as punishment. Naren stood up, too. “You do not have to stand,” said the teacher. The boy replied, “But I must, for it was I who was doing the talking”, and remained standing.

Soon after he was told that lie would have to study English. He was not willing to do so. It was a foreign language, he said, so why should he learn it? The teachers persisted and the boy went home crying to his parents, who agreed with the teachers. When he did commence to study English several months later, everyone was astonished at his enthusiasm and the ease with which he acquired it.

Naren retained his admiration for the wandering monk. ”I must become a Sannyasin,” he would tell his friends, “a palmist predicted it,” and lie would show a certain straight line on the palm of his hand which indicated the tendency to the monastic life.

An incident occurred at this time which serves to show the boy’s innate fortitude and the difficulty of intimidating him. One of the teachers of the Institute was a man of very ugly temper, given to corporal punishment of the boys when he thought discipline was needed. One day, as he was severely castigating a delinquent, Naren began to laugh from sheer nervousness, so much revolted was he by the exhibition of brutality. The teacher turned his wrath on Naren, raining blows on him, and demanded that he should promise never to laugh at him again. When Naren refused, the teacher not only resumed the beating, but pulled him by the ears as well even going to the length of lifting the boy by them up on a bench, tearing one of the ears so that it bled profusely. And still Naren refused to promise, and bursting into tears of rage said, “Do not pull my ears! Who are you to beat me? Take care not to touch me again.” Luckily, at this moment, Pandit Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar came in. Naren, weeping bitterly, told him what had happened, and, taking his books, declared that he was going to leave the school for ever. Vidyasagar took him to his office and consoled him. Later, an investigation was made of the disciplinary measures obtaining in the school and steps were taken to prevent any repetition of the regrettable incident. When Bhuvaneshwari Devi heard of the matter she was very much incensed and begged the boy not to return to the school, but he went the following day as though nothing had happened. The ear did not heal for a long time.

Even at this early age he evinced an impatience with superstition and fear, no matter how hallowed by tradition. The following incident is illustrative of this quality. He was in the habit of climbing a tree in the compound of one of his friends, not only to gather flowers, but to get rid of his superfluous energy by swinging to and, fro, head downward, and then somersaulting to the ground. These antics annoyed the old, half-blind grandfather of the house,¹ and he thought to stop them by telling Naren that the tree was haunted by a Brahma-daitya—the ghost of an uninitiated Brahmin-—dressed in white, that broke the necks of those who climbed the tree. Naren listened politely ; but when the old man was out of sight, he again began to climb the tree. His friend who had taken the words of the old man seriously remonstrated. But Naren laughed at his seriousness and said, “What an ass you are! Why, my neck would have been off long before this if the old grandfather’s ghost story were true!”

¹ Ramratan Bose – Grandfather of Swami Virajananda.

Only a boyish prank it is, true, but significant when viewed in the light of later developments—in some sense a forecast of the insight and utterance of the time when Swami Vivekananda was to say to large audiences, “Do not believe a thing because you read it in a book! Do not believe a thing because another has said it is so! Find out the truth for yourself! That is realisation! ”

Naren hated monotony. He organised an amateur theatrical company and presented plays in the worship-hall of his home. After a few performances, his uncle became annoyed and destroyed the stage. Then he started a gymnasium in the courtyard of the house where his friends used to take their regular physical exercises. It went on for some time till one of his cousins broke his arm. Again the uncle showed his lack of sympathy, this time by destroying the accessories of the gymnasium. Thereupon Naren joined the gymnasium of a neighbour, Navagopal Mitra, with his friends and began to take lessons in fencing, lathi-play, wrestling, rowing and other sports. Once he carried the first prize in a general athletic competition. When tired of these, he showed magic lantern pictures in his home.

He was the favourite of all. With every family in the locality, of high or low caste, rich or poor, he established some sort of relationship. Did any of the boys whom he knew suffer any bereavement he was the first to offer consolation. His ready wit and pranks kept everybody amused, sometimes, indeed, making even the grave-minded elders burst into roars of laughter. He was a favourite with the ladies of the zenana whom he addressed as “auntie”, “sister”, etc., according to their age. He never suffered from shyness, and made himself at home everywhere.

At this time he conceived the idea of learning to cook, and he induced his playmates to subscribe according to their means, towards the project, he himself, however, bearing the greater part of the expense. He was the chief cook and the others were his assistants. His cooking was excellent, although he was inclined to use too much cayenne pepper.

When he could snatch time from his studies, he would take his friends to various interesting places in Calcutta. Sometimes it was a garden, another time the Ochterlony Monument or again the Museum. One day, he set out, with a party, by way of the Ganga for the Nawab’s Zoological gardens at Metiabruz, a suburb of Calcutta. When they were returning, one of the boys became desperately sick. The boatmen were annoyed and insisted that the lads should immediately clean up the boat. They refused to do so, offering instead to pay double. The offer was refused. On reaching the ghat the men would not allow the boys to land and threatened them. While the boatmen were abusing the boys, Naren jumped ashore, and asked two British soldiers walking nearby for help in rescuing his friends. In broken English he told his tale of woe, as he slipped his small hands into theirs and guided them towards the scene of the trouble. The soldiers listened with quiet affection ; and when they understood the situation, in a threatening voice they commanded the boatmen to release the boys. The boatmen were terrified at the sight of the soldiers and set the boys free without another word and disappeared. The soldiers were fascinated with Naren and invited him to go with them to the theatre. Hut he declined and took his leave after thanking them for their kindness.

Another delightful story is told of him when he was about eleven years old. A British man-of-war, the Syrapis, visited the Port of Calcutta when the late Emperor Edward VII came to India as the Prince of Wales. Naren’s friends urged him to try and secure a pass for them all to see the ship. For this it was necessary to see an important English official. When Naren made his appearance with application in hand, the attendant at I he door thinking him too young refused to allow him to enter. As Naren stood aside wondering what to do, he noticed that applicants who passed the porter went to a room on the first floor. Realising that that must be the room into which he must penetrate if he were to get his permit, he set about to find another entrance. In the rear was a staircase. Stealthily he made his way up to the top, pushed aside a curtain and found himself in the room. He took his place in line, and when his turn came, the application was signed without question. As he passed the door-keeper on his way out, the latter said in amazement, “How did you get in?” “Oh, I am a magician,” Naren answered.

As we have seen before, Naren was a regular attendant of the neighbouring gymnasium of Navagopal Mitra, who practically left its management in Naren and his friends’ hands. One day they were trying to set up a very heavy trapeze. A crowd, amongst which was an English sailor, gathered to watch. Naren asked the sailor to help. As the trapeze was being lifted it fell and knocked the sailor unconscious. Nearly everyone but Naren and one or two of his friends, disappeared from the scene, as they thought the sailor had been killed. With great presence of mind Naren tore his own cloth, bandaged the wound, sprinkled the sailor’s face with water and fanned him gently.

When the sailor recovered consciousness, Naren lifted him up and removed him to a neighbouring schoolhouse. A doctor was sent for. After a week’s nursing the sailor recovered and Naren presented him with a little purse which he had collected from his friends.

Though the boy was full of wild pranks, he had no evil associates. His instinct kept him away from the dubious ways of the world. Truthfulness was the very backbone of his life. Occupied during the day in devising new games, he was beginning to meditate during the night and soon was blessed with some wonderful visions.

As Naren grew older a definite change in his temperament was noticeable. He began to show a preference for intellectual pursuits, to study books and newspapers, and to attend public lectures regularly. He was able to repeat the substance of those to his friends with such original criticism that they were astonished, and developed an argumentative power which none could withstand.

One day he heard a friend singing like a professional and said, “Mere tune and time-keeping are not all of music. It must express an idea. Can any one appreciate a song sung in a drawling manner? The idea underlying the song must arouse the feeling of the singer, the words should be articulated distinctly and proper attention be given to tune and timing. The song that does not awaken a corresponding idea in the mind of the singer is not music at all.”

In the year 1877, while Naren was a student of the third class, his father went to Raipur in the Central Provinces. He arranged that his family should follow him later on under the charge of Naren. It was a long journey partly by bullock-cart via Allahabad and Jubbulpore through dense forests and over unfrequented roads, for the railways were in those days constructed only up to Nagpur. An incident happened on the way which shows that his spiritual insight was deepening. He had had visions and many moods of spiritual consciousness ; this experience was induced by contemplating the beauties of nature.

The party had been journeying in bullock-carts for several days. The weather was perfect and Naren was feeling the joyous freedom of life in the open. The natural beauty on the way mitigated the fatigue of the journey. Naren was charmed with the exquisite grace and beauty with which the Almighty Creator had adorned the rugged bosom of the earth. On that particular day the party was passing over the Vindhya range where the lofty hills on either side of the road almost met. The verdant trees and creepers laden with flowers and joyous with the warbling of birds of variegated colours filled Naren’s heart with ineffable bliss. Suddenly his eyes alighted on a very large hive in a cleft in one of the hills. It must have been there a very long time. His mind in thinking of that colony of bees was soon lost in wonder at the majesty and power of the Divine Providence. Lost to all outward consciousness he lay in the bullock-cart—how long he could not remember ; and when he returned—blessed, as it were, and blissful—to the nonrial state of things, he found that, in the meantime, considerable distance had been traversed. Perhaps this was the first time that his powerful imagination helped him to ascend into the realm of the Unknown and oblivion of the outer world.

Another interesting fact of his mind may be described here in his own words: “From my very boyhood,” Swami Vivekananda said later on, “Whenever I came in contact with a particular object, man or place, it would sometimes appear to me as if I had been acquainted with it beforehand. But all my efforts to recollect were unsuccessful, and yet the impression persisted. I will give you an instance. One day I was discussing various topics with my friends at a particular place. Suddenly something was said, which at once reminded me that in some time past in this very house I had talked with these friends on that very subject and that the discussion had even taken the same turn. Later on I thought that it might be due to the law of transmigration. But soon I decided that such definite conclusions on the subject were not reasonable. Now I believe that before I was born I must have had visions somehow, of those subjects and people with whom I would have to come in contact in my present birth. That memory comes, every now and then, before me throughout my whole life.’’

There was no school then in Raipur. This gave Naren the time and opportunity to become very intimate with his father— a great privilege, for his father had a noble mind. Vishwanath Datta attracted the intellect of his son. He would hold long conversations with him upon topics that demanded depth, precision and soundness of thought. He gave the boy free intellectual rein, believing that education is a stimulus to thought and not a superimposition of ideas. To his father Naren owed his capacity of grasping the essentials of things, of seeing truth from the widest and the most synthetic standpoint, and of discovering and holding to the real issue under discussion.

Naren was physically perfect and had, to some extent, already acquired that regal bearing which made him, in after years, a notable figure wherever he went. He was beginning to discriminate in the choice of his friends, not accepting any who was not his intellectual peer.

Many noted scholars visited his father. Naren would listen to their discussions, and occasionally joined in them. In those days he sought, nay demanded, intellectual recognition from everyone. So ambitious was he in this respect that if his mental powers were not given recognition, he would fly into a rage, not sparing even his father’s friends and nothing short of an apology would quiet him. Of course, the father could not sanction such outbursts and reprimanded the boy, but, at the same time, in his heart he was proud of the intellectual acumen and keen sense of self-respect of his son.

Vishwanath Datta returned to Calcutta with his family in 1879. There was some difficulty about getting Naren into school, for he had been absent for two years, but his teachers loved him and remembering his ability made an exception in his case. Then he gave himself up to study, mastering three years’ lessons in one, and passed the Entrance Examination in the first division. He was the only student in the school to attain that distinction. His father gave him a watch as a reward.

When he had passed the Entrance Examination, Naren had made much advance in knowledge. While he was in the Entrance class he had mastered a great many standard works of the English and the Bengali literature and had read many books of history. He had specially studied standard works on Indian history by such authors as Marshman and Elpliinstone. As he paid little attention to the text books, sometimes he used to work hard just on the eve of the examinations. Once he said, “Just two or three days before the Entrance Examination I found lhat I hardly knew anything of Geometry. Then I began to study the subject keeping awake for the whole night and in course of twenty-four hours I mastered the four books of Geometry.”

At this time he acquired the power of reading which he described as follows: “It so happened that I could understand an author without reading his book line by line. I could get the meaning by just reading the first and the last line of a paragraph. As this power developed I found it unnecessary to read even the paragraphs. I could follow by reading only the first and last lines of a page. Further, where the author introduced discussions to explain a matter and it took him four or five or even more pages to clear the subject, I could grasp the whole trend of his arguments by only reading the first few lines.”

The playtime of childhood with its joys and sorrows was over for Naren, and a new life with a more serious outlook dawned for him when, in 1879 at the age of sixteen, he passed the Entrance Examination and entered College. He had grown to manhood’s stature, was muscular, agile and inclined to stoutness. Hereafter one sees him as a student, intensely intellectual.

Naren studied at the Presidency College for a year : but after that time he entered the General Assembly’s Institution founded by the Scottish General Missionary Board. It is now known as the Scottish Church College. Hard study on the eve of the Entrance Examination together with ascetic practices had shattered his health, and consequently he had a nervous breakdown. He went to Gaya for a change and returned to Calcutta a few months before the First Arts Examination which he passed in 1881 in the second division. It was while he was in the First Arts classes that he met for the first time in November, 1881, Shri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa. It will be interesting to note here how he first came to hear of the great saint. Professor William Hastie, the great scholar, was at that time the Principal of the Institution. One day during the absence of the professor of English he took over the literature class. He was explaining Wordsworth’s “Excursion”, in which the poet refers to the state of trance of which the poet had had a glimpse while contemplating the beauties of nature. The students did not understand. The professor said, “Such an experience is the result of purity of mind and concentration on some particular object, and it is rare indeed, particularly in these days. I have seen only one person who has experienced that blessed state of mind, and he is Ramakrishna Paramahamsa of Dakshineswar. You can understand if you go there and see for yourself.” It was thus that Naren heard of his future Master, and not through the Brdhmo Samaj of which he was a member.

Naren did not limit his studies to the curriculum. During the first two years of his college life he acquired a thorough grasp of all the masterpieces of Western logic, and in his third and fourth year classes he set himself to mastering Western philosophy as well as the ancient and modern history of the different nations of Europe.

Even in College, Naren depended on his prodigious memory. A month before the B.A. Examination he had not read a single page of Green’s History of the English People which was one of the text books prescribed. He did not even own a copy. He procured one and vowed that he would not leave his room until lie had mastered its contents. In three days he knew the book thoroughly. Often before the examination he would read for the whole night and use strong tea or coffee to keep himself awake. Came the morning before the B.A. Examination and we find Naren in a strange mood. Far from dreading the coming ordeal his mind was filled with the idea of the uselessness of all learning if it did not bring with it the desire for Reality which is born of the love of God, So we find him standing outside of his college-mate’s room singing absorbedly, almost ecstatically, his face radiant. He began with the opening verse of the song, “We are like children” etc. Again it was a song of praise:

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

Sing ye, sing ye, sing His Glory!

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

Sing ye, sing ye, His Glory!”

He sang and talked until nine o’clock.

A friend intervened and reminded him of the examination. But Narendra paid no attention. Already his great renunciation was being foreshadowed. However, he appeared for the examinations the next day and passed.

For four or five years Naren had studied vocal and instrumental music under the able tutelage of Ahammad Khan and Beni Gupta, two well-known musicians, and could play many musical instruments, though he excelled in song. From the Mohammedan teacher he learnt many Hindi, Urdu, and Persian songs, most of them devotional. He wrote later on an elaborate preface to a book of Bengali songs compiled by one of his friends in which he discussed the science and technique of Indian music.

In college, he attracted the attention of both Indian and English professors who recognised his ambitious mind and the latent powers of his personality. Principal W. W. Hastie said, “Narendra Nath is really a genius. I have travelled far and wide, but I have never yet come across a lad of his talents and possibilities, even in German Universities, amongst philosophical students. He is bound to make his mark in life!” Naren tested everything by argument. Even during recreation he continued the discussions begun in the hours of study. He was vehement, vigorous, of untiring energy, and his topics of conversation were endless. During his collegiate life he underwent a wonderful psychological transformation. A born idealist and seeker of truth, he was not to be satislied with mere worldlv enjoyments. He longed to pierce the veil of nature, but his reason had to be satisfied at the same time. Beneath the surface of his conscious mind ran the swift currents of desire for Reality, which made him aware from his earliest years that his life was to be different from the rest of mankind.

