Soon, word spread through the city that "a remarkable English-speaking sannyasi has come". Indeed, from the time the Swami reached Madras, he may be said to have been on the high road to public recognition. In Madras many progressive young men became his devoted adherents. The funds for him to go to America were largely secured by them. It was in Madras that his formulation of the ideals of Hinduism was really appreciated, and where the message of his Master gained a ready hearing. It was here, later on, that his work in India in the way of organization and publication was to start. And it was his Madrasi disciples who were to spread his message widely even before his return from the West.

One of the first to meet the Swami on arrival at Madras was G. G. Narasimhachari. In a paper read at Bangalore in 1906, and published in the Brahmavadin the same year, he wrote:_x000d_ My first acquaintance with him [the Swami] began at the beginning of the year 1893 of Chicago Religious Parliament, when he came as a wandering sannyasi to Madras, in the company of one Babu Manmathanath Bhattacharya, the then Deputy Accountant General of Madras. Mr. Bhattacharya picked him up on his way to [from] Rameswaram as a beggarly sannyasi plodding on the road with a staff and Kamandalu. Forewarned by a kind Mysore friend of ours of a remarkable English-speaking sannyasi travelling in the company of Mr. Bhattacharya at Pondicherry, half a dozen picked friends went to meet him at the Babu's on the day of his arrival at Madras. Each one of my friends may be said to have represented a fair knowledge in a branch of modern Western culture, my humble self a large share of the curiosity to see a modern sannyasi of a new type. The very fact that these young men were very good friends was a proof that they all possessed a decent amount of general culture. .After we were welcomed by the Babu and left in the presence of the Swami with a bright smiling face and wonderful flashing, rolling eyes, my friends introduced themselves to the Sadhu through questions. After a few preliminary enquiries of ordinary etiquette, he was hemmed in with all sorts of questions literary and scientific, historical and metaphysical. I was the wisest of the lot; I silently sat and enjoyed the fruits of their conversation. The Swami's pithy and melodious answers came like flashes silencing his questioners. Quotations were freely made from all sorts of classical authors, literary and scientific, historical and philosophical. Late in the evening when my friends returned home, leaving the travel-worn sannyasi to rest, they began to indulge in all sorts of conjectures about his proficiency. . . . From that day onward the house of Manmathanath Babu became a place of daily pilgrimage, to the young and old of the city, till the Swami left for America.

The same disciple, in an earlier issue of the Brahmavadin, wrote as follows:_x000d_ Swamiji was comfortably lodged in Mr. Bhattacharya's residence at St. Thome. Within a few days his intellectual attainments came to be known to all and his first introduction to the Madras Public was in the Literary Society at Triplicane, where a conversazione was held. From that day, he became more and more known. Educated men of all ranks and position began to gather in his room and listen with enrapt attention to the mellifluous discourses of the Swami on all matters. His conversational power was marvellous. Even abstruse metaphysical subjects were handled by him in a very pleasing way and in simple language.... Coming again to his discourses in Mr. Bhattacharya's residence, we used to gather there every evening. People whose minds were not settled and who were hating every form of religious faith began to take a peculiarly lively interest in his instructions so much so that from 4 to 10 p.m. there used to be a regular crowd at his residence, people that came to know him being unwilling to miss his company even for a day.

C. Ramanujachari, who was later to devote his life to the work started by the Swami in Madras, remembers the Swami's first visit in these words:_x000d_ I had three occasions to meet him [the Swami] during my life._x000d_ First in February 1893, when he was in Madras as a Parivrajaka [wandering monk]. He was then a guest of one Mr. Bhattacharya the Accountant General of Madras, who lived in a bungalow called "Rahmat Bhag", on the Beach Road, St. Thome. He was given a suite of rooms in the western portion of the house. We, as students then, had heard of a monk called Satchidananda Swami, who had come from the North, who was remarkably intelligent, and had an amazing personality, We had heard of his having met some young men at Madras-Messrs. M. C. Alasinga Perumal (of the Pachai¬yappa's College), G. Venkataranga Rao, D. R. Balaji Rao . . , G. G. Narasimhachari and some young men, who were members of the Triplicane Literary Society-a very virile association of young men, who had been active in inviting prominent men to speak at the Society's premises. The Swami must have been intro¬duced to them through Mr. Bhattacharya. The Swami spoke at the Literary Society of Triplicane first to a small audience. The impression he created then was that he was a remarkable speaker, and by this chiefly young men were first attracted to him. Then followed immediately the realization by the elders that within this magnificent personality were treasured a prodigious intellect, pro¬found learning, fire of sincere patriotism, sparkling wit and above all unbending spirit of renunciation. Soon Madras came to know that here was a man who had power to lift him above all others, and everybody vied with each other to have a glimpse of him. It was one morning, when he, followed by nearly 15 or 20 young men, was walking majestically, with staff in hand, along the Luz Church Road, Mylapore, towards the west, to Sir S. Subramania Iyer's house to see him and to place before him a proposal of sending him to America for the Parliament of Religions, that I saw him for the first and last time on that occasion. I followed him to the end of the road, but, as he proceeded, a large crowd gathered, who, include¬ing myself, had to be kept out when the main party entered Sir S. Subramania Iyer's house. I had no chance to see more of the Swami on that occasion, except hearing that he was a great sadhu, who was being sent to America for the Parliament of Religions.

