The death of Mahapurushas (great souls), whilst an incident of sorrow, generates a great urge towards the attainment of the highest ideals. So it was after the passing away of Shri Ramakrishna. His disciples and devotees were inspired with a powerful desire to attain the most exalted consciousness, and they found themselves strengthened by a Presence which they knew to be that of their departed Master. His work, they knew, was not to end with the death of the body. It was to express itself in an eternal flow of spiritual life and knowledge. And the channels of this flow were to be the hearts of the devotees and the souls of these young men who at the touch of the Master had renounced the world in search of Truth. The young, disciples were at first too bewildered to know what to do. The Mahasamadhi of the Master, though long expected, yet caught them unprepared. Their grief knew no bounds. Moreover there was hardly a fortnight left before the expiry of the agreement on the Cossipore garden-house. The rent had been paid to the end of August. All the young disciples wished to continue staying there and to pass their time in spiritual practices and the worship of the Master's relics. But who would pay the rent? Tarak, Latu and Gopal Senior had no place to lay their heads.'The young disciples asked Rambabu and others who used to pay the rent where they would stay and where the Master's relics would be kept and worshipped. They replied, "You should all go back to your own homes."

Rambabu also said that the holy ashes would be interred and worshipped at his retreat at Kankurgachi, a suburb of Calcutta. Narendranath and the other young disciples were sorry to hear this. They wanted to build a place for the relics on the bank of the Ganga, as the Master had wished. A controversy arose, but it was then agreed that the ashes would be kept at the Cossipore garden-house until a place had been built on the bank of the Ganga. But this proposal had to be dropped for lack of money. The householders headed by Ramchandra Datta, Devendranath Mazumdar and Nityagopal then demanded the ashes in order to bury them at Kankurgachi._x000d_ However, the young disciples refused to hand them over, and the dispute took a serious turn, characterized by intense feeling and high words. Shashi and Niranjan had constituted themselves guardians of the Master's relics. They were giants, the one in resolution, and the other in appearance; and they held themselves ready to stand their ground at any cost. They were determined not to give the ashes to the householders, and they were supported by others. Narendranath was appealed to. "Brothers, be reasonable!" he said; “We should not quarrel like this; otherwise people will say that the disciples of Ramakrishna fought over his relics. Moreover it is not certain where we shall be staying. Let them have the ashes. After all, Rambabu is going to dedicate the retreat 'in the name of Shri Ramakrishna. Is it not good? We can very well go there and worship the Master. Let us mould our lives according to our Master's teachings. If we are true to his ideals, if we live up to them, we shall have done more than merely worship the relics."_x000d_ But the young men thought that certainly the householders should not have all of the Master's relics. With Narendra nath's consent, they transferred more than half of the ashes and bones to another pot. Narendra and his brother-disciples each swallowed a minute portion of the ashes and as a result had deep meditation that night. The pot into which the ashes were transferred was sealed and sent to Balarambabu's house where they would be worshipped regularly. The young disciples resolved that some day they would build a place on the bank of the Ganga for the preservation of their portion of the Master's remains. Of what had taken place the house¬holders were not told. Ultimately everyone agreed to Rambabu's proposal to install the ashes at Kankurgachi, and the birthday of Shri Krishna, that year falling on August 23, was fixed for the ceremony.

There was still a week before the ashes were to be taken to Rambabu's retreat. During this period, Latu, Tarak and Gopal Senior stayed at the Cossipore garden house, while the other young disciples went to their homes. But they and the householder disciples used to come to the Cossipore garden house1 and spend their time in meditation, singing devotional songs, and conversation, the topic of which was one only their Master. There in that very house he had lived. They recalled again and again his last days, and the Former days at Dakshineswar. Narendra thrilled them by recounting incidents in the Master's life, and by speaking of his mission and teachings, until they were filled with ecstasy. The place throbbed with a wonderful vitality and power.

During this week Narendranath had a vision of Shri Ramakrishna, which he could never forget. He and a brother - disciple named Harish were one evening standing beside the pond of the garden-house of Cossipore, talking, probably, of the loss with which their hearts were then so occupied. It was about eight o'clock. Suddenly, as they stood there, Narendra saw a luminous figure covered with a cloth. It was coming slowly towards them up the drive from the gate. Could it be the Master? He kept quiet, fearing that he was the victim of a hallucination, when he heard his companion say in a hoarse whisper, "What is that? Naren, look! Look!" At this, Narendra called out loudly, "Who is there?" Hearing his voice, others hurried from the house to see what was happening; but they were too late. When the apparition came to a thick jasmine bush within ten yards of where the two were standing, it vanished. Lanterns were brought, and every nook of the garden was searched, but nothing could be found. The vision left a profound impression on Narendranath.

When the birthday of Shri Krishna came, the monastic and householder disciples took part in the removal of the Master's ashes. The procession made its way to Kankurgachi, Narendranath leading. They all joined in the singing of devotional songs. Shashi took the urn on his head; Rambabu and others followed. At the retreat the ashes were buried with due ceremony. Shashi's eyes were filled with tears when he saw earth and stones falling on the urn and being stamped down. Afterwards he said, "It seemed as though they were hammering and crushing the very heart out of us." Later an altar and temple were built on the spot, which came to be known as the Yogo dyana. On this day every year a celebration is held there in honour of Shri Ramakrishna.

The master had already made them monks, and had entrusted them to the care of Narendranath. Naturally the question arose, what was to become of them? Narendra was determined that they should lead the life of renunciation without delay; but some of the householders discouraged them from doing so, thinking: "How will they get on? We cannot leave them to wander about like ordinary sadhus. They are still boys with bright prospects before them. Let them stay in their homes; that is the wisest course. It will make them, as well as their relatives, happy." The young men had already clashed with the householders over the ashes, so most of the latter were not sympathetic. But a few, like Balaram, Surendra and Mahendra, clearly saw that it was impossible for those who had left their homes to go back to them, and for those who had gone back to resume their studies, to remain at home imbued as they now were with Shri Ramakrishna's ideal of renunciation. But these householder devotees felt helpless to do anything for the boys.

