To those whom he loved among his fellows, he was kindness itself. Should anyone become hurt or ill in a party he had taken for a boyish excursion, he would give up the prospect of fun to attend on him. For instance, one day he went with twenty or more boys to see the Calcutta Fort. One of the party complained of pain, while others joined in a laugh at the sick boy’s expense, and went ahead. Left alone, the boy sat down on the ground, his pain growing worse. Naren had gone with the party, but suddenly he turned and said, "It may be that he is seriously ill. You boys run on. One of us must go back to him; so I will go." He retraced his steps just in time. The boy had been overtaken with fever. Naren assisted him, half carrying him to a carriage nearby, and took him home.

The two traits, restlessness and kindness, were among the prevailing characteristics of Naren's family and of Naren himself Naren's restlessness, so called, was the visible expression, it seems, of an immense dynamism, an immense energy and aspiration. It took various forms: high spirits, adventurousness, ardour, thirst for knowledge and travel, and dissatisfaction with monotony and stagnation. It was this dynamism that later took him round India, and then round the world. It was this dynamism again that created. In him a spiritual restlessness, the same restlessness that is at the back of the Hindu monk's struggle for complete liberation, and is only satisfied by the realization of the Infinite. Kindness also, as we have seen and shall see, was a quality of Naren's throughout his life.

Soon after his entrance into the Metropolitan Institution Naren was told he would have to learn the English language. But he was unwilling to do so. It was a foreign language, he said, so why should one learn it? Why should one not first of all become master of one's own tongue? He refused flatly and went home crying to his father and mother. But they, too, said it was necessary, and again he refused. Then his old relative, Nrisimha Datta, of whom Naren was especially fond, heard of his obstinacy. He took Naren aside and talked quietly to him, at first to no purpose. Only after several months did he follow his advice and start to study English. But once started, he studied it with an earnestness that surprised everyone; and later became master of the language. And this was indeed imperative. His words in English have since become a new gospel. Through English he gave voice to his mission and expression to that which he himself was-the centre of a spiritual world impulse.

Many are the stories told of Narendranath's school-days, revealing him as full of force and vitality, fond of play and boyish delights. Like other lads he played pranks and called his friends by nicknames of his own devising, picking some from story books and fables, or various other sources.

Naren was still the devout admirer of mendicant monks. To see one was a moment of pleasure for him. If the meeting took place at his home, he would anticipate and fulfil the sadhu's needs as far as he could. And the monks always blessed him, for his eyes spoke volumes, and it is in the eyes that the monks see the soul reflected. The longing to be a monk himself was always in Naren. He often thought of the time when he would be free to follow that life. In his boyish fervour he would tell his friends what he would do, where he would go, and so on, enthusing his companions also. Often would he ask a newcomer to the Metropolitan Institution if there was an ancestor in the family, more particularly a grandfather, who had adopted the sannyasi's life. If the reply was positive, Naren would regard the new lad with special favour. Sometimes the boys would get together and in play try, by reading one another's palms, to foretell the future. Naren was the chief palmist of them all. He told them that he would be a monk: there was no mistake about it. "See!" he would say triumphantly, "there is the sure sign of a sannyasi." And he would point out certain lines on his hand which an old man had once told him were characteristic of the tendency to monkhood. Others were also eager to learn their fate in this respect. All of them wanted to be sannyasis because Naren wanted to be one. But as fate would have it, they were to be disappointed.

Even at this early age Naren evinced impatience with superstition and fear, no matter how hallowed by popular tradition. As he himself expressed it to a disciple in later years, "From my boyhood I have been a dare devil; otherwise could I have attempted to make a tour round the world, almost without a penny in my pocket?" An incident that occurred around this time is illustrative of his "dare-devilry", which is to say, courage and independence of thought and action. To the house of a certain friend he would often have recourse as to a refuge from the monotonous moments that come even to boys. There was in their compound a favourite tree from which he loved to dangle head down. It was a Champaka (Michelia Champaca) tree, the flowers of which are said to be liked by Shiva, and which Hindu boys would go a long way to collect. It was the flowers of this tree that Naren also loved. One day as he was swinging from the tree, the old and nearly blind grand father of the house recognized his voice, which he knew and loved so well. The old man was afraid that the boy might fall, and that he himself might lose his Champaka flowers; he called Naren down and told him that he must not climb the tree again. Naren asked the reason. The old man answered, "Because a Brahmadaitya [a ghost of a Brahmin] lives in that tree, and at night he goes about dressed all in white, and he is terrible to look at." This was news to Naren, who wanted to know what else this ghost could do besides wander about. The old man rejoined, "And he breaks the necks of those who climb the tree."