These reminiscences show that hardly had the Swami settled in his lodging at Madras, when he was besieged by eager enquirers and listeners. The discussions would range over psychology, science, literature, history and other subjects, besides religion and philosophy. The Swami seemed to gauge a newcomer's personality at a glance. He was full of ideas. He had the whole contents of Hinduism held in a grand perspective made possible by wide learning. One day some of those who came to the house of Mr. Bhattacharya, finding the Swami in an exalted mood, which his every thought and word reflected, asked him, "Swamiji, why is it that in spite of their Vedantic thought the Hindus are idolaters?" With flashing eyes the Swami turned on the questioner and answered, "Because we have the Himalayas!" He meant that, surrounded by Nature so sublime, man cannot but fall down and adore.

The Swami's personality towered over everything. His thrilling musical voice, his songs, his strength of soul, his power of intellect, his luminous and ready replies, his scintillating wit, his epigrams and eloquence-these all held his hearers spellbound. Day by day the number of those who came to the house of Mr. Bhattacharya increased. The Swami combined humility with outspokenness and authority. Now perhaps he would beg pardon of a pandit who had been insulting to him; at another time he would burst like a hurricane on his audience, giving them no chance to escape the logic of his thought; but it was all unostentatious and spontaneous. He spoke no harsh words against anyone; on the other hand he did not refrain from criticism when it was necessary. For example, there was the pandit who asked him if there was any harm in giving up Sandhyavandana (ritualistic prayers performed in the morning, noon and evening) because of lack of time. "What!" exclaimed the Swami, almost ferociously, "those giants of old, the ancient Rishis, who never walked but strode, of whom if you were to think but for a moment you would shrivel up into a moth, they, sir, had time and you have no time!" On that same occasion, when a Westernized Hindu spoke in a belittling manner of the "meaningless teachings" of the Vedic seers, the Swami fell upon him with thunderbolt vehemence, crying out, "How dare you criticize your venerable forefathers in such a fashion! A little learning has muddled your brain. Have you tested the science of the Rishis? Have you even as much as read the Vedas? There is the challenge thrown by the Rishis! If you dare oppose them, take it up: put their teachings to the test."

Those in Madras who heard the Swami were amazed. This was the Vedas and Vedanta exhibited as science and at the same time brought to life in personal realization. Each day new gifts and areas of knowledge came to light. Today he would be speaking of Valmiki, Kalidasa and Bhavabhuti in almost the same breath as of Homer and Virgil, Shakespeare and Byron; tomorrow it would be of the Trojans and of the Pandavas, of Helen and of Draupadi. Now he would descant on the idealization of the sensuous in Greek art, and then would go on to contrast it with the whole trend of Hindu art and culture towards the supersensuous. In discussing Hindu psychology he would give his hearers entree into worlds of heightened perception of which they had not dreamed.

To relieve the strain put on him by the constant influx of people, the Swami used to walk in the evening on the seashore. One day, when he saw the half starved children of the fishermen working with their mothers, waist-deep in the water, tears filled his eyes, and he cried out, "O Lord, why dost Thou create these miserable creatures! I cannot bear the sight of them. How long, O Lord, how long!" Those who were in his company were overcome and shed tears.

One evening a party was arranged in his honour. The intellectual luminaries of Madras were present. The Swami boldly, almost challengingly, declared himself to be an Advaitin. A group of intellectuals asked him, "You say you are one with God. Then all your responsibility is gone. What is there to check you when you do wrong, and when you stray from the right path?" The Swami replied crushingly, "If I honestly believe that I am one with God, I shall abominate vice and no check is needed."_x000d_ A few weeks earlier, when the Swami had been at the palace of the Raja of Ramnad, the discussion had taken a similar turn. Someone had ridiculed the assertion that it was possible for a human being to see Brahman, the Unknown. Roused at once, the Swami had exclaimed, "I have seen the Unknown!"