Let it not be imagined, however, that he was not a lad in other things. Pie was as keen for adventure as ever and the first to see the humorous side of a situation. Small incidents like the following show how strong was his affection for his friends. On the eve of the B.A. Examination one of his friends found himself in such financial difficulties that he could not pay the college or examination fees. Naren interceded on his behalf to the Superintendent of the college, who had the power to remit the entire amount, but to no avail. One day he resolved to make a last appeal and waited in the street at the hour at which he knew the Superintendent was sure to pass. He made such an impassioned plea that the Superintendent celented and the friend was able to take the examinations without any further trouble.

The remarks of one of Naren’s friends will give an insight into their attitude towards him. Said he, “It was delightful often open a subject for discussion just for the pleasure of hearing him speak. He was so interesting and, above all, so original. Even at that time he detested any sort of weakness. He was a great admirer of Napoleon, and tried to impress upon us that the followers of any great cause must give the unquestioning obedience which Marshal Ney showed to his emperor.” 

It was at this period that he began to interest himself in the issues of the day, specially Brahmo Samaj. The healthy activities of the Brahmo Samlj were in sharp contrast to the moribund state of Hindu society; and its leader, Keshab Chandra Sen, the hero of a hundred platforms, was the idol of young Bengal. We shall state here very briefly the underlying principles of the Brahmo movement. The travail of passing through a new birth of a nation brings in its train movements of reform, the struggle of a new vision seeking expression and the old established tradition desiring conservation. From the dash between these two come the reformers and the reactionaries. The Brahmo Samaj is the outward expression of an endeavour to liberalise and at the same time to conserve the evolved instincts of the Hindu race. Its coming into existence was co-terminous with the awakening of the intellect of the illustrious reformer Raja Rammohan Roy, a man of gigantic intellect, inflexible will and the courage and prestige necessary for any attack on the evils which threatened the very existence of the nation. He was wide enough to see that if Hinduism was to survive it would be at the cost of many religious and social reforms. Later, Maharshi Debendra Nath Tagore and Keshab Chandra Sen became his most powerful followers, and it is really owing to these two that the life of the movement was assured. This movement protested against certain forms and tenets of the orthodox Hindu, such as polytheism, image worship, Divine Incarnation, and the need of a Guru. It therefore offered a monotheistic religion which repudiated all these. On the social side, reforms in the way of breaking up of the caste system and the caste consciousness, the recognition of the equality of man, the education and emancipation of women, with the raising of the marriageable age were demanded. It was a tremendous task which they assigned to themselves, one requiring endless patience and wisdom. But the Brahmo Samaj lacked the means of carrying out these reforms, and the recognition of the fact that all reforms must come from within— that superimposition can have no lasting influence.

It is not to be wondered at that this movement captured the imagination of young Bengal. In Naren was aroused a tumult of thought and feeling, and he came to regard the Samaj, whose meetings he often attended, as an ideal institution in which might be solved all of life’s problems, individual or national. He was imbued with the same ideas as the Brahmo leaders. He knew the burden and had chafed under the rigidity of caste. He had no sympathy with polytheism and image worship. He espoused the cause with all earnestness, and it was his earnest wish that the strength of thought, depth of feeling, the enthusiasm and the personal magnetism which were the characteristics of Keshab Chandra Sen, and through which lie influenced his numerous followers, might one day be his.

In 1878 there was a split in the Brahmo Samaj, and a number of the members headed by Pandit Shiva Nath Shastri and Vijay Krishna Goswami formed a new society called the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj. Naren identified himself with the new organisation and his name is still on the rolls of the original members. He also joined at this time a movement for the education of the masses, irrespective of caste, creed or colour. His intense desire for freedom made him willing to identify himself with anything that promised liberation from obsolete methods, or to cast aside anything that might interfere with his gaining of a larger vision. He was not content with passivity ; he wanted to know the “why” and the “how” of every phenomenon, mental or spiritual.

The most important trait in his character was purity. Like every other lad he was subjected to influences of a dubious nature. The opportunities for questionable adventures were many, but the influence of his mother made itself felt here, for she had made purity a matter of loyalty to herself and to the family. Then too, “something” always held him back, as he himself said later on. And purity became the standard by which he judged all ideals and visions of the soul and God ; it was the background to all his thought and feeling, and he felt that, without it, the spiritual life was impossible. To him, it was not a passive resistance to evil, but an active, overwhelming passion, a burning spiritual force relating itself to all forms of life and far beyond the merely sexual definition. Brahma-charya¹ was his ideal for students—a Brahmacharya of hard intellectual labour combined with and governed by great personal purity—a necessary stage of preparation of mind and heart for the vision which the scriptures promise to those who are faithful to that ideal.

About this time Naren’s father began to urge him to marry, with the tempting prospect of such a large dowry that he would be able to go to England to take the Civil Service Examination. But Naren rebelled. And strange to say, every time the subject of marriage came up, some unforeseen difficulty would arise or events would take some turn making it necessary to abandon the matter for the time being.

¹ Chastity in thought, word, and deed.

The inward spiritual urge was becoming very strong now. With the rest of the Brahmo Samaj he believed in a formless God with attributes (as distinguished from the Absolute of the Advaita Vedanta²), but, unlike the others, he was convinced that if God really existed He would surely appear in answer to the sincere prayers of the devotee. He felt that there must be a way of realising Him, else life would be futile.

² Spiritual Monism!

Since entering youth’s estate as he would go to sleep two strikingly dissimilar visions of life would come up before his mind’s eye—one of the life of comfort, ease, luxury, the life of the senses, the enjoyment of wealth, power, name, and fame, and the love of a devoted wife and family, in short, the worldly life—the other picture was of the Sannyisin, a wandering monk having no possessions, fixed in the consciousness of Divine Reality, living as fortune caused him a drift, eating only such food as chance might bring and resting at night under the canopy of the sky in the forest or on the mountain side. He believed himself capable of realising either of these ideals, and he often pictured himself in both, for he felt these two were within him, two painters, one, the spirit of desire, the other, the spirit of renunciation. But the further inward he would go the stronger became the figure of renunciation ; the worldly one would begin to fade until finally it disappeared. Thus the spiritual self of Naren held mastery, choosing the renunciation of desire, which is the only way to gain the vision of God.

For a time the intellectual atmosphere of the Brahmo Samaj satisfied him : he felt uplifted during the prayers and devotional songs. But presently it began to dawn on him that, if God was to be realised, he was no nearer the goal than before he joined it. What were philosophies and Vedas, but attempts to describe the Indescribable? They were useless if they did not bring one to the feet of the Lord!

In his longing to know the Truth he turned to Maharshi Debendra Nalh Tagore, who was regarded by many as one of the best of spiritual teachers. Naren had been, in company with some friends, to see him once before, and he had advised them to practise meditation with great intensity. So to the Maharshi who lived in retirement in a boat on the Ganga, Naren, burning with the desire to know God, went a second time. The sudden appearance of Naren startled the venerable old man. Before he could say a word, Naren, tense with excitement. burst out the question: “Sir, have you seen God?” The Maharshi was unable to answer and contented himself with saying, “My boy, you have the Yogi’s eyes.” Naren came away disappointed. No, the Maharshi had not seen God. He went to the leaders of other religious sects, and not one of them could say that he had seen God. Where then should he go? Suddenly he remembered Shri Ramakrishna, whom he had met for the first time at the house of a devotee of his named Surendra Nath Mitra in November, 1881, whither Naren had gone to sing. The Master had been greatly attracted by the singing, had made inquiries about Naren and had even invited him to Dakshineswar. So Naren decided to go to Dakshincswar with Smendra Nath and put his question.

We shall see later what happened there and Shri Rauia-krishna’s answer to the question. This meeting marked the opening of a new chapter in the spiritual life of Narendra Nath.

Adjustment is the law of nature, whether in the domain of spirit or matter. Through an inscrutable law, East and West offer two fields of activity, one in the domain of spirit and the other in the domain of matter, for the glorious consummation of the ideal to which all humanity has been moving through its science, philosophy, metaphysics, and religion. The West has devoted itself to researches in and discovery of the nature of material things ; the East from time immemorial has experimented in religion in order to learn the laws that rule the realm of spirit. Both ideals are necessary for the progress of humanity ; its future rests on their co-operation and mutual understanding.

In the last century one more adjustment on the spiritual plane was required. Material ideas were at their height of glory and power. Rampant growth uninspired by higher idealism of materiality governed the world. While the West was running after worldly enjoyments, the East had fallen from its true ideals. Devoid of the spirit of renunciation, the eternal Religion of the Vedas was broken into conflicting sects. The world was awaiting the birth of a Prophet in whose mind, purified of all worldly taint, the great truths underlying all the religious systems of the world would be revealed once more—a Prophet whose life would harmonise all apparently contradictory’ religious ideals and the various national and social ideals of different races and nationalities, thus uniting humanity by the ties of love and toleration into a single brotherhood.

At this psychological moment of the world’s history, the Lord, true to His promise that whenever virtue subsides and vice prevails He bodies Himself forth, incarnated Himself as Shri Ramakrishna, combining in a single personality the wonderful love and compassion of Buddha and Christ with the keen intellect of Shankara to demonstrate what true religion was.

At Kamarpukur, a distant village of Bengal, a child was born of poor Brahmin parents on the 18th of February, 1836. The father and mother were venerated as living saints by the simple villagers. The child was named Gadadhar. He grew up amidst the simplicities of a village, the cows, the fields, and the simple village life, yet he manifested even in his early boyhood remarkable traits. It is said that a religious song in praise of the gods or discussing of religious topics would often send him into a trance. When the father passed away, the family fell into straitened circumstances. The eldest brother Ramkumar came to Calcutta and opened a school. Gadadhar soon joined his brother there. Here for the first time Shri Ramakrishna—for that is the name by which Gadadhar has become famous all over the world as a great Prophet—came in touch with modern ideas. His brother was desirous of arousing his interest in secular education, but Ramakrishna who was already beginning to realise that he was born for a definite purpose, asked himself. “Shall I attain piety, devotion, and divine fervour by pursuing this education?”    “No,” was the emphatic reply of his mind. “Will it enable me to be as Godfearing and upright as my father?” “No,” echoed his innate religious instinct. “Shall I be able to realise God through this education and escape from universal ignorance and the glamour of material enjoyments?” The same reply came from his heart. “Then what shall I do with this education which will not help me to realise God or to transcend the miseries of the world? I would rather remain ignorant all my life and follow the path of God, than throw away my cherished ideals,” was his conclusion. To his brother’s persuasion he said emphatically, “Brother, what shall I do with a mere bread-winning education: I would rather acquire that wisdom which will illumine my heart and getting which one is satisfied for ever.” About this time the Kali temple at Dakshineswar, about four miles to the north of Calcutta on the east bank of the Ganga, was founded by Rani Rasmani, a pious Hindu lady of great wealth and influence. Mathura Nath Bishwas, her son-in-law, was the manager of her estate. Ramkumar was invited to take the place of the priest at the temple, which he accepted.

He came to live at Dakshineswar with his brother Ramakrishna. The proximity of the holy Ganga, the quietness and solitude of the temple-compound in contrast with the turmoil of the busv metropolis, and above all, the living presence of Kali, the Divine Mother of the universe, filled the mind of Shri Ramakrishna with a strong desire for the realisation of God, and there came a great change in him. The boy became the devotee ; the devotee became the ascetic ; the ascetic became the saint ; the saint became the man of realisation ; the man of realisation became the prophet; the prophet became merged in the Divine Nature which is God. And all this happened in the course of twelve years. It is impossible to give an idea of his passionate yearning for realisation, his utter renunciation of worldly enjoyments, his sincerity, single-minded devotion and the ecstasies of his soul which characterised this period of his life. He was innocent of scriptures and the intricacies of religious practices. He received very little help from guides at this stage. All he possessed was the great eagerness of the child to see his mother as well as a supreme disgust for worldly enjoyments. The day was spent in worship, prayer and song ; in the twilight of the early morning and dusk he would stroll along the bank of the Ganga absorbed in the contemplation of the Divine Mother ; the nights were spent in meditation. Thus while those about him were wasting time in all sorts of frivolity, he was burning day and night with this consuming thirst for God. The vision of the Divine Mother became the one passion of Shri Ramakrishna ; but he had not, as yet, realised Her. Days and months passed in this wise with no abatement of his zeal.

The agony of longing for his Divine Mother was gradually increasing. In the evening on the bank of the Ganga he would cry aloud, “Another day is gone in vain, Mother, for I have not seen Thee. Another day of this short life has passed, and I have not realised the Truth/’ Then doubts would cross his mind, and he would say, “Art Thou true, Mother, or is it all fiction, mere poetry without any reality? If Thou dost exist, why can I not see Thee? Is religion, then, a phantasy, a mere castle in the air?” But this scepticism was only momentary ; like a flash of lightning he would recall the lives and the struggles of those who liad been blessed with the vision of God, and lie would redouble his efforts.

One day the agony became quite unbearable. It was an excruciating pain. He thought that life was useless without the vision of God and determining to put an end to it, he seized the sword that was hanging in the Mother’s temple. All on a sudden, the Divine Mother illuminating everything with Her effulgent splendour revealed Herself to him. He fell unconscious to the floor. What happened after that he did not know, nor how that day or the next passed—for within him was a constant flow of ineffable bliss altogether new, and he felt the direct presence of the Divine Mother. After this vision Shri Rama-krishna became God-intoxicated. The period subsequent to this was replete with thrilling incidents of a spiritual nature. He was just stepping into a new realm, vast and limitless ; he had extraordinary visions, in trance as well as in normal consciousness, and in reality belonged to another region where he held communion with strange invisible beings. To people about him all this looked like madness, pure and simple. Though the young priest had been blessed with the vision of the Divine Mother, yet he was not happy, for it was not continuous. Could it be that his thirst after God, intense as it was, was halfhearted? He put fresh energy into his struggles and increased his prayers to the Divine Mother. As his realisations deepened, his vision of the Mother began to be continuous ; the image in the temple disappeared, and in its stead there stood the living Mother Herself, smiling and blessing him. He actually even felt Her breath on his hand, and heard Her anklets tinkling as She went to the upper story of the temple. So did the separation between him and his Divine Mother gradually vanish, and he became Her child.

His whole mind and nervous system thus became attuned to the Highest Reality and unable to respond to any worldlv stimulus. Sex consciousness was completely erased from his mind. Mathura Nath even contrived to tempt him secretly ; but he passed through such trials quite unscathed, embodiment of purity and self-control that he was. He himself said that in His whole life not even in dream did lie look upon a woman other than as the visible representation of the Divine Mother.

The physical shock of the iirst vision of the Mother was so great that for a time his body became subject to various ailments. He went back to Kamarpukur at the request of his mother and there his relatives, anxious on account of his health and in order to divert his mind to worldly affairs, married him to a young girl from a neighbouring village. He readily agreed to the proposal, seeing it as the will of the Divine Mother. This stay at Kamarpukur did him much good, but soon he returned to Dakshineswar and was plunged once more into stormy struggles, forgetting his mother, wife and relations. Days, weeks, and months passed in this search for Truth. At this time there came to Dakshineswar a nun who was an adept in the Path of Devotion as well as in the intricacies of the Tantrika Sadhana.¹ She was the first to diagnose the cause of Shri Ramakrishna’s maladies and his so-called madness. She saw that Shri Rama-krishna was in the state which is known in the Vaishnava scriptures as Maha Bhava and that his experiences were the result of his extreme love for God. Happy the man who had such experiences! She was convinced that in his trances he had scaled the ultimate heights of spiritual realisation. From this and various other factors she came to the conclusion that Shri Ramakrishna was an Incarnation and this she established before an assembly of Pandits (scholars), giving the scriptures as her authority. Shri Ramakrishna accepted her as his Guru and practised under her guidance the devotional and Tantrika methods of Sadhana, in which he attained perfection in an incredibly short time.

1. Spiritual practice according to the class of scriptures called Tantras.

Later there came to Dakshineswar a Vaishnava saint, an itinerant monk and a devotee of Rama. Ramlala or the child Rama was his favourite deity and he had already had a vision of Him. He carried a metal image of Ramlala with him which he showed to Shri Ramakrishna. But Shri Ramakrishna saw the living Raina in it, and soon established a loving relationship with it. He saw Ramlala as vividly as he saw anyone else— now dancing, now springing on his back or insisting on being taken up in his arms. He became so much attached to Shri Ramakrishna that he refused to go with his devotee, who was finally obliged to leave him behind satisfied to see him happy in Shri Ramakrishna’s company.