Later, in 1895, remembering these critical days, Narendra-nath was to write to Swami Brahmananda: "Rakhal, you remember, I suppose, how, after the Master's passing away, all forsook us as so many worthless, ragged boys. Only people like Balaram, Suresh [Mitra], Master [Mahendra] and Chunibabu were our friends in that hour of need. And we shall never be able to repay our debts to them." And still later (January 27, 1900), while speaking at Pasadena (America) on "My Life and Mission", he was to say: "Then came the sad day when our old teacher (Shri Ramakrishna] died. . . . We had no friends. Who would listen to a few boys, with their crank notions? Nobody. . . . Just think, of it-a dozen boys, telling people vast, big ideas, saying they are determined to work these ideas out in life. Why, everybody laughed. From laughter it became serious; it became persecution... . Who would sympathize with the imaginations of a boy imaginations that caused so much suffering to others? Who would sympathize with me? None except one. . . ." That one, as we shall see, was a woman-Shri Sarada Devi, the Holy Mother.

The leaders of the householders were not only unsympathetic; they differed from the monks in their understanding of Shri Ramakrishna's teaching. Some of them were of the opinion that he had not preached the ideal of Sannyasa (the monastic ideal), and that therefore it was of no use establishing a Math (monastery). Even among the young disciples there were differences of understanding. Not all of them then felt the need to spread the Master's message in the world, or to serve man regarding him as a manifestation of God. Some, among whom was the house holder disciple Mahendra, who sympathized with the young monks, were of the view that they should realize God first, and then take up preaching and other works of service; but Narendra held that the monks should serve man¬kind in a spirit of worship for the purification of their hearts, and that this would ultimately lead to the realization of God._x000d_ Even though the devotees believed that the Master had come for the regeneration of mankind, very few had appreciated the originality of his message, and that this would usher in a new age. Very few had understood that this religion for the modern age preached by the Master, though based on and developed from the eternal religion of the Vedas, was by no means a repetition or imitation of that religion. They did not see that it would give rise to a new current of thought and culture in the world, which would act as a force for the unification of mankind as a whole. Of those few who had understood this, Narendra¬nath was the leader; and they were ready to lay down their lives for their vision.

The Holy Mother had understood all this. She always stood behind the boys-her sons. At a later date-in 1890-, the contrast between the wealth of the monastery at Buddha Gaya and the living conditions of her boys was to wring this prayer to Shri Ramakrishna from her: "O Lord, You came in human form, sported with the devotees, and went away! Should every¬thing end with that? What then was the need to come and undergo so much suffering? I saw in Varanasi and Vrindavan many sadhus who get their food by begging, and shift their residence from the shade of one tree to that of another. There is no dearth of sadhus of that type. I cannot any more bear to see my children, who have given up everything for your sake, going from door to door for food. I pray that those who renounce the world in your name may never be in need of at least coarse food and clothing. They will live together, taking your name and holding to your ideas and ideals; and people afflicted with the sufferings of the world will resort to them and get relief by hearing your teachings from them. Was this not what you really came for? I am greatly pained at heart to see them wandering about like this!"

The young men's prospect was dark at this critical time, and they became disheartened. But unknown to them, Shri Rama-krishna was making arrangements for the fulfilment of their aspiration. One day, when Surendranath Mitra, a devotee of the Master who used to bear a part of the expenses at the Cossipore garden-house, returned home from office and sat for meditation in his shrine, Shri Ramakrishna appeared before him and said: "Oh! what are you doing? My children are wandering in the streets. Look at their sad plight! Make some arrangement for them without delay." Hearing this command of the Master, Surendra hastened to Narendra's home, which was near by, and with tearful eyes told him what had happened. He said, "Brother, where will you go? Let us rent a house. You will live there and make it our Master's shrine; and we householders shall go there from time to time to share your bliss and pacify our hearts. . . . I used to spend a sum of money for the Master at Cossipore. I shall gladly give it now for your expenses." Narendra was overpowered with emotion on hearing this.

He started out in search of a house, and wrote to Taraknath to be ready to come and take charge of the new Math when he should receive a telegram. Tarak accordingly came to Varanasi from Vrindavan and awaited word from Narendra. After an energetic search a house was found at Baranagore, midway between Dakshineswar and Calcutta. It was a dreary, deserted place, sadly in need of repairs, very old, and with the reputation of being haunted. It had two storeys, the lower one the resort of snakes and lizards. The gateway had long since tumbled down. The veranda which ran along the front of the upper storey showed signs of decay. The main room where the monks were to live was in a most dilapidated state; indeed, nobody else would have lived there. To the east of the house was another room which had been used as a shrine; to the west was a jungle-like garden overgrown with weeds and shrubs; at the back was a pond covered with green scum which was a breeding-place for mosquitoes. There was something weird about the place. It was chosen because of its cheapness and its nearness to the holy Ganga and the Cossipore burning-ghat where the body of the Master had been cremated. The monks were pleased with it, for it provided not only a retreat from the turmoil of city life, but a solitude where their meditation would have few or no interruptions. The house was taken at a monthly rent of Rs. 11 /- inclusive of tax. A cook was engaged at Rs. 6/-per month.