Many of the young men who came to the Swami belonged to the social reform movement in Madras. But he saw that they were taking the wrong line, that of sweeping condemnation. Repeatedly he urged on them the need to analyse foreign ideals critically and to guard against assimilating the material-istic foreign culture. They should preserve and make the most of all that was great and glorious in their country's past; otherwise the foundations of the national structure would be undermined. He was not an enemy of social reform; on the contrary, he himself yearned for reform: but it must come from within, not from outside, India; it must be constructive, not destructive.

The Swami held several conversaziones at the Literary Society of Triplicane, a noted and flourishing association; and these introduced him to the public. A report of one of them, one which took place in the third week of January 1893, was given in the Indian Social Reformer, a weekly edited by Kamakshi Natarajan, one of the most powerful journalist writers in India at that time. Although that report is not now to be had, it was extensively quoted in the Madurai Mail of January 28, 1893. This latter report (reproduced in Prabuddha Bharata, August 1974) began:_x000d_ A BENGALI SADHU ON HINDU RELIGION_x000d_ AND SOCIOLOGY_x000d_ A young Bengalee sannyasi of about thirty two years of age, and a Master of Arts [sic] of the Calcutta University was last week interviewed at the Triplicane Literary Society by about a hundred educated Indians among whom was Dewan Bahadur Raghunath Rao. A summary of what was stated by the sadhu is published by the Indian Social Reformer, from which we make the following extracts: . . ._x000d_ The report then summarizes what the Swami said, under the headings of Vedic Religion, Hindu Ideal of Life, Sradha (i.e. Sraddha) Ceremony, Education of Women, and Emancipation of the Hindus. The chairman of the meeting, Dewan Bahadur Raghunath Rao, was a national figure. Besides being the author of a number of legal treatises, he was for long General Secretary of the Hindu National Social Conference, and had come out strongly in support of the Age of Consent Bill, when even a section of the social reformers had been hesitant about it. That the Swami strongly supported this bill, we have already noted.

These days in Madras were referred to by Kamakshi Natarajan, mentioned above, when he spoke at Bombay on the occasion of the Swami Vivekananda Birthday Anniversary in 1920. The relevant portion of the report of his speech (Prabuddha Bharata, March 1920) runs:_x000d_ Mr. K. Natarajan . . . said that it was his privilege to meet Swami Vivekananda on the very first occasion on which he appeared in Madras as a poor mendicant monk and he took pride in saying that it was Madras that had discovered Swami Vivekananda, after he had wandered all over India and apparently did not feel that he call had come. He then alluded to the vigorous discourse that Swami Vivekananda, then an obscure sannyasi of 28 [sic], gave to an audience presided over by Dewan Bahadur Raghunath Rao, in which he expounded upon the Western interpretation of the Eastern culture. It was here that it was decided that the Swamiji should be sent to the Chicago Congress, where the Swamiji showed that his great interest lay in the application of the great spiritual principles to the interpretation of life in terms of modern civilization. . . .

There came to the Swami one day an atheist, the Assistant Professor of Science in the Christian College. His name was Singaravelu Mudaliar. He saw the practical value of Christianity and criticized Hinduism. He. Came to argue, but conversation with the Swami changed him into a devoted disciple. The Swami loved him very much, and called him "Kidi". He used to say, "Caesar said, `I came, I saw, I conquered.' But Kidi came, he saw, and he was conquered!" After a time Kidi devoted his life to his Master's cause. When, at the Swami's suggestion, the Prabuddha Bharata was started in Madras; Kidi became its honorary manager. He later renounced the world to lead the life of a recluse, and died a saintly death.

V. Subramanya Iyer says that he went with some of his class fellows to the house of Mr. Bhattacharya, with the idea of having some fun. They found the Swami smoking his hookah in a sort of half awake, half-dreamy state; in deep contemplation, as it seemed to them. One bolder than the others advanced and asked, "Sir, what is God?" The Swami smoked on as if entirely unconscious of the question. Then he raised his eyes and asked, "Well, my friend, what is energy?" When neither the boy nor his companions were able to give a definition, the Swami, all attention now, exclaimed, "What is this! You cannot define a simple word like `energy', which you use every day of your life, and yet you want me to define God!" They asked other questions, only to receive equally crushing replies. After a time they left, except for the young Iyer. He, greatly impressed, remained and accompanied the Swami and his disciples on their daily walk to the beach, Casually the Swami asked Subramanya Iyer, "Well, my boy, can you wrestle?" Receiving an answer in the affirmative the Swami said in fun, "Come, let us have a tussle." It was with this athleticism of the Swami in mind that Mr. Subramanya Iyer used to call him "Pahalwan Swami", that is "Athlete Swami".

