Editorial

The Voice

Kadaapi na, kadaapi na, ‘never’, ‘never’ shouted the pandit in Pondicherry with ‘brutal gestures’. It was his response to Swami Vivekananda and his Madras admirers discussing Swamiji’s upcoming sea-voyage to America to participate in the World’s Parliament of Religions in 1893. It was the voice of a decadent, superstitionencrusted India which had stopped interacting with the world outside and was suffocating in a self-created cocoon.

But, Swamiji sailed to America and from the platform of the Parliament of Religions in Chicago, offered India’s eternal spiritual ideals and realisations to the world at large. The joyous applause that he received in America reverberated across India, stirring in her a new life. It initiated the process of breaking the shackles of dry, bigoted ideas and ignorance that had kept India imprisoned for centuries.

In his second address at the Parliament of Religions on 15 Sept 1893, Swamiji narrated the story of a frog in the well, to draw attention to the limitations and dangers of a narrow mind-set. The frog born and brought up in a well, one day had a visitor when another frog from the sea fell into the well. The well-frog then tried to understand the expanse of the sea by leaping across its well! It refused to be disabused of its foolish belief that there was nothing bigger and better outside the well.

It was this well-frog’s mind-set that Swamiji recognised in the pandit’s voice. It was a voice that had built ‘a wall of custom— whose foundation was hatred of others — round the nation’. This wall, Swamiji said was the main reason for the downfall of India because it had violated the moral law of give and take. Swamiji declared: ‘If India wants to raise herself once more, it is absolutely necessary that she brings out her treasures and throws them broadcast among the nations of the earth, and in return be ready to receive what others have to give her. Expansion is life, contraction is death.’ India awakened to Swamiji’s voice and countless Indians set forth striding in an unheard of manner towards political, social and spiritual freedom.

The Jump

The Cover Page painting – titled ‘Jump’ by its young artist Abhirup De, a software professional in Kolkata – depicts this idea of modern India jumping onto the stairs created by Swamiji to climb out of their wells into the open world of universality. Swamiji stands as the connecting bridge between the traditional India of temples, worship, fasts, and vigils, and the modern world of industry, technology, competition.

To give the Indian masses the life-giving ideas of Vedanta, and to improve their material condition with the technology of modern science was Swami Vivekananda’s mission in life. To achieve this, he set in motion the Ramakrishna Movement which, for more than a century has been silently, slowly, and effectively changing the mind-set of India. By the power of the Ramakrishna-Vivekananda ideals the movement is able to continuously position itself at the intersection of tradition and modernity and guide people, especially the

youth towards achieving the paradoxical combination that Swamiji demanded of them – immense idealism with immense practicality.

The year-long 125 th Anniversary Celebrations of Swamiji’s Chicago Addresses concludes this month. This is another opportunity for us to self-introspect and see which voice is guiding our path. Bombarded as we are with a cacophony of voices through our multi-media, it is important that we regularly read Swamiji’s lectures and letters and keep ourselves aligned to the ideals he presents. Swamiji is an eternal voice without form which will always guide anyone struggling to evolve. As we go deeper into his thoughts, there will awaken in us the power to listen to his voice within our heart. When this happens, we are sure not to miss our way, and also our every act will become a blessing to the world. tt

National Seminar on Hinduism for Youth – 21 Sept 2019

As part of the 125 th Anniversary of Swamiji’s Chicago Addresses, Sri Ramakrishna Math, Chennai is conducting a one-day National Seminar on Hinduism for youth on 21 September 2019. More details are available at https://events.chennaimath.org/ NationalSeminaronHinduismforYouth

2019 Special Issue

As our readers know we bring out a Special Issue on a particular topic every December. The topic for the coming Special Issue is ‘Ideals in Family Life’. We invite readers to write about any inspiring episode they may have been part of or even witnessed in their families, bothimmediate and extended. The write-up should focus on the ideal, and the manner in which it was realised in a relationship. The word limit is 250.

Pocket Tales To help young children connect with heroic ideas, we are beginning from this issue a new feature titled ‘Pocket Tales’. The series begins with a fictional narrative of incidents from Swamiji’s childhood.

Just Ask

Swami Vivekananda clearly recognised the pivotal role of the youth in the creation of a New India. Befittingly, his birthday, January 12 th is celebrated as National Youth Day by the Government of India. Today’s multitasking youth face multiple challenges. To help them find solutions in the line of Swami Vivekananda’s ideals, we invite youngsters to ask any questions that bother them. The Vedanta Kesari, Swami Vivekananda’s brainchild, will endeavour to answer them in ‘Just Ask’, an upcoming feature dedicated to the youth.

Article

The Defining Moment in Swami Vivekananda’s Monastic Life

ASIM CHAUDHURI

The article presents Swami Vivekananda’s meditation at Kanyakumari as his ‘moment of enlightenment’ when his thoughts on the reasons for the downfall of India and the course of its revival took a definite shape.

Introduction I t is true that the World’s Parliament of Religions was a big event in Swamiji’s life that acted as the structural catapult launching him into prominence as Swami Vivekananda—the World Teacher. But that was his ‘external’ nature, an outward manifestation of his inner spiritual power—what people saw and heard. His ‘Buddha moment of enlightenment,’ or just his ‘Buddha moment,’ occurred in two places at Kanyakumari—first

in Mother Kumari’s temple and then on what is now known as the Vivekananda Rock. Treating these events as a two-part continuum, this will go down as the most defining moment in his monastic life that elevated him from the level of self-actualization to self-transcendence. It was a totally ‘internal’ phenomenon, an innermost experience. This article attempts to describe what led to that moment, how Swamiji experienced it, and what happened in the aftermath. We know something about what led

to it and what happened in the aftermath, but very little about its nature, because Swamiji was rather reticent about what he had experienced over those three days at Kanyakumari; for that, we have to rely on his biographers and our capacity for inductive or deductive imagination.