Gradually the young disciples began to gather at the monastery. Taraknath came from Varanasi as soon as he received the telegram from Narendra, and began to stay there with Gopal Senior. Gopal Junior took the bedding and the other belongings of the Master there from Balarambabu's house. After a month, when he got news of the place in Baranagore, Kali returned from Vrindavan and began staying there. Thus the monastery came into existence within six weeks of the Master's passing away.

At this time Narendranath would go to the homes of those young brother-disciples who had resumed their studies and, in a whirlwind of enthusiasm, would try to induce them to join the monastery. He would argue with them for hours in his efforts to persuade them to go with him to Baranagore, not desisting until he had gained his point. Once at the monastery, they could not resist the spiritual exaltation of Narendra's songs and discourses. He would talk of their departed Master and his life of renunciation in such vivid language and with such intensity of spirit that none could withstand him.

The brother-disciples of Narendranath looked upon him as their leader, not only because the Master had taught them to do so and because his personality had become interwoven with their every thought and desire, hut because he seemed to be the true mouthpiece of the Master; and yet Narendra was their brother and comrade. He was like a spiritual lion; and hence their love for him amounted almost to reverence. The Master's words about him were constantly in their minds. Did they in their zeal for realization disobey him and go to excess in the practice of austerities, all that he would say was, "Did not the Master himself give all of you into my charge ?" They could not escape the magnetism of his personality. His eyes, his face, his speech, the manner in which he walked, the ways in which he showed his confidence in them and cheered and spurred them on, even his methods of admonishing them, made him seem the spirit of the Master incarnate.

When the Baranagore Math was in this initial stage, with Tarak, Gopal Senior and Kali as permanent inmates, an event occurred which clinched the determination of the boys to renounce the world. In the middle of December, Baburam's mother, Matangini Devi, invited the young monks to visit her native village, Antpur, during the Christmas vacation. At first it was decided that only Narendra, Baburam, and one or two more would go; but when the others came to know, they also joined the party. Narendra, Baburam, Sharat, Shashi, Tarak, Kali, Niranjan, Gangadhar and Sarada boarded the Tarakeswar train at Howrah Station. They had taken musical instruments with them; so as soon as the train moved off, Narendra started singing, and the others joined in. They got down at Haripal station, and went to Antpur in a carriage. Baburam's mother received them as warmly as though they were her own children.

In the calm and quiet of the village; the spiritual fire in the young monks blazed up into a conflagration. Narendra's enthusiasm fanned the flames. The spirit of the Master as it were spoke and worked through him. He was intensely possessed by the vision of the sannyasi's life and would cry out, "Let man-making be the goal of our lives! Let us make this our only spiritual discipline! Away with vain learning! Let not the glamour of the world captivate our minds even for a moment! Realization of God is the one and only thing in life! That is what Shri Ramakrishna's life represented! We must realize God!" Inspired by these thoughts and fired by a oneness of purpose, the young men became aware of a sense of unity-a feeling that they were all linked by some wonderful spiritual power. During their stay at Antpur they seemed to grow into one body, one mind and one soul. The days passed in sadhana. Ramakrishna was in their minds; his name on their lips. Upon all alike there seemed to descend a spirit of renunciation, a desire to take the sannyasi's vow, each in the presence of the others. The monastic spirit seemed to be intensified in their hearts, both for their own liberation and for the good of the world. Each disciple saw in his brother-disciples a world of spiritual force; and that vision intensified the love among them. This was as it should have been, for the Master's spirit was destined to be perpetuated, not through one or several indi¬vidual disciples having disciples of their own, which is what happens usually, but in a definite organized form.

Thus at Antpur, in still hours, subtle things were happening, knitting the brothers together. It all found expression one night before a huge Dhuni (sacred fire) in the compound. Overhead was the clear night sky, and all around was quiet. Meditation lasted a long time. When a break was made Narendra began to tell the story of Jesus, beginning with the mystery of his birth, through to his death and resurrection. Through his eloquence, the brother-disciples could catch something of the apostolic fervour that had impelled Paul to spread the Christian gospel far and wide in the face of adversities. Narendra charged them to become Christs themselves, and so aid in the redemption of the world; to realize God and to deny themselves as Jesus had done. Standing there before the sacred fire, their faces lit up by the flames, the crackling of the wood the sole disturbing sound, they took the vows of renunciation before God and one another. The very air was vibrant with their ecstatic fervour. Strangely, the monks discovered afterwards that all this had happened on Christmas eve!

Lo, the God is dancing_x000d_ --Shiva the all-destroyer and Lord of creation,_x000d_ The Master of Yoga and the wielder of Pinaka. _x000d_ His flaming locks have filled the sky,_x000d_ Seven worlds play the rhythm_x000d_ As the trembling earth sways almost to dissolution,_x000d_ Lo, the Great God Shiva is dancing.

Shiva is dancing, lost in the ecstasy of Self, sounding his_x000d_ own cheeks._x000d_ His tabor is playing and the garland of skulls is swinging _x000d_ in rhythm._x000d_ The waters of the Ganga are roaring among his matted _x000d_ locks._x000d_ The great trident is vomiting fire, and the moon on his_x000d_ forehead is fiercely flaming.

Sometime in January 1887, Narendranath sought the opinion of his brother-disciples on going through the scripturally prescribed ritual for initiation into Sannyasa. They gladly agreed to his proposal that they should observe it. Kali had already obtained from a sannyasi of the Puri denomination information about the performance of the Viraja-homa, and other matters connected with the Sannyasa rite. That he should have this seemed to them nothing but the grace of the Master and a sign of his will. A day was fixed in the third week of January. Early in the morning of that day the young men bathed in the Ganga and then assembled in the shrine-room of the Math, where the Master's photograph and relics were being regularly worshipped. Shashi did the worship of the Master as usual, and then the Viraja-homa was performed. Narendra asked Kali to chant the Mantras prescribed for the occasion. The brothers offered the oblations one by one to the fire as the Mantras were chanted. At first Narendranath, and then Rakhal, Niranjan, Sharat, Shashi, Sarada and others repeated the Mantras and offered the oblations. Afterwards Kali did the same. Shri Rama¬krishna had already given them ochre cloths at Cossipore, making them monks: this ceremony was the ritual and traditional confirmation of that. It is probable that it was on this occasion that Baburam also went through the ceremony.

