By this time, Narendranath's father, Vishwanath Datta, had made a name for himself in Calcutta society. Even as a lawyer he had earned such a reputation that he often had to spend months in various cities of northern India for professional purposes. He made a good living; but as he had to maintain a large joint-family, and also was in the habit of spending lavishly on musical soirees and entertaining friends, his expenses were proportionate. Moreover, his uncle Kaliprasad, who was head of the joint-family and had no income of his own, not only spent from the ancestral property, but used to claim from Vishwanath's earnings as well. Towards the end, Vishwanath was not able even to supervise his own firm of attorneys in Calcutta owing to his practice outside. Taking advantage of his long absence, his partners drew large loans in Vishwanath's name and spent the money on themselves. Therefore, even though outwardly Vishwanath's family lived in style, their actual financial position had so deteriorated that at any moment there was the risk of bankruptcy. The hope of the family naturally centred on Vishwanath's earnings and on a little ancestral property that was left in the hands of Kaliprasad. But this property also became the cause of quarrels later; and towards the end of Vishwanath's life, owing to disputes in the joint-family, he had to leave the ancestral house along with his wife and children, and make his own arrangements for living. During this period, he moved to a rented house at 7 Bhairava Biswas Lane. Narendranath was then preparing for his B.A. examination, commencing on December 31, 1883. As the rented house was near his maternal grandmother's, he used to live in a room all to himself on the first floor of her house, and pass his days in study and meditation. Often he went to Dakshineswar to see Shri Ramakrishna.

Naren often spoke about the glory of the monastic life to his friends; they did not understand, and tried to induce him to turn his attention to worldly pursuits. "Why not settle down to definite plans, Naren? You have a fine career before you if you only look more to the prospects which the world holds out", said a friend. Naren met this remark with a shrug and said that he had often desired reputation, position and popu-larity, with wealth and power; but reflection had shown him that death came and engulfed all. Why then build up a great-ness that can be destroyed by death? "The life of the monk is really great, for he seeks to push aside the power of death. He seeks a changeless reality, while the world deals with what changes and is conditioned by change." The friends were not convinced. "The trouble is", said one of them, "that Naren has met an old man who goes into trances and lives a monk's life in the grounds of the Kali temple at Dakshineswar on the banks of the Ganga. He is always meditating and talking about God and knows nothing about the world. This man is upsetting all Naren's ambitions. He is turning his mind from worldly affairs and ruining his future. The name of this old man is Ramakrishna Paramahamsa: Naren, if you have any sense, give up going to see him. It is hampering your studies, and it will ruin your whole future if you continue. You have great talents. You can attain anything if you set your will to it and give up going to Dakshineswar." Naren replied gravely, "You see, you do not understand. I myself do not understand. No, even I do not understand, but I love that old man, that saint, Shri Ramakrishna."

If Narendra did not go to Dakshineswar for several days, the Master would go to his disciple in Calcutta and give him counsel regarding meditation and other spiritual exercises. He was afraid Naren, unable to bear the importunities of his parents and relatives, would accept the bondage of married life. He encouraged him to C One day he said, "A man develops a subtle power as a result of the strict observance of celibacy for twelve years. Then he can understand and grasp very subtle things which otherwise elude his intellect. Through that understanding the aspirant can have direct vision of God. That pure understanding alone enables him to realize Truth."

The ladies of the family concluded that Naren was averse to marriage as a result of his intimacy with Shri Ramakrishna. Referring to this, Naren said later: "One day when the Master came to my study and was instructing me in the observance of life long celibacy, my grandmother overheard everything and informed my parents accordingly. From that day they began making great efforts to get me married lest I should become a monk as a result of mixing with sadhus. But of what avail was all that? All their efforts against the strong will of the Master failed. Even when, as happened at times, everything was settled, the marriage negotiations broke down on account of differences between the two parties over trifling matters."

It is said that while engaged in professional activities out-side Bengal, Vishwanath contracted a severe urinary disease. A month before his death he had a heart attack and had to rest in bed on the doctor's advice. On the day of his death he had to go out for some work. Returning home, he told his wife that a client had taken him to Alipore to show some documents; as a result he was feeling pain in the heart. After taking his meal that night, he rubbed some medicament into his chest and engaged himself in writing, taking a smoke the while. About nine o'clock he vomited; at ten his heart stopped functioning. He had planned to go next day to select a bride for Narendranath; but that came to naught.

