A month at a rented apartment in San Francisco
Swamiji did not seem to be very comfortable and free at the ‘Home of Truth’ at the Pine Street on account of its high occupancy which obviously was not exactly conducive to getting him the required relaxation amidst a gruelling schedule. A few days later he told Alice, “I must get out of here.” She then arranged for his stay at the home of a friend at 1502 Jones Street. But Swamiji had not felt at ease there either. It was at this point that Mrs Aspinall of the ‘Home of Truth’, who had grasped the extraordinariness of the man they had hosted, took matters in her hand. “See here, we must find a place where this man can be comfortable,” she told Alice. The two then thought of getting a place where Swamiji could hold classes for smaller groups, offer personal instruction to his visitors, and also live in a relaxed and independent way.
The two ladies identified an apartment on the Turk Street. The rent was forty dollars which again the ladies shared between them. It was a very ordinary place, but the best that could be got for the sum of money they could afford. When Alice told Swamiji about this rather modest place where they intended to shift, he said, “That is because I am a Sannyasin and can’t get anything good.”
Mr Aspinall did not like the idea of his wife getting involved in renting the Turk Street flat for Swamiji. But Mrs. Aspinall very well knew that in the person of the Swami, she had come across a mighty spiritual force that only meant great good fortune. She told her husband, as reported by Mrs. Hansborough, “Benjamin, you know that we do not have any truth; we just talk.” She obviously meant that in Swamiji there was a very rare man who was in full possession of highest truths in spiritual life, and the people who came in touch with him could only be benefitted beyond measure, indeed have the extremely rare privilege of being given a glimpse, of some profound truths, by him. She herself, being an earnest seeker and having no illusions about herself despite running the ‘Home of Truth’, was not one to miss such an opportunity.
And in this way like Alice Hansborough, Mrs Aspinall too became a close volunteer-worker for Swamiji during his North California days. Much later when they were in the Camp Taylor, Swamiji acknowledged the dedicated spirit with which she rendered her service to his cause by saying : “Even if you had lived on the highest mountain you would have had to come down to take care of me.” She replied : “I know it, Swami.”
Swamiji, along with Mrs Hansborough and Mrs Aspinall moved into this apartment on March 8th, 1900 and stayed till April 11th. The apartment had two parlour rooms with a sliding door between them. Behind them was the dining room, then a room occupied by Mrs. Aspinall and the kitchen. Swamiji occupied the second of the two parlour rooms. Alice with her characteristic simplicity, occupied a hall bedroom at the top of the stairs, probably meant for a domestic worker.
Very soon classes started at the apartment in the front parlour which were all free. If for any class there were more people than a single room could occupy, a screen would be put before the couch Swamiji used as a bed, doors into his room opened, and in this way both the rooms could be used.
There used to be about thirty to forty attendees for the classes. These were held three times a week, the same as his other classes. The classes would start at ten-thirty, usually with meditation, which lasted for fifteen minutes to half an hour. The Swami would then speak on some sacred book. Often, he would ask the class what they liked for a subject. There would also be questions and answers, and practical suggestions regarding exercise, rest and diet. Sometimes, there would be meditation at the close of the session too. Swamiji used to sit cross-legged on the couch in the front parlour. When all the chairs were occupied others would sit cross-legged on the floor.
In these classes the Swami gave a significant time to Raja-Yoga, and taught the students practical lessons in meditation. A young man who attended the classes later recorded that the Swami underscored the importance of concentration in spiritual life.
“The central idea of this training is to attain to power of concentration, the power of meditation. And this power of meditation was to be combined with the practice of discrimination between the Real and the unreal, with the continual affirmation of the Self,” he told his students. The Swami also emphasised that the mind should develop capacity for concentration and meditation when one is young. “Now is the time for you who are young. Don’t wait till you are old before you think of the Lord, for then you will not be able to think of him. The power to think of the Lord is developed when you are young,” he said.
Mrs. Hansborough recounted a funny incident regarding one Mr. Wiseman who was a devoted follower of Miss Bell of the ‘Home of Truth’ at California Street : “He came late once to the class when all the seats were taken, and he had to sit on the floor. In those days the style of men’s trousers did not provide the generous leg-room they do nowadays, and Mr. Wiseman’s trousers were so tight he could not sit cross-legged. Swamiji noticed him sitting with his knees up under his chin and suddenly exclaimed: “Don’t look like a fool! Come and sit by me!” Mr Wiseman was a quiet, unassuming sort of man and he would have felt it presumptuous to sit on the same couch with Swamiji. But he accepted the invitation and took a seat on the end of the couch.”