Ramakrishna next took up the highest form of Vaishnava Sadhana, the Madhura Bhava or the relation between a mistress and her lover. All the Vaishnava forms of Sadhana hinge on the one potent factor of human life—Love. This particular Sadhana represents the closest union between the worshipper and the object of worship ; he is not impressed by the grandeur of his Ideal but only the sweetness of the relationship interests him. The most beautiful example of this form of worship is found in Shri Krishna’s life. The perfect devotee of this type is one who looks only to the comfort of the Beloved, regardless of his own personal pleasure or convenience. This Sadhana roots out the sex idea. The soul has no sex; it is neither male nor female ; it is the body which has sex. The man who desires to reach the Spirit must get rid of sex distinctions. Shri Ramakrishna took up this Sadhana with his usual zeal. He brought the feminine idea into everything; he dressed and spoke like women and lived with the women in Mathura Nath’s family. He made every little detail of their life his own till at last he found that the Truth could be gained as a woman too.

About this time Totapuri, a Sannyasin of the highest Vedantic realisation, came to Dakshineswar. Appreciating the spiritual gifts of Shri Ramakrishna he asked if he might teach him the secret of the Advaita (non-dual) philosophy. Under his guidance Ramakrishna attained to Nirvikalpa Samadhi, the state in which the soul realises its identity with Brahman, the highest, impersonal Truth, of which it is said, “If one remains in it continuously for twenty-one days, the body withers like dried leaves and the embodied soul realises its identity with Existence Absolute.” It had taken Totapuri forty years to attain this Divine Consciousness. But Shri Ramakrishna attained it in a single day!

A wandering monk who hitherto had never stayed at a place for more than three days, Totapuri remained at Dakshineswar for eleven months, imparting his knowledge to his wonderful disciple, setting him firmly on the lofty heights of Advaita. The disciple, in his turn, became the guide of his teacher and enlightened him regarding the reality of the personal aspects of Truth which Totapuri had hitherto refused to recognise.

Meanwhile strange stories that he was mad were current in his native village. His wife Saradamani Devi resolved to learn the truth for herself. So she set out and walked to Dakshineswar. He at once admitted her right to be by his side and said, “As for me, the Mother has shown me that She resides in every woman, and so I have learned to look upon every woman as Mother. That is the only idea I can have about you. Yet as I have been married to you, if you wish to draw me into the world I am at your service’’ The wife who was a pure and noble soul at once understood and said that she had no wish to bring him down to a worldly life ; that all she wanted was to remain beside him. to serve him and to learn of him. Thus did Saradamani Devi, endowed with a rare spiritual fervour, become his first disciple. Shri Ramakrishna took up the task of teaching her, covering a wide range of subjects, from housekeeping to the knowledge of Brahman.

Some months after this there arose a desire in Shri Rama-krishna’s mind to perform the Shodashi Puja or the worship of the Woman. On the night of the new moon Shri Rama-krishna worshipped Sarada Devi as the living symbol of the Divine Mother. During the ceremony she went into Samadhi, as did the Master after finishing with the necessary rituals. Priest and Goddess were joined in a transcendental union in the Self. When the Master recovered, he surrendered himself and the fruits of his lifelong Sadhana together with his rosary, with appropriate Mantras at the feet of Sarada Devi. It was the consummation of his Sadhana and to him everything now became a symbol of God.

Shri Ramakrishna next sought to realise the ideals of other religions and found from personal experience that they also led him to the same goal which he had already attained through Hinduism. In his association with people of various sects and in comparing their realisations with his own he arrived at the conclusion that the ultimate aim of all religions was the realisation in different aspects of the one and the same Truth.

Among the innumerable aspects of divinity which Ramakrishna realised, the one that stands out most prominently is that of Kali, the Divine Mother whose emblem is death and destruction. She is the incarnation of time which engulfs all things. She is the form of Death which destroys all. Therefore Her garlands are a necklace of skulls, and the garment about Her loins is composed of several arms, while in Her hand She holds a bleeding head. And yet Kali is Brahman. For does not the idea of the Eternal rise in the mind when all ideas, temporal and mortal, have been eliminated?

Shri Ramakrishna worshipped Kali both as the Mother and as Brahman, in Her terrible forms as well as in the blessedness and bliss of Brahman. The Personal Kali merged, in his realisation, in the Impersonal. To Shri Ramakrishna, She was also the giver of immortality. She puts down the mighty from their seats and exalts those of low degree. She fills the hungry with good things and the rich She sends empty away. To Her devotee the Mother reveals Herself as the Ocean of Reality, whose heart is the throbbing of the Infinite Soul. For him, Kali held the scales of life and death, and the keys of wisdom and ignorance. At Her bidding the world begins the whirl of creation and at Her bidding it ends in destruction. Yet She is, also, ineffable Peace. Shri Ramakrishna saw the Mother in all things. He likewise realised Her as the indwelling Divinity of all souls. Though Her aspects be change, time, death, and destruction, She is the everlasting, unchanging Reality of Brahman. Shri Ramakrishna often became possessed by the Mother. His ideas of Her assumed such reality that the conscious mind gave way, and his soul shone forth as the Mother Herself. Lost in SamSdhi, his whole body stiff, his arms unconsciously took the form of Varabhaya.¹ The vastness of nature was translated by Shri Ramakrishna into the Living Reality of the Mother. Of what was embodied, She became the embodiment. Of what was ensouled She was the Soul. Beyond all and as all She dwelt incarnate as the Active Power of Supreme Reality. “Brahman and Shakti are one/’ as Shri Ramakrishna would say, “even as fire and its heat, even as milk and its whiteness. The Reality when static is Brahman, when active it is Shakti, the Mother,’’ She is absolutely beyond all speech and thought. Verily, She is the Brahman of the Vedas and the Vedanta.

In the higher forms of Samadhi, Shri Ramakrishna merged in the impersonal aspect of the Divine Mother. But for the fulfilment of the divine mission his mind had to be brought down, as if by force, to the phenomenal plane of consciousness. Then he regarded the world as the play of the Divine Mother. He, like a child, would place implicit trust in Her and follow Her guidance in everything as will be seen.

Living in intimate union with the Divine Mother Shri Ramakrishna had a number of intuitive experiences towards the close of his Sadhana period, some of which concerned himself while others related to spirituality in general. About himself Shri Ramakrishna came to the conclusion that he was an Incarnation of God, a specially commissioned personage, whose spiritual realisations were for the benefit of others, to usher in a new age of spirituality for mankind. Further, that he had always been a free soul, and so the term Mukti (freedom) was not applicable to him ; at the same time he could not attain his own final liberation like an ordinary mortal but was compelled to be born again and again to show humanity the way to freedom. Lastly, he foresaw the time of his own passing away and gave certain clues about it which were subsequently verified.

¹ The form of Kali offering “boons” with one hand and “protection” with the other.

About spiritual matters in general, the following were his convictions. As the result of his realisations through all forms of discipline, he was firmly convinced that all religions were true—that every religious system represented a path to God. Secondly, the three great systems of thought known as dualism, qualified monism, and monism (or non-dualism)—Dvaita, Vishishtadvaita, and Advaita—were not contradictory, but complementary to one another; they were but stages in man’s progress towards the Goal. As to action and inaction he said, “A man whose mind is absolutely pure naturally goes beyond action. He cannot work even if he tries to, or the Lord does not allow him to work. But the ordinary man must do his duties unattached, depending on the Lord—like the maidservant in a house, who does everything for her master, but knows in her heart that her home is elsewhere.” Thirdly, Shri Ramakrishna realised that through him the Mother would found a new Order, comprising those who would uphold the doctrines of universality illustrated in his life. And lastly, his spiritual insight told him that those who were in their last incarnation—those who had sincerely prayed to the Lord at least once—must come to him. The reader is at liberty to take this statement in a universal sense or in a mere personal way, as he chooses.

Firmly established in the consciousness of God and totally unified with the Cosmic Will, Shri Ramakrishna was eager to disseminate the results of his realisations to all eager aspirants for the Truth. He literally burned with that desire. About this he would say later, “There was no limit to the yearning I had then. In the day-time I managed somehow to control it. The secular talks of the worldly-minded were galling to me, and I would look wistfully to the day when my beloved companions¹ would come. I hoped to find solace in conversing with them and unburdening my mind by telling them about my realisations. Every little incident would make me think of them. I used to arrange in my mind what I should say to one and give to another, and so on. But when the day came to a close, I could not curb my feelings. Another day had gone and they had not come! When during the evening service the temple premises rang with the sound of bells and conch-shells,

1 .His future disciples.

I would climb to the roof of the building in the garden,and writhing in anguish of heart cry at the top of my voice, ‘Come, my boys! Oh, where are you all? I cannot bear to live without you! ’ A mother never longs so intensely for her child, nor a friend for his companions, nor a lover for his sweetheart, as I did for them! Oh, it was indescribable! Shortly after this yearning the devotees began to come in.”

To the fragrant fully blossomed lotus of the soul of Shri Ramakrishna came like bees, Gauri Pandit, Padrnalochan, Vaishnavacharan, Shashadhar Tarkachudamani, and a host of other great Pandits and SMhakas (aspirants); Keshab Chandra Sen and Pratap Chandra Mazumdar, Vijay Krishna Goswami and the great Nag Mahashaya; Christians, Mohammedans, Sikhs and Hindus, hundreds upon hundreds. Great poets and thinkers, eminent preachers and theologians, professors and leaders of public opinion, the rich and the poor, great devotees and disciples came. And this was at the time that Narendra Nath was pining for the vision of Truth. Unconsciously attracted by the wonderful aroma of Shri Ramakrishna’s realisations, he also came to Dakshineswar—he and that group of young men who were to become later the monks of the Order of Shri Ramakrishna.

The Incarnations bear a special message for the world. Moved by compassion at the sight of the sorrows and miseries of afflicted humanity, the Lord who is beyond the contamination of ignorance incarnates Himself in this world, acknowledging a temporary allegiance, as it were, to All-powerful Maya, His own inscrutable Power. His is only a translucent veil, and he is aware, even from his very birth, of the special mission he has for the world. After an intense SadhanA of some years the veil is rent and his real self shines forth, a consummation which takes an ordinary mortal thousands of births to attain. Then his power becomes irresistible. He revolutionises the world. His very presence radiates spirituality; his look and touch perform miracles. But an Incarnation, composed as he is of pure Sattva (light and wisdom), cannot, owing to his very nature, produce a mass effect upon humanity. Another personality is required with more Rajas,¹ who is capable of taking the ideas of the perfected one and giving them to the world. The inscrutable power which drags down the Lord from His High Throne to take birth as an Incarnation also projects a portion of Him, as it were, as a complementary being, for the fulfilment of his mission. In the fullness of time, the Incarnation seeks him out and makes him the conduit for his Gospel. The spiritual history of the world demonstrates the truth of this. Though surrounded by innumerable disciples and devotees, Christ had to choose a Peter as the rock upon which to build the foundation of His Church. Sri Krishna had Arjuna, Buddha had Ananda, Gouringa had Nityananda—all furnishing further evidence of this strange phenomenon. To Shri Ramakrishna, Narendra Nath played this complementary part.

1. The principle of activity.

At their first meeting Shri Ramakrishna instantaneously recognised that Naren was the one who was to carry his message to the world. Through his Nirvikalpa Samadhi, Shri Ramakrishna had gained the power to identify himself with the cosmic mind in which this universe rises and disappears like a tiny bubble in the ocean. Past, present, and future held no secret from him. He knew of the past happenings which are chronicled in the pages of nature as well as events which were to come. It was thus that Shri Ramakrishna was aware of the number of devoted souls who were born specially to assist him and the measure of help he would get from every one.

Shri Ramakrishna was the heart of old India, with its spiritual perspective, its asceticism and its realisations—the India of the Upanishads. Naren came to him with all the doubts and scepticism of the modern age, unwilling to accept even the highest truths of religion without verification, yet with a burning zeal for the Truth raging within him. Naren had yet to learn that though reason is the best instrument in the relative world, yet it cannot carry one beyond relativity into the realm of the Absolute where the truth of religion abides. The result of the contact of these two great personalities, Shri Ramakrishna and Narendra Nath, was Swami Vivekananda who was to become the heart of a New India, with the ancient spiritual perspective heightened, widened, and strengthened to include modem learning—old ideals assimilating the new. The intense activity of the West was to be combined with the deep meditation of the East. Asceticism and retirement were to be supplemented by work and service to others. From the merging of these two currents came Neo-Hinduism, the faith of a glorious Tomorrow, in which all should be fulfilment and nothing denial.

From a personal point of view the meeting was likewise extraordinary. It is better to give Shri Ramakrishna’s own account, in brief, of the first visit of his greatest disciple:

“Narendra entered this room by the western door. He seemed careless about his body and dress, and unlike other people, unmindful of the external world. His eyes bespoke an introspective mind, as if some part of it were always concentrated upon something within. I was surprised to find such a spiritual soul coming from the material atmosphere of Calcutta. A mat was spread on the floor. He sat on it just near the place where you now see the big jar containing the water of the Ganga. The friends with whom he had come appeared to be ordinary young men with the usual tendencies towards enjoyment. He sang a few Bengali songs at my request. One of it was a common song of the Brahmo Sainaj, which begins—

‘O my mind, go to your own abode.

In the foreign land of this world

Why roam uselessly like a stranger ! ‘

“He sang the song with his whole heart and put such pathos in it that I could no longer control myself, but fell into an ecstatic mood.

“Then he took leave. But after that I felt such a constant agonising desire to see him! At times the pain would be so excruciating that I felt as if my heart were being squeezed like a wet towel! Then I could no longer check myself. I ran to the northern quarter of the garden, a rather unfrequented place, and there cried at the top of my voice, ‘O my darling, come to me! I cannot live without seeing you!’ After some time, I felt better. This state of things continued for six months. There were other boys who also came here ; I felt greatly drawn towards some of them, but nothing like the way I was attracted towards Narendra.”

Narendra too was profoundly moved at his first visit to the Master. He told some of his friends of it later, though with some reserve:

“Well, I sang the song ; but shortly after, he suddenly rose and taking me by the hand led me to the northern verandah, shutting the door behind him. It was locked from the outside ; so we were alone. I thought that he would give me some private instructions. But to my utter surprise he began to shed profuse tears of joy as he held my hand, and addressing me most tenderly as one long familiar to him, said, ‘Ah, you come so late! How could you be so unkind as to keep me waiting so long! My ears are well-nigh burnt in listening to the profane talks of worldly people. Oh, how I yearn to unburden my mind to one who can appreciate my innermost experience! ‘ Thus he went on amid sobs. The next moment he stood before me with folded hands and began to address me, ‘Lord, I know you are that ancient sage, Nara—the Incarnation of Narayana—born on earth to remove the miseries of mankind,’ and so on!

“I was altogether taken aback by his conduct. ‘Who is this man whom I have come to see,’ I thought, ‘lie must be stark mad! Why, I am but the son of Vishwanath Datta, and yet he dares to address me thus!’ But I kept quiet allowing him to go on. Presently he went back to his room, and bringing some sweets, sugar candy, and butter, began to feed me with his own hands. In vain did I say again and again, ‘Please give the sweets to me, I shall share them with my friends! ‘ He simply said, ‘They may have some afterwards,’ and desisted only after I had eaten all. Then he seized me by the hand and said, Promise that you will come alone to me at an early date,’ At his importunity I had to say ‘yes’ and returned with him to my friends.”

To the others ranged about the Master, some of whom were old, some middle-aged and some lads of Naren’s age, but all convinced of his holiness, he said, “Behold! how Naren beams with the light of Saraswati, the Goddess of Learning!” Those who heard him say this looked upon Naren with wonder. Not only was it strange that the Master should speak thus, it was still more strange that he should have seen such profound spirituality in this boy. “Do you see a light before falling asleep?” asked Shri Ramakrishna. Narendra said, “Yes, sir.” The Master cried, “Ah ! It is true. This one is a Dhyana-Siddha—an adept in meditation even from his very birth,’’

Regarding his conflicting thoughts about the strange words and actions of Shri Ramakrishna, Narendra Nath used to say:

“I sat and watched him. There was nothing wrong in his words, movements or behaviour towards others. Rather from his spiritual words and ecstatic states he seemed to be a man of genuine renunciation, and there was a marked consistency between his words and life. He used the most simple language, and I thought, ‘Can this man be a great teacher?’—I crept near to him and asked him the question which I had asked so often: ‘Have you seen God, sir?’ ‘Yes, I see Him just as I see you here, only in a much in tenser sense.’ ‘God can be realised,’ he went on, ‘one can see and talk to Him as I am doing with you. But who cares to do so? People shed torrents of tears for their wife and children, for wealth or property, but who does so for the sake of God? If one weeps sincerely for Him, He surely manifests Himself.’ That impressed me at once. For the first time I found a man who dared to say that he had seen God, that religion was a reality to be felt, to be sensed in an infinitely more intense way than we can sense the world. As I heard these things from his lips, I could not but believe that he was saying them not like an ordinary preacher but from the depths of his own realisations. But I could not reconcile his words with his strange conduct with me. So I concluded that he must be a monomaniac. Yet I could not help acknowledging the magnitude of his renunciation. ‘He may be a madman,’ I thought, ‘but only the fortunate few can have such renunciation. Even if insane, this man is the holiest of the holy, a true saint, and for that alone he deserves the reverential homage of mankind!’ With such conflicting thoughts I bowed before him and begged his leave to return to Calcutta.”

