The value of money

Money is a very strange object indeed. Most men want to possess money without realizing that slowly money begins to possess man. Though one may argue that one should not be preoccupied with making money, one cannot do without it. In a world that is driven by commercial relationships, one cannot imagine functioning without money. Economists define money in terms of the three functions that it serves. It is a medium of exchange, a store of value, and a unit of account. Money’s most important function is as a medium of exchange to facilitate transactions. Without money, all transactions would have to be conducted by barter, which involves direct exchange of one good or service for another. In order to be a medium of exchange, money must hold its value over time; that is, it must be a store of value. If money could not be stored for some period of time and still remain valuable in exchange, it would not be something that man would covet to possess. Money also functions as a unit of account, providing a common measure of the value of goods and services being exchanged.

Though it is only a means of transacting in this world, most of us have come to become dependent on it. Money is also central to many a relationship, whether personal or professional, and success or failure is today determined in sheer monetary terms. While one can easily reconcile possessing and using money in a householder’s life, it is different to understand how monks should relate to money. Traditionally, the concept of Sannyasa was to embrace austerity and celibacy. A sannyasi had no real use for money; and gold and a piece of stone were supposed to mean the same to him. This is indeed hard to imagine as today many monks and ashrams have got into the world of serving society, which necessarily means that they have to interface with money on a daily basis. They have built institutions that not only are in constant need of monetary donations but also generate wealth in many cases.

Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa was one of those rare monks for whom money not only meant nothing, but was also a source of irritation. His whole body was known to experience a severe burning sensation whenever he came in contact with money. He always used to tell his disciples that ‘Gold’ and ‘Lust’ were the two main things that a monk had to be cautious about. It is indeed interesting to see how Swami Vivekananda, who was brought up with this background, dealt with money. During his parivrajaka days, he carried no money and left himself completely at the mercy of the many kind souls who supported him. He had accepted the vow of poverty and saw no need for money. Once he reached the West, he was subjected to the painful experience of not having enough money to meet even his daily needs of food and stay. He had become famous after the Chicago lecture and was a much sought-after public figure. He was being invited to deliver lectures all over the United States and had signed up with a lecture bureau that organized his talks. He was soon to learn that the bureau was exploiting him and he started managing his own lectures with the help of the few friends and well-wishers that he had now got. While in Los Angeles in early 1900, he was even criticized for charging for his lectures and derided for breaking his monastic vows. Vivekananda knew that he had to collect as much money as he could from the prosperous West in order to be used in ameliorating the suffering of the downtrodden masses in his own beloved India. Despite the clarity of how the money that he raised should be used, Swamiji also had his own self-doubts. There were instances when he gave up the idea of charging for his lectures and raising money, refused donations and even returned the money to donors in some cases. He wrote then to Alasinga Perumal, “You know the greatest difficulty with me is to keep or even to touch money. It is disgusting and debasing.” Later he wrote again, “The public lecture plan I intend to give up entirely, as I find the best thing for me to do is to step entirely out of the money question – either in public lectures or private classes.”

Things changed when he went to America for the second time. The monastic organization in India needed funds and so did the work that he was planning for the regeneration of the masses. He now understood the practical necessity of dealing in monetary issues. He knew that Institutions cannot be built without money and he was clear that it was a tool that he needed to use wisely. Even to spread the message of his own master, he needed money. He now began to examine the ethical issue of a monk handling money from a more pragmatic angle and decided to focus on the effective and efficient use of money. He laid down clear rules on how money needed to be raised and for what purpose. He was emphatic on how the money raised should be spent and reported to the original donor. In a letter to his brother disciple Swami Shuddhananda he wrote, “Ask Brahmananda to write this to everyone in relief work – they must not be allowed to spend money to no good. We want the greatest possible good work from the least possible outlay.” While he clearly understood the functional utility of money, he was also not carried away with this idea. In July 1897, he wrote to Swami Akhandananda, “Money and all will come of themselves, we want men, not money. It is man that makes everything, what can money do? – men we want, the more you get, the better.”