Naren said nothing, and the old man went away smiling to himself in triumph. As soon as he had gone some distance Naren climbed the tree again just to spite the ghost of the Brahmin. His friend remonstrated, "The Brahmadaitya is sure to catch you and break your neck." Naren laughed heartily, and said, "What a silly fellow you are! Don't believe everything just because someone tells you! Why, my neck would have been broken long ago, if the old grandfather's story were true."

Only a boyish lark it was, true, but significant when viewed in the light of later developments: a forecast of the time when, as Swami Vivekananda, he was to say to large audiences, "Do not believe a thing because you read it in a book! Do not believe a thing because another has said it is so! Find out the truth for yourself! That is realization!"

The father of this friend of Naren's loved him very much and had great hopes for his future. On one occasion, finding him dangling from the "forbidden" tree, he called him into the house and asked, "Do you play all day, going from one house to another? Do you never read ?" Naren answered, "Sir, I both read and play." Then he was put to the test. He was examined in Geography and Mathematics, and was made to recite poems. To the surprise of the strenuous examiner, he acquitted himself well. Then the questioner blessed him and asked, "Who is there to guide you, my son? Your father is in Lahore." Naren assured his friend's father that he read in the morning and that his mother guided him. The man, though he said little for fear of flattering Naren, saw the greatness of the boy's intellect at once. He watched Naren's career with keen interest and saw fulfilled what he had predicted when he gave his blessing "My boy, you will be a man among men. I give you my blessings."

Naren could indeed both read and play. He manifested remarkable alacrity in preparing his daily lessons, one hour being sufficient for him to master them. He had a prodigious memory; he could read through a book very fast and in no time have it memorized. Small wonder, then, that he could be the foremost student in his class at school, and still have long hours left for fun! Only during two or three months before examinations did he apply himself strenuously to his studies. He showed proficiency in English, History, and Sanskrit, but had great distaste for Mathematics, and in this he was like his father who was wont to speak of Mathematics as "grocer's craft".

Although Naren generally kept good health, he suffered from chronic dyspepsia for some years during this time at the Metropolitan Institution. He became very thin, and felt a strong craving for certain foods that were specially harmful to him. This, however, in, no way depressed his nature neither his studies nor his vitality suffered. He was as energetic as ever, and as merry, as kind and as courageous.

Not all of Naren's recreation involved strenuous physical activity. In childhood he had a fine hand for drawing pictures. He also had a melodious voice and could pick up a song by listening to it once at a theatrical performance.

With his class fellows Naren mingled intimately. Whenever there was leisure at school he either played with them, told stories, sang songs, or made them laugh with his expert mimicry. Often he teased his friends or played pranks on them, but he never harmed anyone, and through it all he would draw everyone to him, making them his own. In five minutes he could win anyone over, He could outwit anyone in talk, and none could outwit him: He had wonderful presence of mind and seemingly endless capacity to extemporize. And never would Naren be morose. He knew very well how to make others laugh, and he kept all his class mates charmed.

In him there was immense pent-up strength. In London, many years later, Swami Vivekananda told Mr. E. T. Sturdy (one of his English disciples): Well, Sturdy, in my childhood I used to observe an inexhaustible force arising in me, over-flowing my body, as it were. I used to become restless and could not keep quiet. This was why I used to fidget all the time. If I had nothing to read, I would turn to making mischief. If I had been made to sit quietly for three or four days, I would have either become seriously ill or have gone mad. My insides would all the time vibrate, as it were, and make me restless to do something.