Though Naren considered him to be a madman, he was at a loss to account for the strange feeling of blessedness that came over him as he sat near the Master. But it was all strange— the number of adoring devotees, the unaccountable religious ecstasy of the Master, his return from ecstasy, the atmosphere of intense blessedness, his words, the uplifting of his own soul— all these were bewildering to Naren. But in spite of the impression made by the Master, Naren was slow to accept him as teacher and allowed the thousand and one preoccupations of his daily life to prevent him from keeping his promise to repeat his visits and it was nearly a month later that he set out alone on foot to the temple-garden of Dakshineswar. The following is the description of this momentous meeting given by Narendra to some of his brother-disciples:

“I did not realise then that the temple-garden of Dakshineswar was so far from Calcutta, as on the previous occasion I had gone there in a carriage. The road seemed to me so long as to be almost endless. However I reached the garden somehow and went straight to Shri Ramakrishna’s room. I found him sitting alone on the small bedstead. He was glad to see me and calling me affectionately to his side, made me sit beside him on his bed. But the next moment I found him overcome with a sort of emotion. Muttering something to himself, with his eves fixed on me, he slowly drew near me. I thought he might do something queer as on the previous occasion. But in the twinkling of an eye he placed his right foot on my body. The touch at once gave rise to a novel experience within me. With my eyes open I saw that the walls, and everything in the room, whirled rapidly and vanished into naught, and the whole universe together with my individuality was about to merge in an all-encompassing mysterious void! I was terribly frightened and thought that I was facing death, for the loss of individuality meant nothing short of that. Unable to control myself I cried out, ‘What is it that you are doing to me! I have my parents at home! ‘ He laughed aloud at this and stroking my chest said. ‘All right, let it rest now. Everything will come in time!’ The wonder of it was that no sooner had he said this than that strange experience of mine vanished. I was myself again and found everything within and without the room as it had been before. .

“All this happened in less time than it takes me to narrate it, but it revolutionised my mind. Amazed I thought what it could possibly be. It came and went at the mere wish of this wonderful man! I began to question if it were mesmerism or hypnotism. But that was not likely, for these acted only on weak minds, and I prided myself on being just the reverse. I had not as yet surrendered myself to the stronger personality of the man. Rather I had taken him to be a monomaniac. So to what might this sudden transformation of mine be due? I could not come to any conclusion. It was an enigma, I thought, which I had better not attempt to solve. I was determined, however, to be on my guard and not to give him another chance to exert a similar influence over me.

“The next moment I thought, how can a man who shatters to pieces a resolute and strong mind like mine be dismissed as a lunatic? Yet that was just the conclusion at which one would arrive from his effusiveness on our first meeting—unless he was an Incarnation of God, which was indeed a far cry. So I was in a dilemma about the real nature of my experience as well as the truth about, this remarkable man, who was obviously pure and simple as a child. My rationalistic mind received an unpleasant rebuff at this failure in judging the true state of things. But I was determined to fathom the mystery somehow.

“Thoughts like these occupied my mind during the whole of that day. But he became quite another man after that incident and, as on the previous occasion, treated me with great kindness and cordiality. His behaviour towards me was like that of a man who meets an old friend or relative after a long separation. He seemed not to be satisfied with entertaining and taking all possible care of me. This remarkably loving treatment diew me all the more to him. At last, finding that the day was coming to a close, I asked his leave to go. He seemed very much dejected at this and gave me his permission only after I had promised to come again at my earliest convenience.”

A few days after the above experience, Narendra Nath paid his third visit to the Master at Dakshineswar, and though he was determined not to be influenced, yet he fared no better than the other times. Shri Ramakrishna took him that day to the adjacent garden of Jadunath Mallik. After a stroll in the garden they sat down in the parlour. Soon Shri Ramakrishna fell into a trance and touched Narendra Nath. In spite of all his precautions Naren was totally overwhelmed and immediately lost all outward consciousness. When he came to himself after a while, he found the Master stroking his chest.

Naren had no idea of the happenings of this period, but it was then that the Master learned many strange things about him. Referring to this incident, he said later on, “I put several questions to him while he was in that state. I asked him about his antecedents and where he lived, his mission in this world and the duration of his mortal life. He dived deep into himself and gave fitting answers to my questions. They only confirmed what I had seen and inferred about him. Those things shall be a secret, but I came to know that he was a sage who had attained perfection, a past master in meditation, and that the day he knew his real nature, he would give up the body, by an act of will, through Yoga.”

It is interesting to learn what revelations the Master had of his greatest disciple even before his arrival at Dakshineswar. This is how he described them:

“One day I found that my mind was soaring high in Samadhi along a luminous path. It soon transcended the stellar universe and entered the subtler region of ideas. As it ascended higher and higher I found on both sides of the way ideal forms of gods and goddesses. The mind then reached the outer limits of that region, where a luminous barrier separated the sphere of relative existence from that of the Absolute. Crossing that barrier, the mind entered the transcendental realm, where no corporeal being was visible. Even the gods dared not peep into that sublime realm, but had to be content to keep their seats far below. The next moment I found seven venerable sages seated there in Samadhi. It occurred to me that these sages must have surpassed not only men, but even the gods, in knowledge and holiness, in renunciation and love. Lost in admiration I was reflecting on their greatness, when I saw a portion of that undifferentiated luminous region condense into the form of a divine child. The child came to one of the sages, tenderly clasped his neck with his lovely little arms, and addressing him in a sweet voice attempted to drag his mind down from the state of Samadhi. The magic touch roused the sage from his superconscious state, and he fixed his unmoving, half-open gaze upon that wonderful child. His beaming countenance showed that the child must have been the treasure of his heart. In great joy the strange child said to him, ‘I am going down. You too must go with me.’ The sage remained mute, but his tender look expressed his assent. As he kept gazing on the child, he was again immersed in Samadhi. I was surprised to find that a fragment of his body and rnind was descending on earth in the form of an effulgent light. No sooner had I seen Naren than I recognised him to be that sage.”¹

¹ Subsequent inquiry elicited from Shri Ramakrishna the fact that the divine child was none other than himself.

On another occasion, Shri Ramakrishna in a vision saw a streak of light flash across the sky from Varanasi towards Calcutta. In great joy he exclaimed, “My prayer has been granted and my man must come to me one day.”

Now it is apparent that Naren’s inability to discover what had happened during his trance was due to the will of the Master who thought it best that his disciple should not be aware of the highest state too soon. He was not as yet prepared for it and would only have been terrified. And when Naren was in that state of Samadhi, the Master turned the subconscious currents of Naren’s nature, by force, as it were, into the superconscious channel, working a great transformation in his mind. So, little by little he began to regard Shri Ramakrishna not as a madman, but as the only sane man among the myriad lunatics of the world, who dwell in the asylum of selfishness and desire, bound down in the prison-house of lust and gold. Still the strange words Shri Ramakrishna addressed to him at the first meeting were an anomaly to him. The full significance of the part he was to play with the Master came to him later after repeated tests and trials.

Naren was the Master’s from the moment the Master touched him. It was a possession however which meant the highest freedom for Naren’s soul. He lost many of his cherished convictions, for instance, that a Guru was not necessary. How could a man, he had reasoned, necessarily weak and short-visioned, be the unerring guide that implicit obedience demands? Now he realised that it was possible that such a man could exist and that his help and influence would be of inestimable value. His faith in asceticism and renunciation was strengthened by coining in contact with the Master. He devoted himself with his entire heart and soul to the task of realising God, willingly accepting from Sliri Ramakrishna the necessary advice and help which appealed to his reason, but only after a searching analysis of the Master’s realisations and mode of life.

Narendra was a sceptic, with no faith in the Hindu gods. He laughed at many of the injunctions of the Hindu scriptures. He was not one to silence the questionings of his mind. He would not drive off a doubt with the lash of a fanatic creed. Open was his soul to all that might come in. At first came darkness, appalling darkness, intensified by anguish. Even here he tried to see ; and when the gloom was blackest and he was beginning to ask himself if he might not be chasing phantoms, a faint light as of the dawning of Truth became apparent. This gave him hope to go on in the face of failures and increasing doubts. Still dissatisfied he demanded the actual vision. The more he struggled against doubt, the more insistently it arose within the silence of the soul. He was, however, a born sailor on the ocean of the struggle for Reality, and his sailor’s instinct kept him up. Narcn was confident that beatific knowledge must come as a triumphant climax to all his struggles and sufferings.

Shri Ramakrishna understood and loved Naren the better for all this turmoil, for he himself had had to pass through upheavals, which, though they were tempests of the soul instead of the mind as in Naren’s case, were similar in their cause and intensity. He saw that Naren’s intellect, because of the very intensity of his desire for the Truth, would always doubt; but he saw as well that Naren would conquer in the end, that he would transcend all limitations and become a spiritual giant. So he continued to guide and instruct him with infinite love and patience.

Hereafter Naren’s life is that of the Saint-in-tlie-making. It is no longer his mind to which one pays attention, though it becomes more and more luminous as the years go on ; it is his heart, his very soul, his vision that captivates attention. A time was coming when the whole orb of his soul was to shine forth with the radiance and glory of the full moon. He was to attain unto the very highest possibilities of the, mystical consciousness, wherein the soul and the Supreme Reality are revealed as a perfect and indistinguishable Unity. In that imperious question, “Maliashaya (venerable sir), have you seen God?’’ asked by Naren of the Maharslii Debendra Nath, is the dawn of his spiritual life. Before that the intellect ruled and doubt was supreme ; but even then were heard, though faintly so, the stirrings of an approaching dawn, which grew into the day of glorious vision in the effulgent presence of Shri Ramakrishna, the Sun of Truth.

 

During his training with Shri Ramakrishna, the story of Naren’s life is to be told in terms of ideas and realisations. Wonderful was the relationship between Shri Ramakrishna and Naren, the full account of which can never be given. So close, so deep was their love and regard for each other, that the disciples of both, always think of them as two souls in one—Ramakrishna-Vivekananda. For the thought of the one implies the awareness of the other. From the first, it was a spiritual relationship without the slightest tinge of worldliness. From the moment that Naren came to the Master and asked, “Sir, have you seen God?” began the spiritual growth of the disciple ending in illumination. The climax was reached when the spirit of the Master, before he left the body, descended upon the disciple. This relationship served a great impersonal purpose—the revival of the religion of the Vedas and the preaching of the Modern Gospel to the peoples of the earth.

Great Teachers who have themselves realised the highest spiritual Truth, when they come in touch with a fit disciple, are eager to impart that Truth. Shri Ramakrishna recognised Naren’s great spiritual potentialities. But, at the same time, Naren needed the ripening influence of time, as we see by his terror of losing his individuality, when the Master tried to put him into Nirvikalpa Samadhi. Shri Ramakrishna once referred wittily to this incident and said to Naren, “A man died and became an evil spirit and was anxious to get a companion. Whenever it heard that someone had passed away it would at once go to the place hoping to get a companion, but every time returned disappointed, because the soul had been liberated through some act or other of piety. Such is the case with me. As soon as I saw you I thought I had a friend, but you too said that you had father and mother at home! I am therefore living alone without a companion like the spirit in the story.” Shri Ramakrishna’s love for Naren was so deep that if Naren failed to come to Dakshineswar for some days he would become disconsolate. He would weep and would pray to the Divine Mother, begging Her to make him come and refusing to be comforted in the meantime. The other devotees did not understand, nor did Naren. Sometimes he regarded Shri Ramakrishna as an old man subject to hallucinations ; at other times he was overcome by the Master’s affection and lovingly responded to it. It was really the Master’s love which enabled Naren to hold on until he could appreciate him intellectually. Something “held” him, as it were. As Naren said at that time, “It is his love for me that binds me to him.”

Once Narendra did not appear at Dakshineswar for several days and Shri Ramakrishna was much disturbed. One day two devotees, Ramdayal and Baburam, came to see the Master. Shri Ramakrishna asked Ramdayal about Narendra Nath and said, “Well, he has not come here for a long time. I long to see him. Will you please ask him to come here soon? You won’t forget it?” The visitors remained there for the night. At about 11 o’clock at night when every one had retired to bed, Shri Ramakrishna with his cloth under his arm suddenly approached them and said to Ramdayal, “Well, are you asleep?” “No, sir,” replied Ramdayal and both hurriedly sat up. “Look here. Please tell Naren to come, I feel as if somebody were wringing my heart like a wet towel,” Shri Ramakrishna said, twisting his cloth. Ramdayal, who was familiar with the childlike simplicity of Shri Ramakrishna’s character, consoled him in various ways and assured him that: he would persuade Naren to come to Dakshineswar. At the same time the two devotees were greatly puzzled by Shri Ramakrishna’s eagerness to see Narendra. This scene was repeated several times during the night.

Another devotee of Shri Ramakrishna, Vaikuntha Nath Sanyal, once found the Master very restless on account of the prolonged absence of Narendra Nath. Vaikuntha said later on, “The Master was that day full of praise of Narendra Nath. Talking about him made him so desirous of seeing him that he was completely overwhelmed, and could no longer control himself; he hurried to the adjacent verandah and cried out ‘Blessed Mother, I cannot live without seeing him/ When he returned, he said to us, in a voice full of grief, ‘I have wept so much, and yet Narendra has not come. My heart is being squeezed as it were, so excruciating is the pain at not seeing him. But he does not care/ He left the room again but soon returned and said, ‘An old man pining and weeping for the boy! What will people think of me? Von are my own people ; I do not feel ashamed to confess it before you. But how will others take it? I cannot control myself!’ But his joy was correspondingly great when Naren came,’’ At one time when the devotees were celebrating the Master’s birthday at Dakshincswar, and the beloved disciple did not come until noon, he asked about him again and again. When Naren finally appeared and bowed before him, the Master leaned on his shoulder and fell into deep Samadhi. When he returned to normal consciousness, he fed and caressed Naren. Often, the mere sight of Naren would send the Master into Samadhi. Once when he had not seen him for some time, he went to meet him at the landing ghat at Dakshineswar. and touching the disciple’s face began to chant the most holy word of the Vedas and went into Samadhi.

During the five years of Narendra’s discipleship he went to see the Master once or twice a week. Sometimes he would stay over for a few days. During the last years family troubles prevented him from going to Dakshineswar as frequently as lie would have wished. Shri Ramakrishna consoled himself during those days with the thought, “It is good that Naren does not come, for I experience a commotion of feeling when I see him. His coming makes a great event here.”

Shri Ramakrishna’s greatest attractions in Naren’s eyes were his renunciation, purity and constant devotion to God ; whereas, in his disciple the Master respected the unbounded self-reliance, manly spirit and single-minded devotion to Truth. It is impossible for us to describe Shri Ramakrishna’s faith in Naren. Ordinary people looked upon Naren’s self-reliance as foolhardiness. His manliness appeared to them as obstinacy. His uncompromising regard for Truth was described as evidence of an immature intellect. People could not understand his supreme disregard for praise or contumely, his childlike frankness and, above all, his spirit of freedom and fearlessness in thought, speech and action. But Shri Ramakrishna from the very outset knew the apparent vanity and obstinacy of Narendra Nath to be but the manifestations of his self-reliance and the consciousness of his uncommon mental powers, his freedom in thought and action to be the outcome of self-control, and his great indifference to human praise or blame to be due to the purity of his heart. He foresaw that when the latent genius of Narendra Nath would develop into full maturity, the apparent pride and stubbornness would be transformed into love and pity for the afflicted, his self-reliance would inspire the hopeless and the despondent witli courage and manliness, and his love of freedom would show mankind the way to liberation.

