Vivekananda -
Biography by Swami
Nikhilananda
PREFACE
Swami Vivekananda's inspiring personality was well known both in India and in
America during the last decade of the nineteenth century and the first decade of the
twentieth. The unknown monk of India suddenly leapt into fame at the Parliament of
Religions held in Chicago in 1893, at which he represented Hinduism. His vast
knowledge of Eastern and Western culture as well as his deep spiritual insight, fervid
eloquence, brilliant conversation, broad human sympathy, colourful personality, and
handsome figure made an irresistible appeal to the many types of Americans who came
in contact with him. People who saw or heard Vivekananda even once still cherish his
memory after a lapse of more than half a century.
In America Vivekananda's mission was the interpretation of India's spiritual culture,
especially in its Vedantic setting. He also tried to enrich the religious consciousness of
the Americans through the rational and humanistic teachings of the Vedanta
philosophy. In America he became India's spiritual ambassador and pleaded eloquently
for better understanding between India and the New World in order to create a healthy
synthesis of East and West, of religion and science.
In his own motherland Vivekananda is regarded as the patriot saint of modern India
and an inspirer of her dormant national consciousness. To the Hindus he preached the
ideal of a strength-giving and man-making religion. Service to man as the visible
manifestation of the Godhead was the special form of worship he advocated for the
Indians, devoted as they were to the rituals and myths of their ancient faith. Many
political leaders of India have publicly acknowledged their indebtedness to Swami
Vivekananda.
The Swami's mission was both national and international. A lover of mankind, he
strove to promote peace and human brotherhood on the spiritual foundation of the
Vedantic Oneness of existence. A mystic of the highest order, Vivekananda had a
direct and intuitive experience of Reality. He derived his ideas from that unfailing
source of wisdom and often presented them in the soul-stirring language of poetry.
The natural tendency of Vivekananda's mind, like that of his Master, Ramakrishna, was
to soar above the world and forget itself in contemplation of the Absolute. But another
part of his personality bled at the sight of human suffering in East and West alike. It
might appear that his mind seldom found a point of rest in its oscillation between
contemplation of God and service to man. Be that as it may, he chose, in obedience to
a higher call, service to man as his mission on earth; and this choice has endeared him
to people in the West, Americans in particular.
In the course of a short life of thirty-nine years (1863-1902), of which only ten were
devoted to public activities — and those, too, in the midst of acute physical suffering
— he left for posterity his four classics: Jnana-Yoga, Bhakti-Yoga, Karma-Yoga, and
Raja-Yoga, all of which are outstanding treatises on Hindu philosophy. In addition, he
delivered innumerable lectures, wrote inspired letters in his own hand to his many
friends and disciples, composed numerous poems, and acted as spiritual guide to the
many seekers who came to him for instruction. He also organized the Ramakrishna
Order of monks, which is the most outstanding religious organization of modern India.
It is devoted to the propagation of the Hindu spiritual culture not only in the Swami's
native land, but also in America and in other parts of the world.
Swami Vivekananda once spoke of himself as a 'condensed India.' His life and
teachings are of inestimable value to the West for an understanding of the mind of
Asia. William James, the Harvard philosopher, called the Swami the 'paragon of
Vedantists.' Max Müller and Paul Deussen, the famous Orientalists of the nineteenth
century, held him in genuine respect and affection. 'His words,' writes Romain Rolland,
'are great music, phrases in the style of Beethoven, stirring rhythms like the march of
Handel choruses. I cannot touch these sayings of his, scattered as they are through the
pages of books, at thirty years' distance, without receiving a thrill through my body like
an electric shock. And what shocks, what transports, must have been produced when in
burning words they issued from the lips of the hero!'
EARLY YEARS
Swami Vivekananda, the great soul loved and revered in East and West alike as the
rejuvenator of Hinduism in India and the preacher of its eternal truths abroad, was born
at 6:33, a few minutes before sunrise, on Monday, January 12, 1863. It was the day of
the great Hindu festival Makarasamkranti, when special worship is offered to the
Ganga by millions of devotees. Thus the future Vivekananda first drew breath when
the air above the sacred river not far from the house was reverberating with the
prayers, worship, and religious music of thousands of Hindu men and women.