But even in the midst of extreme restlessness, he was occasionally noticed to have been overwhelmed by some inspiration, as though his mind had travelled far away from his body. He then appeared to be gazing at something in the air, and his face would turn so grave that, to the dismay of those watching him, all his laughter and fun would vanish. Sometimes, after keeping quiet for a while, he would speak out: "I shall become a king. I shall do this. I shall do that." Or he would go on prattling: "This has to be done that way. This will be done this time." It would seem that his words at those times had no relation to anything he had been saying or doing just before. Sometimes he would burst into loud soliloquy. At these times he would become a different boy, as it were. When that mood would pass, he would return to normal and stand blinking and wrinkling his face in embarrassment; and then he would become the same naughty Bileh again. Observing him behave like this now and then, his playmates, either out of affection or mockingly, would often call him "Pagla Bileh (crazy Bileh)". "Bileh is a very good boy", they would say; "he is great in laughter, fun and merry-making, but he is a bit crazy. Sometimes there is no knowing what he will say."

There were many trying experiences in Naren's boyhood, but none more go than that which he had one morning in the class room. The incident shows the boy's innate fortitude and the difficulty of intimidating him. One of the teachers of the Institution was a man of very ugly temper and given to beating the boys severely when he thought that discipline was needed. One day, as he was severely castigating a boy, Naren began to laugh from sheer nervousness, so revolted was he by the exhibition of brutality. The teacher now turned his wrath on Naren, raining blows on him, and demanded that he promise never to laugh at him again. When Naren refused, the teacher not only resumed the beating, but seized him by the ears as well, even going as far as lifting the boy up from the bench by them and damaging one ear, so that it bled profusely. Still Naren refused to promise. Bursting into tears of rage, he cried out, "Do not pull my ears. Who are you to beat me? Take care not to touch me again."

Luckily, at this moment Pandit Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar came in. Naren, weeping bitterly, told him what had happened; then, taking his books, he declared that he was leaving the school for good. Vidyasagar took him to his office and consoled him. Later, an investigation was made of the disciplinary measures obtaining in the school and steps were taken to prevent any repetition of such incidents. When Naren's mother, in whom he always confided, heard of it, she was greatly incensed. She begged the boy not to return to the school; but he went the following day as though nothing had happened. For a long time his ear did not heal.

Even as a boy Naren was strong minded and fearless. Before the incident just mentioned, he had been assaulted by another teacher who thought he had made a mistake in geography. Naren insisted that he was in the right. Angered, the teacher ordered him to stretch out his hand. Naren did so and was struck on his palm time and again. He did not murmur. Shortly after, the teacher saw that it was he himself who had been in error. He apologized to the boy, and thenceforth held him in respect.

On this occasion as well Naren went to his mother, who consoled him and said, "If you are right, my boy, what does it matter? It may be unjust and unpleasant, but do what you think right, come what may." Many times he suffered, many times he was misunderstood even by those nearest and dearest to him when he adopted a course which to them seemed strange, but which to him was inevitable because, in his opinion, it was right. The maxim he had learned, and which he followed always in life was, "Stick to your guns, dead or alive!"

Since Naren hated monotony, every day he had to invent new pastimes. But he was so pure, and the training he had received in the family was so excellent, that he never took a false step. Truthfulness was the very backbone of his life, and his fun was always innocent. Further; as he grew older, his, liking for meditation grew ever more intense and serious. He was beginning to meditate during the night and soon was blessed with some wonderful visions and this even as his daytime activities and restlessness continued unabated.

For fun, Naren organized an amateur theatrical party, and presented plays in the worship-hall of his home. But after a few performances his uncle became annoyed and broke up the stage._x000d_ Next, Naren started a gymnasium in the courtyard of the house, where his friends used to do regular physical exercise. This venture flourished for some time, until one of his cousins broke his arm. Again the uncle showed lack of sympathy, this time destroying the equipment of the gymnasium. Thereupon Naren, along with his friends, joined the gymnasium of a neighbour, Shri Navagopal Mitra. Finding this suitable place, which was situated on Cornwallis Street, Naren applied himself earnestly to physical culture, and gradually attained proficiency in lathi-play (playing with long sticks), fencing, rowing, swimming, wrestling and other sports. Once, at a physical training show and handicrafts fair, he carried off first prize for boxing handsome silver butterfly. At the same fair one of his sisters won the first prize for needlework on velvet.