This formation of the Ramakrishna Brotherhood was largely the work of Narendranath. Apart from short trips here and there, for the three years until he became a wandering monk Narendra was steadily guiding and inspiring them. He had to go home frequently in order to arrange his family affairs before finally taking to the monastic life in its outward Forms also. A case was pending in the court involving his ancestral home, and Narendra, as eldest of the family, had to be present at the hearings. But he spent most nights and much of the days at the monastery._x000d_ The monastery was in Baranagore from 1886 to 1892. From 1892 to 1897 it was in Alambazar, near Dakshineswar. From there it was moved to the garden-house of Nilambar Mukherjee at Belur, where it was until 1898. This garden-house is on the west bank of the Ganga, exactly opposite Cossipore on the east bank. From there the Math was moved a quarter of a mile northward to its present site, where the Belur Math has been established since December 1898. This spacious site on the west bank of the Ganga was secured by Swami Vivekananda himself, and, as we shall see, it was he who was to carry and install the Master's relics there.

In the shrine of the Baranagore Math the Master seemed to be alive, ever ready to bless his children. He was worshipped daily, and soul-stirring devotional songs were sung before him. Ritual worship was done, Mantras were recited, lights waved, incense burned, conchs blown, and gongs beaten, in joyous adoration. Offerings of flowers and pure food were made., In the evening twilight the monks united their voices in prayer and praise. As Shiva, the Supreme Monk, was one of their Ideals, they would at that hour chant before the picture of Shri Ramakrishna a certain inspiring verse. It was adapted from the hymn chanted in Varanasi at the Vishwanath temple, and runs as follows:_x000d_ Jaya Shiva Omkara! Bhaja Shiva Omkara!_x000d_ Brahma, Vishnu, Sadashiva! Hara, Hara, Hara, Mahadeva!

Afterwards Narendranath gave to Rakhal, Baburam, Shashi, Sharat, Niranjan, Kali and Sarada the names Swamis Brahmananda, Premananda, Ramakrishnananda, Saradananda, Niran-janananda, Abhedananda, and Trigunatitananda (or Triguna-tita). Tarak and Gopal Senior went through the rite a few days later and were named Swamis Shivananda and Advaitananda. On the Shivaratri day (February 21, 1887) Mahendra saw them as sannyasis. Latu and Yogen went through the ceremony later, at different times, after their return from Vrindavan. They were named Swamis Adbhutananda and Yogananda. Hari did so sometime in 1887, and was named Swami Turiyananda. Gangadhar performed the rite in the first week of July 1890, after his return from Tibet, and became, Swami Akhandananda. When Subodh was ritually initiated into Sannyasa is not known, but he was named Swami Subodhananda.

Even though the young boys had formally taken Sannyasa, they used to wear ochre clothes only in the monastery, and plain clothes outside. Nor did they use their monastic names in the early days. It may have been because of social hostility then prevalent in Bengal to the institution of Sannyasa. Moreover, the Sannyasa of the Dashanami tradition founded by Shri Shankaracharya was not current in Bengal in those days. In the case of Narendranath there was the additional reason that he had to attend the lawsuit which was pending. But in spirit and for all practical purposes they were true sannyasis.

The transformation of Naren the disciple into Swami Viveka¬nanda the world renowned teacher was not an easy one. Starvation had to be faced, and much physical and mental suffering endured. It was a gradual; not a miraculous process, this development of the disciple of Shri Ramakrishna who sought spiritual illumination into the Vivekananda who was himself a focus of contagious spirituality. The story is intensely human and of great interest to all seekers after Truth._x000d_ From now on we find ourselves in a world where the unlimited energy of the great soul whose life we are studying is manifest in a tremendous will, which builds and expands his life work to proportions of far reaching significance. We are brought into contact with a powerful, fiery and yet most human personality, whose presence is suggestive of the great peace beyond the strife of life. There is laughter and human sentiment too, for he enjoyed life and had a sense of humour and fun. At heart he was, in a way, ever the boy of Dakshineswar; but one never knew when some illumination, intellectual or spiritual, some sudden transition from fun to spiritual revelation, would come. And yet he was at all times the monk, the prophet, the teacher. His soul, it seemed, was constantly with God, and his thought and love always in the service of man.

In the life of the Baranagore Math, it was Shashi who spent himself in constant service of the Master. Treating Shri Ramakrishna as though he were physically present, he used to offer the purest and the choicest food that could be procured for the few pice which their poverty limited them to, Recalling those blessed days to a disciple many years later, Swami Vivekananda said: "After the passing away of the Master we underwent a lot of spiritual practices at the Baranagore Math. We used to get up at 3 a.m. and after washing our face etc: some after bath, and others without it we would sit in the worship room and become absorbed in Japa and meditation. What a strong spirit of dispassion we had in those days! We had no thought even as to whether the world existed or not. Shashi busied himself day and night with the duties pertaining to the Master's worship and service, and occupied the same position in the Math as the mother of the house does in a family. It was he who would procure, mostly by begging, the articles needed for the Master's worship and our subsistence. There were days when Japa and meditation continued from morning till four or five in the afternoon. Shashi waited and waited with our meals ready, till at last he would come and snatch us from our meditation by sheer force. Oh, what a wonderful constancy of devotion we noticed in him!"