Swami Vivekananda was that extraordinary visionary who knew that while money was important and needed for achieving his goals, it was human capital that was the need of the hour. This is now being realized by a society that is getting tired of the mindless pursuit of wealth and is talking of developing ‘Human Capital’ for the survival of man himself.

Kannada version in Prajavani (26-Jul-12)

Swami Vivekananda’s quirky time sense

The Ramakrishna Math and Mission founded by Swami Vivekananda has developed the reputation for integrity, transparency and also for promptitude and punctuality. They are known to start all their events and functions on time without waiting for any dignitary. This focus on maintaining time and being punctual was something that Swamiji stressed that the Organization had to follow. Though Swami Vivekananda laid down strict rules and regulations for the Organization, there were many instances in his life when he did not always follow them. This was especially true when it came to being punctual. Swamiji understood the American need for punctuality, order and diligence and how they had incorporated them into their life and social system. He understood that many of them were obsessed with timeliness. This cultural trait is evident even today and the Indian disregard for ‘time’ would sound unacceptable to the Americans. One of Swamiji’s American devotees, Thomas Allan wrote in his memoirs about an incident that took place on March 25, 1900. Allan wrote, “A lecture at Union Square Hall, Post street was advertised to begin at 3 pm. But at 3 pm, Swami was not there. We waited and wondered what to do, and concluded that we must just wait. Several times I went out on to the street to see if he was visible. At last, at about 3.30 pm, I saw him slowly walking up. I went and met him and walked with him towards the Hall. On the way we had to pass a shoeshine stand, and when Swami saw that the shoe-shiner was idle, he went up to him to have his shoes polished. I was silently fidgeting thinking about the people who had come to hear the lecture, but my fidgeting did no good. At last, Swami got on the platform and was again introduced to the audience which had more or less patiently waited for him.”

There were many other such instances as well. Once Rev. Benjamin Fay Mills, the pastor of the Unitarian Church in Oakland, California said to Vivekananda on his way back to San Francisco from Oakland, “Swami, we must hurry to get the train.” Without showing any anxiety, Swamiji asked him, “Is there not another train?” There were also instances when he missed his train as he had refused to hurry to catch them. Once an impatient American devotee, afraid of missing a steamer, said to him, “Swami, you have no idea of time.” He calmly replies, “No! You live in time; we live in eternity!”

It is indeed difficult to reconcile with the adherence for timeliness that the Ramakrishna Order has developed. This must have come from Swami Vivekananda himself, a glimpse of which can be seen from one of his letters. “Whenever you promise to do any work, you must do it exactly at the appointed time, or people will lose their faith in you”, he wrote to Swami Brahmananda in 1895 from England. Though it may look like Swami Vivekananda did not practice what he preached as far as maintaining time is concerned, we need to view it from a different paradigm. For Swamiji, life was a continuum, with no beginning or end. In the relative sense of time, he may have not always stuck to it, but one can see the pace at which his life’s work unfolded. Though he knew that at a personal level as a monk he could be relaxed in not enforcing punctuality on himself, he could not afford to be so when it came to the larger Organization.

Kannada version in Prajavani (02-Aug-12)

Swami Vivekananda’s meeting with Kate Sanborn

Swami Vivekananda’s famous speech at the Parliament of Religions in Chicago was a formal announcement of his presence to America and to the world at large. But this did not happen very smoothly. When he arrived in Chicago, Swami Vivekananda learnt that he needed a letter of introduction to register, and that the date for registration had already passed. There was no chance that he would be allowed to speak at the event. After a few days in Chicago, he realized that he was running out of money. The opening date of the Parliament was put off by a few months. Swamiji then decided to leave Chicago and travel around.