Naren had special enthusiasm for lathi-play. In this sport he took lessons from a number of Mohammedan experts, and acquired considerable mastery. When ten years old and a student of the Metropolitan Institution, he was present at a display of gymnastics. After some time, when lathi-play was going on and interest was sagging, Naren suddenly challenged anyone to cross lathis with him. The strongest of the partici-pants took up his challenge and soon the lathis of the two were clashing. Naren's opponent was an older and stronger person, and so the outcome of the bout seemed to be a foregone conclusion. Yet, such was Naren's skill and courage that he won the enthusiastic applause of the audience. Unmindful of it and deftly manoeuvring himself, Naren all on a sudden gave such a resounding blow that his opponent's staff broke in two and fell on the ground, signifying total defeat. Naren had graduated, so to say, in his training. He won the day, and there was no end to the rejoicing of the spectators.

Ever averse to passivity, Narendranath always led an active life. When he was not busy at the gymnasium, he would show magic-lantern pictures at home. Or he would go out in the evening on his pony, which his father had bought for him. Riding was one of his favourite pastimes, and gradually he mastered the art._x000d_ Besides his fondness for animals noted earlier, Naren also kept pigeons, white mice with tiny bells, and parrots. He also used to amuse himself in making toy gas-works and aerated waters, which had been newly introduced in Calcutta at that time. He even interested himself in manufacturing toy railways and all sorts of machinery.

About the gas-works his younger brother writes as follows:_x000d_ With old zinc tubes, earthen cooking-pots and straw he made his gas-works in the outer courtyard of the house. The straw when lighted gave out a peculiar smoke, but to his mind it was a miniature gas¬works, which lighted the whole city of Calcutta. It was amusing to see his gas-works and himself as he stood with arms akimbo, gravely looking at his contrivance as the smoke issued forth. Sometimes, how¬ever, he would express disapproval by turning up his nose-a family peculiarity-and impatiently ordering his playmates to put more fuel on the fire, or to blow more fiercely whenever the smoke rose up too sluggishly.

At this time he conceived the idea of learning to cook. He ind0uced his playmates to subscribe towards the project, he himself bearing the greater part of the expense. He was the chief cook and the others were his assistants. He cooked different sorts of Khichuri, meat curries and other good things. Although he was inclined to use too much chilli (cayenne-pepper), his cooking was excellent, and the group of gastronomists remained together for a long time, enjoying their art thoroughly.

With every family in the locality, of whatever caste or means, Naren established some sort of relationship, and they looked on him as their own. Did any boy nearby suffer bereavement, Naren would be there to console him. At other times he kept everybody amused, elders included, with his ready wit and merrymaking. His handsome appearance, his musical voice, his jolly temperament, his good taste and manners, endeared him to all. He was a sort of life-giving spirit to everyone of the locality.

Naturally, Naren was also greatly loved by his brothers and sisters, whom he in turn loved dearly. At night, before going to bed, they would pester him for stories. The stories which he had heard from his mother, maternal grandmother, and her mother, had become his own. And by this time he himself had become a fine story-teller and actor.

His little brothers and sister would also importune Naren for a hand-shadow show, and he would readily oblige. An earthen lamp on a brass stand used to be the light in their bedroom. By interlocking his thumbs and moving the other fingers against the light he would show on the wall a flying bat, a rider on a galloping horse, and the figures of deities like Durga, Kartika, Saraswati, Lakshmi and Ganesha. While Naren's talents for shadow graphing were unquestionably bright, the little onlookers had also to use their imagination!

Often Naren took his friends to various interesting places in Calcutta. Sometimes it was a garden, another time the Ochter-lony Monument, or again the Museum. One day, he set out with a party by way of the Ganga for the Nawab's Zoological Gardens at Metiabruz, a suburb of Calcutta. When they were returning, one of the boys became sick and vomited in the boat. The boatmen were annoyed and insisted that they should immediately clean up the boat. They refused to do so, offering instead to pay double. The offer was rejected. On reaching the ghat, the men would not allow the boys to land and threatened them. While the boatmen were abusing the boys, Naren jumped ashore and asked two British soldiers walking near by for help. In broken English he told his tale of woe. Slipping his small hands into theirs, he led them to the scene. The soldiers understood the situation, and ordered the boatmen to release the boys. Terrified at the sight of the soldiers, the boat men set the boys free without a word. Fascinated with Naren, the soldiers invited him to go with them to the theatre. But he declined and took leave after thanking them for their kindness.