He used to call Naren and a few others Nitya-siddhas, perfect even from birth. ’‘What training they go through,” he used to say, “they do not need for themselves ; it is for the good of the world.” Indeed the Master thought so highly of Naren that if anybody spoke disparagingly of him, he would remonstrate with the speaker saying, “What are you doing! You are committing Shivaninda!” meaning that to speak slightingly of Naren was as bad as blasphemy against Shiva. He would also say, “Let no one judge Naren. No one will ever be able to understand him fully.” Once when a devotee brought the news to him that Naren was falling into evil ways by mixing with persons of questionable character, Shri Ramakrishna took him sharply to task saying, “That is not true. Mother has told me that Naren can never fall into evil ways. If you talk to me in that strain any more, I shall never see you again.” Shri Ramakrishna never hesitated to praise Naren before his devotees. He knew well that such encomiums might give rise to pride and vanity in weaker minds, but he was convinced that Narendra was above such pettiness and narrowness. One day Shri Ramakrishna was seated in his room with Keshab Chandra Sen, Vijay Krishna Goswami and other celebrated leaders of the Brahmo Samaj. Narendra Nath was also present. The Master, in an exalted mood, cast his eyes upon the Brahmos and then on Naren, and a picture of the latter’s future greatness Hashed across his mind, and he was filled with tenderness for the disciple. After the meeting was over he said to some devotees, “Well, if Keshab is possessed of one mark of greatness which has made him famous, Naren has eighteen such marks. In Keshab and Vijay I saw the light of knowledge burning like a candle’ flame, but in Narendra it was like a blazing sun, dispelling the last vestige of ignorance and delusion.” An ordinary man would have become inflated at such compliments. But Naren was quite different. In comparison with Keshab and Vijay he thought himself very insignificant and he protested to the Master, “Sir, why do you say such things! People will think you inad. How can you compare the world-renowned Keshab and the saintly Vijay with an insignificant young student like me? Please do not do so again.” At this Shri Ramakrishna was pleased and said, “I cannot help it. Do you think those were my words! The Divine Mother showed me certain things which I simply repeated. And She never reveals to me anything but the truth.” This reference to divine revelation for support did not impress Narendra Nath. He doubted and said frankly and boldly, “Who knows if these are the revelations from the Mother or the mere fancies of your brain? If I were in your position I would attribute them to imagination, pure and simple. Western science and philosophy have demonstrated that we are often deceived by our senses, and the chances of deception are much more when there is a personal predisposition thereto. Since you love me and always wish to see me great, it is but natural that these fancies come into your mind.” When the Master’s mind was on higher planes, he would take no notice of Naren’s words ; at other times Naren’s apparently incontrovertible reasoning upset him. In his perplexity the Master appealed to the Divine Mother and was comforted when She said, “Why do you care for what he says? In a few days he will admit every word of it to be true!”

But the eulogistic opinion of Shri Ramakrishna served to give Naren great strength of will and inspiration, especially in later years when as the Swami Vivekananda he was preaching his great message to the world.

Once several days elapsed between Naren’s visits to Dakshi-neswar. Shri Ramakrishna became very anxious and sent for him. But Naren did not come. Thereupon Shri Ramakrishna set out for Calcutta himself. Surmising that Naren would be present at the evening services of the Brahmo Samaj, it was there that he directed his steps. He had often visited the Samaj and knew intimately many of its prominent members. The service was already in progress when Shri Ramakrishna in a semi-conscious state made his appearance. The preacher broke off his sermon, and the congregation started at the new-comer. Shri Ramakrishna, unmindful of the commotion his presence was causing, advanced slowly to the pulpit and fell into a superconscious state! This further heightened the curiosity of the assembly and the disorder increased. Some of the leading Brahmos present, connecting Shri Ramakrishna with a recent split in their camp because Keshab and Vijay had changed their views under his influence, considered this visit an intrusion. They turned off the lights in order to bring order. This only added to the confusion and everybody rushed towards the door! Naren who was in the choir guessed the reason of the Master’s visit and went instantly to his rescue, conducted him through the crowd to the backdoor and so on to Dakshineswar. Shri Ramakrishna paid no heed to Naren’s expostulations as to the wisdom of his action and was not in the least repentant.

Naren would say, “I did not hesitate to use harsh words for his blind love for me. I used to warn him saying that if he constantly thought of me, he would become like me, even as King Bharata of the old legend, who so doted upon his pet deer that even at the time of death he was unable to think of anything else, and, as a result, was born as a deer in his next life. At these words, the Master, so simple was he, became very nervous, and said, ‘What you say is quite true. What is to become of me, for I cannot bear to be separated from you?’

Sadly dejected, he went to the Kali temple, whence he returned in a few minutes smiling and said. ‘You rogue. I would not listen to you any more. Mother says that I love you because I see the Lord in you, and the day I shall no longer do so, I shall not be able to bear even the sight of you.’ By this short but emphatic statement he dismissed once for all everything that I had ever said to him on the subject.”

This was really the key to Shri Ramakrishna’s overwhelming love for Naren and his other disciples. The Master had dignified their relationship beyond any human or personal sentiment.

On another occasion referring to his relationship with Naren and the other young boys, Shri Ramakrishna said, “Hazra took me to task because I am anxious to see the boys. He said, ‘When do you think of God?’ I felt uneasy and said to Mother, ‘Hazra asks why I should think so much of Naren and the other boys.’ And Mother at once showed me that She Herself was in all human forms. She manifests Herself specially in pure bodies. When I came out of this Samadhi, I was angry with Hazra and said, ‘Oh, what a fool! How he unsettled my mind! ’ But to myself, ‘Why blame the poor fellow! How could he know! ’ ”

The Master continued, ‘‘I regard these boys as embodied Narayana. When I saw Naren for the first time I recognised that he had no body-idea. As soon as I touched him in the region of the heart he lost outward consciousness. Gradually intense longing came upon me to see him again and again, and it filled my heart with pain. Then I said to Bholanath (an officer of the Kali temple), ‘How is it that I feel this, and that for a boy, a Kayastha by caste?’ And Bholanath said, ‘Sir, that is all right. It is explained in the Mahabharata that when the mind of a man of Samadhi comes down to the normal plane, it finds recreation only in the company of men of Sattva quality, men of the highest spirituality.’ This comforted me.”

Once Naren was seated in his study with some of his friends. He had not visited Dakshineswar for some time. During the conversation, a voice was heard calling out, “Naren! Naren!” All started to their feet. Naren hastened down the stairs to receive Shri Ramakrishna for it was he who had come. His eyes were lilled with tears. “Naren, why do you not come to see me these days?” he asked. He was as simple as a child. He had brought with him some sweetmeats with which he fed Naren with his own hands. Ah! Indeed! Wonderful is the way the Lord points out the paths of illumination to the struggling and sincere devotee! The Lord Himself comes to him who looks for Him, the Teacher to the disciple when the latter is prepared, “Come! ” Shri Ramakrishna urged, “Sing me one of your songs.” Naren took his musical instrument, the Tanpura, and began a song to the Divine Mother. The others sat still. In a few minutes Shri Ramakrishna became unconscious to all outward things.

In one of Naren’s early visits to Dakshineswar, Shri Ramakrishna said to him, “Behold, in you is Shiva! And in me is Shakti! And these two are One!” Naren. of course, was not able to understand the meaning of such utterances then. It is singular to note that Naren was rarely allowed to offer any act of personal service to the Master, such as fanning and the like—services which the disciple is supposed to render to his spiritual guide during his training. Was it that Shri Ramakrishna saw the Divine, the Shiva, so intensely in Naren, that he held him too sacred to do any Seva or service to him? For Seva is only for the purification of heart ; what need has he for Seva whose heart is already pure! Let it not be thought, however, that Naren did not feel this as a great deprivation. He would insist on offering service, in some way or other, for love of the Master and through his own sense of humility ; but; the Master would seldom allow it, saying, “Your path is different! ”

Shri Ramakrishna’s relationship with and attitude towards Narendra differed a great deal from his treatment of the other disciples. With them he always observed great restrictions, as regards food, meditation, prayer, sleep and other affairs of daily life, There were no such restrictions with Naren. He would say, “Naren is a Nitya-siddlia, perfect in realisation even from his very birth ; Naren is Dhyana-siddha, an adept in meditation ; the roaring fire of knowledge which is always ablaze in Naren burns to ashes whatever impure food he may take. Impurity of food can never tarnish his pure mind. He is always cutting to pieces the veils of Maya by the sword of knowledge. The inscrutable Maya can never bring him under Her control.” When any admirer came to Dakshincswar with offerings of fruits and sweetmeats for the Master, they would be set aside, not to be eaten by himself or given to the disciples unless he was sure that the donor was pure in character and unselfish in motive. But he allowed Naren to take them. Nothing could affect him. he said, and sometimes, when Naren did not make his appearance, the Master would even send the delicacies to Naren’s home. Sometimes after eating at a hotel Naren would say to the Master, “Sir, I have eaten today what is considered forbidden food.’’ Shri Ramakrishna, realising that Naren was not speaking in a spirit of bravado, would say, “That would not affect you in the least. If one can keep one’s mind steadfast upon God after partaking of beef or of pork, these things are as good as Havishyanna.¹ But vegetables eaten by a man engrossed in worldliness are no better than -pork or beef. That you have taken forbidden food does not make any difference to me. But if any of these (pointing to the other devotees) had done so, I could not even bear to have them touch me.”

1. Rice specially prepared and taken with clarified butter only.

Narendra wondered at this discrimination exercised as to food and the receiving of presents from certain persons. He thought it was perhaps superstitious eccentricity or puritanical squeamishness. But Shri Ramakrishna insisted that when he refused to accept offerings it was because the giver was of questionable character. This interested Naren. Was it true? He determined to find out for himself. He observed and studied the characters of those whose offerings the Master had rejected, and he found that in every case Shri Ramakrishna had acted rightly. Amazed, he said to himself, “What a wonderful man is this! His purity is past understanding. How he can read the minds of others!”

Shri Ramakrishna was delighted when Naren engaged himself in arguments with the other devotees. Naren would storm their minds, startling them with the profundity of his knowledge as he cited Western and Eastern philosophers. For it was not mere learning which Naren revealed, it was the very spirit of learning which seemed incarnate in him. The Master’s delight knew no bounds when he found others much older than Naren unable to withstand Naren’s reasoning power.

As a member of the Brahmo Samaj, Naren was committed to a belief in a formless God with attributes, thus turning his back on the gods of Hinduism. In his enthusiasm he had persuaded Rakhal, another of Shri Ramakrishna’s great disciples, to embrace the Brahmo creed. But Rakhal was really a great devotee whose latent devotional fervour was roused to the highest pitch when he came in contact with Shri Ramakrishna. When he went with the Master to the Kali temple, he bowed down before the images, which was against the Brahmo creed to which he had subscribed. One day Naren saw him, and took him to task. Rakhal possessed a very gentle nature, and rather than argue he avoided Naren. Shri Ramakrishna intervened and said to Naren, “Please do not intimidate Rakhal. He is afraid of you. He believes now in God with forms. How are you going to change him? Every one cannot realise the formless aspect of God at the very beginning.” That was enough for Narendra and he never interfered with RakhaFs religious views again.

Sometimes Naren revealed a tendency to fanaticism. Shri Ramakrishna would admonish him, “My boy, try to see the Truth from all angles and through every perspective.” This tendency to bigotry disappeared when Naren realised the oneness of all spiritual endeavour and religious belief. But he continued to argue against image worship with Shri Ramakrishna. One day the Master, tired of trying to convince him that the images worshipped were but the presentment of spiritual ideals, said, “Why do you come here if you won’t acknowledge my Mother?” Naren replied courageously, “Must I accept Her simply because I come here?” “All right,” said the Master, “ere long you shall not only acknowledge my Blessed Mother, but weep in Her name.” Then to the other devotees he said, “This boy has no faith in the forms of God and tells me that my superscnsuous experiences are hallucinations, but he is a fine boy of pure instincts. He does not believe anything unless he gets direct proof. He has studied much and is possessed of great judgment and discrimination.”

One of the bones of contention between the Master and Naren was the Radha-Krishna episode of the Hindu scriptures. In the first place Narendra doubted the historicity of the tale, and in the second, he considered the relationship of Krishna to Radha immoral and objectionable. Unable to convince him, Shri Ramakrishna said one day, “Admitted that as a historical personality Radha did not exist and that the tale is purely an imagination of some devoted lover of God, why not fix your mind only on the intense yearning of Radha and the Gopis for That which is the Supreme? Why dwell on the expression? Though that may appear human to you, you must take the yearning and the vision as divine.”

But the Master was glad in his heart that Naren was a rebel, for without intellectual strain and struggle no one can arrive at real illumination ; besides, his own struggles would be helpful later in understanding and solving the difficulties of others. At the same time, the difficulties of Naren, his whole struggle and gradual realisation, prove the rare quality of Shri Ramakrishna’s teaching, revealing him as the living Incarnation of Hinduism.

From the first it was Shri Ramakrishna’s idea to initiate Narendra into the mysteries of the Advaita Vedanta. With that end in mind he would ask Naren to read aloud passages from Ashtavakra Samhitd and other Advaita treatises in order to familiarise him with the philosophy. To Narendra, a staunch adherent of the Brahmo Samaj, these writings seemed heretical, and he would rebel saying, “It is blasphemous, for there is no difference between such philosophy and atheism. There is no greater sin in the world than to think of myself as identical with the Creator. I am God, you are God, these created things are God—what can be more absurd than this! The sages who wrote such things must have been insane.” Shri Ramakrishna would be amused at this bluntness and would only remark, “You may not accept the views of these seers. But how can you abuse them or limit God’s infinitude? Go on praying to the God of Truth and believe in any aspect of His which He reveals to you.” But Naren did not surrender easily. Whatever did not tally with reason, he considered to be false, and it was his nature to stand against falsehood. Therefore he missed no opportunity to ridicule the Advaita philosophy.

But the Master knew that Narendra’s was the path of Juana (knowledge) ; for this reason he made it a point to continue to talk of the Advaita philosophy to him. One day he tried to bring home to him the identity of the individual soul with Brahman, but without success. Narendra left the room and going to Pratap Chandra Hazra said, “How can this be? This jug is God, this cup is God and we too are God: Nothing can be more preposterous!” Shri Ramakrishna, who was in his room in a state of semi-consciousness, hearing Naren’s laughter came out with his cloth under his arm like a child. “Hullo! what are you talking about?” he said smiling, touched Narendra and plunged into Samadlii. The effect of the touch Naren described:

“The magic touch of the Master that day immediately brought a wonderful change over my mind. I was stupefied to find that really there was nothing in the universe but God! I saw it quite clearly but kept silent, to see if the idea would last. But the impression did not abate in the course of the day. I returned home, but there too, everything I saw appeared to be Brahman. I sat down to take my meal, but found that, everything—the food, the plate, the person who served and even myself—was nothing but That. I ate a morsel or two and sat still. I was started by my mother’s words, ‘Why do you sit still? Finish your meal’,—and began to eat again. But all the while, whether eating or lying down, or going to College, I had the same experience and left myself always in a sort of comatose state. While walking in the streets, I noticed cabs plying, but I did not feel inclined to move out of the way. I felt that the cabs and myself were of one stuff. There was no sensation in my limbs, which, I thought, were getting paralysed. I did not relish eating, and felt as if some-body else were eating. Sometimes I lay down during a meal and after a few minutes got up and again began to eat. The result would be that on some days I would take too much, but it did no harm. My mother became alarmed and said that there must be something wrong with me. She was afraid that I might not live long. When the above state altered a little, the world began to appear to me as a dream. While walking in Cornwallis Square, I would strike my head against the iron railings to see if they were real or only a dream. This state of things continued for some days. When I became normal again, I realised that I must have had a glimpse of the Advaita state. Then it struck me that the words of the scriptures were not false. Thenceforth I could not deny the conclusions of the Advaita philosophy.”

Such was the greatness of the teaching of Shri Ramakrishna ; and such the training of Naren. Little by little Naren was led from doubt to beatitude, from darkness to light, from anguish of mind to the certainty of bliss, from the seething vortex of the world to the grand expanse of universal Oneness. He was taken, little by little, and by the power of Shri Ramakrishna, out of bondage into infinite freedom, from the pale of a little learning into that omniscience which is the consciousness of Brahman. He was lifted out of all objective conceptions of the Godhead into the glorious awareness of the subjective nature of True Being, above form, above thought, above sense, above all relative good and evil, into the sameness and Reality and the absolute beyondness of Brahman. The scene of Naren’s highest realisation was the Cossipore garden and the time of the occurrence, the immediate future. Now’ did Naren’s regard for the Master increase a thousandfold ; he was beginning to accept him as the highest ideal of spirituality.

Again and again the Master told his disciples to test his realisations. “Test me as the money-changers test their coins. You must not accept me until you have tested me thoroughly.” One day whilst the Master was absent in Calcutta, Naren came to Dakshineswar and found Shri Ramakrishna’s room empty. A desire arose in him to test Shri Ramakrishna’s renunciation of gold. So he secreted a rupee under the bed and then went to meditate under the Panchavati. Soon Shri Ramakrishna returned. He sat upon the bed. Directly he touched it, he started back in great pain. Naren who had returned stood watching silently. An attendant at once examined the bed ; as lie pulled off the covering the coin fell to the ground. Naren left the room without uttering a word. Ramakrishna realised that he had been tested by Naren and rejoiced.