The young men faced dire poverty; but it had no terrors for them. So rapt were they in their desire to follow in the steps of their Master that, forgetting sleep, they spent the nights in spiritual practices. Unwilling to beg, they lived on what chance might bring. They vied with one another in doing the household tasks, even the most menial ones. Many were the days when there was nothing to eat; but the spiritual discourses, meditation and singing went on as though their bodies did not exist. Their only clothes were the Kaupin (loin cloth) and a few pieces of ochre cloth; a mat on the floor sufficed for their bed: their beads, a Tanpura (stringed musical instrument), and a few pictures of gods, goddesses, and saints, hung from the walls. Their entire library ran to about a hundred books in all. One piece of cloth, and a wrapper to be worn about the shoulders, were common property. These were hung on a line so that whoever had to leave the premises might have where with to be clothed respectably. Surendranath Mitra, or Sureshbabu as he was called by the community, was its ministering angel; he looked after the bodily needs of the monks. The small sum of Rs 30/- which he at first gave being insufficient, he increased it to Rs. 100/- per month. Not satisfied with this, he kept himself secretly informed of the conditions in the Math, and often sent extra money or provisions to alleviate their extreme poverty.

Sometimes, however, there were visitors of a different sort. These were the relatives of the young monks, who came hoping to induce them to return to life in the world. They would implore, weep, threaten, but to no avail; the monks were inexorable. Their renunciation was complete and final. Not even the thought of their mothers was allowed to stand in the way of their realization of God. They flatly refused to recognize parental authority and took refuge in silence. The relatives would then say, "Naren is at the root of all this evil. The boys had returned home and resumed their studies, but he came and upset all our plans."

If a householder asked what they were achieving by such a way of life, Narendranath would reply, "What! even if we do not see God, shall we return to the life of the senses? Shall we degrade our higher nature?" There were times when Naren would cry out: "Of what value are my realizations! I have seen the Mantra in letters of gold and shining with effulgence! Many times have I seen the form of Kali and of other aspects of the Personal God! But, where, oh where, is Peace! I am dis-satisfied with everything. Everything, even talking to devotees, has become distasteful to me. It seems that there is no such thing as God. Let me starve to death if I cannot realize the Truth." Was the memory of his Nirvikalpa Samadhi in Cossi-pore the cause of this discontent? Had he not experienced the Formless? No wonder he was dissatisfied with Forms!

At Baranagore it was indeed a life of spiritual endeavour and fervour. Often Sankirtana (religious songs sung in chorus) would begin in the morning and continue till evening with no thought of food or rest. In their burning desire for God-vision, Prayopaveshana (uninterrupted meditation, and so ignoring the body that death ensues) did not seem to be out of the question._x000d_ The best description of those days comes from the lips of Narendranath himself. Years later, at Belur Math, a disciple asked him, "Maharaj, how did you maintain yourselves at that time?" As the Swami's mind travelled back, his face took on an expression sad yet triumphant. Of a sudden he turned on the disciple with: "What ! Silly question! We were sannyasis, don't you see? We never thought of the morrow. We used to live on what chance brought. Sureshbabu and Balarambabu have passed away. Were they alive they would dance with joy at the sight of this Math!" He continued, "You have heard of Sureshbabu's name, I dare say. Know him to be the source of this Math. It was he who helped to found the Baranagore Math. It was Suresh Mitra who supplied our needs. Who can equal him in devotion and faith?" Musing, he went on; "There were days at the Baranagore Math when we had nothing to eat. If there was rice, salt was lacking. Some days that was all we had, but nobody cared. Leaves of the Bimba [Momordica monadelpha] creeper boiled, salt and rice this was our diet for months! Come what might, we were indifferent. We were being carried along on a strong tide of spiritual practices and meditation. Oh, what days! Demons would have run away at the sight of such austerities, to say nothing of men! Ask Rakhal, Shashi and others; they will tell you. The more circumstances are against yon, the more manifest becomes your inner power. Do you understand?" It was only with his own disciples in whom he desired to kindle the same fire of devotion and renunciation that the Swami was so frank; with others he was reticent about those days.

In later years, Swami Shivananda (Taraknath), recalling these days, used to say: "As a matter of fact, our resolve to become organized became firm at Antpur. The Master had already made us sannyasis. That attitude was strengthened at Antpur." After staying there for a week, they returned to Cal-cutta by way of Tarakeswar, where they worshipped Shiva, Lord of Monks, at the famous temple.

As a result of the Antpur forgathering, and soon after it, Shashi, Sharat, Sarada, Niranjan, Subodh and Baburam, one after the other, left their homes for good and came to live in the Baranagore Math. Rakhal was in Monghyr when the Math started. He seems to have returned by January 1887 and joined them. (According to another version, when Tarak arrived from Varanasi, Narendranath took Rakhal and Tarak in the same carriage from Balarambabu's house to the Math, where they thenceforth lived.) Gangadhar could not bear to be separated from Narendra; he used to come and stay at the Math occasionally, until he went on pilgrimage to Tibet, setting out from the Math in February 1887. He joined the Math permanently after his return on June 9, 1890. Latu returned from Vrindavan within six months of going there, and started living at the Math. Yogen joined after about a year, on his return from Vrindavan with the Holy Mother. Hari joined sometime in 1887. Hari Prasanna came into the Order much later, in 1895, when the Math was at Alambazar. Another name which should be mentioned is that of Tulsi. He had seen the Master more than once, but had not associated with him intimately enough to be his disciple. At one period of his life he prided himself on being the first disciple of Swami Vivekananda; and the Swami's brother¬ disciples too looked upon him as such: but later on he claimed to be a disciple of the Master. He joined the Baranagore Math probably sometime in the summer of 1887.