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

As we have seen earlier, Naren and his friends were members of the gymnasium of Shri Navagopal Mitra, who had practically left its management in their hands. One day while they were trying to set up a very heavy trapeze, a crowd gathered to watch. Amongst them was an English sailor, whom Naren asked to help. But as the obliging sailor was lifting the trapeze to help the boys, it fell and knocked him unconscious. Nearly everyone but Naren and one or two of his friends disappeared from the scene, thinking the sailor had been killed. Immediately Naren tore a piece off his dhoti, bandaged the wound, sprinkled the sailor's face with water, and fanned him gently. When the sailor regained consciousness, Naren and his friends lifted him up and took him to a neighbouring schoolhouse. A doctor was sent 'for, and Navagopal Mitra was informed. After a week's nursing the sailor recovered, and Naren presented him with a modest purse, which he had collected from his friends.

Another occasion which revealed the boy as the man in the making was when Naren, about fourteen years of age, saved a theatrical performance from disruption. The drama was pro-gressing nicely, when suddenly, right in the midst of the performance, a bailiff came onto the stage with a warrant to arrest one of the leading actors on some charge. He advanced to the actor, saying, "I arrest you in the name of the law!" That very moment a voice called out, "Get off the stage! Wait until the end of the performance! What do you mean by dis-turbing the audience like this?" It was a shrill voice with an unmistakable tone of command in it-and it was the voice of Naren. Immediately a score of voices burst out in support: "Get off the stage! Get off the stage!" And the bailiff retreated in bewilderment. Those about Naren patted him on the back saying, "Well done! Well done! We should not have had our money's worth but for you."

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

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

In 1871, when Narendranath was eight years old, he entered the ninth class (equivalent to the present primary class two), in the English Department of Pandit Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar's Metropolitan Institution, then situated on Sukia Street. Vidyasagar's school was famous at the time, and so it was that boys of Naren's family used to be students there. During the first days of Naren's attendance at the Metropolitan Institution his father dressed him in trousers, but every day they got torn owing to his high spirits. He was unusual in his restlessness. At school he never really managed to sit at his desk. It was a sort of compromise between sitting and standing with frequent change of position. When he played, he played furiously. Among the games Were marbles, jumping, running, boxing and cricket, at the last of which he had been proficient from his early youth. It was left to him to arrange the play programme for the following day. Quarrels often arose as they do among boys; and it was to Naren that the others came for settlement. He disliked quarrelling; above all, he could not bear to witness a physical fight. If such a climax occurred he would rush between the contending parties, often at the risk of blows from both sides; but he was master of such situations, for he had learnt boxing even at this early age. He was the foremost boy amongst them all, in all things. His exceptional intelligence was at once recognized by both teachers and classmates. He was the first not only in play but in studies as well.

We have already seen that Naren's father used to travel to various places in central and northern India in connection with his professional work. In 1877, when Naren was fourteen years old and a student of the third class (equivalent to the present class eight), his father went to Raipur in the Central Provinces. Knowing that he would have to live there for quite a long time, his father, Vishwanath, had his family brought there shortly afterwards. The place was not then connected by railway; so one had to travel by bullock-cart for more than a fortnight through dense forests full of beasts of prey. Naren was charged with taking the family there. Although he had to suffer many hardships, he did not feel them at all on account of the wonderful beauty of these forest regions of central India. His heart was charmed with the boundless power and endless love of Him who had adorned the earth with such incomparable robes and ornaments.

He said later:_x000d_ What I saw and felt when going through the forest has for ever remained firmly imprinted in my memory, particularly a certain event of one day. We had to travel by the foot of the Vindhya mountains that day. The peaks of the ranges on both sides of the road rose very high in the sky; various kinds of trees and creepers bending under the weight of fruits and flowers produced wonderful beauty on the mountainsides. Birds of various colours, flying from tree to tree, filled the quarters with sweet notes. I saw all these and felt an extraordinary peace in my mind. The slow moving bullock-carts arrived at a place where two mountain peaks, coming forward as though in love, locked themselves in an embrace over the narrow forest path. Observing carefully below the meeting points I saw that there was a very big cleft from the crest to the foot of the mountain on one side of the path; and filling that cleft, there was hanging in it an enormous honeycomb, the result of the bees labour for ages. Filled with wonder, as I was pondering over the beginning and the end of that kingdom of bees, my mind became so much absorbed in the thought of the infinite power of God, the Controller of the three worlds, that I completely lost my consciousness of the external world for some time. I do not remember how long I was lying in the bullock-cart in that condition. When I regained normal consciousness, I found that we had crossed that place and come far away. As I was alone in the cart, no one could know anything about it.