On one occasion the Swami had been talking to his class in a very learned way when he stopped and said quite feelingly, “I am the disciple of a man who could not write his own name, and I am not worthy to undo his shoes. How often have I wished that I could take my intellect and throw it into the Ganges.” “But, Swami,” a lady remarked, “that is the part of you I like best.” To which Swamiji replied, “That is because you are a fool madam – like I am.”
He sometimes could be very sharp. Once when he was talking of renunciation, a woman asked him, “Well Swami, what would become of the world if everyone renounced?” His answer was, “Madam, why do you come to me with that lie on your lips? You have never considered anything in this world but your own pleasure!”
Once a student referred to his teaching religion in America. To this Swamiji replied, “Madam, I am not teaching religion. I am just selling my brain for money to help my people. If you get some benefit out of it, it is good, but I am not teaching religion.” The Swami was always relaxed during these classes. Quite often, due to interaction with some visitor, he would be a bit late in starting the class. But he also did not keep any set time for its ending. He would continue till he felt. In the interactions with the visitors before the class Swamiji was very informal and relaxed.
He always had the majestic calmness which was characteristic of him. He was amused to see people running for a street car. “Won’t there be another one?” he would ask.
Mrs. Hansborough recounted an incident during one of these days at the Turk Street apartment : “I used to prepare a lamb broth for Swamiji every day. I would cook it very slowly for three or four hours, and it was very nourishing because every bit of food value would be cooked out of the meat. One day for some reason I had not been able to get the broth made by the time the class was to start at ten-thirty. Swamiji looked into the kitchen before going to the class. ‘Aren’t you going to the class?’ he asked. I told him that because I had neglected to plan my work properly, now I had to stay in the kitchen and miss the class. ‘Well, that’s all right,’ he said. ‘I will meditate for you.’ All through the class I felt that he really was meditating for me. And do you know, I have always had the feeling that he still does meditate for me.” And this last sentence was spoken in her reminiscence to Swami Ashokananda by Mrs Hansborough four decades after Swamiji’s passing away.
The simple and modest Alice Hansborough was always aware of the Grace she had been recipient of because of close proximity to Swamiji. “He would not have held onto me as he did if he had not been so gracious,” she recalled.
In relation to this Grace, she narrated another unusual experience that she had in San Francisco, probably at the Turk Street apartment only. “One day, I finally decided that I was going back to Los Angeles. I chose the day, and had all my bags packed, ready to leave for the train. All at once I heard a voice say: ‘You can’t go. You might just as well not try.’ And for some reason I became completely exhausted — so exhausted that I had to lie down on the floor. I thought of getting some food, but I couldn’t move. And I couldn’t bear to look at the suitcases. So I had to make up my mind not to go. I don’t know whose was the voice I heard speaking to me.”
There was a funny incident Alice shared. “There was one item about the Turk Street flat which was distinctly different from our home in Los Angeles, and which had its amusing side as I look back. This was the bathtub, which was one of those old-fashioned things built of zinc. Porcelain tubs were still not in use everywhere, and I had to go over the tub carefully every day with a stone they called a bath brick. Swamiji would ask me regularly if I had washed the tub. He was most particular and exacting about it; and as I recall it now, I think the goings-over that I got about that tub were more for my benefit than the tub’s. Swamiji would go on at great length about it. One day I scrubbed it three times. After the third time, when he still complained that it was not clean, I said, ‘Well, I have scrubbed that tub three times, and if you can’t bathe in it now, I guess you will have to go without a bath!’ So then he let it go and took his bath.”
Much like in South California, here too Swamiji liked to prepare one meal of the day himself. He very much liked the way Alice cooked rice. He used to tell her that she was the only woman in America who knew how to cook it. He often cooked pulao. He also often cooked potatoes cooked in butter with a little curry powder.
Engaging leisurely in meal preparations was something Swamiji really enjoyed, and it also served as a very relaxing activity to him. He also seemed to be good cheer whenever he was in kitchen as evident from the following incident. One Mrs. Wilmot, a Theosophist who attended Swamiji’s lectures, phoned and asked him if he could come to see her. She said she felt she was losing her mind, that she was having trouble with the ‘elementals’. She was very anxious that he goes right over to her home. “No,” Swamiji said, “we are just preparing dinner. You come over here. Bring the ‘elementals’ and we will fry them for dinner!”
The kitchen-time for Swamiji was one when he really did not want to be distracted from the delight of exercising his culinary skills. Once Mrs. Aspinall informed the Swami that Miss Lydia Bell, Head of the California Street ‘Home of Truth’ wanted to stay for lunch. Miss Bell was a somewhat self-opinionated person and so Swami’s instruction was clear. “All right,” he said, “she can stay, but keep her out of kitchen.”