From the Himalayas to Kanyakumari

It all started in July of 1890 when Swamiji left the Baranagore Math with Swami Akhandananda and started for the Himalayas. His final words before he left was: ‘I shall not return until I acquire such realization that my very touch will transform a man.’ 1 He returned in January 1897, six and a half years later, to the Alambazar Math (to which the brother disciples had shifted in 1892) after fulfilling his promise; no matter how one looks at it, he transformed generations to come.

He started at the foot of the Himalayas in August 1890, and after going through a myriad of towns, villages, and cities, performing austerities at every chance he got, observing the conditions of people from all walks of life throughout his travels, meeting some with whom he had developed long acquaintances, he finally ended up at Kanyakumari on December 24, 1892.

During those six and a half years that he was outside Calcutta, or even later, he might have had several transcendent moments of deep spiritual experience. But his “Buddha moment” at Kanyakumari tops them all.

What happened at Kanyakumari?

After reaching Kanyakumari, Swamiji went straight to the ‘Mother’s temple’ and fell prostrate in ecstasy before Her image. How long he remained in that position, or how long he sat there in worship, is not known. The Life narrated what happened next as follows:

‘After worshipping the Mother in the temple, it was to this holy rock that the Swami wanted to go for meditation. But how could he go? He had not a single pice for the boatman.

‘Without more ado he plunged into those shark-infested waters and swam across. About him the ocean tossed, but in his mind was greater turbulence.’ 2

In the first edition of the Life, published in the mid-1910s, the biographers were uncertain about the location of the rock with respect to the temple, and didn’t realize that they were independent of each other. As a result of a visit to Kanyakumari by Swami Virajananda later, that was all corrected and various eye-witness accounts over the years were added to the narrative to make it complete. The above excerpt is from the most recent edition of the Life, published in 1989.

It is natural for the biographers to assume that Swamiji plunged into the ocean because he could not afford a boat ride, but there could have been a more compelling reason why he took to swimming that stretch of water, which was only about 400 meters (two furlongs) wide and could have been even less during a low tide depending on the bottom topography. He was probably in a liminal state, on the verge of transitioning from the real to the ephemeral, looking for answers through meditation in solitude on the rock. He meant to honor that spiritual journey to the rock, ‘sanctified by the blessed feet of the Divine Mother,’ through the hard slog of self-denial to refresh his soul, sharks or no sharks. (The Batuk Bhairavas would have protected him from any kind of danger.*) He probably felt like the resolute pilgrims who think that the arduous journey on foot to ‘Pilgrimage Hinglaj’ is an integral part of their spiritual fulfilment, as important as reaching the destination and offering prayers. The journey has its own unique reward,

as it is considered a penance to purify oneself.

The only time Swamiji referred to his visit to Kanyakumari, which is on record, was in a Bengali letter to Swami Ramakrishnananda on March 19, 1894, a little over a year later. That ought to tell us something about his restraint in referring to it. The letter was his first to the brother disciples after leaving Calcutta in July 1890. One noticeable fact is that Swamiji never mentioned the word ‘swim’ in that letter, but there was a subtle hint in it that he did go to the rock. A part of the letter said: ‘In view of all this, specially of the poverty and ignorance, I had 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 sannyasins wandering about, and teaching the people metaphysics—it is all madness. Did not our Gurudeva use to 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.’ 3

In the above excerpt, the two significant phrases with a comma in between are: ‘At Cape Comorin sitting in Mother Kumari’s temple, sitting on the last bit of Indian rock.’ These are two separate phrases. Some may think that the second phrase is an appositive for the first, but it is not, because the temple was not built on rock (moreover, the word ‘sitting’ has been used in both).** Swamiji meant that he sat in both places. If he had used a conjunction, and instead written, ‘At Cape Comorin sitting in Mother Kumari’s temple, and sitting on the last bit of Indian rock…,’ that would have made it clearer. But that was not his style; in his Bengali letters, he frequently used commas or other forms of punctuation between phrases—instead of conjunctions.

Meditation at Kanyakumari: transformation to transcendence

Swamiji might not have spent a long time at the temple. Of his three days at Kanyakumari, he spent most of the time on the rock. What he did there wasn’t just ‘hit upon a plan,’ it was much more; and we get some impression of that from the reminiscences of Swami Turiyananda, whom Swamiji met in April/May of 1893 in Western India. About that meeting Turiyanandaji had repeatedly said, ‘I saw Swamiji as a different person, not like the old one, but with new thoughts and expressions.’ 4 The Life’s account of Turiyanandaji’s statement referring to the meeting was as follows:

‘I vividly remember some remarks made by Swamiji at that time. The exact words and accents, and the deep pathos with which they were uttered, still ring in my ears. He said, “Haribhai, I am still unable to understand anything of your so-called religion.” Then with an expression of deep sorrow on his countenance and intense emotion shaking his body, he placed his hand on his heart and added, “But my heart has expanded very much, and I have learnt to feel. Believe me, I feel intensely indeed.” His voice was choked with feeling; he could say no more. For a time profound silence reigned, and tears rolled down his cheeks.’ In telling of this incident Swami Turiyananda was also overcome. He sat silent for a while, his eyelids heavy with tears. With a deep sigh he said, ‘Can you imagine what passed through my mind on hearing the Swami speak thus? “Are not these”, I thought, “the very words and feelings of Buddha?” . . . I could clearly perceive that the sufferings of humanity were pulsating in the heart of Swamiji: his heart was a huge cauldron in which the sufferings of mankind were being made into a healing balm.’ 5

The feelings Swami Turiyananda witnessed and recognized were the result of Swamiji’s highly intense spiritual experience at

Kanyakumari, which was characterized by such an enhanced state of consciousness, such a profound depth of feeling that it appeared to stand out as his ‘Buddha moment.’ More about this later.