Besides regular meditation, singing and study the young monks observed the religious festivals. The following account of how they celebrated Shivaratri for the first time at the Baranagore Math is mainly based on Mahendra's diary. He was present for the occasion, which fell that year-1887-on Monday, February 21._x000d_ Narendra, Rakhal, Niranjan, Sharat, Shashi, Kali, Baburam, Tarak, Gopal Senior, Sarada and Harish were present. The day began with a song in praise of Shiva. Tarak and Rakhal sang "Ta-thaiya, Ta-thaiya, dances Bhola", composed by Narendra, and danced to its tune. Shashi performed the worship of the Master. Then Sharat sang another song of Shiva. They fasted the whole day, and spent the time in meditation and worship.

In the afternoon, preparations were made for the night worship. Leaves of the Bilva tree were gathered and Bilva wood was chopped for the Homa (sacred fire ritual). In the evening Shashi burnt incense before the pictures of the various gods and goddesses. The worship of Shiva was to take place under a Bilva tree in the monastery compound. He was to be worshipped four times, once in each of the four watches of the night. About nine at night the brothers assembled under the tree. One of them was in charge of the worship. Kali was reading the Gita.

Now and then he argued with Narendra: "I am everything: I create, preserve, and destroy." Narendra said: "How is it possible for me to create? Another power creates through me. Our various actions even our thoughts are caused by that power." Kali reflected in silence and then said, `The actions you are talking about are illusory. There is no such thing as thought. The very idea of these things makes me laugh." Narendra replied: "The `I' that is implied in `I am He' is not this ego. It is that which remains after one eliminates mind, body, and so on." After completing the recital of the Gita, Kail chanted "Shantih! Shantih! Shantih!"

Narendra and others, their bodies smeared with holy ashes, stood up and at intervals circled round the tree, singing and dancing. Now and then the classic chant rang out "Shiva Guru! Shiva Guru! Hara! Hara! Vyom! Vyom!"as they repeated it in chorus, clapping their hands at the same time. It was midnight, the fourteenth day of the dark fortnight of the moon. Pitch darkness filled all the quarters. Men, birds, and animals were hushed in silence. The young monks were clad in ochre robes. The words "Shiva Guru!" chanted in their full throated voices, rose into the starlit sky like the rumbling of thunder clouds and disappeared in the Infinite Sachchidananda. At the close of the worship of the last quarter oblations were offered into the sacred fire in the names of all gods, god-desses, and Incarnations of all peoples. The sun, about to rise, was painting the eastern horizon crimson. In the sacred twilight hour the young monks bathed in the Ganga.

In the morning they all went to the shrine room of the Math and prostrated before the Master; then they gradually as-sembled in the hall. Mahendra writes: "Narendra was clad in a new ochre cloth. The bright orange colour of his apparel blended with the celestial lusture of his face and body, every pore of which radiated a divine light. His countenance was filled with fiery brilliance and yet touched with the tenderness of love. He appeared to all as a. bubble that had risen up in the Ocean of Absolute Existence and Bliss and assumed a human body to help in the propagation of his Master's message. Narendra was then just twenty-four." Balaram had sent fruit and sweets to the monastery for the monks' breakfast. Narendra and a few others partook of the refreshments saying: "Blessed indeed is Balaram!" And blessed too were those monks who occupied themselves day and night with God and His service.

There was an intense spiritual atmosphere at Baranagore in those days. Everyone marvelled at the austere life of Narendranath and his brother monks. Yet they themselves were not satisfied with their spiritual progress. In their distress at not realizing God, they would sigh, "Oh, wonderful were Shri Ramakriahna's renunciation and longing for God! We are not able to attain even one-sixteenth part of what he attained!"

Hours would be consumed in the study of philosophy. The theories of Kant, Hegel, Mill, Spencer, and even those of the atheists and materialists, were discussed. Religion, history, sociology, literature, art and science received attention. One day Narendra would prove that God was a myth; the next day he would argue that God was the only reality. The Sankhya, Yoga, Nyaya, Vaisheshika, Mimamsa and Vedanta each in turn was matched against the others, and their points of agreement and difference were brought out with analytical acumen. The Vedanta was compared with Buddhist philosophy, and vice versa. Occasionally Christian missionaries would come to the Math to argue with the monks. After defeating them at every point Narendra would hold forth to them on the greatness of Christ. He would develop original lines of thought, bringing out the historical importance of Shri Ramakrishna's life and teachings, and their significance for present and future genera¬tions of Hindus. He would show how that life was destined to alter their theological outlook by giving them a truer understanding of Hindu ideals.

Though outwardly a man of Jnana, Narendra was full of Bhakti within. One day, he said to a young brother-disciple who was disturbed because of his failure to realize God: "Have you not read the Gita? God is residing in the hearts of all creatures. He is, as it were, revolving the wheel of life to which we are tied. You are more insignificant than even the crawling worm. Can you really know God? Try to think for a minute of the real nature of man. Of these innumerable stars, every one is a solar system. We see only one solar system and know only an infinitesimal fraction of that. The earth compared with the sun is like a little ball and man but an insect moving on its surface." Then he burst into a song, resigning himself to God and beseeching His aid in steering clear of the pitfalls and tempta¬tions of the world. Again he said to the brother-disciple: "Take refuge in God. Resign yourself completely at his feet. Don't you remember the words of Shri Ramakrishna? God is like a hill of sugar. You are an ant. One grain of sugar is sufficient for you. Yet you want to carry home the entire hill. Shukadeva was at most a bigger ant. Therefore I would say to Kali, `Do you want to measure God by your foot-rule?' God is the infinite ocean of mercy! He will shower His grace on you. Pray to Him; `Protect us always, O Lord, by Thy benign mercy. From the unreal lead us to the Real, from darkness lead us to Light, from death lead us to Immortality!' "