But the disciples were tested in their turn by Shri Raina-krishna. Even Naren had to pass through many ordeals before the Master accepted him. He examined Naren’s body thoroughly and remarked one day. “Your physical signs are good. The only fault I find is that you breathe rather heavily while asleep. Such a man, the Yogis say, is shortlived.” On another occasion the Master said, “Your eyes show that you are not a dry Jnani (man of knowledge). In you are blended tender devotion and deep knowledge.” As a result of these investigations Shri Ramakrishna concluded that Naren possessed in a rare degree spirituality, boldness, restraint and the spirit of self-sacrifice ; that never in the midst of the most adverse circumstances would his actions be ordinary.

On one occasion Shri Ramakrishna tested Naren severely. We have already seen how his very presence at Dakshineswar filled the Master with intense joy and delight. Even the sight of him at a distance would move him deeply. Sometimes he would even go into Samadhi at the mere sight of him. A day came, however, when all this was changed and he began to treat Naren with utter indifference. Narendra came, saluted the Master and sat down before him. He waited for a while but the Master never even spoke. Thinking the Master was, perhaps, absorbed he left the room and coming to Hazra began to chat and smoke with him. Then he heard the Master talking with others and went back to be met with worse treatment, for the Master not only failed to greet him but turned his face away from him towards the wall. When Narendra Nath left for Calcutta there was no change in the Master’s indifferent attitude.

A week later, Naren came to Dakshineswar again to find the Master’s manner towards him unchanged. He spent the day talking with Ilazra and the other devotees and returned home at nightfall. The third and the fourth time it was the same ; but Narendra Nath kept coming to Dakshineswar, and showed no resentment. Between these visits the Master would sometimes send to Calcutta to enquire about Naren’s health, but without changing his demeanour in Naren’s presence. At the end of a month, during which time there was no reaction from Naren, the Master said to him, “Though I do not exchange a single word with you, you still continue to come! How is that ?” Narendra Nath replied, “Do you think that I come here only to listen to you? I love you and want to see you. This is why I come to Dakshineswar.” Shri Ramakrishna was highly pleased at the reply and said, “I was only testing you to see if you would stay away when I did not show you love and attention. Only one of your calibre could put up with so much neglect and indifference. Any one else would have left me long ago, never to come back again.”

On another occasion Shri Ramakrishna called him to the Panchavati and said, “Through the practice of severe spiritual discipline I have acquired supernatural powers. But of what use are they to me? I cannot even keep my body properly covered. Therefore, with the Mother’s permission, I am thinking of transmitting them to you. She has made known to me that you will have to do much work for Her. If I impart these powers to you, you can use them when necessary. What do you say?” Narendra knew that the Master possessed powers. After a moment’s thought he said, “Will these help me to realise God?” “No,” replied the Master, “they will not help you to do that, but they will be very helpful to you when, after realising

God you will be engaged in doing His work.” Naren said, ” I do not want them. Let me realise God first ; maybe then I shall know whether I want them or not. If I accept them now, I may forget my ideal and in making use of them for some selfish purpose come to grief.” We do not know whether Shri Rama-krishna really wanted to impart his powers to Naren or whether he was simply testing him. But we do know that he was much pleased when Naren refused them.

It is impossible to give the reader a complete idea of the relationship between them ; of the love and liberty which Naren enjoyed in the company of the Master. Shri Ramakrishna confided the innermost secrets of his heart to Naren. He helped him to develop independence of thought, thus increasing a thousandfold Naren’s self reliance, regard for truth and innate spirituality. The Master’s love for and faith in Naren acted as a great restraint upon the freedom-loving young disciple and proved an unconscious protection from temptations.

The weaving of the web of a great personality is a wonderful and unique process. The days are the weavers and even experience a thread ; intellect and heart with their variations are the warp and woof; and of these elements is made up the pattern by the awakening soul. The spiritual stature of the individual, with his realisations of the Truth, however, depends entirely on his awareness that his real nature is spiritual ; with that must go an entire willingness to renounce the whole world, if need be, lo uncover that nature. No less clearly does the old mandate of renunciation ring as it issues from the mouth of the sage who walked the hills of Judea : “What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his own soul?” than when it was sounded centuries before by those other sages in ancient India :    “All this is Maya, the unreal. That alone is worth while which is real’’

A survey of Naren’s youth shows three main factors operating on and moulding his character :    His innate spiritual tendency, or, to continue the argument of above, his awareness of his real nature ; the influence of his family and of his studies ; and lastly, the guidance of his great spiritual teacher Shri Rarnakrishna, who raised him from the quagmire of unhappiness and scepticism into certainty and Peace. In the foregoing pages we have given an idea of his innate spiritual qualities as induced by his intense purity, his thirst to know God, his quest for one who had seen Him and his final surrender at the feet of the Master at Dakshineswar.

The influence of his family was exerted mainly through his parents and was profound and far-reaching in its effects. It was his mother who imbued him with the ideas of feeling nobly, thinking highly and acting rightly, and gave him his wide knowledge of the great Hindu Epics, the RaMayana and the Mahabharata, which he gained at her knee as she read them aloud to him in the twilight. To his father he owed his broadmindedness, manliness and respect for any rightful pride in national traditions. Vishwanath Datta, however, could not escape the influence of Western culture which was acting on the India of his time, and as a result he like others had lost faith in the sacred writings of his own land. That was the penalty he had to pay for being sufficiently open-minded to keep in touch with the atheistic and epicurean intellectual movement of his day. But all this served through his influence on Naren the purpose of widening the scope of his learning by directing his attention to the culture of other lands. This was as it should be, for, as Swami Vivekananda, his outlook had to be broad enough to include all cultures, all religions, and that with sympathy and understanding, and Naren himself was desirous of encompassing all knowledge, Eastern or Western, philosophical, artistic, and scientific, more specially, Western philosophy.

Forthwith, he threw himself into the study of Western philosophy, science, history and art with his usual intensity, determined to discover and master their underlying purport. He was cognisant already of the fact that most philosophical systems are only intellectual diagrams, giving no place to the emotions of man, thereby stifling his creative and responsive faculties. After all, it requires as great an act of faith to believe in a speculative system of thought as to “believe without understanding” in theological dogmas. Naren did not want diagrams of Truth, no matter how clever. He wanted the Truth. True philosophy should be the mother of spiritual action, the fountain-head of creative energy, the highest and noblest stimulus to the will. Stopping short of that, it is worthless.

The abstruse philosophy of Herbert Spencer interested him particularly, and later on he used the Spencerian mode of reasoning in his argumentations on the more abstruse doctrines of the Upanishads and the Vedanta—much as Lafcadio Hearn, in a less spiritual way, did with the Buddhism of Japan. Herein Naren gained that power of thought, penetrating discrimination and spirit of search for a scientific basis, which stood him in good stead in delivering his message in later years. The philosophy of Spencer is dangerous to the traditional theological ‘conception of the origin of and outlook on things. It pulverises the very foundations of belief itself; only the strength of an innate idealism, the power of the poetic and imaginative temperament, can save any part of the old personality. It will be seen that it was his inherent capacities for the broader vision that saved young Naren from becoming a hopeless fatalist and atheist. In him was latent the mystic-tliat-was-to-be, and his spirited soul could not stop its questionings at the agnostic’s half-way house. He also studied the systems of the German philosophers, particularly Kant and Schopenhauer, as well as of John Stuart Mill and Auguste Comte and delved into the mystical and analytical speculations of the ancient Aristotelian school. For a time he found refuge and solace in the Positivist philosophy of Comte which embraces a wide ethical outlook. But never did his enthusiasm for the Truth interfere with his subjecting any newer and greater revelation, before accepting it, to the same keen-eyed scrutiny he had given his earlier beliefs, and comparing it to the systems of his own land.

He now was in full rebellion against the Hindu social system ; his eyes were opened to the bondage in which the whole nation was to the autocracy of the priestly caste. The network of caste and creed became to him intolerable. With most persons, particularly those of a romantic temperament, this is a critical state, for there is the danger of dulling the moral sense. When the gods and religious duties, and ascetic and spiritual ideals go, what power is left to curb the turbulent senses? Truly was this a tempestuous period for Naren involving his whole personality ; and wonderful was the strength of his inner self which bore him through. His mind was carried by its own impetus beyond the dark and questionable realm of the senses into the world of pure intellectuality, by his subconscious determination to find a way out of the network of ignorance to the reality of his own nature, if such reality there were—to find a way to God, if God existed. To him the solution of this problem was the imperative need. To a mind of his mould agnosticism was only a mood. The mystical temperament cannot stop at “I do not know”. The problem of life, the quest for Truth, is for such a one irresistible. His mind is swept by currents peculiar to itself, which, if he is fortunate, carry him past the dangers of doubts and agnosticism into the safety of realisation. Naren was lost in a maze of agnosticism, but he did not lose heart. If philosophy could not help him, if it was not the door-way to vision, he felt it would have to be discarded as an abstraction, which, beautiful though it might be, was not worth while.

Empirical science cannot transcend the realm of the intellect and senses and therefore cannot enable the aspirant to realise that Permanent Reality which is the foundation and cause of all phenomena. Naren was in accord with Western science and philosophy in their dictum that all that man really knows of the world is nothing but the reaction in time and space of his own senses on outside objects ; that this external world in itself is for ever unknown and unknowable. This is also true of the internal nature of man. He can never truly know his inner reality, because it is beyond the laws of time and space. Narendra Nath was aware that the sense-organs, mind and intellect are incapable of solving the ultimate riddle of the universe, because even the sense-perceptions on which man bases his various speculations and theories regarding the ultimate mystery of the universe about him are themselves not free from error and are hence unreliable. Western savants have totally failed to establish the existence of the Self apart from physical consciousness and consequently have failed to come to a final conclusion regarding the ultimate Truth.

Nevertheless Narendra had a great respect for Western material science and its analytical processes. He used them to test Shri Ramakrishna’s various supernatural experiences and accepted only those which stood the test. Though he was literally pining for Truth, yet he would not accept anything through fear or because of outside pressure. He was even willing to become an honest atheist if that was to be the end of all reasoning; so eager was he to solve the mystery of the universe that he was willing to surrender all the pleasures of the world, nay, even life itself for a vision of the Truth. With this idea always in mind, he pursued his studies of Western science and philosophy, accepting whatever was good in them. He did not serve learning in order to make it useful in the acquisition of material power; he ascended the stairs of thought because he desired to realise Truth, spiritual and divine. In his rebellion against his inherited faith he was forced to much wandering and intellectual struggle only to return to it to attain the Truth in his final illumination.

His researches were not confined to philosophy. In connection with his other studies he took a course in Western medicine in order to acquaint himself with the working of the nervous system—the brain and spinal cord. He had a passion for history, the story of the conditions under which human character and human events were developed. History was. to him, the record of the heart-throbbings of the centuries telling of the aspirations and the realisations of nations.

Poetry, because it is the language of ideals, made a strong appeal to Naren. Wordsworth was to him the fixed star of the poetic firmament. Naren lived in the world of ideals, where history and philosophy and poetry and all the sciences are recog-nised as phases of Reality. He possessed a prophetic vision of learning, wherein thought was seen as subservient to the real purpose of life, the intellect being the fuel on which the soul fed and which it burned in its supreme effort to go ultimately beyond the intellect, beyond all thought.

With all his seriousness there was another side to Naren. He had a great love for pleasure and gave himself up to it whole-heartedly. Thoroughly human and interested in the ways of human life, he was known in college as “a good old soul”, because of his stories, wit and merry-making. He was the leader in all innocent fun, and no party was considered complete without him. But his amusements were never allowed to interfere with his studies. Often, after spending the day with friends, he would plunge late at night into the study of some complex historical or philosophical treatise, not giving over until he had completely mastered it. His brain was always clear, even when his health was impaired and he was physically weak. This is to be marvelled at when one considers the terrible strain to which he frequently subjected it. In the last days of his life he used to say, “Though my body is worn out, my brain is as clear as ever.” Naren’s was a strange personality made up of varying moods and qualities. In mischievous fun a boy, in song an artist, in intellectual pursuits a scholar and in his outlook on life a philosopher.

Naren had learned to do whatever was to be done because the mind sees and understands the fitness of the doing and not because of some external pressure. The freedom of the will, he was convinced, was the basis of all true self-development; but that freedom of will must be added to and supported by a righteous and developed discrimination. Then one obeyed the moral laws as a master, not as a slave. He possessed that rare and wonderful qualification for the attainment of the spiritual consciousness—a positive passion for good. Though his mind plunged into the depth of agnosticism, he hated a materialistic and sensuous outlook of life. He did not make a little learning an excuse for much sinning.

The monastic instinct was natural to him, and yet he was a jubilant lover of life. He had the physical freedom of a child with the intellectual strength of a spiritual giant. It is not strange, therefore, to find him rising from his study, when he was preparing for the B. L. Examination and saying to a friend. “Yes, I must abandon the idea of appearing for the examination. What does it all mean! I must be free!” In early youth he recognised marriage to be a barrier to spirituality and said to this same friend, “You are married. You are under the bondage of the householder’s life. I am free. Mine will be the monastic life, I am sure.” He knew life to be a dream. His very agnosticism had impressed him with the meaninglessness of all things. Therefore he looked upon the monastic life as the only method of protest against the falseness of it all.

The great barrier to his final realisation at this period was the intellect. But it had to be silenced, not by stunting its growth by the acceptance of any casual belief, not by suppressing it as one would an evil thought or desire, but by developing it to its highest capacity. It must have dealt successfully with all phases of doubt and of uncertainty and gone beyond to the perception of reality, before being capable of joining the emotions in the living of the spiritual life. How Naren arrived at this consummation is a mystery. How his intellect became illuminated, no one knows. It was perhaps due to his contact with his teacher Shri Ramakrishna, whose realisation was the fulfilment and solution of all intellectual cravings and doubts. For do not the scriptures say that when one knows God one knows the Universe? Nature cannot withhold from such a one any of her secrets. But Naren had still to grope in darkness for some time to come. There were many difficulties to be faced, many doubts to be settled before he could resign himself to a teacher and accept his teachings without question, and he was to fight every inch of the way, accepting nothing until it was proved conclusively. When any point was gained it became insight, illumination. In all his struggles and sufferings of mind and heart he instinctively felt that victory was to be his : that his latent monastic self would some day overcome his agnostic mind and make of him the victorious monk. He was pure in heart, and such, Jesus the Christ said, shall see God.

To gain a still clearer perspective of Naren’s personality and the early stage of his mental development, it would be well to quote the observations of one of his fellow-students, Dr. Brajendra Nath Seal, who was one of the leading intellects of India. He says in an article written for the Prabuddha Bhdrata in 1907:

“When I first met Vivekananda in 1881, we were fellow-students of Principal William Hastie, scholar, metaphysician, and poet, at the General Assembly’s College. He was my senior in age, though I was his senior in the College by one year. Undeniably a gifted youth, sociable, free and unconventional in manners, a sweet singer, the soul of social circles, a brilliant conversationalist, somewhat bitter and caustic, piercing with the shafts of a keen wit the shows and mummeries of the world, sitting in the scorner’s chair but hiding the tenderest of hearts under that garb of cynicism ; altogether an inspired Bohemian but possessing what Bohemians lack, an iron will ; somewhat peremptory and absolute, speaking with accents of authority and withal possessing a strange power of the eye which could hold his listeners in thrall.

“This was patent to all. But what was known to few was (he inner man and his struggle—the Sturm und Drang of soul which expressed itself in his restless and Bohemian wanderings.

“This was the beginning of a critical period in his mental history, during which he awoke to self-consciousness and laid the foundations of his future personality. John Stuart Mill’s Three Essays on Religion had upset his first boyish theism and easy optimism which he had imbibed from the outer circles of the Brahmo Samaj. The arguments from causality and design were for him broken reeds to lean upon, and he was haunted by the problem of the Evil in Nature and Man which he, by no means, could reconcile with the goodness of an All-wise and All-powerful Creator. A friend introduced him to the study of Hume’s Scepticism and Herbert Spencer’s doctrine of the Unknowable, and his unbelief gradually assumed the form of a settled philosophical scepticism.

“His first emotional freshness and naivete were worn out. A certain dryness and incapacity for the old prayerful devotions, an ennui which he concealed under a nonchalant air of habitual mocking and scoffing, troubled his spirit. But music, still stirred him as nothing else could, and gave him a weird unearthly sense of unseen realities which brought tears to his eyes.

“It was at this time that he came to me being brought by a common friend, the same who had introduced him to the study of Hume and Herbert Spencer. I had had a nodding acquaintance with him before, but now he opened himself to me and spoke of his harassing doubts and his despair of reaching certitude about the Ultimate Reality. He asked for a course of Theistic philosophic reading suited to a beginner in his situation. I named some authorities, but the stock arguments of the Intuitionists and the Scotch common-sense school only conlirmed him in his unbelief. Besides, he did not appear to me to have sufficient patience for humdrum reading—his faculty was to imbibe not so much from books as from living communion and personal experience. With him it was life kindling life and thought kindling thought.