Swamiji’s encounter with Miss Kate Sanborn on the train journey from Vancouver to Chicago was to be instrumental in his subsequent entry to the Parliament of Religions. Kate Sanborn was very much impressed by Swamiji’s appearance and demeanour and she gave him her card and invited him to be a guest at her home in Metcalf, Massachusetts. She wrote these details in her book Abandoning an Adopted Farm: “But most of all I was impressed by the monk, a magnificent specimen of manhood – six feet two, as handsome as Salvini (a then famous Italian actor) at his best, with a lordly, imposing stride, as if he ruled the universe, and soft, dark eyes that could flash fire if roused, or dance with merriment if the conversation amused him…He wore a bright yellow turban many yards in length, an ochre robe, the badge of his calling; this was tied with a pink sash, broad and heavily befringed. Snuff-brown trousers and russet shoes completed the outfit. He spoke better English than I did, was conversant with ancient and modern literature, would quote easily and naturally from Shakespeare or Longfellow or Tennyson, Darwin, Muller, Tyndall, could repeat pages of our Bible, was familiar with and tolerant of all creeds. He was an education, an illumination, a revelation! I told him, as we separated, I should be most pleased to present him to some men and woman of learning and general culture, if by any chance he should come to Boston.”

Not much later, Swamiji needed all the help that he could get. Lonely and with his money running out, he left Chicago for Metcalf and reached Boston on August 14 or 15 of 1893. Kate Sanborn wrote in her memoirs: “Just risen from a sick-bed, I received a telegram announcing that my reverend friend on the train was at the Quincy House, Boston and awaiting my orders. Then I remembered vividly. I had urged him to accept my hospitality if he felt lonely and needed help. I had promised introductions to Harvard professors, Concord philosophers, New York capitalists, women of fame, position and means, with brilliant gifts in writing and conversation. It was mid-august. Not a soul was in town, and how could I entertain my gaily appareled pundit? I was aghast, but telegraphed bravely: Yours received. Come today. 4.20 train, Boston Albany.”

Katharine Abbot Sanborn was a poet, teacher, lecturer, a humorist, a farmer and above all a humanist. Known as Kate, she was amiable, prominent and gregarious – precisely the person to act as hostess to Swamiji in those early days, for she not only introduced him to Professor Wright and other men and women of influence, but was instrumental in providing him with a well-rounded preview of the American scene.

Swamiji, though a prolific letter-writer, was frugal in sharing his initial experiences. After about twenty days, he wrote to Alasinga Perumal a letter with an undercurrent of disillusionment. “All those rosy ideas (of raising funds for needy people in India) we had before starting has melted, and now I have to fight against impossibilities. A hundred times I had a mind to go out of the country and go back to India. But I am determined and I have a call from Above.” He further wrote of his stay with Miss Sanborn, “Just now I am living as the guest of an old lady in a village near Boston. I accidentally made her acquaintance in the railway train, and she invited me to come over and live with her. I have an advantage of living with her, in saving my expenditure of one pound per day, and she has the advantage of inviting her friends over here and showing them a curio from India! And all this must be borne. Starvation, cold, hooting in the streets on account of my quaint dress, these are what I have to fight against. But, my dear boy, no great things were ever done without great labour…”

Although Swamiji referred to her as ‘an old lady’, she was not old when he first knew her. She was 54 and very energetic. She had a lively humor and a warm sympathy for her fellow beings, was keenly observant and widely known for her repartee. But for her, Swamiji would not have been able to meet Prof Wright or speak at the Parliament of Religions.

Kannada version in Prajavani (09-Aug-12)

Swami Vivekananda’s visit to Kanyakumari

Kanyakumari, the southern-most tip of India, is around 90 km away from Trivandrum and is located in Tamil Nadu. It is 20 km from another famous temple town called Nagercoil. Kanyakumari has now become a famous tourist spot and anyone who goes there does not miss visiting the Vivekananda Rock Memorial. Swami Vivekananda himself visited Kanyakumari in December 1892. He had just been to Trivandrum and spent several days there, and on 22nd Dec 1892 went to Nagercoil along with a person called Manmathababu. After staying at Nagercoil for a couple of days, he is said to have reached Kanyakumari on the 24th or 25th. One can understand how Swamiji must have felt on reaching Kanyakumari. He had by now traveled extensively across the length and breadth of India, through jungles, the Himalayas and through large towns and cities. He had met and interacted with a wide cross-section of people – from the maharajah to the man on the street. His love for India and her people was limitless and he had by now spent nearly two and half years traveling through the country by foot, bullock cart and rail.

