Incidents from the Life of Swami Abhedananda

Ramakrishna also used to teach us to chant “Haribol, Haribol,” [literally, “chant the name of the Lord”] loudly while clapping our hands. When somebody asked him the reason for clapping one’s hands, he said: “As the birds of the tree fly away when one claps one’s hands loudly, so the sinful thoughts of the mind go away when one chants God’s name while clapping one’s hands.”

Ramakrishna taught us to practise japam and meditation every morning and evening. About meditation, he sometimes referred to his naked guru Tota Puri’s illustration, telling us, “Tota used to say that if a brass water pot is not cleansed every day, stains accumulate on it; likewise, if the mind is not cleansed by meditation every day, impurities accumulate in it.”

Sometimes while teaching us, the Master would tell us about his own sadhana. He said: “When I meditated I became like a motionless stone image. Sometimes birds sat on my head, but I could not feel them.” In fact, during deep meditation, when the mind becomes still and motionless, one does not notice if flies or mosquitoes sit on the body. The Master used to say that this is a sign of a concentrated mind.

One afternoon, while the Master was lying on his bed, a man was pacing back and forth outside on the green lawn of the garden house. The Master said to me: “Please ask that man not to walk on the grass. I am in great pain, as if he were walking on my chest.” I was amazed when I heard his words and actually saw the man on the grass. I hurriedly went outside and asked the man not to walk on the grass. Then the Master was relieved.

Pandit Shashadhar had great love and respect for Sri Ramakrishna. One day he came to see the Master at Cossipore when the cancer was in an advanced stage. Shashadhar said to the Master, “Sir, if you put your mind on your throat a little, your cancer will surely be cured.” The Master answered, “How can the mind that I have already offered to the Lord be diverted again to this body of flesh and blood?” But still Shashadhar pleaded, “Sir, when you talk to the Divine Mother, please ask Her to cure your cancer.” Then the Master replied: “When I see the Mother of the Universe, I forget my body and the universe. So, how can I tell the Mother about this insignificant body of flesh and blood?” The pandit was dumbfounded. We too remained still. No one spoke a word.

Once Ramakrishna had told Kali, “There is a partial manifestation of Krishna in you.”

When someone in the Baranagore Monastery complained that Kali was not taking any responsibility for the household work, Narendra said, “Let one of the brothers be a scholar and I’ll do the dishes myself.” One day Mahendranath Datta, one of Narendra’s brothers, was shocked when he saw Kali lying like a dead person in the sun on the dusty floor of the veranda. Jogin told him with a smile: “He is not dead. The rascal meditates that way.” Sometimes the disciples would tease and make fun with each other. Ramakrishna had given them the taste of true spirituality; he did not care for “dry monks.”

Abhedananda wrote in his autobiography: “The doctor operated on my feet seven times and I was bedridden for four months. I shall never forget Saradananda’s untiring, selfless service to me, as he constantly attended me without caring for food or sleep. Later Niranjanananda came and began to nurse me. I lost my power to walk. After three months I began to recuperate. Leaning on Saradananda’s shoulder, I would walk a few steps a day like a child. Gradually I regained my strength to walk. I shall never forget the love of my brother disciples.”

The New York Sun described Abhedananda’s lecture given on the first Sunday of 1901:

Swami Abhedananda lectured in the Carnegie Lyceum yesterday afternoon on the “Religious Need of the Twentieth Century.” He spoke of tuning the molecules of the brain cells to harmonize with the vibrations of the Cosmic Mind, and so gaining power, and he said that the mind and matter were not dual entities, but the subjective and objective manifestations of the unknown.

“The twentieth century needs a religion,” he said, “with no scheme for salvation, no need for heaven or hell, no fear of eternal punishment. The twentieth century needs a religion free from sacerdotal institutions and free from all books, scriptures, and personalities. The twentieth century needs a religion with a concept of God, not personal, not impersonal but beyond both, a God whose supreme aspect will harmonize with the ultimate Reality of the universe. The twentieth century religion must accept the ultimate conclusions of all the philosophies of the world.”

Towards the end of his life, this great austere Vedantin Abhedananda told his disciples: “Tapasya or austerity enhances willpower. Have self-confidence. Have faith in yourself. Think: I am a child of Immortal Bliss. The infinite power is playing within me. If you have this conviction, you will conquer the world.”

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