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.'
In 1871, at the age of eight, Narendra entered
high school. His exceptional intelligence was soon
recognized by his teachers and classmates. Though at first reluctant
to study English because of its foreign origin, he soon took
it up with avidity. But the curriculum consumed very
little of his time. He used most of his inexhaustible energy
in outside activities. Games of various kinds, many of which
he invented or improvised kept him occupied. He
made an imitation gas-works and a factory for aerating
water, these two novelties having just been introduced in
Calcutta. He organized an amateur theatrical company and a
gymnasium, and took lessons in fencing, wrestling, rowing,
and other manly sports. He also tried his hand at the art
of cooking. Intensely restless, he would soon tire of
one pastime and seek a new one. With his friends he
visited the museum and the zoological garden. He arbitrated
the disputes of his play-fellows and was a favourite with
the people of the neighbourhood. Everybody admired
his courage, straight-forwardness, and simplicity.
From an early age this remarkable youth had
no patience with fear or superstition. One of his boyish
pranks had been to climb a flowering tree belonging to a
neighbour, pluck the flowers, and do other mischief. The owner of
the tree, finding his remonstrances unheeded, once
solemnly told Naren's friends that the tree was guarded by a
white-robed ghost who would certainly wring their necks if
they disturbed his peace. The boys were frightened and
kept away. But Narendra persuaded them to follow him
back, and he climbed the tree, enjoying his usual measure of
fun, and broke some branches by way of further
mischief. Turning to his friends, he then said: 'What asses you
all are! See, my neck is still there. The old man's story is
simply not true. Don't believe what others say unless you
your-selves know it to be true.'
These simple but bold words were an indication
of his future message to the world. Addressing
large audiences in the later years, he would often say: 'Do
not believe in a thing because you have read about it in a book.
Do not believe in a thing because another man has said
it was true. Do not believe in words because they
are hallowed by tradition. Find out the truth for
yourself. Reason it out. That is realization.'
The following incident illustrates his courage
and presence of mind. He one day wished to set up a
heavy trapeze in the gymnasium, and so asked the help of
some people who were there. Among them was an English
sailor. The trapeze fell and knocked the sailor unconscious,
and the crowd, thinking him dead, ran away for fear of
the police. But Naren tore a piece from his cloth, bandaged
the sailor's wound, washed his face with water, and
gradually revived him. Then he moved the wounded man to
a neighbouring schoolhouse where he nursed him for a
week. When the sailor had recovered, Naren sent him away
with a little purse collected from his friends.
All through this period of boyish play
Narendra retained his admiration for the life of the wandering
monk. Pointing to a certain line on the palm of his hand, he
would say to his friends: 'I shall certainly become a sannyasin.
A palmist has predicted it.'
As Narendra grew into adolescence, his
temperament showed a marked change. He became keen
about intellectual matters, read serious books on history
and literature, devoured newspapers, and attended
public meetings. Music was his favourite pastime. He insisted
that it should express a lofty idea and arouse the feelings of
the musician.
At the age of fifteen he experienced his first
spiritual ecstasy. The family was journeying to Raipur in the
Central Provinces, and part of the trip had to be made in a bullock
cart. On that particular day the air was crisp and clear;
the trees and creepers were covered with green leaves
and many-coloured blossoms; birds of brilliant
plumage warbled in the woods. The cart was moving along a
narrow pass where the lofty peaks rising on the two sides
almost touched each other. Narendra's eyes spied a large
bee-hive in the cleft of a giant cliff, and suddenly his mind was
filled with awe and reverence for the Divine Providence. He
lost outer consciousness and lay thus in the cart for a long
time. Even after returning to the sense-perceived world
he radiated joy.
Another interesting mental phenomenon may
be mentioned here; for it was one often experienced
by Narendranath. From boyhood, on first beholding
certain people or places, he would feel that he had known
them before; but how long before he could never remember.
One day he and some of his companions were in a room in
a friend's house, where they were discussing various
topics. Something was mentioned, and Narendra felt at once
that he had on a previous occasion talked about the same
subject with the selfsame friends in that very house. He
even correctly described every nook and corner of the
building, which he had not seen before. He tried at first to
explain this singular phenomenon by the doctrine of
reincarnation, thinking that perhaps he had lived in that house in
a previous life. But he dismissed the idea as
improbable. Later he concluded that before his birth he must have
had previsions of the people, places, and events that he was
to experience in his present incarnation; that was why,
he thought, he could recognize them as soon as they
presented themselves to him.
At Raipur Narendra was encouraged by his father
to meet notable scholars and discuss with them
various intellectual topics usually considered too abstruse for
boys of his age. On such occasions he exhibited great
mental power. From his father, Narendra had learnt the art
of grasping the essentials of things, seeing truth from
the widest and most comprehensive standpoints, and
holding to the real issue under discussion.