He first visited the temple of Kanyakumari (Parvati) and prayed and meditated for a while. He then came out and stood on the oceanside, gazing at the sea. Some two furlongs away he saw two large rocks. According to the Puranas, the larger and farther of these two rocks is the one that has been sanctified by the blessed feet of the Divine Mother. Swamiji was seized with the desire to reach those rocks. He asked a few boatmen whether he could be ferried to the rock. They were ready to take him there but Swamiji did not have a single paisa to pay them. What happened next was something remarkable. Without much ado, Swamiji plunged into the roaring waves and swam across. The experienced boatmen were shocked to see him do this and screamed out to him to return to the shore. They warned him of the stormy waves and the sharks in the ocean. But Swamiji swam safely across and stepped onto the rock. He spent three days and three nights on that rock. The roaring ocean was all the company he had. There, sitting on the last stone of India, he passed into a deep meditation on the present and future of his country. He sought to understand the root of her downfall. With the vision of a seer, he understood why India had been thrown from the pinnacle of glory to the depths of degradation. He reflected on the purpose and achievement of the Indian world. He perceived the realities and potentialities of Indian culture. He saw religion to be the life-blood of India’s millions. He realized in the silence of his heart that India shall rise only through a renewal and restoration of that highest spiritual consciousness that has made her, at all times, the cradle of the Nations and cradle of the Faith. He saw her greatness; he saw her weaknesses as well, the central one of which was that the nation had lost its individuality.

The single-minded monk had become transformed into a reformer, a nation-builder and a world-architect. His soul brooded with tenderness and anguish over India’s poverty. What use is a religion, he thought, from which the masses are excluded? Everywhere and at all times he saw that the poor had been oppressed by whatever power the changes of fortune had set over them. The dominance of the priesthood, the despotism of caste, the merciless divisions which these created in the social body, making outcasts of religion the majority of its followers – these the Swami saw as almost insurmountable barriers to the progress of the Indian nation. His heart throbbed for the masses, great in their endurance. In their sufferings he found himself sharing; by their degradation he found himself humiliated. He longed to throw in his lot with theirs. Agony was in his soul when he thought how those who prided themselves on being the custodians of religion had held down the masses through the ages.

In his letter of March 19 1894, written to Swami Ramakrishnananda from Chicago, one catches something of the ardour of Swamiji’s meditation on the rock: “In view of all this, especially of the poverty and ignorance, I got no sleep. At Cape Comorin, sitting in Mother Kumari’s temple, sitting on the last bit of Indian rock, I hit upon a plan. We are so many sannyasis wandering about, and teaching the people metaphysics – it is all madness. Did not our Master say “An empty stomach is no good for religion”? That those poor people are leading the life of brutes, is simply due to ignorance. We have for all ages been sucking their blood and trampling them underfoot.”

But what was the remedy? The clear-eyed Swami saw that Renunciation (Tyaga) and Service (Seva) must be the twin ideals of India. If the national life could be intensified in these channels, everything else would be taken care of. And it was here after three days of continuous and intense meditation that he drew up plans for his work, which was to unfold in the decade that followed.

Kannada version in Prajavani (16-Aug-12)

The three states of Human Nature and India’s development

The Bhagawad Gita speaks of the three basic states of human nature – Tamas, Rajas and Sattva. One can equate it to the three states of manifestation in the physical world – inertness, activity and equilibrium. Swami Vivekananda also has written about these states in his book on Karma Yoga. He says, “In every man there are three forces. Sometimes Tamas prevails. We become lazy, we cannot move, we are inactive, bound down by certain ideas or by mere dullness. At other times activity (rajas) prevails and at still other times that calm balancing of both. Again, in different men, one of these forces is generally predominant. The characteristic of one man is inactivity, dullness and laziness; that of another is activity, power, manifestation of energy; and in still another we find the sweetness, calmness and gentleness, which are due to the balancing of both action and inaction. So in all creation – in animals, plants, and men – we find the more or less typical manifestation of all these different forces.”