Vishwanath's sudden death placed the entire family in a desperate condition, for he was the only earning member and, moreover, always spent more than he earned. Soon the creditors were knocking at the door. 'Though Narendra had no income he had to maintain seven or eight people. Days of suffering came. From comfort Naren was suddenly thrown into direst poverty, at times facing virtual starvation. Later he tried to forget those terrible days, but in vain-so dark were they, so heavy the clouds of misery. Yet he is the real man who meets fate undaunted and with energy: he is the captain of his soul. This Naren did. He had passed his B.A. examination and was studying Law. In college he was the poorest of the poor. Even shoes became a luxury; his garments were of the coarsest cloth, and many times he went to classes without food. Often he became faint with hunger and weakness. His friends now and then invited him to their homes. He would chat happily with them for long hours, but when food was offered, the vision of the desolation at his home would come up in his mind and prevent him from eating. He would leave with the excuse that he had a pressing engagement elsewhere. On reaching home he would eat as little as possible in order that the others might have enough.

After the passing away of her son in 1902, Bhuvaneshwari told many stories of the sacrifices that Narendranath made for her at this time. Often he would refuse to eat on the plea that he had already eaten at the house of a friend, when the fact was, he did not eat at home for fear of depriving the others of a full meal. Such was the character of this young man! At the same time he tried to be his usual happy self and make light of his trials. Out of pride the Datta family concealed its misery. Naren's friends, sons of wealthy families of Calcutta, drove up in magnificent carriages to take him for drives and pleasure trips, never suspecting that his wasting away physically was due to any other cause than an exaggerated grief at the loss of his father.

To make matters worse, the relatives who had been indebted to Vishwanath in so many ways now turned into enemies. They even deprived the family of their ancestral house. On some far-fetched basis a case was made out against them, and the matter taken to court. Indeed, disputes had already started while Vishwanath was living, and his family had been staying in a rented house since then. After his father's death Narendranath continued to stay in the same rented house for some days. Later, he moved to his maternal grandmother's at 7 Ramtanu Bose Lane.

The litigation dragged on for a long time. It was a blow for Narendranath, and his mother was greatly dismayed that their family affairs were to be aired in public. She had tried to settle matters by compromise, but Kaliprasad's wife was not prepared to do so on reasonable terms. During this critical time, Vishwanath's friends, Nimaichandra Basu and W. C. Banerjee, the barrister, were of great help. In these affairs Narendranath himself showed legal talent, which the English lawyer of the opposite party appreciated whole-heartedly. The case was finally decided in favour of Narendranath's family, and they secured their legal share in the property. Later on, they returned to their ancestral house, but by that time Narendranath had renounced the world.

After the lawsuit was over, things became somewhat easier, but by no means comfortable. For several years it was a struggle for them to obtain the coarsest food and clothing. Yet they were happy when they remembered that the house was theirs and that, they were together. Naren made every effort to make both ends meet. He had to give up the articled clerkship in the attorney's office in order to go in search of a job to maintain the family. For quite some time he could not get employment. But recent research has revealed that some time in 1884, Narendranath served as a teacher for a few months in the main Metropolitan Institution, then situated in Sukea Street, Calcutta. (Later, in June 1886, he was appointed headmaster of the newly opened branch of the same Institution in Siddheswar Chandra Lane, Champatala, Calcutta; but after working there' for a few weeks he was compelled by circumstances to leave the post.) It was a hand to mouth existence for Naren and his family. There were moments when he despaired, but he was too brave to show it. In other trying times later, the memories of these struggles and hardships were to give him strength, for nothing could be worse than the evils through which he had already successfully passed.

The relationship between mother and son deepened a hundredfold through these tempestuous experiences and through them she came to see that Naren had a trait which she especially admired in his father-never, never to acknowledge defeat. This critical period showed what Bhuvaneshwari was made of too. About her, Swami Saradananda writes:_x000d_ Fallen on bad days after her husband's death, she was put on her mettle and showed wonderful patience, calmness, frugality and adaptability to sudden change of circumstances. She who was used to spending a thousand rupees monthly to manage the household had now only thirty rupees to maintain her sons, daughters, and herself. But never for a day was she seen dejected. She managed all her family's affairs with that meagre income in such a way that those who saw how things went on took her monthly expenditure to be much higher. One shudders indeed to think of the miserable condition into which Bhuvaneshwari fell at the sudden death of her husband. There was no certain income with which to meet the needs of her family; yet she had to maintain her old mother her sons and daughters brought up in opulence, and meet the expenses of their education. Her relatives, who had lived well by her husband's generosity and influence, now found an opportunity to their liking and, far from helping her, were even determined to deprive her of her just possessions. Her eldest son, Narendranath, possessed of many good qualities, failed to find a job in spite of his best efforts in various ways; and losing all attraction for the world, he was getting ready to renounce it for ever. One naturally feels respect and reverence for Bhuvaneshwari Devi when one thinks of the manner in which she performed her duties even in these straitened circumstances.