This was perhaps the first time that, with the help of a strong power of imagination, Naren entered the region of deep meditation and was completely merged in it.

Another characteristic of his mind was described by him in these words:_x000d_ From my very boyhood (Naren, as Swami Vivekananda, said later], whenever I came in contact with a particular object, man or place, it would sometimes appear to me as if I had been acquainted with it beforehand. But all my efforts to recollect were unsuccessful, and yet the impression persisted. I will give you an instance: One day I was discussing various topics with my friends at a particular place. Suddenly something was said, which at once reminded me that in some time past in this very house I had talked with these friends on that very subject and that the discussion had even taken the same turn. Later on I thought that it might be due to the law of trans¬migration. But soon I decided that such definite conclusions on the subject were not reasonable. Now I believe that before I was born I must have had visions somehow, of those subjects and people with whom I would have to come in contact in my present birth. Such memories have come every now and then throughout my life.

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

Many noted scholars used to visit Vishwanath at Raipur. The boy would listen to their discussions, and occasionally join them, introducing his personal views. Sometimes the elders, astonished at his cleverness, would treat him on an equal footing -a sight which gladdened his father's heart. With one friend of his father, a great authority on Bengali literature, Naren joined in conversation and took the man by storm; quoting verse after verse and paragraph after paragraph from standard works. So impressed was the man that he said, "My lad, we shall hear of you some day." And the prediction has come true, for Narendranath, as Swami Vivekananda, became a significant writer in the Bengali language. His English writings have been praised as well, both in the East and in the West.

Even in his youth, Naren sought, nay demanded, intellectual equality with and recognition from everyone. So ambitious was he in this respect that if his mental powers were not given recognition, he would fly into a rage, not sparing even his father's friends; and nothing short of an apology would quiet him. Nachiketa of Katha Upanishad fame had also this sense of self respect, refusing to be belittled. "Among many I am the first;" he said, "and among many others I am the middlemost. (But certainly I am never the last.)" Of course, Vishwanath could not tolerate such outbursts of Naren, especially against elderly persons, even though they proceeded from a sense of self respect. So Naren was each time severely reprimanded; hut in his heart the father was glad that his son was so spirited.

Indeed, during this period Naren had acquired a keen sense of personal dignity, and when he returned to Calcutta from Raipur, he was a changed boy. Even his physical appearance was becoming manly. He had always been physically perfect, but he was now acquiring that regal bearing which made him, in after years, a notable figure wherever he went. Further, he was beginning to discriminate in the choice of his friends, accepting only his intellectual peers. But however his temperament might conflict with circumstances and with people, he was consistently large-hearted and generous, for such was his nature and heritage, and he was always loved.

We have already mentioned that Vishwanath was a lover of music and used to sing himself. He also created in his house an atmosphere suitable for the cultivation of music. As mentioned in a foregoing chapter, he had noticed Naren's love of music and his musical potentialities from early in the boy's life and had nurtured them carefully. He was of the opinion that unless one received proper training in a traditional manner under masters of music, one could not really earn competency in the art. He himself had given Naren his first training in music, and now while at Raipur, where he had more intimate contact with his son; he taught him many songs of various kinds. Later, after the family's return to Calcutta, he arranged for Naren's training in classical vocal and instrumental music under reputed masters like Beni Gupta (also known as Beni Ostad), and later under the latter's Mohammedan teacher, Ahmad Khan. (According to some researchers, Beni Ostad's real name was Beni Adhikari.) From Ahmad Khan, Narendranath learnt many Hindi, Urdu and Persian songs, most of them devotional. Ujir Khan, Senior and Junior Dunni Khan, Kanai-lal Dhendi and Jagannath Mishra are also named by some as his music teachers. We do not have conclusive information about his teachers in instrumental music. It has been said that Kasi Ghoshal, who used to play the Pakhawaj at the Adi Brahmo Samaj, taught him Pakhawaj and Tabla; but according to others Beni Ostad taught him these instruments. It is also said that he learnt Esraj from Jagannath Mishra. Though Naren learnt to play with mastery on Pakhawaj, Tabla, Esraj and Sitar, his forte was vocal music, in which he even excelled the masters who taught him singing. He was taught and trained until he became widely known as an accomplished singer of high calibre. He himself became infatuated with music and with song, and practised for hours in a small room on the first floor of his maternal grandmother's house, or at the house of a friend. His companions would often assemble to listen to his music. Naren's own family was charmed with his voice, and he often sang to his father, now seriously, now gaily, as the mood took him. Of all his earlier attainments, music must be counted as one of the most remarkable, because his musical attainments at this time were rather striking.