Swamiji was always tight-lipped about his deep spiritual experiences. He had had one such experience in the summer of 1884, when he sank down by the roadside in Calcutta. The logic behind God’s disbursement of justice and mercy became clear to him through that experience, but he never told anybody about the incident except Swami Saradananda; but even then, he didn’t explain exactly how it happened. All he said was ‘By a deep introspection I found the meaning of it all and was satisfied.’ 6 His Kanyakumari experience was much greater than that, the most significant one in his monastic life, because there he received enlightenment through that long meditation and found the real purpose for his life on earth. His ‘deep introspection’ encompassed three days and three nights.

The Life summed it up by saying, ‘Here, then, at Kanyakumari was the culmination of days and months of thought on the problems of the Indian masses; here the longing to find a way by which the wrongs inflicted on them could be righted, was fulfilled.’ 7 His vision of ‘righting the wrongs’ also emerged as a result of his being a self-actualizer. Self-actualizing people are able to see reality (‘what is’) more clearly, and are quick to perceive ‘what ought to be’ and then develop a plan to go from ‘what is’ to ‘what ought to be.’ 8 We will come to that later.

Some aspects of what happened to Swamiji during those three days at Kanyakumari would have been described by psychologist Abraham Maslow (1908-1970) as a ‘peak religious experience,’ or just as a ‘peak experience.’ This type of experience, he said, ‘seems to lift us to greater than normal heights so that we can see and perceive in a higher than usual way. We become larger, greater, stronger, bigger, taller people and tend to perceive accordingly…. To say this in a different way, perception in the peak-experiences can be relatively ego-transcending, self-forgetful, egoless, unselfish.’ 9 Maslow further added, ‘The peak-experiencer becomes more loving and more accepting, and so he b e c o m e s m o r e spontaneous and honest and innocent.’

M a s l o w w a s a n experimentally trained psychologist, and had little formal background in comparative religion with which he could supplement the results of his examinations of people’s various numinous experiences. Swamiji had some discussion about those experiences, like nirvikalpa samadhi, with his friend Professor William James of Harvard. James even quoted Swamiji on the subject of ‘union of the individual with the divine’ in his essay on ‘Mysticism,’ originally published in 1902. 10 Maslow was well acquainted with James’ work, but his own work never mentioned such experiences by name.

Characteristically, peak experience leads to a rise in personal awareness and understanding and can serve as a turning point in a person’s life; it generates emotions that are positive and intrinsically rewarding, during which people feel at one with the world with love and compassion abound. Meditation could lead to such peak experiences while the aspirants seek communion with the transcendent. Kanyakumari was where Swamiji made a leap from being a selfactualizer to being a self-transcender. 11 My heart has expanded very much, and I have learnt to feel. Believe me, I feel intensely indeed.

Siddhartha Gautama sat beneath a tree (known as the Bodhi tree) at Bodh Gaya and meditated. According to some traditions, he attained ‘enlightenment’ in one night; others say three days, or seven days, while still others say 45 days. With his mind purified through concentration, he was supposed to have acquired three kinds of supreme knowledge. In a nutshell, without going into much depth, the first kind was knowledge of his past lives for many thousands of eons. The second was that of the rising and falling of beings, seeing how the laws of karma unfold in detail. The third was knowledge that he was free of all obstacles and released from bondage/attachments.

The ‘peak religious experience’ of Swamiji at the temple and then on the rock at Kanyakumari could have been his combined ‘Buddha moment,’ a state of unitive consciousness. Call it enlightenment, realization, illumination, inspiration, awakening, or whatever—it is immaterial. From what has been documented in the Life, one can draw a parallel between Buddha’s peak experience and that of Swamiji, because the latter also seemed to have acquired three insights as a result. After his enlightenment in one night, the Buddha spent seven days reviewing and consolidating his experience. 12 In the same way, Swamiji could have spent three days on the rock reviewing and consolidating his own revelation at the temple earlier. In other words, his Buddha moment might have been a revelation-reviewconsolidation continuum.

First, sitting on the last rock of India, ‘he passed into a deep meditation on the present and future of his country. He sought for 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….The centuries were laid out before him…. Everywhere and at all times he saw that the poor had been oppressed by whatever power the changes of fortune had set over them.’ 13 To draw an analogy, this is something like Buddha’s first type of knowledge, only it involves the past of a country, not of a person. This was how Swamiji perceived the reality (‘what is’) and how it had manifested itself.

Second, Swamiji ‘saw religion to be the life-blood of India’s millions. “India”, he realized in the silence of his heart, “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”….His soul brooded with tenderness and anguish over India’s poverty.’ 14 He recalled his Master’s admonition: ‘Religion is not for empty bellies.’ People should first have access to food, shelter, education, healthcare, and the knowledge of science and technology. This he thought was ‘what ought to be.’