Narendranath often related the experiences of this darkest period to his brother-monks. Swami Saradananda recalls him saying:_x000d_ Even before the period of mourning was over I had to go about in search of a job. Starving and barefooted, I wandered from office to office under the scorching noonday sun with an application in hand, one or two intimate friends who sympathized with me in my misfortunes accompanying me sometimes: But everywhere the door was slammed in my face. This first contact with the reality of life convinced me that unselfish sympathy was a rarity in the world-there was no place in it for the weak; the poor and the destitute. I noticed that those who only a few days ago would have been proud to have helped me in any way, now turned their face against me, though they had enough and to spare. Seeing all this, the world sometimes seemed to me to be the handiwork of the devil.

One day, weary and footsore, I sat down in the shade of the Ochterlony Monument [the present Shahid Minar) on the Maidan. A friend or two were with me that day or maybe met me there by chance. One of them, I remember distinctly, sang by way of consoling me: "Here blows the wind, the breath of Brahman, His grace palpable! . . . " It was like a terrible blow on my head. I remembered the helpless condition of my mother and brothers, and exclaimed in bitter anguish and despondency, "Will you please stop that song? Such fancies may be pleasing to those who are born with a silver spoon in their mouth and have no starving relatives at home. Yes, there was a time when I too thought like that. But today, before the hard facts of life, it sounds like grim mockery."_x000d_ My friend must have been wounded, How could he fathom the dire misery that had forced these words out of my mouth?

Sometimes when I found that there were not provisions enough for the family and my purse was empty, I would pretend to my mother that I had an invitation to dine out and remain practically without food. Out of self respect I could not disclose the facts to others. My rich friends sometimes requested me to go to their homes or gardens and sing. I had to comply when I could not avoid doing so. I did not feel inclined to express my woes before them nor did they try, themselves, to find out my difficulties. A few among them, sometimes, used to ask me, "Why do you look so pale and weak today?" Only one of them came to know about my poverty, and now and then, unknown to me, sent anonymous help to my mother, by which act of kindness he has put me under a deep debt of gratitude.

There were other troubles also. Various temptations came my way. A rich woman sent me an ugly proposal to end my days of penury, which I sternly rejected with scorn. Another woman also made similar overtures to me. I said to her, "You have wasted your life seeking the pleasures of the flesh. The dark shadows of death are before you. Have you done anything to face that? Give up all these filthy desires and remember God.

In spite of all these troubles, however, I never lost faith in the existence of God or in His divine mercy. Every morning, taking His name, I got up and went out in search of a job. One day my mother overheard me and said bitterly, "Hush, you fool! you have been crying yourself hoarse for God from your childhood, and what has He done for you?" I was stung to the quick. Doubt crossed my mind. "Does God really exist?" I thought, "And if so, does He really hear the fervent prayer of man? Then why is there no response to my passionate appeals? Why is there so much woe in His benign kingdom? Why does Satan rule in the realm of the Merciful God?" Pandit Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar's words--"If God is good and gracious, why then do millions of people die for want of a few morsels of food at times of famine?"-rang in my ears with bitter irony. I was exceedingly annoyed with God. That was also the most opportune moment for doubt to creep into my heart.

It was ever against my nature to do anything secretly. On the contrary it was a habit with me from my boyhood not to hide even my thoughts from others through fear or anything else. So it was quite natural for me now to proceed to prove to the world that God was a myth, or that, even if He existed, to call upon Him was fruitless. Soon the report gained currency that I was an atheist and did not scruple to drink or even frequent houses of ill fame. This unmerited calumny hardened my heart still more. I openly declared that in this miserable world there was nothing reprehensible in a man who, seeking for a brief respite, should resort to anything; not only that, but that if I was once convinced of the efficacy of such a course, I should not, through fear of anybody, shrink from following it.