In 1879 the family returned to Calcutta, and
Narendra within a short time graduated from high school in the
first division. In the meantime he had read a great
many standard books of English and Bengali literature.
History was his favourite subject. He also acquired at this time
an unusual method of reading a book and acquiring
the knowledge of its subject-matter. To quote his own
words: 'I could understand an author without reading every
line of his book. I would read the first and last lines of
a paragraph and grasp its meaning. Later I found that I
could understand the subject-matter by reading only the first
and last lines of a page. Afterwards I could follow the
whole trend of a writer's argument by merely reading a few
lines, though the author himself tried to explain the subject
in five or more pages.'
Soon the excitement of his boyhood days was
over, and in 1879 Narendranath entered the Presidency
College of Calcutta for higher studies. After a year he joined
the General Assembly's Institution, founded by the
Scottish General Missionary Board and later known as the
Scottish Church College. It was from Hastie, the principal of
the college and the professor of English literature, that he
first heard the name Sri Ramakrishna.
In college Narendra, now a handsome
youth, muscular and agile, though slightly inclined to
stoutness, enjoyed serious studies. During the first two years he
studied Western logic. Thereafter he specialized in
Western philosophy and the ancient and modern history of
the different European nations. His memory was
prodigious. It took him only three days to assimilate Green's
History of the English People. Often, on the eve of
an examination,
he would read the whole night, keeping awake by
drinking strong tea or coffee.
About this time he came in contact with Sri
Ramakrishna; this event, as we shall presently see, was to
become the major turning-point of his life. As a result of
his association with Sri Ramakrishna, his innate
spiritual yearning was stirred up, and he began to feel
the transitoriness of the world and the futility of
academic education. The day before his B.A. examination,
he suddenly felt an all-consuming love for God and,
standing before the room of a college-mate, was heard to
sing with great feeling:
Sing ye, O mountains, O clouds, O great winds!
Sing ye, sing ye, sing His glory!
Sing with joy, all ye suns and moons and stars!
Sing ye, sing ye, His glory!
The friends, surprised, reminded him of the next
day's examination, but Narendra was unconcerned; the
shadow of the approaching monastic life was fast falling on
him. He appeared for the examination, however, and
easily passed.
About Narendra's scholarship, Professor Hastie
once remarked: 'Narendra is a real genius. I have travelled
far and wide, but have not yet come across a lad of his
talents and possibilities even among the philosophical
students in the German universities. He is bound to make his
mark in life.'
Narendra's many-sided genius found its
expression in music, as well. He studied both instrumental and
vocal music under expert teachers. He could play on
many instruments, but excelled in singing. From a
Moslem teacher he learnt Hindi, Urdu, and Persian songs, most
of them of devotional nature.
He also became associated with the Brahmo
Samaj, an important religious movement of the time,
which influenced him during this formative period of his life.
The introduction of English education in
India following the British conquest of the country
brought Hindu society in contact with the intellectual
and aggressive European culture. The Hindu youths who
came under the spell of the new, dynamic way of life
realized the many shortcomings of their own society. Under
the Moslem rule, even before the coming of the British,
the dynamic aspect of the Hindu culture had been
suppressed and the caste-system stratified. The priests controlled
the religious life of the people for their own selfish
interest. Meaningless dogmas and lifeless ceremonies
supplanted the invigorating philosophical teachings of the
Upanishads and the Bhagavad Gita. The masses were
exploited, moreover, by the landlords, and the lot of women
was especially pitiable. Following the break-down of
the Moslem rule, chaos reigned in every field of Indian life,
social, political, religious, and economic. The
newly introduced English education brought into sharp focus
the many drawbacks of society, and various reform
movements, both liberal and orthodox, were initiated to
make the national life flow once more through healthy channels.
The Brahmo Samaj, one of these liberal
movements, captured the imagination of the educated youths of
Bengal. Raja Rammohan Roy (1774-1833), the founder of
this religious organization, broke away from the rituals,
image worship, and priestcraft of orthodox Hinduism
and exhorted his followers to dedicate themselves to
the 'worship and adoration of the Eternal, the
Unsearchable, the Immutable Being, who is the Author and the
Preserver of the universe.' The Raja, endowed with a
gigantic intellect, studied the Hindu, Moslem, Christian,
and Buddhist scriptures and was the first Indian to realize
the importance of the Western rational method for solving
the diverse problems of Hindu society. He took a
prominent part in the introduction of English education in
India, which, though it at first produced a deleterious effect
on the newly awakened Hindu consciousness, ultimately
revealed to a few Indians the glorious heritage of their
own indigenous civilization.