“I felt deeply drawn towards him, for I now knew that he would grapple with difficulties in earnest.

“I gave him a course of readings in Shelley. Shelley’s Hymn to the spirit of Intellectual Beauty, his pantheism of impersonal love and his vision of a glorified millennial humanity moved him as the arguments of the philosophers had failed to move him. The universe was no longer a mere lifeless, loveless mechanism. It contained a spiritual principle of unity.

“I spoke to him now of a higher unity than Shelley had conceived, the unity of the Para Brahman as the Universal Reason. My own position at that time sought to fuse into one, three essential elements, the pure monism of the Vedanta, the dialectics of the Absolute idea of Hegel and the Gospel of Equality, Liberty and Fraternity of the French Revolution. The principle of individuation was with me the principle of Evil. The Universal Reason was all in all, Nature, life, history being the progressive unfolding of the Absolute idea. All ethical, social and political creeds and principles were to be tested by their conformity to Pure Reason. The element of feeling appeared to me merely pathological, a disturbance of sanity and order. How to overcome the resistance of matter, of individuality and of unreason, to the manifestation of the Pure Reason was the great problem of life and society, of education and legislation. I also held with the ardour of a young inexperienced visionary that the deliverance of the race from the bondage of unreason would come about through a new revolutionary polity of which the watchwords were Equality, Liberty and Fraternity.

“The sovereignty of Universal Reason, and the negation of the individual as the principle of morals, were ideas that soon came to satisfy Vivekananda’s intellect and gave him an assured inquest over scepticism and materialism. What was more, they furnished him with the card and compass of life, as it were. But this brought him no peace. The conflict now entered deeper into his soul, for the creed of Universal Reason called on him to suppress the yearnings and susceptibilities of his artist nature and Bohemian temperament. His senses were keen and acute, his natural cravings and passions strong and imperious, his youthful susceptibilities tender, his conviviality free and merry. To suppress these was to kill his natural spontaneity—almost to suppress his self. The struggle soon took a seriously ethical turn—reason struggling for mastery with passion and sense. The fascinations of the sense and the cravings of a youthful nature now appeared to him as impure, as gross and carnal. This was the hour of darkest trial for him. His musical gifts brought him associates for whose manners and morals he had bitter and undisguised contempt. But his convivial temperament proved too strong for him. It was, therefore, some relief to him when I occasionally kept him company of an evening when he went out for a musical soiree.

“I saw and recognised in him a high, ardent and pure nature, vibrant and resonant with impassioned sensibilities. He was certainly no sour or cross-grained puritan, no normal hypochondriac: he would indulge cynically in unconventional language except when he would spare my innocence. He took an almost morbid delight in shocking conventionality in its tabernacles, respectability in its booths ,* and in the pursuit of his sport would appear other than he was, puzzling and mystifying those outside his inner circle of friends. But in the recesses of his soul he wrestled with the fierce and fell spirit of Desire, the subtle and illusive spirit of Fancy.

“To his repeated quest for some power which would deliver him from bondage and unavailing struggle, I could only point to the sovereignty of Pure Reason and the ineffable peace that comes of identifying the self with the Reason in the Universe. Those were for me days of a victorious Platonic transcendentalism. The experience of a refractory flesh or rebellious temperament had not come to me. I had not sufficient patience for the mood or attitude of mind which surrenders the sovereign right of self-government to artificial props or outside help, such as grace or mediation. I felt no need of conciliating feeling and nature in the cult of Reason, nor had had any experience of a will divided in its allegiance to the Self. The experience of a discord between the Ideal and the Real, between Nature and Spirit, had indeed come to me already in an objective way as an outstanding reality and was to come afterwards in subjective fashion though in forms quite other than what obtained in Vivekananda’s case. But at the time, his problems were not mine, nor were my difficulties his.

“He confessed that though his intellect was conquered bv the universal, his heart owned the allegiance of the individual Ego and complained that a pale bloodless reason, sovereign de jure but not de facto, could not hold out arms to save him in the hour of temptation. He wanted to know if my philosophy could satisfy his senses, could mediate bodily, as it were, for the soul’s deliverance ; in short, he wanted a flesh and blood reality visible in form and glory ; above all, he cried out for a hand to save, to uplift, to protect, a Shakti or power outside himself which could cure him of his impotence and cover his nothingness with glory—a Guru or master who by embodying perfection in the flesh would still the commotion in his soul.

“At the time, this appeared to me a weakness bom of unreason, this demand for perfection in the flesh and for a power out of ourselves to save—this sacrifice of reason to sense. My young inexperienced self, confronted with this demand of a soul striving with itself, knew not wherewith to satisfy it, and Viveka-nanda soon after betook himself to the ministers and missionaries of the Brahmo Samaj, asking Brahmos with an unconscious Socratic Irony for an ideal made real to sense, for truth made visible, for a power unto deliverance. Here he had enough, he bitterly complained, of moral disquisitions, principles, intuitions for pabulum which to him appeared tasteless and insipid. He tried diverse teachers, creeds and cults, and it was this quest that brought him, though at first in a doubting spirit, to the Parama-hamsa of Dakshineswar, who spoke to him with an authority as none had spoken before, and by his Shakti brought peace into his soul and healed the wounds of his spirit. But his rebellious intellect scarcely yet owned the Master. His mind misgave him and he doubted if the peace which would possess his soul in the presence of the Master was not illusory. It was only gradually that the doubts of that keen intellect were vanquished by the calm assurance that belongs to ocular demonstration.

“I watched with intense interest the transformation that went on under my eyes. The attitude of a young and rampant Vedantist-cMM-Hegelian-c«m-Revolutionary like myself towards the cult of religious ecstasy and Kali-worship, may be easily imagined ; and the spectacle of a bom iconoclast and free-thinker like Vivekananda, a creative and dominating intelligence, a tamer of souls, himself caught in the meshes of what appeared to me an uncouth, supernatural mysticism, was a riddle which my philosophy of the Pure Reason could scarcely read at the time. But Vivekananda, ‘the loved and lost* was loved, and mourned most in what I could not but then regard as his defection ; and it was personal feeling, after all, the hated pathological element of individual preference and individual relationship, which most impelled me, when at last I went on what to a home-keeping recluse like myself was an adventurous journey to Dakshineswar, to see and hear Vivekananda’s Master, and spent the greater part of a long summer day in the shady and peaceful solitude of the Temple-garden, returning as the sun set amidst the whirl and rush and roar and the awful gloom of a blinding thunder-storm, with a sense of bewilderment as well moral as physical, and a lurking perception of the truth that the majesty of Law orders the apparently irregular and grotesque, that there may be self-mastery in apparent selfalienation, that sense even in its errors is only incipient Reason and that faith in a Saving Power ab extra is but the dim reflex of an original act of self-determination. And a significant confirmation of all this came in the subsequent life-history of Vivekananda who, after he had found the firm assurance he sought in the saving Grace and Power of his Master, went about preaching and teaching the creed of the Universal Man, and the absolute and inalienable sovereignty of the Self.”

Naren yearned sincerely for knowledge, sure, real, permanent and satisfactory. He*wanted to get out of the quagmire of doubt and uncertainty. To him the voice of the spirit of agnosticism w’as the voice of anguish, causing him much mental tribulation and stress of soul. A feeling of emptiness and sadness obsessed him. Why he could not explain. He entered that world in which every glance and every step is suffering, because it is the world of doubt in which man says, “I do not know”. The ordinary philosopher utters this with indifference; the saint-tliat-is-to-be says it with a suffering-laden heart. The worldly man pays no heed if the whole world of idealism and tradition falls; he is oblivious to the suffering which disillusion involves. Yet in all this confusion of intellect and agnosticism Naren practised meditation. He continued his spiritual exercises. It gave him great mental peace, this effort to quiet the mind in meditation. And in that state when great silence and great stillness came, he would sometimes pass into the innermost recesses of his nature. There the doubting mind could not follow. During this period the visions he had during the first few visits to Dakshineswar helped him a great deal to keep his mind firm in the belief of an ultimate Reality. Shri Ramakrishna’s words were of great comfort and helped to keep him steady in the practice of meditation, no matter what the tumult of his mind : “God listens to the sincere prayer of the human mind. I can swear that you can see Him more intensely than you see me. You can talk to Him more intimately than you talk to me. One can hear His words and feel His touch.” Again : “You may not believe in various divine forms and may discard them as products of the human imagination. But if you believe in some ultimate Reality which is the regulator of the universe, you can pray thus :    ‘O God, I do not know Thee. Be gracious to reveal to me Thy real nature! —He must listen to you if your prayer be sincere.” These words of the Master encouraged Naren a great deal and helped to turn his mind more and more to the practice of spiritual exercises. He had been greatly impressed with the opinion of Hamilton that the human intellect can only give hints of the truth that there exists a God who is the regulator of the universe. It is beyond the power of intellect to give a correct knowledge of God. Here philosophy ends and religion begins. Naren often would quote this. Though he was now giving much time and energy to spiritual exercises, he did not throw away his philosophical books. As a matter of fact, study, music and meditation wholly occupied his mind.

Naren took to a new method of meditation. Formerly he used to meditate upon God, following the Brahmo belief, as formless but endowed with attributes. But now he prayed from the bottom of his heart, “O God, be gracious and reveal to me Thy real nature which is the embodiment of Truth! ’* Then he would banish from his mind all other thoughts. After a while his mind would dive so deeply into the innermost recesses of his soul that he would lose all consciousness of body and time. He would meditate in this manner at night when all the inmates of the house had retired. He would feel then an ineffable peace within ; afterwards he would feel for some time a sort of intoxication which made it difficult for him to leave his seat. On one such occasion as he was thus seated after meditation, he w<as blessed with=”” the=”” vision=”” of=”” lord=”” buddha.<=”” span=””></as blessed>

Time passed on and the days became landmarks of varied higher experiences. The man is seen in the making, inflexible with himself in his search for Reality. All the passionate longing which, in ordinary persons, is related to the senses, was in Naren directed to the understanding of life and its problems. Where there is such sincerity of effort there must come realisation. The result of all his deep study in the wisdom of man only brought him to the conclusion that all worldly knowledge and experience is vanity and vexation of spirit. Slowly but surely came the expansion of thought. Gradually Naren became convinced, by an intellectual process, of the existence of an Ultimate Reality, conscious and inexpressible, from which all phenomena have emanated. The gods might be false, thought Naren, but not God.

But it must be remembered that there w’ere other factors equally important in Naren’s finding of this intellectual, or rather spiritual position, besides his own innate power of discrimination and thought. Naren began to build, though slowly at first, an enlightened spiritual life upon the broad basis of insight under the vigilant watch of an ever-wakeful spiritual guide. It was a long way, however, between the state of agnosticism and the state of prayer. But prayer and contemplation were gradually awakened in Naren, as he began to lead the life of renunciation, the quieting of the senses, and centre the strength and intensity of his thought upon these noble ideals. And was not such concentration of thought, in itself, prayer? There came a longing for divine vision, to make thought a process of feeling. The idea, God, must become the feeling that God is. And when one has that feeling, who shall say unto him, ‘‘This is true and this is not true’*? Intellectual truth is always debatable ; spiritual Truth is beyond debate. To feel such a longing, even to dream of such an exalted state of consciousness, verily, in itself, is spirituality. Naren pondered deeply on the idea of God. He would dream day after day of the contents of the infinite consciousness. Meditation became a habit with him. The desire to see, to know the Truth, became so intense that already the walls of his intellect were being undermined and washed away, leaving the way open to the intuitive mind, the direct servant of the soul. At night he often sank the shaft of personality into its very depths. In the dream consciousness he would see dimly things w’hich were beyond all mortal dreaming, or in the morning he would awake with a feeling of exaltation that could only be explained on the ground that his sleep was not ordinary sleep. The feeling of exaltation, the temporary glimpses of Reality, were daily happenings with him. It was at this time that frequently he seemed to be separate from his body.

He thought when he met the Master, his guide and companion, that he had found a haven of peace and the end of all his struggles, but he was unable to accept the teacher in toto. As the Master tried to kindle the sleeping spirituality of his disciple, the latter asserted his intellectual strength. He opposed and he fretted. But the Master,to use his own expressionns,was not a water-snake, but a deadly cobra whose bite was fatal. Gradually Naren’s opposition died away in complete surrender. The inner history of Naren’s conversion and illumination is too subtle to be described in words. The Guru performed this in an inscrutable manner. Only the outer strife, the intellectual struggle Naren’s friends observed and knew. But the real conversion is a mystery, known only to the teacher, and perhaps, the disciple.

Naren’s days now passed in study and meditation. Often he went to Dakshineswar. At his own home he lived in a room all to himself. Vishwanath Datta, whose ambition was to see Naren a great legal light, made him an assistant to Nimai Charan Bose, a well-known attorney-at-law. Vishwanath was also desirous of seeing his son marry. On several occasions he had planned for Naren’s marriage, but for some reason or other arrangements were always broken off. Shri Ramakrishna was greatly opposed to Naren’s marriage. He prayed to Mother that it should never take place. He was greatly relieved when such negotiations fell through, for he held that Naren was not born for the love of any single person, or for the rearing up of a family, but for the saving of souls. Naren’s father, however, did secure an alliance with a powerful and wealthy family of Calcutta who were ready to pay a magnificent sum as dowry to Naren’s people and send him to England for education. But before the marriage could take place the father passed away. Naren now became his own master. His determination (o remain unmarried was inflexible. The ideal of celibacy became a principle with him as his passion for purity became stronger. And when the members of the family would press him to lead the householder’s life and repeatedly urged him to marry, he said to them with vehemence, “What, are you going to drown me? Once married, it will be all over with me! ”

Naren often spoke about the glory of the monastic life to his friends ; they did not understand and tried to induce him to turn his attention to worldly pursuits. “Why not settle down to definite plans, Naren? You have a great career before you if you will only look more towards the prospects which the world holds out/’ said a friend. Naren met this remark witn a snrug and told them that he had olten desired to possess a reputation, position and popularity, with wealth and power. But reflection had shown him that death comes and engulfs all! Why should then one build up greatness which can be destroyed by death! ’‘The life of the monk is really great for he seeks to push aside the power of death. He seeks a changeless reality, while the world deals with and falls with the conditions of change.” The friends were not convinced. ’‘The trouble is,” said one of them, “that Naren has met an old man who goes into trances and lives a monk’s life in the grounds of the Kali-teinple at Dakshineswar on the banks of the Ganga. He is always meditating and talking about God and knows nothing about the world. This man is upsetting all of Narcn’s ambitions and is turning his mind from worldly affairs and ruining his future. The name of this old man is Ramakrishna Parama-hamsa. Naren. if you have any sense, give up going to see him. It is hampering your studies, and it will ruin your whole future if you continue. You have great talents. You can attain anything if you set your will to it and give up going to Dakshineswar.” Naren replied very gravely, “You see, you do not understand. I myself do not understand. No, even I do not understand, but I love that old man, that saint, Shri Ramakrishna.”

If Narendra did not go to Dakshineswar for several days, the Master would come to his disciple in Calcutta, when he would give Naren counsel regarding meditation and other spiritual exercises. He was afraid that Naren, unable to bear the importunities of his parents and relatives, would accept the bondage of married life. He often encouraged him to live the strict life of Bralmiacharya and said one day, “A man develops subtle power as a result of strict observance of the vows of celibacy for twelve years. Then he can understand and grasp very subtle things which otherwise elude his intellect. Through that understanding the aspirant can get direct revelation of God. That pure understanding alone enables him to realise Truth.”

The ladies of the family concluded that Naren was averse to marriage as a result of his intimacy with Shri Ramakrishna. Referring to this, Naren said later, “One day my grandmother overheard my Master speaking in my room, about the efficacy of a celibate life. She told of this to my parents. They became greatly concerned lest I should renounce the world and were increasingly anxious that I should marry. My mother was especially fearful lest I should leave the family to take upon myself the vows of monastic life. She often spoke of the matter to me ; but I would give a casual reply. But all their plannings for my marriage were frustrated by the strong will of the Master. On one occasion all negotiations of marriage were settled, when a petty dillerence of opinion arose and the engagement was broken.”

Naren, as we have seen, sat for his B.A. Examination in 1884. Some days after the examination he suddenly came face to face with the grirn reality of the world ; his lightheartedness and boyishness of spirit received a rude shock. It was the early part of 1884. The examination result was not yet out. He had gone one evening about two miles from the city of Calcutta to visit a friend at Baranagore. It was night and there was much talk. Just as the merriment and song were at their height, a messenger came from Naren’s home with the news that his father had died suddenly of heart disease. The news overwhelmed Naren. He hastened at once to Calcutta. The mother, the two sisters, and two younger brothers of Naren were waiting and weeping. Naren was dazed. He could neither weep nor speak. According to custom he performed the last rites for his father.