A garbled report of the matter soon reached the ears of the Master and his devotees in Calcutta. Some of these came to me for first-hand knowledge of the situation and hinted that they believed some of the rumours at least. A sense of wounded pride filled my heart on finding that they could think me so low. In an exasperated mood I gave them to understand plainly that it was cowardice to believe in God through fear of hell and argued with them as to His existence or non-existence; quoting several Western philosophers in support. The result was that they took leave of me convinced that I was hopelessly lost-and I was glad. When I thought that perhaps Shri Ramakrishna also would believe that, I was deeply wounded at heart. "Never mind," I said to myself "if the good or bad opinion of a man rests upon such flimsy foundations, I don't care." And I was amazed to here later that the Master had, at first, received the report coldly, without expressing an opinion one way or the other. But when one of his favourite disciples, Bhavanath, said to him with tears in his eyes, "Sir, I could not even dream that Narendra could stoop so low", he was furious and said, "Hush, you fool! The Mother has told me that it can never be so. I shan't be able to look at you if you speak to me like that again."

But notwithstanding these forced atheistic views, the vivid memory of the divine visions I had experienced since my boyhood, and especially since my contact with Shri Ramakrishna, would lead me to think that God must exist and that there must be some way to realize Him. Otherwise life would be meaningless. In the midst of all these troubles and tribulations I must find that way. Days passed and the mind continued to waver between doubt and certainty. My pecuniary needs also remained just the same.

The summer was over, and the rains set in. The search for a job still went on. One evening, after a whole day's fast and exposure to rain I was returning home with tired limbs and a jaded mind; over powered with exhaustion and unable to move a step forward, I sank down on the outer plinth of a house by the roadside. I can't say whether I was insensible for a time or not. Various thoughts crowded in on my mind, and I was too weak to drive them off and fix my attention on anything in particular. Suddenly I felt as if by some divine power the coverings of my soul were being removed one after another. All my former doubts regarding the coexistence of divine justice and mercy, and the presence of misery in the creation of a Blissful Providence, were automatically solved. By a deep introspection I found the meaning of it all and was satisfied. As I proceeded homewards I found there was no trace of fatigue in the body, and the mind was refreshed with wonderful strength and peace. The night was well-nigh over.

Thenceforth I became deaf to the praise and blame of worldly people. I was convinced that I was not born like ordinary people to earn money and maintain a family, much less strive for sense pleasures. I began secretly to prepare myself to renounce the world like my grandfather. I fixed a day for the purpose and was glad to hear that the Master was to come to Calcutta that very day. "It is lucky", I thought; "I shall leave the world with the blessing of my Guru." As soon as I met the Master, he pressed me hard to spend that night with him at Dakshineswar. I made various excuses, but to no purpose. I had to accompany him. There was not much talk in the carriage.

Reaching Dakshineswar I was seated for some time in his room along with others, when he went into a trance. Presently he drew near me and, touching me with great tenderness, began to sing a song, with tears in his eyes:_x000d_ I am afraid to speak_x000d_ And am afraid not to speak. _x000d_ The doubt arises in my mind _x000d_ Lest I should lose you_x000d_ (Ah! my Rai, lest I should lose you)._x000d_ I had suppressed my feelings for so long, but now they overflowed in tears. The meaning of the Master's singing the song was apparent -he knew of my intentions. The audience marvelled at this exchange of feeling between us. When the Master regained his normal mood, some of them asked him the reason for it. He replied with a smile, "Oh, it was something between him and me."

One day the idea struck me that God listened to Shri Ramakrishna's prayers; so why should I not ask him to pray for me for the removal of my pecuniary needs-a favour the Master would never deny me? I hurried to Dakshineswar and insisted on his making the appeal on behalf of my starving family. He said, "My boy, I can't make such demands. But why don't you go and ask the Mother yourself? All your sufferings are due to your disregard of Her." I said, "I do not know the Mother; you please speak to Her on my behalf. You must " He replied tenderly, "My dear boy, I have done so again and again. But you do not accept Her, so She does not grant my prayer. All right, it is Tuesday-go to the Kali temple tonight, prostrate yourself before the Mother, and ask of Her any boon you like. It shall be granted. She is Knowledge Absolute, the Inscrutable Power of Brahman. By Her mere will She has given birth to this world. Every thing is in Her power to give." I believed every word and eagerly waited for the night.