In the domain of leadership, one needs to understand what these forces or qualities are and how to employ them. A leader can lead better and manage better by knowing not only his own state of mind but also that of those around him. Vivekananda tried explaining these forces in a very pragmatic way. A Sattvika person will be heavily endowed with compassion, unselfishness, integrity, patience, forbearance, humility and other related virtues. Activeness, egoism, passion, ambition, materialism, power-mongering, and other similar qualities are abundant in a Rajasika. A person who appears dull, dishonest, pessimistic, jealous and possessive most of the time will be branded a Tamasika. Vivekananda not only handpicked people to lead in different situations but also guided and mentored them based on their own innate nature. He tried elevating those around him but gently urging them towards the state of Sattva.

He also analyzed the problems of India from the paradigm of these three forces of nature. He once told one of his followers during a conversation, “Going around the whole world, I find that people of this country (India) are immersed in great Tamas (inactivity), compared with people of other countries. On the outside, there is simulation of the Sattvika (calm and balanced) state, but inside, downright inertness like that of stocks and stones…How much of enterprise and devotion to work, how much enthusiasm and manifestation of Rajas are there in the lives of the Western people! While, in your own country, it is as if the blood has become congealed in the heart, so that it cannot circulate in the veins – as if paralysis has overtaken the body and it has become languid. So my idea is first to make the people active by developing their Rajas, and thus make them fit for the struggle of existence.” In another instance he said, “In India, the quality of Rajas is almost absent; the same is the case of Sattva in the West. It is certain, therefore, that the real life of the Western World depends upon the influx, from India, of the current of Sattva or transcendentalism; and it is also certain that unless we overpower and submerge our Tamas by the opposite tide of Rajas, we shall never gain any worldly good or welfare in this life.”

The India of today is not very different from what Swamiji described more than a century ago. We need to shake off the Tamas that seems to have gripped our Nation and manifest some Rajasik qualities in order to push our Nation’s development. Only when we have attained an acceptable quality of living for our masses, can we start moving towards the state of equilibrium that Vivekananda spoke about.

Kannada version in Prajavani (23-Aug-12)

Organization as a ‘means’

Swami Vivekananda’s struggle for building the Ramakrishna Math is well-known. He had to face enormous hardships in mobilizing the resources needed. Painstakingly, he had been able to establish the Math from the money he had collected as payments for his talks and as donations from devotees and well wishers. Most people who build institutions fall into the trap of the Institutions owning them completely. They get to identify themselves so much with the Organization that they do not know how to let go. Many a time such persons lose sight of their original objective and get consumed by the Organization that they are building. They forget the larger purpose for which they had established the Organization in the first place. They fail to understand that the Organization is to serve only as a means to meet their objectives.

Swami Vivekananda was very different in this regard. He had just returned from the West and was not keeping very well. His physicians had asked him to take complete rest and he had gone to Darjeeling for this purpose. After a few days of going there, he heard that plague had broken out in Calcutta and he rushed back. His thoughts at that moment are reflected in the letter that he wrote to Josephine Macleod on April 29, 1898. In that letter he said that he had decided to sacrifice his life in the service of the plague-stricken people of the city in which he was born and that would be the best way to attain Nirvana. At Calcutta, he found that the fear that had afflicted the minds of the people was deadlier than the disease itself. People were leaving their homes and the city in sheer panic. He understood the seriousness of the situation and printed a plague-manifesto to dispel their fears. This manifesto was distributed amongst the people and stated that the Ramakrishna Mission was there to help them in every way possible. He opened service centers in different parts of the city. All this relief work required a lot of money and the situation was getting desperate. One of Swamiji’s brother disciples asked him where the money for all this would come from. Without the slightest hesitation Swamiji replied, “We are monks. We can sleep under the trees and live on alms. If I can save the lives of millions, I do not mind selling the Math.”