"How should one pray to God?" the brother-disciple asked. "Why," Narendranath replied, "you need only repeat His Name. That is what the Master told us." Then the young monk said, "You say now that God exists; and in another mood you tell us that according to Charvaka and other philosophers the world was not created by any extraneous agency, that it has evolved of itself." Narendra said, "But have you not read chemistry? Hydrogen and oxygen do unite to form water and so forth, but not without the intervention of the human hand or some intelligence. Everybody, admits that there must be an Intelligent Force guiding all these combinations, an Omniscient Being directing this phenomenal universe." "But how can we know that He is merciful?" Narendra said, " `Your benign face', the Vedas say. John Stuart Mill echoes this. He must be an ocean of mercy who has infused one little spark of mercy into the human heart. The Master used to say, `Faith is the one essential thing.' God is very near us. You only require faith to realize this." Then the young disciple said good ¬humouredly, "Sometimes you say that God does not exist. Now you are telling us that He does. You cannot be true in your statement when you change your opinions so often." Narendra replied, "I shall never change these words: We do not have faith in God so long as we are assailed by egotism and desire. Some sort of desire always persists." Then, overwhelmed with emotion he began to sing: "He is the merciful Parent always giving shelter to those who take refuge in Him." The devotional fervour of the songs that followed was enhanced by the quality of Narendra's voice a voice which was the delight of all who heard him. Had not the Master said: "As the snake remains spellbound with its hood up on hearing the sweet notes of the flute, so does He who is in the heart, the Antaryami, when Naren sings!"?

In those days all were filled with the spirit of the Master. His personality was felt as living among them. There was neither day nor night, neither hours nor moments, for them: they dwelt in an ecstasy of spiritual zeal; indeed they were mad, road for God vision. All sorts of spiritual experiences were theirs. Some would sit motionless for hours plunged in meditation, whilst others sang themselves into devotional rapture. The nights of some were spent at the burning ghat deeply absorbed in meditation; others would tell their beads all day and all night, or sit night after night before a Dhuni, in their determination to realize God._x000d_ Narendra was as intense as the rest, but his sense of responsibility for them caused him to be watchful. When he found any of them practising austerities that were too severe, he would say, "Do you think you are all going to be Ramakrishna Paramahamsas? That will never be. A Ramakrishna Parama hamsa is born once in an age!"_x000d_ Swami Sadananda, an early disciple of the Leader, speaking later of these days as they were lived by his Guru, said: "During these years Swamiji would work twenty four hours at a time. He was like a lunatic in his activity. Early in the morning, whilst it was still dark, he would rise and call the others, singing, `Awake! Arise, all ye who would drink of the divine nectar!' And long after midnight he and the other monks would still be sitting on the roof of the monastery building, singing hymns of praise. The neighbours expostulated, but to no avail. And the musical voice of Swamiji would lead the chanting of the names of `Sita Rama' or of `Radha Krishna'. Those were strenuous days. There was no time for rest. Outsiders came and went. Pandits argued and discussed. But he, the Swami, was never for one moment idle, never dull."_x000d_ To the devotees of Shri Ramakrishna and Swami Vivekananda the name "Baranagore" is synonymous with "spiritual fervour". And all who came in contact with these young monks at Baranagore were caught up in their God-intoxication. Each one of these young monks, whom Shri Ramakrishna had made his own, represented a phase of the Master himself.

Thus the monks lived the spiritual life; and the monastic Order of Ramakrishna was consolidated too. But even as the Order was twofold in its provision, blending the ideal of personal freedom that itinerant monk hood had insisted on, with that of a brotherhood bound by a shared love for the Master and organized to further his mission, so there was a corresponding twofold tendency in each member of the Baranagore Math. In Narendranath especially, these two tendencies were seen, and at times were at war with one another. At these times he was torn between loyalty to the Math and its mission, and loyalty to the traditional vision of the wandering monk. And it was the same with his brother-monks. Indeed, there were times when it seemed that the traditional ideal would draw them apart to the isolated sannyasi's life in spite of themselves. However, if we view what happened from the standpoint of the Order as a unity, it will be seen that it was consistent throughout, for there was always a group at the Math, constituting the Ramakrishna brotherhood, even when most of the monks were out in different places. Some of them were continuously at the monastery for several years, whilst others were almost constantly wandering. From July 1890, for nearly seven years, Narendranath was himself absent; but for some four years immediately following the passing away of Shri Ramakrishna he was most of the time with his monastic brothers, either at Baranagore, or on various short pilgrimages, which will be mentioned presently._x000d_ A love of pilgrimage characterizes the Hindu monk. As the proverb has it, "A wandering monk and flowing water do not become dirty": by not remaining in any one place for long the wandering monk remains free from blemish. Moreover, who does not aspire to visit the places of pilgrimage, made more holy by the visits of saints and countless others, where God is accepting the worship of his devotees and showering grace on them? It is but natural for those who have renounced the world with the aim of realizing God, to seek Him where He is espe-cially present; and this was so with the monks of the newly established Baranagore Math. As we have seen, the itinerant tendency was manifest in some of them even when the Master was at Cossipore; and immediately after his passing away some went with the Holy Mother to Vrindavan, where they stayed for several months._x000d_ Towards the end of February 1887, Saradananda, Abhedananda and Premananda went to Puri; and Akhandananda left for Tibet.