Third, to go from ‘what is’ to ‘what ought to be,’ in other words to effect a resolution, he ‘hit upon a plan.’ The nuts and bolts of his plan, at least the essence of it, he first disclosed a little over a year later in the letter to Swami Ramakrishnananda, discussed earlier. Verbalizing Swamiji’s thoughts, the Life said, ‘But what was the remedy? The clear-eyed Swami saw that renunciation and service must be the twin ideals of India. If the national life could be intensified in these channels, everything else would be taken care of.’ 15

After his enlightenment, Buddha went ahead and founded a new religion that doesn’t even acknowledge God, let alone worship Him. Swamiji, on the other hand, went ahead and professed a new way to worship God. He equated sadhana with seva and exhorted, ‘If you want any good to come, just throw your ceremonials overboard and worship the Living God, the Man-god—every being that wears a

human form—god in His universal as well as individual aspect. The universal aspect of God means this world, and worshipping it means serving it.’ 16 Aftermath of Kanyakumari

Going back in time, Sri Ramakrishna had given Swamiji a mandate, charged him with a complicated mission, of which the latter didn’t have a clear idea, and empowered him to accomplish the work; but the Master provided very little guidance on how to get it done. Swamiji became restless because he wanted to do something, but did not exactly know what to do and how to do it. It probably dawned on him that so far he had been travelling to various holy p l a c e s , a p p a r e n t l y aimlessly, and meeting different people from all walks of life, but had done n o t h i n g t o w a r d accomplishing his Master’s mission.

All of that changed after his meditation at Kanyakumari. Swamiji decided that instead of going into solitude in the Himalayas to commune with God, he would dedicate his life to the service of India’s outcast, downtrodden, and starving people. He was finally convinced that the God he had taken a vow to serve as a monk, revealed Himself through humanity. His longing for a blissful state of communion with God then became secondary to his overwhelming desire to dedicate his life to the welfare of the Indian people. ‘May I be born again and again,’ he exclaimed, ‘and suffer a thousand miseries, if only I may worship the only God in whom I believe, the sum total of all souls, and above all, my God the wicked, my God the afflicted, my God the poor of all races!’ 17 Here is how the Life recounted his mental state:

‘He gazed over the waters through a mist of tears. His heart went out to the Master and to the Mother in prayer. From this moment his life was consecrated to the service of India, but particularly to the service of her outcast Narayanas, her starving Narayanas, her millions of oppressed Narayanas. To him, in this hour, even the direct experience of Brahman in the Nirvikalpa Samadhi, and the bliss attending it, became subservient to the overwhelming desire to give himself utterly for the good of the Indian people. His soul was caught up in the vision of Narayana Himself, the Lord of the Universe, transcendent, yet immanent in all beings—whose boundless love makes no distinction between high and low, pure and vile, rich and poor.’ 18

I t s e e m s t h a t Swamiji’s revelation on the rock reaffirmed his Master’s entire mandate to him more clearly than ever. He then decided to go to America and thus, in a manner of speaking, hit two mangoes with one stone. First, he would fulfill his Master’s prophecy that ‘Naren will teach others’ by expounding to the receptive Americans the ancient wisdom of Indian sages and the sublime concepts of Vedanta. Second, to carry out his Master’s wish that he serve mankind by alleviating their pain and suffering, he would bring back to India from America, in exchange, the knowledge of Western science and technology, as well as some material help, to uplift the condition of the Indian masses. He wanted to weave the best elements of Western civilization into the fabric of Indian thought and culture, and let the West benefit from assimilating Eastern introspection and meditation. To him it was a win-win situation. If you want any good to come, just throw your ceremonials overboard and worship the Living God, the Man-god — every being that wears a human form.

Shortly thereafter, Swamiji had a vision as he lay half asleep one night. ‘He saw the figure of his Master, Shri Ramakrishna, walking from the seashore into the waters of the ocean, and beckoning him to follow.’ 19 He wanted the

benediction from the Holy Mother Sri Sarada Devi to go to the West—and he received it. He left for America five months after his “Buddha moment” at Kanyakumari. The rest is history.

References

1) The Life of Swami Vivekananda. [hereafter Life]. Kolkata: Advaita Ashrama, 1989, 1:241 2) Life. 1:340-341 3) The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda. [hereafter CW]. Mayavati Edition. Kolkata: Advaita Ashrama, 6:254 4) Srimat Vivekananda Swamir Jibaner Ghatanabali. Mahendranath Datta. Kolkata: The Mahendra Publishing Committee, 1998, 3:30 5) Life. 1:388 6) Life. 1:126 7) Life. 1:343 8) Swami Vivekananda: The Ultimate Paradox Manager. [hereafter Manager]. Asim Chaudhuri. Kolkata: Advaita Ashrama, 2016, p.197 9) Religions, Values, and PeakExperiences. A. H. Maslow. New York: Penguin Compass, 1976, pp. 59-68 10) The Varieties of Religious Experience. William James. New York: Barnes & Noble Classics, 2004, pp.346-347 11) Manager. pp.194-197 12) Buddhism in Translations. Henry Clarke Warren. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1953,pp. 83-85 13) Life. 1:341 14) Life. 1:341 15) Life. 1:342 16) CW. 6:264 17) Vivekananda: A Biography. Swami Nikhilananda, Kolkata: Advaita Ashrama, 1987, pp.97-98 18) Life. 1:343 19) Life. 1:380