About 9 o'clock the Master asked me to go to the temple. As I went, I was filled with a divine intoxication. My feet were unsteady. My heart was leaping in anticipation of the joy of beholding the living Goddess and hearing Her words. I was full of the idea. Reaching the temple, as I cast my eyes on the image, I actually found that the Divine Mother was living and conscious, the perennial fountain of Divine Love and Beauty. I was caught in a surging wave of devotion and love. In an ecstasy of joy I prostrated myself again and again before the Mother and prayed, "Mother, give me discrimination! Give me renunciation! Give me knowledge and devotion! Grant that I may have the uninterrupted vision of Thee!" A serene peace reigned in my soul. The world was forgotten. Only the Divine Mother shone within my heart.

As soon as I returned, the Master asked me if I had prayed to the Mother for the removal of my worldly needs. I was startled at this question and said, "No sir, I forgot all about it. But is there any remedy now?" "Go again," said he, "and tell Her about your needs." I again set out for the temple, but at the sight of the Mother again forgot my mission, bowed to Her repeatedly and prayed only for love and devotion. The Master asked me if I had done it the second time. I told him what had happened. He said, "How thoughtless! Couldn't you restrain yourself enough to say those few words? Well, try once more and make that prayer to Her.

Quick!" I went for the third time, but on entering the temple a terrible shame overpowered me. I thought, "What a trifle I have come to pray to the Mother about! It is like asking a gracious king for a few vegetables! What a fool I am!" In shame and remorse I bowed to Her respectfully and said, "Mother, I want nothing but knowledge and devotion."

Coming out of the temple I understood that all this was due to the Master's will. Otherwise how could I fail in my object no less than three times? I came to him and said, "Sir, it is you who have cast a charm over my mind and made me forgetful. Now please grant me the boon that my people at home may no longer suffer the pinch of poverty." He said, "Such a prayer never comes to my lips. I asked you to pray for yourself; but you couldn't do it. It seems that you are not destined to enjoy worldly happiness. Well, I can't help it " But I wouldn't let him go. I insisted on his granting that prayer. At last he said, "All right, your people at home will never be in want of plain food and clothing."

The above incident is, no doubt, a landmark in Naren's life. Hitherto he had not realized the significance of the Motherhood of God. He had had nothing but contempt for image worship. From now on, the meaning and purpose of the worship of God through images, and the concept of God as Mother were brought home to him, thus making his spiritual life richer and fuller. Shri Ramakrishna was delighted beyond measure at this transformation.

The following account of Vaikunthanath Sanyal, another devotee of the Master, who visited Dakshineswar the next day, bears this out:_x000d_ Arriving at Dakshineswar at noon I found the Master alone in his room and Narendra sleeping outside. Shri Ramakrishna was in a joyful mood, and as soon as I saluted him he said, pointing to Narendra, "Look here, that boy is exceptionally good. His name is Narendra. He would not accept the Divine Mother before, but did so yesterday. He is in straitened circumstances nowadays; so I advised him to pray to the Mother for riches; but he couldn't. He said he was put to shame. Returning from the temple he asked me to teach him a song to the Mother, which I did. The whole of last night he sang that song. So he is sleeping now." Then with unfeigned delight he said, "Isn't it wonderful that Narendra has accepted Mother?" I said, "Yes." After a brief pause he repeated the question, and thus it went on for some time._x000d_ About four in the afternoon Narendra came to Shri Ramakrishna before leaving for Calcutta. No sooner had the Master seen him than he went closer and closer to him and sitting almost on his lap said, pointing first to himself and then to Narendra, "Well, I see I am this [himself] and again that [Naren]. Really I feel no difference just as a stick floating on the Ganga seems to divide the water, which in reality is one. Do you see the point? Well, what exists after all, but Mother? What do you say?" After talking a few minutes like this, he wished to smoke. I prepared tobacco and gave him the hookah. After one or two puffs at it he said he would smoke from the bowl [of the hookah]. Then he offered it to Naren saying, "Have a pull through my hands." Naren of course hesitated. How could he defile the hands of his Guru by touching them with his lips? But Shri Ramakrishna said, "What foolish ideas you have! Am I different from you? This is myself and that [Naren] too is myself" He again put his hands in front of the lips of Narendra, who had no alternative but to comply with his request. Narendra took two or three puffs. Shri Ramakrishna was about to smoke when Narendra hurriedly interrupted saying, "Please wash your hands first, sir." But his protest was in vain. "What silly ideas of differentiation you have!" the Master said and smoked without washing his hands, talking all the while in an exalted mood. I was surprised to see Shri Ramakrishna, who could not take any food if a part of it had already been offered to somebody else, making this remarkable exception in the case of Narendranath. It gave me an idea of his love for Narendra and of his feeling of kinship with him. When, about eight at night, he was in his normal mood again, Narendra and I took leave of him and walked to Calcutta.