Narendranath, on hearing of this when he returned to the Math from Calcutta where he had been for the day-became agitated; for he knew that the young monk had no experience of the world and might meet with some serious misfortune, or. Might foolishly go to an extreme in his ascetic zeal. Narendra said to a brother ¬disciple, "Why did Raja [Brahmananda] allow him to go? Let Raja come back to the monastery! I shall scold him. Why did he allow Prasanna [Trigunatita] to go away? Couldn't you prevent his going away ?" The brother-disciple replied, "Brother Tarak asked him not to go, but still he went away." Narendra said to Mahendra, who was present there, "You see what a lot of trouble I am in. Here, too, I am involved in a world of Maya. Who knows where this boy has gone?"

When Brahmananda returned from Dakshineswar, he handed over the note left by Trigunatita on the eve of his departure. The note read: "I am going to Vrindavan on Foot. It is very risky for me to live here. Here my mind is undergoing a change. Formerly I used to dream about my parents and other relatives. Then I dreamt of woman, the embodiment of Maya. I have suffered twice; I had to go back to my relatives at home. Therefore I am going far away from them. The Master once told me, `Your people at home are capable of doing anything; never trust them."'

Brahmananda said, "These are the reasons for his going away. We have achieved nothing by staying here. The Master always exhorted us to realize God. Have we succeeded? Let us go to the Narmada." Narendranath said, "What will you achieve by wandering about? Can one ever attain the Knowledge, that you are talking about it so much?" A devotee said, "Then why have you renounced the world?" Narendra replied, "Must we live with Shyam because we have not seen Ram? Must we go on begetting children because we have not realized God? What are you talking about?" To everyone's surprise Trigunatita returned to the monastery within a day or two. He could not go far.

But as the days passed, Narendra also became restless for pilgrimage. He felt his attachment to the brother-disciples as a chain a golden one no doubt, but still a chain impeding his progress to the realization of God. Therefore he resolved to strike out into the unknown paths of the monk's life. Trigunatita's eagerness to respond to the call of the wandering life was as a small cloud on the horizon compared to the storm that the same call was to raise in Narendranath. At times the latter held forth to his brother-monks on the glory of that life. Concerning them his attitude was: "Let them have their own experiences. They must break free from the monastery and test their own strength. Their experiences of the new life will make men of them, absolutely fearless and invincible, and spiritually inde-pendent; thus they will become giants." And one by one all the brother-disciples were to go on pilgrimage, except Ramakrinhnananda. About him Narendra used to say in later years: "I used to fire them [his brother-monks] to break it up and go about the world begging. But on no account could I make Shashi yield. He would hear of nothing of the kind. You must know him to be the backbone of our Math."

Until the middle of 1888, Narendranath did not leave the Baranagore Math except for short visits to near-by places. For instance, in January 1887 he went to Antpur again with Brahmananda, Premananda and Advaitananda.

Until the middle of 1888, Narendranath did not leave the Baranagore Math except for short visits to near by places. For instance, in January 1887 he went to Antpur again with Brahmananda, Premananda and Advaitananda. In the summer of 1887 he had fever owing to kidney trouble, and subsequently went to Simultala and Vaidyanath at the request of his brother ¬disciples. They felt that he needed a short rest from the strenu-ous life of the monastery, and a change of environment.

These and the other expeditions of Narendra prior to mid-1890 turned out to be only temporary absences. He would sally forth on them, but for some reason or other would return soon, against his will. When he left he would say, "It will be for good and all this time", but something brought him back. In two instances it was the serious illness of certain of his brother monks; in another it was the death of Balaram Bose, a lay devotee of the Master.

However, when he left the monastery in July of 1890, he did not come back until February 1897, after his triumphant return from the West. This time he made up his mind to break with the monastery in order to test his own strength, to gather experience of another way of life, to make himself fearless, and at the same time to force his brother-disciples to stand alone on their own feet, in self reliance. It was a struggle for him to free himself: his mind for some time wavered between the desire for the wandering life and his sense of responsibility for the brotherhood.

As wandering monk, Narendranath's very appearance was striking; indeed, it was regal. His body and bodily movements were instinct with grace. His luminous eyes and imperious personality, together with the suggestion of greatness that there was about him, made him conspicuous wherever he went. Staff and monk's water-pot in hand, a copy of the Gita and of The Imitation of Christ in his bundle, and ochre-clothed, he journeyed on in silence, joyful at heart. These were glorious days in the life of Narendranath. He did not assume any fixed name during his wanderings in India. Hereafter we shall call him "the Swami"._x000d_ During these days, he would conceal his learning, and wander like an ordinary monk. No one could guess that he had a good com¬mand of English, unless he happened to express himself in that language. At times he determined not to beg from door to door, but to accept whatever chance might bring. He told someone that the Longest time he had to go without food, under this austerity, was five days. Many times his abode was a jungle, a temple, or a ruined wayside rest-house. Many times he was alone under the stars, or on foot in rain or scorching heat. On these travels he took the vow of not touching money. Sometimes at a devotee's earnest request he would avail himself of a railway ticket; at other times he would go on foot._x000d_ The remarks just made relate to the Swami's wandering days in general.

There are some blanks in this part of the Swami's life-story, for he himself was indifferent about keeping a note of his journeys and doings, and afterwards spoke of them vaguely and casually. As to his spiritual experiences during this time, he held them too sacred to be discussed even with his brothers. Yet something is known of him as a wandering monk. Sometimes one or other of the monks accompanied him; and those lay people whom he met and initiated as disciples on his long tours through his motherland, kept records of his stay with them, and even of his conversations on some occasions. Then there are his letters written occasionally to his brother-disciples and his own disciples. Thus it is possible to reconstruct his life from 1887 to 1893 with some accuracy. Each of his brother-monks, excepting Ramakrishnananda and Adbhutananda, was with him on one or other of his travels up to the time when he broke off communication with the Baranagore Math, and these have given verbal accounts-particularly Akhandananda, who was with him longer than any of the others were, from the latter part of July 1890 until the latter part of the autumn that year.