part 2 eleven

On the domestic scene

    Swamiji expressed to Miss Muller his desire to learn French; she knew English, French and German. He told her that if he traveled in the various part of Europe and wanted to talk with society people, a knowledge of the French language was mandatory. He would often talk with educated travelers from foreign countries. And the surprising thing is that he was able to study and get some accomplishment in it. He told Mohendra to study it too, but the latter was not willing.
    Miss Muller was much annoyed with the old housekeeper. She always complained about her cooking. After some days she brought a new servant and told everyone, “This cook is a very good one, one cannot find a better cook than this.” There was no end to the praise. Everyone kept quiet; no one ventured to say anything. She then volunteered: “She can cook wonderful rice.”
    At this, Sturdy asked, “How does she cook it?” Miss Muller replied With glee, “Why she puts the pot of water on the fire until it comes to a full boil; then ties up the rice in a cloth and puts it in, and when it is boiled takes out the bundle and drains it, and such beautiful rice is there.” When the two Indians listening heard this astonishing method of preparing rice, they suppressed their laughter with the greatest difficulty. Mentally they were saying, “Thank you, dear cook, for your bundle-cooked rice!” No one dared say anything for fear of a row.

British women, American women

    One day Swamiji was in an expansive mood, walking to and fro in the house, sometimes smoking, sometimes sitting briefly in his own chair. He began to speak. “How robust are the British women! On the street, in the lane, everywhere, how like men they work and walk. Their muscles, too, are very hard. They are the symbol (or model), as it were, of the good health of the race. That is why so many children are born in this country who are also strong and virile. They don’t marry before the age of twenty-five or thirty. They take special care to keep the body healthy. So even the girls are strong and virile. And all those parents who are thin and sickly, their children too are the same, lank and effete. None are married until their bodies are built up. The Indian race must be made very strong. Because it has not been so, its children are weak and always full of despair. It is essential to make that race self-confident like the British. The Hindu race is dying from this hopeless attitude. Filled with faith they will be able to accomplish much in the world.” Swamiji animatedly said such things. His pronouncements had become serious, anxious and reflective, for that is how he spoke when he was under some mental distress.
    One day Swamiji said, “How energetic the American women are! They are not women at all, they are men! They go to the market, buy things, keep the account, go to the bank and make change, climb up on a bus, drive, go here, run there……What astonishing energy! They defeat the men! There is not the least femininity in them: they are like men. And these discreet English women are homely and fat. If they have some work to do and have to go out alone, they die of fear. They are not so smart and clever as the American women—nor so courageous. Compared to (the Americans) the British women seem about fifty years behind. They are antiquated, as it were, following old customs. And in the new American republic both men and women earn money. That is why they are so vivacious. An enthusiasm comes in the women’s minds and a strength to their hearts. They haven’t a trace of womanish thick-headedness.” Everyone heard him in silence.

    Swamiji could, when he felt like it, or when necessary, remain in such serious and absorbed mood that no one dared to go near him. But again, when in his natural frame of mind, he would make all sorts of fun with everybody. One morning he was sitting in his usual chair while Sturdy sat in a chair not far away looking out the window into the street. Then with Sturdy he began such a farcical sotto voce confab that the latter bent his head over (lit., “in shame”) and began suppressed laughter. But Swamiji, holding nothing back, carried on without let for some time. From this it can clearly be understood what intimate association Swamiji used to have with people; as a result, no one took offense at his words or actions. He was such a simple man that he would not hesitate in the least to express himself. But he could not keep back anything, in his mind, for long.

Summer, and scolding

It was summertime. Even the breeze felt a bit hot. Mohendra came down at about 3:30 one afternoon and found Swamiji sitting in a chair. Seeing him Swamiji said, “Some black grapes have been kept in the glass dish. Eat, eat plenty. Grapes purify the blood.” He got up and gave Mohendra grapes from the bowl. “Take, take and eat; it will purify your blood.” That day he was very expansive.
One afternoon at four o’clock Goodwin came and informed Mohendra that Swamiji wanted to see him. Mohendra was just coming back from a trip out and was ready to go and wash his face; but getting a summons from Swamiji he quickly went to him without delay. At that moment Swamiji was in conversation with four or five visitors. Of course the talk had been in English. When the formalities were over, Swamiji, noticing that Mohendra had no tie and collar, and his hair was not properly brushed, said [in Bengali?] “You shouldn’t come into the room in such a condition. Don’t use a collar for a whole week; change it twice a week. Using a dirty collar looks very bad. And always keep your hair neat and clean; your coat, vest and everything too. Gentlemanly behavior and appearance is of the first importance. Otherwise you will be despised.” Swamiji looked closely into everything and particularly noticed correctness of behavior and dress.

Customs of language and dress

    When in conversation the subject of the Hindi language came up, Swamiji said, “The Hindi which the ordinary servant, porter, doorman and cabby learn is not at all the Hindi of the western gentleman; it is called “Cabby Hindi.” So saying, he amused us by giving some illustrations of that. “To explain it all,” he said, “vulgar Hindi is a thing in itself; there are many Sanskrit words in it. Also many Arabic and Persian words. Although this language has currency in many parts of India, there is one or another variation on this language.”
    Another morning the subject of the Rajputs came up, and then the topic of their clothing. Swamiji said, “Bengalis put on the dhoti of course, but they fasten it in such a way that if the slightest breeze is blowing, the cloth gets disarranged and flies up, in even a little wind. That way no running is possible. If a bull chases you, look out! Putting the cloth on like that makes it a kind of paraphernalia, and one can hardly do any work in that! But the Rajputs dhuti method is quite beautiful. They wrap around the legs to look like trousers; they can work, run and find convenience.” And he showed everyone with his own trousers and his hand, the Rajput custom. “In our country people do not sit before an image or before a king with their feet exposed. It is also forbidden in the scriptures. It isn’t proper to point the feet at a deity or a king. Hence the custom of wearing rolled pajamas. Otherwise the cloth is to be worn in such a way as not to show the lower portions of the body. So at that time one is to sit with one’s legs and hips well covered. This instruction is specifically given in ancient scriptures. The Bengali custom of wearing the dhoti badly needs changing. Clothing etc. must be put on in such a way that strength comes to the heart and people can feel lively. Otherwise putting things on sloppily, a person becomes lazy, loses enthusiasm in everything and slowly grows effete.”
One can see how he was continually pondering the welfare of his native land.
    When Swami Saradananda had his attack of malarial fever, Sturdy had big doctors brought to the house and spent twelve pounds or so on medicine, which mortified Swami Saradananda. Mohendra came back to the house in the afternoon and found things in quite a state. Swamiji entered the room and said to him, “Where did you go at noon? Sarat had fever and how restless he has become! In the fuss made over a little fever, the whole house has become fed-up and inconvenienced. So long as this fellow is ill, stay by him; when he has fever he will create more problems. The man is a malarial patient; see how he moans with fever. Swami Saradananda became quite embarrassed at this affectionate scolding. He pulled the covers off his head down to his neck and blinked his eyes, but said not a word. A bit later, when Swamiji had gone away, the two of them chuckled. As the fever abated, Swami Saradananda said with a laugh, “We are malaria-country people; we get this illness twelve months a year and are used to that. But here people have never seen this kind of disease, so they raise a fuss over it.”