Naren's voice was so lively and sweet that whenever he ren¬dered a tune in a song, the spirit of it became incarnate, as it were, in cadence and beauty. In fact, with Naren music became a wonderful instrument for the adoration of the Divine. It was through music that his first communion with Shri Ramakrishna took place. On listening to his singing, the latter would be deeply moved and go into Samadhi.

Besides training Naren in music, Vishwanath also taught him some lessons in manliness. On one occasion, Narendranath went to his father with the question: "What have you done for me?" Instantly came the reply, "Go, look at yourself in the mirror." And there was immediate understanding for the son. He knew that his father was a king amongst men, verily as the Vedas say, "a bull among the herd".

There was another time when Naren came to his father for instruction in the ways of the world, asking him what were the elements of real good manners. "Never show surprise!" said the father, Was it this laconic counsel, deeply understood and assimilated, that made it possible for Vivekananda in his later life to walk with equal dignity into the palaces of the East and West and into the huts and hovels of the poorest of India's poor?

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

While Naren was still a student at the Metropolitan Institution, a ceremony took place at which prizes were distributed to the outstanding, and honour was paid to one of the teachers who was about to retire. Naren's class wanted to give the teacher an address of thanks and appreciation. Mr. Surendranath Banerjee, the foremost national leader of the day, was to he in the chair. Since he was known as the greatest orator of the time, the students felt understandably diffident about speaking before such a distinguished man. They came to Naren in their quandary, and he promised that he would speak. When the time came, he rose in the gathering and spoke for almost half an hour, telling the retired teacher how the boys felt towards him and how they regretted his departure from the Institution. When he sat down, Mr. Surendranath Banerjee rose and, in his speech, praised the young speaker. Later in life this gentleman, at a time when his reputation as an orator was at its height, referred to Swami Vivekananda as the greatest public speaker India had ever known.

By the time Naren had passed the Entrance examination, he had acquired extensive knowledge. While in the Entrance Class, he had mastered a great many standard works of English and Bengali literature. Besides mathematics in the usual school curriculum, he knew something of higher mathematics. He was well versed in Sanskrit for his age, and had studied with much success the history of his own land, especially the standard works on Indian history by such authors as Marshman and Elphinstone. As he paid little attention to textbooks, sometimes he had to work hard on the eve of the examinations. Once he said, ` Just two or three days before the Entrance examination I found that I hardly knew anything of geometry. So I began to study the subject, keeping awake the whole night, and in twenty four hours I mastered the four books of geometry."_x000d_ At this time he acquired a special power of reading which he described as follows: "It so happened that I could understand an author without reading his book line by line. I could get the meaning by just reading the first and the last line of a paragraph. As this power developed I found it unnecessary to read even the paragraphs. I could follow by reading only the first and last lines of a page. Further, where the author introduced discussions to explain a matter and it took him four or five or even more pages to clear the subject, I could grasp the whole trend of his arguments by only reading the first few lines."

The playtime of boyhood with its joys and sorrows was over for Naren, and a new life with a more serious outlook dawned for him when, in 1879, at the age of sixteen, he passed the Entrance examination and entered the Presidency College early the next year. Hereafter one sees him as a student, intensely intellectual. A vast change in his personal life was in the offing as he stepped from boyhood to youth, and into a world of new ideas and experiences.