The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 3/Reports in American Newspapers/Hindus at the Fair
HINDUS AT THE FAIR
(Boston Evening Transcript, September 30, 1893)
Chicago, Sept. 23:
There is a room at the left of the entrance to the Art Palace marked "No. 1 — keep out." To this the speakers at the Congress of Religions all repair sooner or later, either to talk with one another or with President Bonney, whose private office is in one corner of the apartment. The folding doors are jealously guarded from the general public, usually standing far enough apart to allow peeping in. Only delegates are supposed to penetrate the sacred precincts, but it is not impossible to obtain an "open sesame", and thus to enjoy a brief opportunity of closer relations with the distinguished guests than the platform in the Hall of Columbus affords.
The most striking figure one meets in this anteroom is Swami Vivekananda,
the Brahmin monk. He is a large, well-built man, with the superb carriage of
the Hindustanis, his face clean shaven, squarely moulded regular features,
white teeth, and with well-chiselled lips that are usually parted in a
benevolent smile while he is conversing. His finely poised head is crowned
with either a lemon colored or a red turban, and his cassock (not the
technical name for this garment), belted in at the waist and falling below
the knees, alternates in a bright orange and rich crimson. He speaks
excellent English and replied readily to any questions asked in sincerity.
Along with his simplicity of manner there is a touch of personal reserve
when speaking to ladies, which suggests his chosen vocation. When questioned
about the laws of his order, he has said, "I can do as I please, I am
independent. Sometimes I live in the Himalaya Mountains, and sometimes in
the streets of cities. I never know where I will get my next meal, I never
keep money with me I come here by subscription." Then looking round at one
or two of his fellow-countrymen who chanced to be standing near he added,
"They will take care of me," giving the inference that his board bill in
Chicago is attended to by others. When asked if he was wearing his usual
monk's costume, he said, "This is a good dress; when I am home I am in rags,
and I go barefooted. Do I believe in caste? Caste is a social custom;
religion has nothing to do with it; all castes will associate with me."
It is quite apparent, however, from the deportment, the general appearance
of Mr. Vivekananda that he was born among high castes — years of voluntary
poverty and homeless wanderings have not robbed him of his birthright of
gentleman; even his family name is unknown; he took that of Vivekananda in
embracing a religious career, and "Swami" is merely the title of reverend
accorded to him. He cannot be far along in the thirties, and looks as if
made for this life and its fruition, as well as for meditation on the life
beyond. One cannot help wondering what could have been the turning point
with him.
"Why should I marry," was his abrupt response to a comment on all he had
renounced in becoming a monk, "when I see in every woman only the divine
Mother? Why do I make all these sacrifices? To emancipate myself from
earthly ties and attachments so that there will be no re-birth for me. When
I die I want to become at once absorbed in the divine, one with God. I would
be a Buddha."
Vivekananda does not mean by this that he is a Buddhist. No name or sect can
rebel him. He is an outcome of the higher Brahminism, a product of the Hindu
spirit, which is vast, dreamy, self-extinguishing, a Sanyasi or holy man.
He has some pamphlets that he distributes, relating to his master,
Paramhansa Ramakrishna, a Hindu devotee, who so impressed his hearers and
pupils that many of them became ascetics after his death. Mozoomdar also
looked upon this saint as his master, but Mozoomdar works for holiness in
the world, in it but not of it, as Jesus taught.
Vivekananda's address before the parliament was broad as the heavens above
us, embracing the best in all religions, as the ultimate universal religion
— charity to all mankind, good works for the love of God, not for fear of
punishment or hope of reward. He is a great favorite at the parliament, from
the grandeur of his sentiments and his appearance as well. If he merely
crosses the platform he is applauded, and this marked approval of thousands
he accepts in a childlike spirit of gratification, without a trace of
conceit. It must be a strange experience too for this humble young Brahmin
monk, this sudden transition from poverty and self-effacement to affluence
and aggrandizement. When asked if he knew anything of those brothers in the
Himalayas so firmly believed in by the Theosophists, he answered with the
simple statement, "I have never met one of them," as much as to imply,
"There may be such persons, but though I am at home in the Himalayas, I have
yet to come across them."