While this incident shows the extraordinary compassion, boundless love and selflessness of Swami Vivekananda, it also gives another insight into his character. Swami Vivekananda saw the Ramakrishna Organization existing only for the service of the people. For him, this ideal was far higher than the mere existence of the Math. He saw the Math as the means to do the greater good of serving humanity. This was something that was not negotiable for him. He was even prepared to let go off the Math to ensure that people were served at their moment of need. For many of us who have built organizations in his name, this is indeed a very ominous message.

Kannada version in Prajavani (30-Aug-12)

Swami Vivekananda and Moulavi Sahib

Swami Vivekananda practiced and preached universal tolerance and love of all religions. He was not only a great exponent of the Upanishads and the Gita, but could also quote and explain passages from the Bible and Koran. He had devotees who belonged to different religions. People of different faiths came to listen and interact with him. Moulavi Sahib was one such Muslim devotee who admired and respected Swamiji a lot. Moulavi Sahib had accidentally got to know Swamiji in early 1891. Swamiji was on his travels to Rajasthan, then known as Rajputana. He had just alighted at the Alwar railway station. As he was walking along the road from the station, he saw a State dispensary. The doctor in-charge was a Bengali person named Gurucharan Laskar. Swamiji enquired if there was any place nearby in which a Sannyasi could stay. The doctor, impressed by the remarkable appearance of the monk, bowed to him and joyfully accompanied him to the bazaar where he showed him a room above one of the shops. Swamiji gladly accepted this room and decided to stay there. After attending to Swamiji’s immediate needs, the doctor rushed to his Muslim friend’s house. This person was a teacher of Urdu and Persian in the local high school. The doctor excitedly told Moulavi, “O Moulavi Sahib! A Bengali sadhu has just arrived. Come immediately and see him. I have never seen a Mahatma before! Please talk to him while I finish my work, and I shall join you presently.” Both hurried to the Bazaar. Taking their shoes off, they entered the bare room in which the Swami had arranged his belongings consisting of a few books tied up in a blanket, a piece of yellow cloth and a Kamandalu. They saluted him in reverence. Swamiji called the Moulavi Sahib to his side and discoursed with much love on religious matters. Of the Koran, he said, “There is one thing very remarkable about the Koran. Even to this day, it exists as it was eleven hundred years ago. It retains its pristine purity and is free from interpolations.”

Both Gurucharan and Moulavi Sahib spoke about Swamiji to their friends and the number of devotees to visit Swamiji began to steadily increase and this room was no longer sufficient to hold all the visitors. It was then that Swamiji moved to the house of Pandit Shambhunathji, a retired engineer of Alwar State. It was here that he met many devotees of all castes and religions – there were Sunnis and Shias of the muslim fold, some were Shaivites and Vaishnavites, some were wealthy men and men and of position and learning while others were poor and illiterate. Moulavi and many of his muslim friends also became regular visitors to Swamiji’s room. Moulavi was extremely devoted to Swamiji and had a strong desire to invite him to his house and feed him. He thought, “Swamiji is a great sadhu with no sense of caste; but then Panditji with whom he is staying may object.” Nevertheless he decided to ask Panditji if he could invite Swamiji to his house. The request of the Moulavi was filled with love, devotion, and sincere humility. Panditji held Moulavi’s hands and told him, “My friend, Swamiji is a sadhu. What is caste to him! There is no need to take too much trouble. Any arrangement that you make will satisfy us.” And so it happened that the Moulavi Sahib entertained the Swami in his own house and felt himself blessed. Many other devout muslims followed the Moulavi’s example and cordially invited the Swami to their homes too.