Afterwards Narendra often said: "Shri Ramakrishna was the only person who, ever since he met me, believed in me uniformly throughout-even my mother and brothers did not do so. It was his unflinching trust in me and love that bound me to him for ever. He alone knew how to love another. Worldly people only make a show of love for selfish ends."

On January 30, 1884, the B.A. examination results were announced, and Narendranath learned that he had passed in the second division. Following this, at the instance of his father, whose ambition it was to see his son with a good posi-tion in the legal profession, Narendranath entered the firm of Nimaichandra Basu, attorney-at-law, as an articled-clerk, in order to qualify himself as an attorney. Recent research shows that in 1883, he had gained admission to the three-year Law course in the Metropolitan Institution (now Vidyasagar College). This was a year before his graduation, and was a regular practice in those days. It is said that Narendranath had a mind to go to England to complete his Law studies, and that his father had agreed to the proposal; but this did not materialize, since the father passed away suddenly.

For the sake of his future career Vishwanath made Narendranath become a Freemason, for by this time he had reached the minimum age limit of 21 years. On February 19, 1884, he joined the Anchor and Hope Lodge, No. 234 (now the Grand Lodge of India No. 1). In those days, it was the fashion for educated Indians, mainly lawyers, judges, and government officials, to become Freemasons; and Vishwanath's friends, W. C. Banerjee, the most distinguished advocate at that time, and Nimaichandra Basu, the attorney-at-law, were active members of that Lodge. When Narendranath's uncle asked Vishwanath why he wanted Narendranath to be a Freemason, the father replied that it would help him in later life; and in fact it did help. For, when, as Swami Vivekananda, Narendranath was facing difficult days in America in 1894, Mr. G. C. Connor, the Freemason who had examined him in "the English work" at the Anchor and Hope Lodge, at Calcutta in 1884, gave letters of introduction to certain Freemasons in Chicago, so that the Swami would receive "cordial consideration", as he (Mr. Connor) had received in India. After joining the Masonic Lodge, Narendranath "passed" their test on April 5, 1884, and was raised to "the sublime degree of Master Mason" on May 20 of the same year. It is probable that he ceased to be a Freemason soon after, on account of financial difficulties and the change in his way of life.

Vishwanath wanted his son to marry. But strange to say, every time the subject of marriage came up some unforeseen difficulty would arise, or events would take a turn that made it necessary to abandon the matter for the time being. Shri Ramakrishna was greatly opposed to Naren's marriage. He prayed to the Mother that it might never take place. Holding, as he did, that Naren was not born for the love of any one person, or to rear a family, but for the saving of souls, he used to feel greatly relieved when such negotiations fell through. However, in spite of all this, Naren's father did manage to make an arrangement with an influential and wealthy Calcutta family who were ready to give a magnificent dowry and send Naren to England to take the Civil Service examination. But Naren rebelled; and the marriage also could not take place owing to the sudden demise of his father. Naren now became his own master. His determination to remain unmarried was inflexible. The ideal of celibacy became a principle with him as his passion for purity became stronger. And when the members of his family repeatedly urged him to marry, he said to them with vehemence, "What, are you going to drown me? Once married, it will be all over with me!"

In the early part of 1884, Narendranath suddenly came face to face with the grim reality of the world; his light heartedness and boyish spirits received a rude shock. On the afternoon of February 25 he went to Baranagar, about two miles from Calcutta, invited by his friends. He was occupied in singing devotional songs till about eleven at night. He then lay down in the same room after taking his meal with the friends, and was talking on different topics. About 2 a.m. his friend Hemali came with the news that Naren's father had died suddenly of heart failure. Overwhelmed by the news, Narendranath hastened to Calcutta at once. The body of his father lay ready to be taken to the burning ghat on a funeral cot. His mother, two young brothers and sisters were weeping and wailing. When Naren came, he was dazed. At first he could neither weep nor speak: later, he burst into tears. Being the eldest son, he performed the last rites for his father according to the Hindu custom.