One day the Swami found Mr. Bhattacharya's cook looking wistfulty at the hookah that the Maharaja of Mysore had given him; so he asked the cook, "Would you like to have this?" Seeing the man afraid to say "yes" even after he had repeated the question, the Swami then and there handed it to him. The man could not believe that the Swami had meant what he said. When he actually had the hookah in his own hands, he was grateful beyond words; and to those who came to know of the incident, the Swami's renunciation was manifest for that hookah was his only comfort. As a matter of fact, it was a custom with him, throughout his life, to give away whatever there was in his possession that anyone specially admired. For instance, in America, a young Mr. Prince Woods coveted the staff which the Swami had used during his wandering days. The latter had brought it all the way from India and prized it for its sacred associations; but he gave it away without hesitation, saying, "What you admire is already yours!" And to Prince's mother, Mrs. Kate Tannatt Woods, of Salem, with whom he stayed for a few days in September 1893, he gave his trunk and blanket.

The Swami had a strange experience about this time. For some days he was bothered by waves of psychic disturbance sent by some spirits. The spirits reported all sorts of false things to make his mind uneasy, which statements he learned later to be untrue. When they had thus annoyed him for some days, he remonstrated with them, whereupon they told him of their miserable condition. The Swami thought over the matter. One day, repairing to the seashore, he took a handful of sand as a substitute for rice and grain, and offered it, praying with his whole heart that these spirits might find rest. After that they ceased to disturb him.

In Madras the Swami drew many who became followers. The experience that he had had in Alwar was repeated here, but in an intensified form. People flocked From all parts of the city to hear him. His strength; purity, and effulgence of soul were more and more manifest; and his personality captivated their hearts even as his ideas captivated their minds. K. Vyasa Rao speaks as follows of the impression the Swami created:_x000d_ A graduate of the Calcutta University, with a shaven head, a prepossessing appearance, wearing the garb of renunciation, fluent in English and Sanskrit, with uncommon powers of repartee, who sang "with full throated ease" as though he was attuning himself to the Spirit of the universe, and withal a wanderer on the face of the earth! The man was sound and stalwart, full of sparkling wit, with nothing but a scathing contempt for miracle working agencies…; one who enjoyed good dishes, knew how to appreciate the hookah and the pipe, Yet harped on renunciation with an ability that called forth admiration and a sincerity that commanded respect. The young Bachelor and Masters of Arts were at their wits end at the sight of such a phenomenon. There, they saw the man and saw how well he could stand his ground in wrestling and fencing in the arena of the Universal Soul; and when the hour of discussion gave way to lighter moods, they found that he could indulge in fun and frolic, in uncompromising denunciation and in startling bons mots. But everything else apart, what endeared him to all was the unalloyed fervour of his patriotism. The young man, who had renounced all worldly ties and freed himself from bondage, had but one love, his country, and one grief, its downfall. These sent him into reveries which held his hearers spellbound. Such was the man who travelled from Hooghly to Tamraparny, who bewailed and denounced in unmeasured terms the imbecility of our young men, whose words flashed as lightning and cut as steel, who impressed all, communicated his enthusiasm to some, and lighted the spark of undying faith in a chosen few._x000d_ The same Vyasa Rao says that when the world discovered Vivekananda it discovered Ramakrishna Paramahamsa too: it was through the disciple that the master was known. The people of Madras had hopes of Vivekananda not because of what Shri Ramakrishna had said about him, but because of what they themselves saw of this young sannyasi, who had not previously been known to them.

To many the Swami seemed the embodiment of the spirit of the Darshanas, the Agamas, and the Yogas. He was saturated not only with the Hindu spiritual experience, but also with the philosophical and scientific outlook of the West. One who was highly cultured, and who became his disciple in these days, spoke of him thus:_x000d_ The vast range of his mental horizon perplexed and enraptured me. From the Rig-Veda to Raghuvamsha, from the metaphysical flights of the Vedanta philosophy to modern Kant and Hegel, the whole range of ancient and modern literature and art and music and morals, from the sublimities of ancient Yoga to the intricacies of a modern laboratory-everything seemed clear to his field of vision. It was this which confounded me, made me his slave. _x000d_ Another disciple writes:_x000d_ He frequently had to descend to the level of his questioners and to translate his soaring thoughts into their language. He would often anticipate several questions ahead and give answers that would satisfy the questioners at once. When asked how he so understood them, he would say with a smile that sannyasis were "doctors of men", and that they were able to diagnose their cases before they administered remedies to them._x000d_ At times many men's thoughts were his. He would answer scores of questioners at one time and silence them all._x000d_ Soft and forgiving as he was to those on whom his grace rested, one had to live in his presence as in the vicinity of a dangerous explosive. The moment a bad thought entered one's mind, it would flash across his also. One could know it from a peculiar smile that lit his lips and from the words that would casually escape from his mouth in the course of conversation.