Notes * There is a story that once Swami Shivananda woke up in the middle of the night at Baranagore Math and saw the space surrounding Swamiji’s sleeping body being lit up due to the presence of miniature Shiva-like images. He woke Swamiji up and told him what he had seen. Swamiji asked him not to bother about that and go to sleep. When he asked him again about it the next morning, Swamiji said, ‘They were Batuk Bhairavas [a child form of Lord Shiva that people invoke for protection against evil spirits], they have been protecting me since my childhood.’(Swami Purnatmananda (Editor), Smritir Aloi Swamiji (Udbodhan Karyalaya, Calcutta, 2009), p. 91.) Shivananda was uniquely privileged to see that because both he and Swamiji were born following their mothers’ special prayers to Lord

Shiva. ** According to tradition, the temple was built, maybe a couple of thousand years ago or more, on the rock, which was then a part of the mainland, and now known as the Vivekananda Rock (“the last bit of Indian rock”). The temple was rebuilt on the mainland when sea erosion transformed the rock to an islet. A natural footprint-shaped indent found on the rock is believed to be that of the Devi Herself, and is revered as a symbol of the “Sripadam.” (https://indianmandirs.blogspot.com/2013/11/ sri-kanyakumari-amman-temple.html.) If this is true, and if Swamiji was aware of the compelling Puranic history of the rock where the Divine Mother performed intense austerities as Devi Kanya to win the hand of Lord Shiva, then it explains why he wanted to go there to meditate.

My whole ambition in life is to set in motion a machinery which will bring noble ideas to the door of everybody, and then let men and women settle their own fate. Let them know what our forefathers as well as other nations have thought on the most momentous questions of life. —Swami Vivekananda

Reminiscences of Sargachhi

SWAMI SUHITANANDA

Swami Premeshananda (1884 – 1967) was a disciple of Holy Mother Sri Sarada Devi. For over two decades he lived at Ramakrishna Mission Ashrama, Sargachhi, West Bengal. Under his inspiration countless people lead a life of spirituality and service, and many young men and women entered into monastic life. His conversations – translated from Bengali and presented below – were noted by his attendant novitiate who is now Swami Suhitananda, one of the Vice-Presidents of the Ramakrishna Order.

(Continued from previous issue. . .)

42

29.10.60 contd. M aharaj: After an aspirant engages in work impelled by desires for a long time, there awakens in him the power of discrimination, and he gets an opportunity to hear about Supreme Knowledge. When this happens, he begins to withdraw from his involvement in work and tries to remain desireless. But the momentum generated by working for a long time cannot end in a day. So the aspirant continually struggles to become desireless, and when शमः कारणमुच्यत े (Bhagavad Gita 6:3) ‘inaction becomes the means’, i.e., work falls away, then knowledge awakens in him.

However, some people, even after realisation, continue to work for the good of the world. In short, mere work creates bondage, and the aspirant will repeatedly have to experience the fruits of work, go to heaven, and again return to this world.

In Shankara’s time, the priests would elaborately preach the glories of sacrifices. That is why Shankara had to write against ritualistic work.

Question: If we try to work without selfish desires, will it lead to lessening of work?

Maharaj: There is no guarantee. You have to think that you are not doing any work by yourself, but – like the maid in a rich man’s house – you are just fulfilling the responsibilities that come upon you from time to time. Work is not your goal – your goal is to realise the Absolute. The disciple* went to graze the cattle; his purpose was not to graze the cattle but to realise the Absolute.

Question: But I am that Absolute.

Maharaj: No, if you think like that, you will not be able to keep your mind on your Chosen Deity. Think ‘I am only a ray.’

Yesterday I told you the simile of a glass bottle. Can you repeat it?

Attendant: I keep an empty bottle immersed in a tank of water. Then the bottle gets filled with the water in the tank. The water in the bottle assumes an identity separate from the water in the tank. It is like the universal consciousness appearing as an individual consciousness.

Maharaj: As I thought over the matter, it occurred to me that the simile of the bottle is not correct. It can be better put like this: A cowherd boy, by the grace of a king, married the king’s daughter and became a householder. He also received half the kingdom, and after the king’s death became the king. Here the cowherd

is not done away with; he is the same person who only progresses to become the king.

In the path of Self-knowledge the aspirant focuses his mind on his own ego, while in the path of pure devotion the aspirant focuses his mind on a particular personality. Then there is Visishtadvaita (qualified monism). Here the aspirant suffers intensely because of the misery of other living beings. Beyond that is Advaita (monism). Those who follow the path of pure devotion do not care about the glories of their most beloved person. They want only him and nothing else. They do not criticise others.

The avatara is like the water on the roof which flows down through the lion’s mouth (the design at the end of the drainpipe). The Supreme Brahman preached His message through the form of Sri Ramakrishna, who intimated the tidings of the second floor to those on the ground floor (i.e., Sri Ramakrishna opened the doors of the higher life to ordinary people).

Somebody said, ‘I am convinced that Sri Ramakrishna is the Supreme Brahman.’ But is it possible to have such a conviction without a clear conception of the Supreme Brahman? Look here, without practising discrimination you can become a devotee, but you cannot become a sannyasi. When a sannyasi without discrimination performs his own shraddha ceremonies (obsequies performed before receiving sannyasa) he will regard it as an ordinary ritual. Unless he is convinced that he is not the body and the mind, how can his sense of belonging to his parents disappear?

Rajoguni people desire to reform the world when they perceive it as full of misery. An intellectual person will engage in the path of discrimination to become a scholar.