Among the prominent leaders of the Brahmo
Samaj who succeeded Rammohan Roy were Devendranath Tagore (1817-1905),
a
great devotee of the Upanishads,
and Keshab Chandra Sen (1838-1884), who was inclined to
the rituals and doctrines of Christianity. The Brahmo
Samaj, under their leadership, discarded many of the
conventions of Hinduism such as rituals and the worship of
God through images. Primarily a reformist movement, it
directed its main energy to the emancipation of
women, the remarriage of Hindu widows, the abolition of
early marriage, and the spread of mass education.
Influenced by Western culture, the Brahmo Samaj upheld
the supremacy of reason, preached against the
uncritical acceptance of scriptural authority, and strongly
supported the slogans of the French Revolution. The whole
movement was intellectual and eclectic in character, born of
the necessity of the times; unlike traditional Hinduism, it
had no root in the spiritual experiences of saints and
seers. Narendra, like many other contemporary young men,
felt the appeal of its progressive ideas and became one of
its members. But, as will be presently seen, the Brahmo
Samaj could not satisfy the deep spiritual yearning of his soul.
About this time Narendra was urged by his father
to marry, and an opportunity soon presented itself. A
wealthy man, whose daughter Narendra was asked to accept as
his bride, offered to defray his expenses for higher studies
in England so that he might qualify himself for the
much coveted Indian Civil Service. Narendra refused.
Other proposals of similar nature produced no different
result. Apparently it was not his destiny to lead a
householder's life.
From boyhood Narendra had shown a passion
for purity. Whenever his warm and youthful nature
tempted him to walk into a questionable adventure, he was
held back by an unseen hand. His mother had taught him
the value of chastity and had made him observe it as a
matter of honour, in loyalty to herself and the family
tradition. But purity to Narendra was not a negative virtue, a
mere abstention from carnal pleasures. To be pure, he felt, was
to conserve an intense spiritual force that would
later manifest itself in all the noble aspirations of life.
He regarded himself as a brahmacharin, a celibate student
of the Hindu tradition, who worked hard, prized
ascetic disciplines, held holy things in reverence, and enjoyed
clean words, thoughts, and acts. For according to the
Hindu scriptures, a man, by means of purity, which is the
greatest of all virtues, can experience the subtlest
spiritual perceptions. In Naren it accounts for the great power
of concentration, memory, and insight, and for his
indomitable mental energy and physical stamina.
In his youth Narendra used to see every night
two visions, utterly dissimilar in nature, before falling
asleep. One was that of a worldly man with an accomplished
wife and children, enjoying wealth, luxuries, fame, and
social position; the other, that of a sannyasin, a wandering
monk, bereft of earthly security and devoted to the
contemplation of God. Narendra felt that he had the power to realize
either of these ideals; but when his mind reflected on
their respective virtues, he was inevitably drawn to the life
of renunciation. The glamour of the world would fade and
disappear. His deeper self instinctively chose the austere path.
For a time the congregational prayers and
the devotional songs of the Brahmo Samaj
exhilarated Narendra's mind, but soon he found that they did not
give him any real spiritual experience. He wanted to realize
God, the goal of religion, and so felt the imperative need of
being instructed by a man who had seen God.
In his eagerness he went to Devendranath,
the venerable leader of the Brahmo Samaj, and asked him,
even before the latter had uttered a word, 'Sir, have you seen
God?'
Devendranath was embarrassed and replied: 'My
boy, you have the eyes of a yogi. You should practise
meditation.'
The youth was disappointed and felt that this
teacher was not the man to help him in his spiritual struggle. But
he received no better answer from the leaders of other
religious sects. Then he remembered having heard the name
of Ramakrishna Paramahamsa from Professor Hastie,
who while lecturing his class on Wordsworth's poem
The Excursion, had spoken of trances, remarking that
such religious ecstasies were the result of purity and
concentration. He had said, further, that an exalted experience of
this kind was a rare phenomenon, especially in modern times.
'I have known,' he had said, 'only one person who has
realized that blessed state, and he is Ramakrishna of
Dakshineswar. You will understand trances if you visit the saint.'
Narendra had also heard about Sri Ramakrishna
from a relative, Ramchandra Datta, who was one of the
foremost householder disciples of the Master. Learning
of Narendra's unwillingness to marry and ascribing it to
his desire to lead a spiritual life, Ramchandra had said to
him, 'If you really want to cultivate spirituality, then
visit Ramakrishna at Dakshineswar.'
Narendra met Ramakrishna for the first time
in November 1881 at the house of the Master's
devotee Surendranath Mitra, the young man having been
invited there to entertain the visitors with his melodious
music. The Paramahamsa was much impressed by his
sincerity and devotion, and after a few inquiries asked him to
visit him at Dakshineswar. Narendra accepted. He wished
to learn if Ramakrishna was the man to help him in
his spiritual quest.