Already the Swami had announced his intention of going to the West. He said to all those who knew him in Madras: `"The time has come for the propagation of our Faith. The time has come for the Hinduism of the Rishis to become dynamic. Shall we stand by whilst alien hands attempt to destroy the fortress of our ancient Faith? Are we satisfied with its impregnability? Shall we remain passive, or shall we become aggressive, as in days of old, preaching unto the nations the glory of the Dharma? Shall we remain encased within the narrow confines of our social groups and our provincial consciousness, or shall we branch out into the thought worlds of 'other peoples, seeking to influence these for the benefit of India? In order to rise again, India must be strong and united, and must focus all its living forces."

Those who listened understood that the preaching of the Dharma was for him an imperative call. They understood the Swami's intentions in sailing for the West: nay more, they positively exhorted him, saying, "It must be done, Swamiji, and you are the one man to do it. You will work wonders." With that, they went about to raise subscriptions for the purpose. He himself had long had it in mind to attend the Parliament of Religions, but he had taken no definite step in the matter, preferring to wait for the will of the Mother to become evident. Those who went out had soon collected a good amount. About this, G. G. Narasimhachari said:_x000d_ "When it was three (actually eight] months for the Parliament of Religions to commence its sitting at Chicago, the Swami expressed his desire to attend it to represent Hinduism. A few devoted to him went round to collect subscriptions. A philanthropic gentleman whose official position and rank is the pride of Southern India headed the list with Rs.500, though another gentleman richer than the one mentioned above refused to give a pie, and even suspected the bona fides of sannyasins in general and Vivekananda in particular. . . ."

But the Swami, when he saw the money, grew uneasy. He said to himself, "Am I following my own will? Am I being carried away by enthusiasm? Or is there a deep meaning in all that I have thought and planned?" He prayed, "O Mother, show me Thy will! It is Thou who art the Doer. Let me be only Thy instrument." He, a sannyasi, inexperienced in the ways of the world; was about to sail, alone and unknown, for distant lands, to meet strange peoples and deliver to them a strange message. And so he said to the astonished disciples, "My boys, I am determined to force the Mother's will. She must prove that it is Her intention that I should go, for it is a step in the dark. If it be Her will, then money will come again of itself Therefore, take this money and distribute it among the poor." His disciples obeyed him without a word, and the Swami felt as though a great burden had been taken off his shoulders.

The "another gentleman", mentioned by G. G. Narasimhachari, who "refused to give a pie" and even doubted the bona fides of the Swami, was, almost certainly, the Raja of Ramnad. This is known from the reminiscences of Swami Shivananda, the Swami's brother-disciple. In later years (January 1925), Swami Shivananda told a disciple of his that when the Swami had been at Ramnad, the Raja had requested him to attend the Parliament of Religions at Chicago and represent Hinduism. The Raja had promised Rs.10,000, but the Swami had not accepted anything then. Later on, when the Madras disciples wrote to the Raja for a contribution, he flatly refused, saying, "I am unable to send any money for this purpose."Not only that, the Raja, swayed by others, even suspected that the Swami, being a Bengali, and an educated one too, might indulge in politics and scheming to his (the Raja's) detriment. We can imagine how pained the Swami was to hear of this. He had had hopes of the Raja of Ramnad: it was therefore natural for him now to feel that his plans had been "dashed to the ground".

In these days at Madras, waiting for the Mother's call--¬the "Mother" and the "Lord", mentioned in the above letter, were interchangeable terms with the Swami-the monk of prodigious intellect and patriotic fire was outwardly, as. he always was inwardly, the ardent devotee. His soul grew tense with the determination to make Her speak Her will. He carried on with his life of teaching, but prayed to the Mother and the Master for direction. He meditated intensely. Often he would go on singing to the Mother, and be carried away in ecstasy while doing so. Those who were with him would also be caught up in waves of spiritual fervour.

While he was in this devotional state of mind, people in Hyderabad, who had heard of the Swami from their Madras friends, begged him to go there on a brief visit. He readily agreed, thinking that there might be a hidden purpose in this unexpected call. His host at Madras telegraphed to a friend, Babu Madhusudan Chatterjee, Superintending Engineer to His Highness the Nizam, saying that the Swami was to arrive at Hyderabad on February 10 and would be his guest.