Before Vivekananda was born, his mother, like many other pious Hindu mothers, had
observed religious vows, fasted, and prayed so that she might be blessed with a son
who would do honour to the family. She requested a relative who was living in
Varanasi to offer special worship to the Vireswara Siva of that holy place and seek His
blessings; for Siva, the great god of renunciation, dominated her thought. One night
she dreamt that this supreme Deity aroused Himself from His meditation and agreed to
be born as her son. When she woke she was filled with joy.
The mother, Bhuvaneswari Devi, accepted the child as a boon from Vireswara Siva
and named him Vireswara. The family, however, gave him the name of Narendranath
Datta, calling him, for short, Narendra, or more endearingly, Naren.
The Datta family of Calcutta, into which Narendranath had been born, was well known
for its affluence, philanthropy, scholarship, and independent spirit. The grand father,
Durgacharan, after the birth of his first son, had renounced the world in search of God.
The father, Viswanath, an attorney-at-law of the High Court of Calcutta, was versed in
English and Persian literature and often entertained himself and his friends by reciting
from the Bible and the poetry of Hafiz, both of which, he believed, contained truths
unmatched by human thinking elsewhere. He was particularly attracted to the Islamic
culture, with which he was familiar because of his close contact with the educated
Moslems of North-western India. Moreover, he derived a large income from his law
practice and, unlike his father, thoroughly enjoyed the worldly life. An expert in
cookery, he prepared rare dishes and liked to share them with his friends. Travel was
another of his hobbies. Though agnostic in religion and a mocker of social
conventions, he possessed a large heart and often went out of his way to support idle
relatives, some of whom were given to drunkenness. Once, when Narendra protested
against his lack of judgement, his father said: 'How can you understand the great
misery of human life? When you realize the depths of men's suffering, you will
sympathize with these unfortunate creatures who try to forget their sorrows, even
though only for a short while, in the oblivion created by intoxicants.' Naren's father,
however, kept a sharp eye on his children and would not tolerate the slightest deviation
from good manners.
Bhuvaneswari Devi, the mother, was cast in a different mould. Regal in appearance
and gracious in conduct, she belonged to the old tradition of Hindu womanhood. As
mistress of a large household, she devoted her spare time to sewing and singing, being
particularly fond of the great Indian epics, the Ramayana and the Mahabharata, large
portions of which she had memorized. She became the special refuge of the poor, and
commanded universal respect because of her calm resignation to God, her inner
tranquillity, and her dignified detachment in the midst of her many arduous duties.
Two sons were born to her besides Narendranath, and four daughters, two of whom
died at an early age.
Narendra grew up to be a sweet, sunny-tempered, but very restless boy. Two nurses
were necessary to keep his exuberant energy under control, and he was a great tease to
his sisters. In order to quiet him, the mother often put his head under the cold-water
tap, repeating Siva's name, which always produced the desired effect. Naren felt a
child's love for birds and animals, and this characteristic reappeared during the last
days of his life. Among his boyhood pets were a family cow, a monkey, a goat, a
peacock, and several pigeons and guinea-pigs. The coachman of the family, with his
turban, whip, and bright-coloured livery, was his boyhood ideal of a magnificent
person, and he often expressed the ambition to be like him when he grew up.
Narendra bore a striking resemblance to the grand-father who had renounced the world
to lead a monastic life, and many thought that the latter had been reborn in him. The
youngster developed a special fancy for wandering monks, whose very sight would
greatly excite him. One day when such a monk appeared at the door and asked for
alms, Narendra gave him his only possession, the tiny piece of new cloth that was
wrapped round his waist. Thereafter, whenever a monk was seen in the neighbourhood,
Narendra would be locked in a room. But even then he would throw out of the window
whatever he found near at hand as an offering to the holy man. In the meantime, he
was receiving his early education from his mother, who taught him the Bengali
alphabet and his first English words, as well as stories from the Ramayana and the
Mahabharata.
During his childhood Narendra, like many other Hindu children of his age, developed a
love for the Hindu deities, of whom he had learnt from his mother. Particularly
attracted by the heroic story of Rama and his faithful consort Sita, he procured their
images, bedecked them with flowers, and worshipped them in his boyish fashion. But
disillusionment came when he heard someone denounce marriage vehemently as a
terrible bondage. When he had thought this over he discarded Rama and Sita as
unworthy of worship. In their place he installed the image of Siva, the god of
renunciation, who was the ideal of the yogis. Nevertheless he retained a fondness for
the Ramayana.