1.11.60

Some devotees had arrived from Berhampore. While chatting amongst themselves, one of them said, ‘Monday belongs to Shiva, Tuesday to the Divine Mother, and Wednesday to Sri Ramakrishna.’

Maharaj: They say Wednesday is m a r k e d a s S r i Ramakrishna’s day. If we assign a particular day of the week to Sri Ramakrishna, then we become a faction, a section of society. Rather, we should mingle with everyone, without losing our independent identity. This is Sri Ramakrishna’s speciality.

Sri Ramakrishna cannot be called a siddha purusa (perfected person). What a renunciation of lust and greed in body, mind and speech we see in him! This is not possible for a siddha purusha. Again, how can we call him God? All his actions are like those of a human being. Therefore, he is an avatara – a teacher – God in the form of man.

Tell me how many types of jivas are there? Jivas are of four types – nitya (ever perfect), mukta (liberated), mumukshu (aspiring after liberation) and baddha (bound). There is another fourfold classification – bubhukshu (hungry), chikirshu (intending to work), jijnasu (intending to know), and mumukshu (desiring to be free). A bubhukshu is satisfied as soon as his physical wants are met; he is an extreme tamoguni and has no enthusiasm for anything else.A chikirshu wants to work. He tires himself to death, driven by the restlessness of his mind; he is a rajoguni. A jijnasu is one with a keen intellect. He desires to develop his intellect and acquire higher degrees like M.A. and D.Litt. But his discrimination is not yet awakened. Gradually, as his intellect matures, there awakens in him the power to discriminate between the eternal and the ephemeral, and he becomes a mumukshu. (To be continued. . .)

The Visual Portrayal of Swami Vivekananda in American Media

DIANE MARSHALL

This research article throws new light on the initial photographs of Swami Vivekananda taken in America, including the famous ‘Chicago pose’ photograph, and also his sketches in the media.

Genesis of the Chicago pose S wami Vivekananda’s portrait known as the ‘Chicago pose’ is such an iconic image that it continues to signify not only his career, but also the public image of the Ramakrishna Math and Mission. It is worth pondering how this photograph came to be. I say ponder, because in the absence of direct documentation, the job is to lay out evidence in sequential order and apply reason. Logically, this sequence begins with the understanding that the ‘Chicago pose’ was created after the Parliament of Religions.

There are five clearly identifiable photographs taken of Swamiji during the Parliament of Religions in September 1893. 1 Some of these were later reproduced in books; they were not seen in the newspapers during the congress. Swamiji was a dark horse coming into the Parliament. The story of how he acquired the necessary credentials to become a last minute delegate is well-known, and the reports of his participation written by journalists are well-known, but his picture was scarcely seen during that event—at least not in the way it was later imagined in India.

For example, there is no reason to believe that Swamiji’s portrait was ever posted on the fairgrounds of the World’s Columbian Exposition—nor was it displayed publicly during the Parliament of Religions. Consider the social reality. Americans would have had difficulty distinguishing a foreign visitor like Swamiji—who was ‘in costume’—from the Asian performers on the Midway Plaisance. As far as the average visitor to the World’s Columbian Exposition was concerned, the Maharajah of Kapurthala, who was feted at the Fair on 15 August, was merely a wealthier version of the Hindoo juggler on the Midway. 2 They were all simply exotic. Swamiji was definitely not a fairground attraction, so the notion that his picture was posted at the World’s Fair—which closed on 30 October—is untenable. The Parliament of Religions, on the other hand, was an assembly of considerable gravitas. If pictures of Swamiji had been placarded around the Art Institute as if it were a political convention, it would not have won him approbation.

Swamiji went to the Exposition on the m o r n i n g o f 2 0 S e p t e m b e r w i t h Narasimhacharya, Lakshmi Narayan, H. Anagarika Dharmapala, and Virchand Gandhi to participate in the tolling of the Columbian Liberty Bell by representatives of the world’s religions. 3 During this excursion they were stopped and photographed as a group. 4 Their

sketch artist’s job to understand Swamiji’s words. Some of them boldly portrayed Swamiji with racial and cultural bias—scarcely observing his actual features. A black-faced sketch of Swamiji appeared in the 12 September Chicago Record and a hooknosed, baggy-eyed sketch of him appeared in the 20 September Chicago Herald. 10 In c o n t ra s t to l ive ly illustrations in other newspapers , t h e Chicago Tribune printed engravings of the delegates that for the most part had clearly been drawn from photographs. The artists had different make-ready deadlines than the journalists, so they may not have covered the afternoon or evening sessions that Swamiji often chaired. Therefore the lack of images of Swamiji during the Parliament is not a reflection of the impact he had on that event, it reflects the way that newspapers worked at that time.