Kannada version in Prajavani (06-Sep-12)

Learning from death

Death is indeed a strange experience. One can be very objective about it as long as it does not touch our lives in a personal way. Being a doctor, I have dealt with hundreds of deaths in my professional life. One is easily philosophical about it and learns to cope with it as an everyday occurrence that one cannot live without. Only when a close family member or a friend dies, do we truly understand the pain and suffering that death brings along with it. Age really does not matter and one has to learn to deal with the sorrow, the pain and the readjustments that death of a close one brings. I have known many people who have had to change their careers, work locations or postpone major decisions after the death of family member. Young Narendra too had to deal with death early in his life. The situation was quite challenging and it could very well have changed Narendra’s future if he had allowed himself to be despondent.

It was in the early part of 1884 that he had to come face to face with the grim reality of the world. What a shock it must have been for this light-hearted and spirited young man! It was February 25th and he was in Baranagar at that time. After a long day of singing devotional songs and discussions with his friends, he had retired to bed at around 11 pm. At about 2 am, his friend Hemali came with the news that his (Narendra’s) father had suddenly died of heart failure. Overwhelmed by the news, Narendra rushed back to Calcutta. His mother, two younger brothers and sisters were weeping beside the body of his father which lay on a cot. Naren was dazed and could neither speak nor weep at first. Later on he burst into tears and being the eldest son, had to attend to the funeral rites and perform all the obsequies.

His father Vishwanath Dutta had contracted a severe urinary disease and had recently suffered a heart attack too. Though the doctors had advised him bed-rest, work pressures did not allow this to happen. On the day of his death, he had gone out for some work. On returning home, he complained of chest pain and rubbed some medication onto his chest. He continued to work but had a bout of vomiting and soon died at around 10 pm. The irony of the situation was that he had planned on selecting a bride for Narendra the next day, but fate had willed otherwise. Vishwanath’s death left the family in a desperate condition since he was the only earning member. Narendra had to now take on the family responsibilities and find a way to live through this crisis. One can only imagine what he must have gone through. On one hand, the influence of Sri Ramakrishna and his desire for spiritual upliftment, and on the other hand the practical necessity of taking on the worldly duties of a responsible son. Glimpses of his true character can be seen in the way he negotiated through these difficult times. Coping with all this without compromising on his intent meant straddling with his feet in two boats. His strength of character and resolve helped him see through this and immensely contributed to his evolution from Narendra to Swami Vivekananda.

Kannada version in Prajavani (13-Sep-12)

Learning from Adversity

Adversity is the true test of character. It does not take much strength to live in times when everything goes our way. It is only when things go wrong and we are constantly challenged by the circumstances around us will our true nature emerge. Talking about ideals and trying to live them is indeed easy when we are not challenged by existential questions every day. The true test of our convictions is when we are able to still retain our ideals and live by them when we are tested each and every day.

Young Narendra’s life was also no exception. He had just lost his father and was exposed suddenly to the grim reality of facing life and all the challenges that it brings along. His father’s death had placed his entire family in a desperate condition. When he was alive, Vishwanath Datta had lived a life where he had always spent more than what he earned. This meant that Narendra had to suddenly cope with the problem of creditors from whom his father had borrowed money. Narendra had no income but had to maintain 7-8 people now. The days that followed were of intense suffering. Narendra was suddenly thrown from comfort and security to dire poverty and the threat of facing starvation. Despite such trying times, he managed to continue his law studies. In college he was the poorest of the poor. Shoes were a luxury and his garments were made of the coarsest cloth. There were many days when he went to his classes without food. He would often become faint with hunger and weakness. His friends would occasionally invite him to their homes. He would happily chat with them, 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 so that others might have enough. His mother Bhuvaneshwari used to recall the sacrifices made by him after his passing away in 1902. 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 his mother and others of a full meal. Despite all this poverty and suffering, he was still his usual happy self.