Vishwanath’s sudden death placed the entire family in a desperate condition, for he was the only earning member and always spent more than he earned. The creditors knocked at the door. Relatives who had been indebted to his father in so many ways now turned into enemies. They even resolved to deprive the family of its living quarters. Though Narendra had no income he was compelled to maintain seven or eight persons. Came days of suffering. From comfort Naren was suddenly thrown into the direst poverty, facing at times even actual starvation. Later he made efforts to forget those terrible days, but in vain. So dark were they, so heavy the clouds of fate. Yet he is the real man who meets fate fearlessly and with power, the captain of his soul. This Naren did. He passed his B.A. Examination and was admitted to the Law class. In college he was the poorest of the poor. Even shoes became a luxury ; his garments were of the coarsest cloth, and many times he went to his classes without food. Often he became faint with hunger and weakness. His friends, now and then, invited him to their houses. He would chat happily with them for long hours, but when food was offered, the vision of the desolation at his home would come up in his mind and prevent him from eating. He would leave with the excuse that he had a pressing engagement elsewhere. On reaching home he would eat as little as possible in order that the others might have enough. Since his passing away his mother has told many stories of the sacrifices her son made for her at that time. Often he would refuse to eat on the plea that he had already eaten at the house of a friend, when the fact was, he did not eat at home for fear of depriving others of a full meal. Such was the greatness and such was the fineness of the man! At the same time he tried to be his ordinary boyish, joyous self and to make light of his trials. The Datta family was proud, in a lordly way, and concealed its misery under the cloak of pride. His friends, sons of wealthy families of Calcutta, drove up in magnificent carriages to Naren’s home to take him for drives and pleasure trips, never suspecting that his wasting away physically was due to any other cause than an exaggerated grief at the loss of his father.

To make matters worse, a dispute arose with a branch of the family over the very house in which Naren and his mother lived. On some far-fetched basis a case was made out against them, and the affair was brought into the courts. The contestants demanded that the house be partitioned, they to receive the larger and better portion. This was a blow to Naren. His mother sank under it. That they were to have their affairs aired in public! The case dragged on and on. During the trial several incidents occurred which revealed the temper, the character and the wit of Naren. Finally the case was decided in favour of Naren’s family.

After that, things became easier but by no means comfortable. For several years it was a painful struggle to obtain the coarsest food and clothing. Yet they were happy, when they remembered that the home was theirs and they were together. Naren made every effort to make both ends meet. He became a Freemason, hoping that the social advantages thereby to be gained would also create a financial opportunity for him. He became a teacher in one of Vidyasagar’s institutions, but gave that up in a month’s time for better opportunities. It was a hand-to-mouth existence. There were moments when Naren despaired, but he was too brave to show what he felt. In other trying times later, the memory of these struggles and hardships gave him strength to carry on, for nothing could be worse than the evils through which he had already successfully passed. The relationship between mother and son was deepened a hundredfold through these tempestuous experiences and she was made to recognise through them that in Naren was the trait of character which she especially admired in his father—never, never to acknowledge defeat.

The following is Naren’s own description of this darkest period of his life:

“Even before the period of mourning was over I had to knock about in search of a job. Starving and barefooted, I wandered from office to office under the scorching noon-day sun with an application in hand, one or two intimate friends who sympathised with me in my misfortunes accompanying me sometimes. But everywhere the door was slammed in my face. This first contact with the reality of life convinced me that unselfish sympathy was a rarity in the world—there was no place in it for the weak, the poor and the destitute. I noticed that those who only a few days ago would have been proud to help me in any way, now turned their face against me, though they had enough and to spare. Seeing all this, the world sometimes seemed to me to be the handiwork of the devil. One day, weary and footsore, I sat down in the shade of the Ochterlony Monu-merit in the Maidan. Some friends of mine happened to be there, one of whom sang a song about the overflowing grace of God, perhaps to comfort me. It was like a terrible blow on my head. I remembered the helpless condition of my mother and brothers, and exclaimed in bitter anguish and despondency, ‘Will you please stop that song? Such fancies may be pleasing to those who are born with a silver spoon in their mouth and have no starving relatives at home. Yes, there was a time when I too thought like that. But today before the hard facts of life, it sounds like grim mockery.’

“My friend must have been wounded. How could he fathom the dire misery that had forced these words out of my mouth? Sometimes when I found that there were not enough provisions for the family and my purse was empty, I would pretend to my mother that I had an invitation to dine out and remain practically without food. Out of self-respect I could not disclose the facts to others. My rich friends sometimes requested me to come to their homes or gardens and sing. I had to comply when I could not avoid it. I did not feel inclined to express my woes before them nor did they try, themselves, to find out my difficulties. A few among them, sometimes, used to ask me, ‘Why do you look so pale and weak today?’ Only one of them came to know about my poverty without my knowledge, and, now and then, sent anonymous help to my mother by which act of kindness he has put me under a deep debt of gratitude.

“Some of my old friends who earned their livelihood by unfair means, asked me to join them. A few among them who had been compelled to follow this dubious way of life by sudden turns of fortune, as in my case, really felt sympathy for me. There were other troubles also. Various temptations came in my way. A rich woman sent me an ugly proposal to end my days of penury which I sternly rejected with scorn. Another woman also made similar overtures to me. I said to her, ‘You have wasted your life seeking the pleasures of the flesh. The dark shadows of death are before you. Have you done anything to face that? Give up all these filthy desires and remember God!’

“In spite of all these troubles, however, I never lost faith in the existence of God nor in His divine mercy. Every morning taking His name I got up and went out in search of a job. One day my mother overheard me and said bitterly, ‘Hush, you fool, you have been crying yourself hoarse for God from your childhood, and what has He done for you?’ I was stung to the quick. Doubt crossed my mind. ‘Does God really exist/ I thought, ‘and if so, does He really hear the fervent prayer of man? Then why is there no response to my passionate appeals? Why is there so much woe in His benign kingdom? Why does Satan rule in the realm of the Merciful God?’ Pandit Ishwar Chandra Vidya-sagar’s words—‘if God is good and gracious, why then do millions of people die for want of a few morsels of food at times of famine?—rang in my ears with bitter irony. I was exceedingly cross with God. It was also the most opportune moment for doubt to creep into my heart.

“It was ever against my nature to do anything secretly. On the contrary it was a habit with me from my boyhood not to hide even my thoughts from others through fear or anything else. So it was quite natural for me now to proceed to prove before the world that God was a myth, or that, even if He existed, to call upon Him was fruitless. Soon the report gained currency that I was an atheist and did not scruple to drink or even frequent houses of ill fame. This unmerited calumny hardened my heart still more. I openly declared that in this miserable world there was nothing reprehensible in a man who, seeking for a brief respite, would resort to anything. Not only that, but if I was once convinced of the efficacy of such a course, I would not, through fear of anybody, shrink from following it.

“A garbled report of the matter soon reached the ears of the Master and his devotees in Calcutta. Some of these came to me to have a first-hand knowledge of the situation and hinted to me that they believed in some of the rumours at least. A sense of wounded pride filled my heart on finding that they could think me so low. In an exasperated mood I gave them to understand plainly that it was cowardice to believe in God through fear of hell and argued with them as to His existence or non-existence, quoting several Western philosophers in support. The result was that they took leave of me with the conviction that I was hopelessly lost—and I was glad. I thought that perhaps Shri Raniakrishna also would believe that, and this thought filled me with uncontrollable pique. ‘Never mind,’ I said to myself, ‘if the good or bad opinion of a man rests upon such flimsy foundations, I don’t care.’ But I was amazed to hear later that the Master had, at first, received the report coldly, without expressing an opinion one way or the other. And when one of his favourite disciples, Bhavanath, said to him with tears in his eyes, ‘Sir, I could not even dream that Narendra could stoop so low,’ he was furious and said, ‘Hush, you fool l The Mother has told me that it can never be so. I shan’t be able to look at you if you speak to me again like that.’

“But notwithstanding these forced atheistic views, the vivid memory of the divine visions I had experienced since my boyhood, and especially after my contact with Shri Ramakrishna, would lead me to think that God must exist and that there must be some way to realise Him. Otherwise life would be meaningless. In the midst of all troubles and tribulations I must find that way. Days passed and the mind continued to waver between doubt and certainty. My pecuniary wants also remained just the same.

“The summer was over, and the rains set in. The search for a job still went on. One evening, after a whole day’s fast and exposure to rain I was returning home with tired limbs and a jaded mind ; overpowered with exhaustion and unable to move a step forward, I sank down on the outer plinth of a house on the roadside. I can’t say whether I was insensible for a time or not. Various thoughts crowded in on my mind, and I was too weak tc drive them off and fix my attention on a particular thing. Suddenly I felt as if by some divine power the coverings of my soul were removed one after another. All my former doubts regarding the coexistence of divine justice and mercy, and the presence of misery in the creation of a Blissful Providence, were automatically solved. By a deep introspection I found the meaning of it all and was satisfied. As I proceeded homewards I found there was no trace of fatigue in the body and the mind was refreshed with wonderful strength and peace. The night was well nigh over.

“Henceforth I became deaf to the praise and blame of worldly people. I was convinced that I was not bom like humdrum people to earn money and maintain my family, much less to strive for sense-pleasure. I began secretly to prepare myself to renounce the world like my grandfather. I fixed a day for the purpose and was glad to hear that the Master was to come to Calcutta that very day. ‘It is lucky, I thought, ‘I shall leave the world with the blessing of my Gum’ As soon as I met the Master, he pressed me hard to spend that night with him at Dakshineswar. I made various excuses, but to no purpose. I had to accompany him. There was not much talk in the carriage. Reaching Dakshineswar I was seated for some time in his room along with others, when he went into a trance. Presently he drew near me and touching me with great tenderness, began to sing a song, with tears in his eyes. I had repressed my feelings so long, but now they overflowed in tears. The meaning of the song was too apparent—he knew of my intentions. The audience marvelled at this exchange of feeling between us. When the Master regained his normal mood, some of them asked him the reason of it, and he replied with a smile, ‘Oh, it was something between him and me’. Then at night he dismissed the others and calling me to his side said, ‘I know you have come for the Mother’s work, and won’t be able to remain in the world. But for my sake, stay as long as I live/ Saying this he burst into tears again. The next day with his permission I returned home. A thousand thoughts about the maintenance of the family assailed me. I began to look about again for a living. By working in an attorney’s office and translating a few books, I got just enough means to live from hand to mouth, but it was not permanent, and there was no fixed income to maintain my mother and brothers.

“One day the idea struck me that God listened to Shri Ramakrishna’s prayers ; so why should I not ask him to pray for me for the removal of my pecuniary wants — a favour the Master would never deny me? I hurried to Dakshineswar and insisted on his’making the appeal on behalf of my starving family. He said, ‘My boy, I can’t make such demands. But why don’t you go and ask the Mother yourself? All your sufferings are due to your disregard of Her.’ I said, ‘I do not know the Mother, you please speak to Her on my behalf. You must.’ He replied tenderly, ‘My dear boy, I have done so again and again. But you do not accept Her, so She does not grant my prayer. All right, it is Tuesday—go to the Kali temple tonight, prostrate yourself before the Mother and ask Her any boon you like. It shall be granted. She is Knowledge Absolute, the Inscrutable Power of Brahman, and by Her mere will has given birth to this world. Everything is in Her power to give.’ I believed every word and eagerly waited for the night. About 9 o’clock the Master commanded me to go to the temple. As I went, I was filled with a divine intoxication. My feet were unsteady. My heart was leaping in anticipation of the joy of beholding the living Goddess and hearing Her words. I was full of the idea. Reaching the temple, as I cast my eyes upon the image, I actually found that the Divine Mother was living and conscious, the Perennial Fountain of Divine Love and Beauty. I was caught in a surging wave of devotion and love. In an ecstasy of joy I prostrated myself again and again before the Mother and prayed, ‘Mother, give me discrimination! Give me renunciation! Give unto me knowledge and devotion! Grant that I may have an uninterrupted vision of Thee!’ A serene peace reigned in my soul. The world was forgotten. Only the Divine Mother shone within my heart.

“As soon as I returned, the Master asked me if I had prayed to the Mother for the removal of my worldly wants. I was startled at this question and said, ‘No, sir, I forgot all about it. But is there any remedy now? ’ ‘Go again’, said he, ‘and tell Her about your wants.’ I again set out for the temple, but at the sight of the Mother again forgot my mission, bowed to Her repeatedly and prayed only for love and devotion. The Master asked me if I had done it the second time. I told him what had happened. He said, ‘How thoughtless! Couldn’t you restrain yourself enough to say those few words? Well, try once more and make that prayer to Her. Quick!’ I went for the third time, but on entering the temple a terrible shame overpowered me. I thought, ‘What a trifle I have come to pray to the Mother about! It is like asking a gracious king for a few vegetables! What a fool I am!’ In shame and remorse I bowed to Her respectfully and said, ‘Mother. I want nothing but knowledge and devotion.’ Coming out of the temple I understood that all this was due to the Master’s will. Otherwise how could I fail in my object no less than thrice? I came to him and said, ‘Sir, it is you who have cast a charm over my mind and made me forgetful. Now please grant me the boon that my people at home may no longer suffer the pinch of poverty.’ He said, ‘Such a prayer never comes from my lips. I asked you to pray for yourself. But you couldn’t do it. It appears that you are not destined to enjoy worldly happiness. Well, I can’t help it.’ But I wouldn’t let him go. I insisted on his granting that prayer. At last he said, ‘All right, your people at home will never be in want of plain food and clothing.’ ”

The above incident is, no doubt, a landmark in Naren’s life. Hitherto he had not realised the significance of the Motherhood of God. He had nothing but unfeigned contempt for image-worship. From now on the full meaning and purpose of the worship of God through images was brought home to him, thus making his spiritual life richer and fuller. Shri Rama-krishna was delighted beyond measure at this transformation. The following account of Vaikuntha Nath Sanyal, another devotee of the Master, who visited Dakshineswar the next day, will bear this out:

“Coming to Dakshineswar at noon I found the Master alone in his room and Narendra sleeping outside. Shri Ramakrishna was in a joyous mood, and as soon as I saluted him he said, pointing to Narendra, ‘Look here, that boy is exceptionally good. His name is Narendra. He would not accept the Divine Mother before, but did so yesterday. He is in straitened circumstances nowadays. So I advised him to pray to the Mother for riches, but he couldn’t. He said he was put to shame. Returning from the temple he asked me to teach him a song to the Mother, which I did. The whole of the last night he sang that song. So he is sleeping now’ Then with an unfeigned delight he said ,’Isn’t it wonderful that Narendra has accepted Mother?’ I said, ‘Yes’. After a brief pause he repeated the question, and thus it went on for some time.

“At about 4 o’clock Narendra came to Shri Ramakrishna before leaving for Calcutta. But no sooner had the Master seen him than he came closer and closer to him and sitting almost on his lap said, pointing first to himself and then to Narendra, ‘Well, I see I am this and again that. Really I feel no difference—as a stick floating on the Ganga seems to divide the water, which in reality is one. Do you see my point? Well, what exists after all but Mother? What do you say?’ After talking a few minutes like this, he wished to smoke. I prepared tobacco and gave him the hookah. After one or two puffs at it he said he would smoke from the Chillum (pipe). Then he offered it to Naren saying, Tull at it through my hands’. Naren of course hesitated. How could he defile the hands of his Guru by touching them with his lips? But Shri Ramakrishna said, ‘What foolish ideas you have! Am I different from you? This is myself and that too is myself.’ He again put forth his hands towards the lips of Narendra, who had no alternative but to comply with his request. Narendra took two or three puffs. Shri Ramakrishna was about to smoke when Narendra hurriedly interfered saying, ‘Please wash your hands first, sir.’ But his protest was in vain. ‘What silly ideas of differentiation you have!’ the Master said and smoked without washing his hands, talking all the while in an exalted mood. I was surprised to see Shri Ramakrishna, who could not take any food part of which had already been offered to somebody else, making this remarkable exception in the case of Narendra Nath. It gave me an idea of his love and kinship to Narendra. When, at about 8 o’clock, he was in his normal mood again, Narendra and myself took leave of him and walked to Calcutta.”

Afterwards Narendra often said, “Shri Ramakrishna was the only person who, ever since he had met me, believed in me uniformly throughout—even my mother and brothers did not do so. It was his unflinching trust and love for me that bound me to him for ever. He alone knew how to love another. Worldly people only make a show of love for selfish ends.”