At this time he daily experienced a strange vision when he was about to fall asleep.
Closing his eyes, he would see between his eyebrows a ball of light of changing
colours, which would slowly expand and at last burst, bathing his whole body in a
white radiance. Watching this light he would gradually fall asleep. Since it was a daily
occurrence, he regarded the phenomenon as common to all people, and was surprised
when a friend denied ever having seen such a thing. Years later, however, Narendra's
spiritual teacher, Sri Ramakrishna, said to him, 'Naren, my boy, do you see a light
when you go to sleep?' Ramakrishna knew that such a vision indicated a great spiritual
past and an inborn habit of meditation. The vision of light remained with Narendra
until the end of his life, though later it lost its regularity and intensity.
While still a child Narendra practised meditation with a friend before the image of
Siva. He had heard that the holy men of ancient India would become so absorbed in
contemplation of God that their hair would grow and gradually enter into the earth, like
the roots of the banyan tree. While meditating, therefore, he would open his eyes, now
and then, to see if his own hair had entered into the earth. Even so, during meditation,
he often became unconscious of the world. On one occasion he saw in a vision a
luminous person of serene countenance who was carrying the staff and water-bowl of a
monk. The apparition was about to say something when Naren became frightened and
left the room. He thought later that perhaps this had been a vision of Buddha.
At the age of six he was sent to a primary school. One day, however, he repeated at
home some of the vulgar words that he had learnt from his classmates, whereupon his
disgusted parents took him out of the school and appointed a private tutor, who
conducted classes for him and some other children of the neighbourhood in the
worship hall of the house. Naren soon showed a precocious mind and developed a keen
memory. Very easily he learnt by heart the whole of a Sanskrit grammar and long
passages from the Ramayana and the Mahabharata. Some of the friendships he made
at this age lasted his whole lifetime. At school he was the undisputed leader. When
playing his favourite game of 'King and the Court,' he would assume the role of the
monarch and assign to his friends the parts of the ministers, commander-in-chief, and
other state officials. He was marked from birth to be a leader of men, as his name
Narendra (lord of men) signified.
Even at that early age he questioned why one human being should be considered
superior to another. In his father's office separate tobacco pipes were provided for
clients belonging to the different castes, as orthodox Hindu custom required, and the
pipe from which the Moslems smoked was set quite apart. Narendra once smoked
tobacco from all the pipes, including the one marked for the Moslems, and when
reprimanded, remarked, 'I cannot see what difference it makes.'
During these early years, Narendra's future personality was influenced by his gifted
father and his saintly mother, both of whom kept a chastening eye upon him. The
father had his own manner of discipline. For example, when, in the course of an
argument with his mother, the impetuous boy once uttered a few rude words and the
report came to the father, Viswanath did not directly scold his son, but wrote with
charcoal on the door of his room: 'Narendra today said to his mother — ' and added the
words that had been used. He wanted Narendra's friends to know how rudely he had
treated his mother.
Another time Narendra bluntly asked his father, 'What have you done for me?'
Instead of being annoyed, Viswanath said, 'Go and look at yourself in the mirror, and
then you will know.'
Still another day, Narendra said to his father, 'How shall I conduct myself in the world?'
'Never show surprise at anything,' his father replied.
This priceless advice enabled Narendranath, in his future chequered life, to preserve
his serenity of mind whether dwelling with princes in their palaces or sharing the straw
huts of beggars.
The mother, Bhuvaneswari, played her part in bringing out Narendranath's innate
virtues. When he told her, one day, of having been unjustly treated in school, she said
to him, in consolation: 'My child, what does it matter, if you are in the right? Always
follow the truth without caring about the result. Very often you may have to suffer
injustice or unpleasant consequences for holding to the truth; but you must not, under
any circumstances, abandon it.' Many years later Narendranath proudly said to an
audience, 'I am indebted to my mother for whatever knowledge I have acquired.'
One day, when he was fighting with his play-fellows, Narendra accidentally fell from
the porch and struck his forehead against a stone. The wound bled profusely and left a
permanent scar over his right eye. Years later, when Ramakrishna heard of this
accident, he remarked: 'In a way it was a good thing. If he had not thus lost some of his
blood, he would have created havoc in the world with his excessive energy.'
