The story of Swamiji's totally unexpected appearance at the Belur Math on the evening of Sunday, December 9, is well known to the readers of his biographies. I have had the good fortune, however, to see an unpublished eye-witness account of that memorable event, which differs in some details from the published versions. At the beginning of this book I mentioned the Indian journal kept by Swami Chidrupananda in 1934 and 1935. During the course of his stay at Belur Math, the Swami (then Alfred Clifion) often had long talks with Swami Shuddhananda, and these talks he promptly wrote down in his journal while memory was still fresh. It was on a moonlit night in January of 1935 that Swami Shuddhananda, walking back and forth across the court of the Math with the young American, told of Swamiji's home coming on that evening so many years before. The bell had been rung at the Math for supper, he related, and the sannyasins and brahmacharins had gathered in the dining hall, when a servant came running in to announce that a European gentleman, a sahib, had vaulted the low wall (as it was in those early days), had walked hurriedly across the field, and was even then approaching the building! What European would act in this in-formal, urgent fashion, and what could his business be? Some of the swamis went outside to inquire. And then suddenly, when they saw who the sahib was, an incredulous, joyful cry went up. It was at this point that Swami Shuddhananda also went outside. "He was standing right over there," he said, pointing out a spot just in front of the building where Sri Ramakrishna's relics were enshrined. "When I saw all the others saluting him, I came closer and discovered who it was. Then I, too, saluted him. He had come by carriage from the Howrah station and on the way had heard the dinner bell. He said he was afraid that if he did not jump the wall there could be no dinner left. We took him into the dining hall [to the vast surprise and joy of the monks still seated there]. A place was prepared for him, and he was served his supper [a heaping plate of his favorite khichuri], and he told us about his trip. Indeed it is said in other accounts that, surrounded once again by his beloved brother monks and his disciples, Swamiji talked late into the night, telling of his trip, telling of many things-a talk certainly full of treasure, but one which nobody, so overjoyed were they all, managed to record.
Late in the evening of December 9, 1900, the Swami arrived at the Belur Monastery. His brother-monks and the brahmacharis were taking their meal when the gardener, out of breath, came running in to tell then, "A sahib has come! " Immediately there was much excitement and speculation as to who the sahib might be, who had come at that late hour and what his business with them could be. Then to their great surprise the sahib rushed into their midst, and, when they saw who he was they all cried out excitedly, "Oh, Swamiji has come! Swamiji has come!" They could not believe their eyes. At once an Asana (scat) was spread for him and he was served with a large helping of the Khichuri which was the food prepared for that night. He partook of it with great zest, as it was many months since he had tasted it. Later, the monks enjoyed several delightful hours while the Swami chatted to them about his varied experiences in the West. There was no sleeping that night. They were happy beyond measure; he had come back to them, altogether unexpectedly. No words can describe their feeling. And now, though they knew it not, he was to be with them till the end.