He usually did not take dinner before a lecture and said doing that slowed his thinking. Usually after a lecture some of the devotees would take him either to Mr. Louis Juhl’s restaurant in the section of San Francisco known as Little Italy or to some uptown cafe, depending on whether his mood and the weather called for hot food or ice-cream. He clearly relished his meals there in the warm company of friends. On one occasion while eating with great relish, he said to a devoted admirer, Mrs Allan, “Food for the gods, madam, food for the gods.”
One evening Swamiji was talking of the different interpretations of heaven and hell presented in the Indian texts. He described several varieties of hell. On this occasion it was a very cold night and Swamiji shivered in his overcoat, remarking. “If this isn’t hell, I don’t know what is.” But, in spite of the hellishly cold weather, he chose ice-cream, which he liked very much. Just as it was time to leave the cafe the hostess had to go to the telephone and asked others to wait. As she left for that purpose, Swamiji called after her, “Well don’t be long or when you come back you will find only a lump of chocolate ice-cream.”
On another occasion a waitress made a mistake in the order and brought Swamiji an ice-cream soda, which he did not like. He asked her if she would change it. As she was on her way to do so Swamiji happened to see the annoyed manager, and called out loudly, not caring who heard him, “If you scold that girl I’ll eat all the ice-cream sodas in the place.”
Though not his wont, on some occasions he did take dinner before a lecture too. One such occasion was when he dined at the invitation of Mrs. Steele who had prepared an excellent dinner, when Swamiji was in a jolly mood. All others waited expectantly for him to say the usual grace, but to their surprise he immediately commenced to eat. He remarked about saying grace after dinner rather than before, and after finishing eating he said, addressing Mrs. Steele, “I will say grace to you, Madame; you have done all the work.” Swamiji ate some very fine dates as dessert. After the lecture when Mrs Steele expressed her deep appreciation of it, he replied, “It was your dates Madam.”
It is interesting to note that just a few days after this incident, Swamiji, in his well-known lecture ‘Is Vedanta the Future Religion?’ delivered on April 8th, said, “When I work, I say grace to myself. Praise be unto me that I worked hard and acquired what I have! All the time you work hard and bless somebody else because you are superstitious, you are afraid. No more of these superstitions bred through thousands of years! It takes a little work to be spiritual.”
Outings and social interactions in San Francisco
On days when there were no morning classes Swamiji and Alice would often go out. He liked to go to the market, and sometimes would go out for lunch or a ride in Golden Gate Park. San Francisco then had an excellent public transport system and they would usually commute by a cable-car. These cable-cars would ply from one part of the city to another and could take people to any part of the city. Since the city had a grid-like network of streets the Swami found it easier to get a fair understanding of its geography as compared to other American cities. He would sit very straight on his seat in the cable-car. He visited places like the Strawberry Hill, the Cliff House, and the Chinatown. However, Mrs Hansborough noted that ‘he would stop here and there, with no great concern for liking or disliking the places where he stopped.’ The Swami was not one to be carried away by the charms of external sites as has been evident from many instances in his life. He knew it is the source of all beauty lay within him all the time and at all places he went.
It is notable and says something about the American society of the time that Swami did not like to venture out in the city alone. He had been subjected to a number of rough experiences during his time in that country. In order to ward off such unpleasant occurrence he usually preferred to have a woman escort. He could see that the Americans were generally respectful to a woman, and that even when they would not respect him they would still not do anything rowdy if a woman too was there. When Alice was taking him somewhere into a rather rough part of San Francisco, they were subjected to some slighting comments. The Swami did not react then, but later said to her, “If you had not been along, they would have thrown things at me.”
In the same context he had mentioned to her an incident in Chicago when a man came up and pulled his robe and asked him why he wore his nightgown in public. Such rough acts greatly offended him and painted a contrasting picture vis-à-vis his experiences as a wandering monk in India. “A man could walk the length of India in any costume and such a thing would not happen to him,” he told her.
One day when Mr Aspinall had taken Swamiji, Alice, and Mrs Aspinall for a carriage drive in the Golden Gate Park. Swamiji and Alice strolled by the Stow Lake. Because of its peculiar shape, Alice, mistook the lake for a swift stream, and crossed the bridge to reach the island, which has the Strawberry Hill. They lost their way after some time and tried to discover some means of crossing the stream back. Swamiji had realized they were on an island. Without using just that word he tried to indicate the fact that they were on an island as he looked about for a means of crossing. Finally when he saw that Alice had neither caught his meaning nor perceived that it was an island he remarked, “Well madam, I am glad I haven’t your brains.”
