upon a plan, which he revealed later in a letter to a friend. 'Suppose,' the Swami wrote,
'some disinterested sannyasins, bent on doing good to others, went from village to
village, disseminating education and seeking in various ways to better the condition of
all, down to the untouchable, through oral teaching and by means of maps, magic
lanterns, globes, and other accessories — would that not bring forth good in time? All
these plans I cannot write out in this brief letter. The long and short of it is that if the
mountain does not come to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain. The poor are
too poor to go to schools; they will gain nothing by reading poetry and all that sort of
thing. We, as a nation, have lost our individuality. We have to give back to the nation
its lost individuality and raise the masses.'
Verily, the Swami, at Kanyakumari, was the patriot and prophet in one. There he
became, as he declared later to a Western disciple, 'a condensed India.'
But where were the resources to come from, to help him realize his great vision?
He himself was a sannyasin, a penniless beggar. The rich of the country talked big and
did nothing. His admirers were poor. Suddenly a heroic thought entered his mind: he
must approach the outside world and appeal to its conscience. But he was too proud to
act like a beggar. He wanted to tell the West that the health of India and the sickness of
India were the concern of the whole world. If India sank, the whole world would sink
with her. For the outside world, in turn, needed India, her knowledge of the Soul and of
God, her spiritual heritage, her ideal of genuine freedom through detachment and
renunciation; it needed these in order to extricate itself from the sharp claws of the
monster of materialism.
Then to the Swami, brooding alone and in silence on that point of rock off the tip of
India, the vision came; there flashed before his mind the new continent of America, a
land of optimism, great wealth, and unstinted generosity. He saw America as a country
of unlimited opportunities, where people's minds were free from the encumbrance of
castes or classes. He would give the receptive Americans the ancient wisdom of India
and bring back to his motherland, in exchange, the knowledge of science and
technology. If he succeeded in his mission to America, he would not only enhance
India's prestige in the Occident, but create a new confidence among his own people. He
recalled the earnest requests of his friends to represent India in the forthcoming
Parliament of Religions in Chicago. And in particular, he remembered the words of the
friends in Kathiawar who had been the first to encourage him to go to the West: 'Go
and take it by storm, and then return!'
He swam back to the continent of India and started northwards again, by the eastern
coast.
It may be mentioned here that during the Swami's trip across the country, just
described, there had taken place may incidents that strengthened his faith in God,
intensified his sympathy for the so-called lower classes, and broadened his general
outlook on life and social conventions.