In Swamiji’s day the prevailing typesetting technology was Linotype/ letterpress. All inkable surfaces were printed in relief, so images had to be physically converted into wood or metal blocks that locked into the page forme with the type. By the early 1890s it was fairly common t o s e e b l a c k a n d w h i t e photographs reproduced via halftone line screens in books and magazines that used coated paper. For newspaper production however, due to the interaction of ink with porous wood-pulp paper, halftones appeared too muddy. Hand-cut wood engravings dominated newspaper imagery until after the turn of the century. Great advances had been made in photomechanical methods for photograph was sold to a book publisher and it appeared in at least three books. 5 In Buel’s The Magic City, Swamiji and his fellow delegates were presented on par with the Midway Plaisance ethnographic subjects shown on subsequent pages. In a Portfolio published by The Werner Company, Virchand Ghandi and a Colombo tea merchant were introduced with the caption: ‘Two East Indian Types . . . who are excellent types of the refined and prosperous East Indian.’ 6

The reasons why Swamiji’s image was underrepresented in the newspapers during the Parliament were mostly technical. To my knowledge, his named image appeared only three times in the newspaper during that historic event. Why? Because unlike other delegates, Swamiji had not supplied cabinet cards of himself in advance to the Parliament committee, which in turn would have lent them to the news media, which in turn would have sent them to engraving houses that supplied the newspaper trade. Instead, Swamiji was sketched ‘live’ by artists attached to local newspapers. These artists had a different agenda than the journalists. Their job was to convey the immediacy and excitement of the spectacle with loose, lively, line drawings. Some popular artists signed their work. On 13 September, Swamiji was illustrated in the Chicago Inter-Ocean with the caption ‘Swami Dvivakananda’. 7 Swamiji was not drawn as a speaker that day; he was simply a conspicuous part of the pageant: ‘The handsome and learned Brahman monk, Suami Vivikendi, clothed in his rich orange robes and heavy turban, dropped into a back seat at the right of the chairman.’ 8 On 20 September the Inter-Ocean again sketched Swamiji ‘live’—but unnamed—sitting on the left, next to Christophore Jibara as part of ‘A Group on the Platform’. 9 It was not the The notion that Swamiji’s picture was posted at the World’s Fair—which closed on 30 October— is untenable. Inter-Ocean 13 Sep 1893 p2 SV line drawing 21 The Vedanta Kesari September 2019

Inter Ocean 20 Sep 1893, p2 SV on left

engraving and electrotyping, but it was still a labor-intensive process. Fashion was shifting from the tightly detailed wood engravings seen in periodicals like Harper’s to loose, sketchy pen and ink drawings. This style was especially preferred for portraiture. The portraits of the Parliament delegates printed in the newspapers were for the most part hand traced from cabinet cards. 11 Although the Parliament committee had no cabinet cards of Swamiji to distribute, they had one of Manilal Dvivedi—even though he did not come to Chicago. Some reporters were confused by the lack of publicity material on Swamiji —and the availability of Dvivedi’s—so Swamiji was referred to in several reports as Swami Dvivakananda or Dvivedi Kananda. In fact, there is a clear description of Swamiji in one newspaper misidentified as Dvivedi:

‘Manilal Dvivedi, Brahmin from Bombay, wears wide pantalets, dress and folded turban of yellow, and has a round benevolent face which is bright and youthful and breaks into frequent smiles. His countenance so much resembles the images of Buddha that it is hard to believe he is a Brahmin. He is a general favorite and crowds gather to hear him converse during the recesses. Sometimes he changes his costume to scarlet.’ 12

undoubtedly inundated with requests for his photograph. Someone took him to Thomas Harrison’s photographic studio in the Central Music Hall on the corner of Randolph and State streets. My best guess is that the person who took him to Harrison’s was Ellen Isabelle Hale (Mrs. G.W. Hale), because Swamiji was photographed wearing a starched white collar and cuffs. In later letters he reassured Hale that the collar and cuffs were receiving proper care. 13 Swamiji is not wearing a stiff white collar in any of his five Parliament photos, indicating that he had not yet been coached in formal presentation as a ‘man of the cloth.’ Thereafter, collar and cuffs mark his public dress in America. Swamiji wrote several letters to Hale during 1894 regarding re-orders of the Harrison photographs, which further suggests that she was involved in the original sitting. 14

O f t h e s e ve n k n o w n H a r r i s o n photographs, two were seated, two were portrait vignettes, and three were standing. 15 Swamiji crossed his arms in two of the standing poses. Of these two arms-crossed photos, one is full-length and one is waist-length. According to one authority, the familiar waist-length pose is cropped from the full-length exposure. 16 This cannot be true because the two images do not match when superimposed. The most obvious difference is the position of his left hand. In the full-length arms-crossed pose, Swamiji’s left hand is tightly tucked into his right arm and his

face is sombre. This must have been the photograph he referred to in his 5 August 1894 letter to Ellen Isabelle Hale as the ‘nasty standing’ photo. 17 Swamiji wrote the phrase ‘nasty standing’ in quotes as if it were an appellation that the Hales were already familiar with. It might be plausible to speculate that when Swamiji and the Hales were choosing which of Harrison’s proofs to order as cabinet cards, the fulllength arms-crossed pose was the least favorite and someone—possibly Mary B. Hale—dubbed it the ‘nasty standing’ photo. This leads me to surmise that a misunderstanding arose in the summer of 1894 when more of the ‘arms-crossed’ cabinet cards were ordered, and a person at Harrison’s sent Swamiji the ‘nasty standing’ photo, not realizing that there were two arms-crossed photos. While this rationale is logical, it remains conjecture in absence of direct documentation.