Swamiji was fond of visiting the Chinese part of the town. The Chinatown in San Francisco was the oldest in America and is still the most populous of all Chinese enclaves outside Asia. A large number of Chinese in the nineteenth century used to sail to the American West Coast through the Pacific from port towns like Canton. The China town was in look not very different from the typical oriental Bazaars with wares from the Orient on display.
Swamiji had quite a fascination for the Chinese, probably because he wanted to see how these people from a hoary Oriental culture were living in a far-off land. The Chinese too seemed to be rivetted by Swamiji and would just flock after him expressing their delight in seeing this fellow-Oriental.
A notable incident once happened at a restaurant in Chinatown. A gentleman by name of Charles Neilson, who was a well-known artist who lived in Alameda, had befriended Swamiji and had also attended his lectures, invited him and Mrs Hansborough to dinner at a fine restaurant in Chinatown. When the guests had been seated, the cook himself came from the kitchen to greet them. But as soon as Swamiji saw the cook he told he would not be able to eat anything. Mr Neilson was mightily disappointed as the restaurant owner was his friend. But Swamiji explained that it was because of the character of the cook that he was unable to eat the food.
Alice recalled another a similar instance when they had fried shrimps somewhere. When they got home Swamiji vomited. Alice remarked that fried shrimps were always hard to digest and probably the ones they had were not good, but Swamiji insisted that it was the bad character of the cook that was responsible. “I’m getting like my master,” he said. “I shall have to live in a glass cage.”
Charles Neilson, his artist-friend, once took him to an exhibition of his paintings at the Mark Hopkins Institute of Art (then a branch of University of California) that was housed in the mammoth, many roofed mansion atop Nob Hill where the Mark Hopkins Hotel now stands. It was perhaps on this occasion that Swamiji, surveying a painting of some corpulent monks, remarked jokingly, “Spiritual men are fat. See how fat I am.”
During his period of stay at the Turk Street Flat, he also visited a doctor friend, Dr Hiller, and stayed with him for a night. Dr Hiller had a very good collection of Oriental works in his Library, and that may have interested Swamiji to visit him. However, the doctor’s wife was unwell and the Swami did not feel comfortable to stay there for long. So he sent for Mrs. Hansborough to come for him. When she arrived, his hostess came in, introduced herself and withdrew again. Then Swamiji explained : “The trouble is, she is not a lady : she doesn’t know what to do with me!” And they returned to the flat on the Turk Street.
In San Francisco he also met Mrs. Huntington, the wife of Collis Huntington, one of the four founders of the Central Pacific Railroad. These four gentlemen were referred to as the ‘Big Four’ (other being Leland Stanford who had been the Governor of California and also founded the Stanford University, Mark Hopkins, and Charles Crocker) who were founders of the Central Pacific Railroad, a company incorporated in 1861. They were among the wealthiest Americans of the time. Mrs. Huntington lived in her palatial mansion in the Nob Hill, which was then as well as now, one of the most expensive residential areas in the United States. The Nob Hill itself was named so in reference to the ‘Big Four’ – as they were also called the Nobs (Nobabs) for amassing huge fortunes through their railroad venture. Swamiji spoke to Mrs. Huntington about his plans for India, particularly about educating women as well as masses, and arranged for her meeting with Sister Nivedita later in the East Coast. Swamiji referred to this in a letter to Nivedita saying that ‘with a stroke of her pen she can solve all the problems of your school.’ After meeting Nivedita, Mrs. Huntington sent a munificent gift of six thousand dollars for her school in Baghbazar, Kolkata. The Nob Hill still has prominent hotels named after three of the Nobs -the Mark Hopkins Hotel, Huntington Hotel, and Stanford Court.
In the Bay Area, Swamiji was also introduced to Mrs. Phoebe Hearst, an immensely rich lady known for her philanthropy to many causes. She was the widow of George Hearst, a mining tycoon and a former United States Senator. Her son William Hearst was a newspaper baron and owner of San Francisco daily. She was a major benefactor of the Berkeley University and had her home there. She had built a hall at the University known as the Hearst Hall, where she hosted regular social and cultural events aimed at enriching the cultural life of the University. On one such Sunday musical she also invited Swamiji. But partly due to bad cold and also because of the dislike of being socially lionised Swamiji did not go there. Edith Allan recalled in her recollections that when Swamiji was told it was time for him to get ready to go for the event, he replied, “I am not going.” And later when Edith asked him reason for not going, he replied, “All Mrs Hearst wants is to lionize me, why should I go?”
▶Next Chapter: His Many Moods