Pride also prevented him for disclosing his problems to anybody and even his close friends did not realize what was happening. Many of them mistook his losing weight as a result of exaggerated grieving for his father. Many of his relatives also turned into enemies and started eying their ancestral house. They filed a case in a local court to deprive them of the property. The whole family had no place to stay and had to shift to Narendra’s grandmother’s house. As is the case with litigation in India, this case also dragged on for a long time and this further worsened the situation. The case was finally decided in favor of Narendra’s family and they secured their legal share of the property. But by the time the family returned to this house, Narendra had already renounced the world and taken up sannyasa.

Narendra often related the experiences of these days and Swami Sharadananda recalls him saying once, “Even before the period of mourning was over, I had to go about in search of a job. Starving and barefooted, I wandered from office to office under the scorching midday sun with an application in hand, one or two intimate friends who sympathized with me in misfortunes accompanying me sometimes. But everywhere the door was slammed on 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.” Swamiji’s legendary concern for the poor and the downtrodden was born out of these experiences and possibly shaped his thinking and future actions.

Kannada version in Prajavani (27-Sep-12)

Preparing the Disciple

Our ability to perform any task or engage in any activity with quality requires that we are adequately trained and prepared for the same. One cannot decide to jump into the ocean without having first learned how to swim. Whether it is the world of business or that of service or that of the world of monasticism, one requires the preparatory training. This training requires suitably qualified people guiding and mentoring the student. The more the training and better the teacher, better will be quality of the trainee. This is especially true in the world of monks and spirituality. Both the teacher and the disciple have to be prepared and ready for this intense training. It is a different kind of life – a life of constant inquiry, of volitional poverty and abstinence, of single-minded pursuit of self discovery and knowledge seeking, and of service to all of humanity.

The training of young Narendra was no different. The personal supervision and oversight of an extraordinary teacher like Sri Ramakrishna was critical in the transitioning of Narendra into Swami Vivekananda. Living with the Master was itself a kind of austerity and spiritual discipline for Narendra. He had to rise beyond all known ideas and constantly challenge himself to go beyond the limitations of the senses. It also demanded a high level of concentration and character of the highest order to follow the Master’s thoughts and words. The rationalist in Narendra was challenged by the ecstasy and experience of divine emotion constantly. The Master was intimate and tender, but at the same time demanding of his favourite disciple. Their relationship was filial, natural, human and free from egoism. Referring to those days Narendra used to say, “It is impossible to give others any idea of the ineffable joy we derived from the presence of the Master. It is really beyond our understanding how he could train us, without our knowing it, through fun and play, and thus mould our spiritual life. As the master wrestler proceeds with great caution and restraint with the beginner, now empowering him in the struggle with great difficulty as it were, again allowing himself to be defeated to strengthen the pupil’s self-confidence – in exactly the same manner did Sri Ramakrishna handle us. Realizing that the Atman, the source of infinite strength, exists in every individual, pigmy though he might be, he was able to see the potential giant in all. Holding up that bright picture to view, he would speak highly of us and encourage us. Again he would warn us lest we should obstruct this future consummation by becoming entangled in worldly desires, and moreover he would keep us under control by carefully observing even the minute details of our life. All this was done silently and unobtrusively. That was the secret of his training of the disciples and his molding of their lives.”

This training also did not mean that Narendra had to give up either his boyish enthusiasm or his leonine spirit. He was like a sporting child in the presence of an indulgent parent. Though he held his master in the highest esteem, Ramakrishna allowed him to doubt him. The Master would also say, “Do not accept anything because I have said so, but test everything for yourself. It is not in assent or dissent that the goal is to be attained, but in actual and concrete realization.” Narendra was possibly the only disciple to fathom, understand and appreciate the greatness of his master while at the same challenge him and his ideas. In this relationship of the master and disciple, one can see how a person who is highly individualistic and well-informed could also be shaped with love, the power of experience and convictions that transcend ordinary human thought. It is the experience of this special relationship that shaped Narendra into becoming an extraordinary teacher in later life.

Kannada version in Prajavani (04-Oct-12)