Several times, when he had had nothing to eat, food had come to him unsought, from
unexpected quarters. The benefactors had told him that they were directed by God.
Then, one day, it had occurred to the Swami that he had no right to lead the life of a
wandering monk, begging his food from door to door, and thus depriving the poor of a
few morsels which they could otherwise share with their families. Forthwith he entered
a deep forest and walked the whole day without eating a grain of food. At nightfall he
sat down under a tree, footsore and hungry, and waited to see what would happen next.
Presently he saw a tiger approaching. 'Oh,' he said, 'this is right; both of us are hungry.
As this body of mine could not be of any service to my fellow men, let it at least give
some satisfaction to this hungry animal.' He sat there calmly, but the tiger for some
reason or other changed its mind and went off in another direction. The Swami spent
the whole night in the forest, meditating on God's inscrutable ways. In the morning he
felt a new surge of power.
During his wanderings in the Himalayas, he was once the guest of a Tibetan family and
was scandalized to see that polyandry was practised by its members; six brothers
sharing a common wife. To the Swami's protest, the eldest brother replied that a
Tibetan would consider it selfishness to enjoy a good thing all by himself and not share
it with his brothers. After deep thought the Swami realized the relativity of ethics. He
saw that many so-called good and evil practices had their roots in the traditions of
society. One might argue for or against almost anything. The conventions of a
particular society should be judged by its own standards. After that experience, the
Swami was reluctant to condemn hastily the traditions of any social group.
One day Swamiji was sharing a railway compartment with two Englishmen, who took
him for an illiterate beggar and began to crack jokes in English at his expense. At the
next station they were astonished to hear him talking with the station-master in perfect
English. Embarrassed, they asked him why he had not protested against their rude
words. With a smile, the Swami replied, 'Friends, this is not the first time that I have
seen fools.' The Englishmen became angry and wanted a fight. But looking at the
Swami's strong body, they thought that discretion was the better part of valour, and
apologized. In a certain place in Rajputana, the Swami was busy for three days and
nights by people seeking religious instruction. Nobody cared about his food or rest.
After they left, a poor man belonging to a low caste offered him, with great hesitation,
some uncooked food, since he, being an untouchable, was afraid to give him a prepared
meal. The Swami, however, persuaded the kind-hearted man to prepare the meal for
him and ate it with relish. Shedding tears of gratitude, the Swami said to himself,
'Thousands of such good people live in huts, and we despise them as untouchables!'
In Central India he had to pass many hard days without food or shelter, and it was
during this time that he lived with a family of outcaste sweepers and discovered the
many priceless spiritual virtues of those people, who cowered at the feet of society.
Their misery choked him and he sobbed: 'Oh, my country! Oh, my country!'
To resume the story of Swamiji's wandering life: From Cape Comorin he walked most
of the way to Madras, stopping at Ramnad and Pondicherry. His fame had already