What led to the arms-crossed stance in the first place? Scholars cite the conventions of nineteenth-century portraiture without shedding much light on this question. 18 At Greenacre in 1894 Swamiji was casually photographed standing with his arms crossed. 19 Perhaps it was part of his natural body language, since he crosses his arms in five other photographs. 20 Perhaps Harrison observed him

Minneapolis Star Tribune 10 Dec 1893 & Detroit Free Press 11 Feb 1894

Harrison full-length arms-crossed on left

cross his arms in course of conversation with his friends at the photo studio. Perhaps the only artifice of the ‘Chicago pose’ was that Harrison suggested he turn his head while his arms were crossed. Harrison had to be careful setting up each shot before he opened the shutter. In the 1890s dark slides were time-consuming to prepare and develop. 21 Exposures were seldom wasted. It seems to me that the full-length pose was the first of the two arms-crossed exposures because Swamiji holds a stiffer, almost resistant position. What we call the ‘Chicago pose’ must have been the second arms-crossed exposure, because the photographer decided to refocus and close in, and as he did that Swamiji relaxed his posture. This time his arms drop slightly and he seems to regain his center of gravity. Swamiji had a distinctive bearing, which some described as ‘princely,’ but it was simply his natural balance. 22 In the ‘Chicago pose’ his left hand rests lightly atop the right, ready for action, yet his head turns away from his torso. This opposing angle effectively separates intellect from body. His gaze seems directed toward a distant shore or distant future. Swamiji’s Swamiji had a distinctive bearing, which some described as ‘princely,’ but it was simply his natural balance. 23 The Vedanta Kesari September 2019

The Ghost in the Tree

GITANJALI MURARI

A fictional narrative based on incidents from the childhood of Swami Vivekananda.

Naren looked out the window. It was a perfect day to play outside. The rain drenched street shimmered under the bright sun, a cool breeze bringing relief from the summer heat. He ran down the stairs into the courtyard and just as he opened the main door, his mother called out. ‘Naren, it will rain again… stay inside…’ ‘Ma, I am tired of staying indoors…I am only going till the saptaparni tree…if it rains, its thick leaves will protect me…’

Standing under Shibu’s window, he threw a handful pebbles at the glass. Shibu’s head peeped out, a smile breaking on his face. ‘Come to the tree,’ Naren told him. ‘And bring the others

The author, a media and television professional for over 20 years, is now a fictional writer. She lives in Mumbai. gitanjalimurari@yahoo.com Illustrator: Smt. Lalithaa Thyagarajan. lalithyagu@gmail.com

too…’ They all gathered soon, the tree’s blooming flowers glittering like gems against the wall of a big house. ‘So what game are we playing today Naren?’

Shibu asked. Naren swung up onto a branch and considered. ‘Hmmm…let’s pretend we are tree dwellers…the ones on the low branches are the subjects and the one to reach the highest, is the…King!’ There was a mad scramble, each boy trying to climb higher than the other, each one wanting to be king.

An old man stepped out of the big house, banging his walking stick on the porch. ‘I wish it hadn’t stopped raining,’ he grumbled. ‘It was nice and quiet for the last few days… now these monkeys have returned to wreck my peace…’ He called out to them, ‘You there! What do you think you are doing?’ But the band of merry boys did not hear him, laughing and shouting, perched in the saptaparni, their faces beaming like its flowers. ‘Boys,’ he shouted again, banging his stick harder.

‘Sir, what is it?’ Naren jumped off a broad branch. ‘Are you not well? Do you need our help?’ The old man gritted his teeth. ‘Need your help indeed,’ he muttered. ‘He must be the ringleader…the cause of all trouble…wait, I will fix him…’ Aloud, he told Naren, ‘I am worried for you all…don’t you know there is an evil spirit in the tree? It is a ghost of a

wicked man who was murdered many years ago, right under it…and it has been living here since…’

A hush fell over the boys. Shibu darted a glance at Naren, his heart beating very fast. ‘How do you know it lives here?’ Naren scratched his chin, his large eyes puzzled. ‘Have you seen it, sir?’ The old man glowered. ‘Ah, you don’t believe me,’ he said, annoyed. ‘The racket you make will surely wake up the ghost…and do you know what it will do?’ Stretching out his thin arms towards Naren, he continued. ‘It will catch hold of you and break your chubby little neck, like a twig…snap!’ The boys screamed, quickly climbing down the tree, its branches swaying dangerously. ‘Yes, run and play elsewhere,’ the old man nodded satisfied. ‘Stay safe children…go far away from here…’

They ran, not stopping till they reached the corner of the lane, well beyond the saptaparni. ‘Where is Naren?’ someone asked and Shibu quickly looked around. ‘He isn’t here,’ another boy panted. ‘Do you think the ghost has caught him?’ ‘I am going back,’ Shibu announced. ‘We’ll come with you,’ the others chorused, trying to look brave, holding each other’s hands tightly.

They tip-toed back, terrified, certain to find the ghost’s sharp claws gripped around Naren’s neck. Instead they gasped, not from fright but from relief and joy. With his legs hooked around a branch, Naren swung upside down, the rustling leaves keeping him company. Shibu ran to him, crying out, ‘Thank goodness you are fine…we were so worried!’

With one hard swing, Naren somersaulted, landing nimbly on the ground, the boys gathering around him, losing their fear. ‘You are all so silly,’ he remarked, his eyes twinkling. ‘If there really was a ghost in this tree, our necks would have been broken a long time ago…’

The old man sighed. The boys were back, screaming and shrieking. ‘Ah well, I tried… and failed…’ and taking two little cotton balls, he stuffed them in his ears.

Believe not because an old manuscript has been produced, because it has been handed down to you from your forefathers, because your friends want you to -- but think for yourself; search truth for yourself; realise it yourself. Then if you find it beneficial to one and many, give it to people. Soft-brained men, weakminded, chicken-hearted, cannot find the truth. One has to be free, and as broad as the sky. One has to have a mind that is crystal clear; only then can truth shine in it. — Swami Vivekananda