There was an old swami from Bihar called Swami Swarupanandaji. And there was a swami called Swami Atmanandaji, whose physical body hailed from Gujarat. And there was another great lawyer from Gujarat called Advaitananda Sarasvati. These were the triam veer—the three brave ones, we may say—that associated themselves with this stalwart of spiritual genius, Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj, and lived with him along with a few of a lesser category who served him in their own humble capacities.

There were two other great saints here at that time. One of them was Swami Tapovanji Maharaj, usually known as Tapovanji of Uttarkashi—a towering Sanskrit scholar hailing from Kerala and an out-and-out Advaitin in his outlook of philosophy. The other was Swami Advaitananda Sarasvati, a lawyer Sannyasin. These two differed in their concept of Brahman, the Absolute, and Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj used to describe details of this in his own humorous way. Sometimes Swamiji would be standing outside after completing his office work, and Swami Advaitanandaji Maharaj and Swami Tapovanji Maharaj would quarrel over ideological points. Brahman cannot have power, would be the point of view of Swami Tapovanji: “You cannot say Brahman has power, because power is something that is exercised in a capacity of external motivation, and inasmuch as Brahman, the Absolute, cannot have any motivation outside, you cannot say that Brahman has power.” This was the point of view of Swami Tapovanji. But Advaitanandaji Maharaj said, “No, it is not like that. The potentiality of power should also be considered as power. A strong person need not always express his strength. An elephant is very strong, everyone knows that. But why should you deny that it has strength merely because it is not lifting anything heavy? So the existence of power in Brahman cannot be denied by any kind of argument given by Swami Tapovanji.” These were the philosophical quarrels of these great masters.

There was another saint, Swami Purushotamanandaji Maharaj, in Vasishtha Guha. He was a silent anchorite, a recluse who used to hibernate in a cave. These were some of the contemporaries of Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj.

Due to social reasons and reasons of convenience in regard to the housing of Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj’s associates who had joined him, the necessity was felt to shift from the Swargashram. Considering all these factors, one day Gurudev Swami Sivanandaji suddenly rolled up his little bundle of clothing and crossed the Ganga in the rowboat that the Swargashram had in those days. But, what was there on this side?

There was nothing. It was all jungle, infested with mosquitoes, and there were some stray cattle dropping dung everywhere. Where to find a place to stay? There was a little hutment near the Ganga. It was a deserted cowshed containing some rotten leaves and stinking hay, and dung everywhere. That place was cleaned up, as there was no other facility available. There these pioneers of the Divine Life spirit—the original pillars, we may say—planted themselves. We can imagine how uncomfortable a stay it was—very uncomfortable indeed. There is a small building near the Publication League, called Ananda Kutir. A first floor was added later on, but originally there was only the ground floor. That particular building was the very spot on which Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj sat. It was the office, if it could be called an office, of the Divine Life Society during its pre-founding days. The spot on which he sat and worked is where dressings are now done by some medical assistants in the hospital. It was a very small, hovel-like place. For some time, in our early days in this ashram, myself and Swami Chidanandaji Maharaj also stayed there. That was Ananda Kutir—the famous Ananda Kutir! It was later known as the Sivananda Ashram, but at that time there was no ashram at all.

There they stayed, on a little spot on the ground to sit on; but what did they eat? They had shifted from the Swargashram, so the question of going there and taking biksha did not arise. Due to the blessing of Swami Vishudhanandaji Maharaj, the Baba Kali Kamli Wala Kshetra was still functioning. They gave alms to the sadhus, and chapatis and dal were the daily constituents of the menu. Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj was not required to go there, though every few days he himself went with a small vessel to contain the dal and a bag in which the chapatis were put. Some of his disciples did not want him to take the trouble of walking, but there was no tonga at that time, and even if a tonga was there, they had no money to go in it. They had to walk.

So it was a question of walking every day to Rishikesh town for the little biksha, which was just dry dal without any kind of lubrication—no oil, no ghee—and dry chapatis. By the time it was brought back, it was cold and had lost its taste. Even the little taste that it had when it was warm was lost when it became cold, and it was eaten just like that. And the associates? Stalwarts they were! They were all learned people and very good sadhakas, and they underwent this hardship. The chapatis and dal were brought, and an extra dish was collected from the kshetra for Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj. All had to eat the cold dal and the cold chapatis. The number of associates increased by a few, and I am told that one of those who were there at that time was Swami Govindanandaji Maharaj, who is even now staying with us in a little kutir near the Ganga, at the pump house which is being constructed near Gurudev’s Kutir.

There was another swami, called Swami Narayananandaji. He was a thin, villager type who used to paint the doors and windows, so he was sometimes called Painter Swami. They say he was the person who lit the first fire in that little hovel of a cowshed to which I made reference. He heated the dal for Gurudev Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj, as they did not want him to have cold food every day and felt very grieved at this predicament. Many members of the Divine Life Society and the residents here remember Swami Narayanananda—an unknown, forlorn person who lit the first fire. Naturally, his hand must have been a magic hand, as we know very well that the fire he lit in the kitchen continues even today and it is expanding in its capacity in the manner we all see daily with our own eyes. So, the blessed hand of Swami Narayanananda lit the first fire, which was intended only for the single purpose of heating the dal for Sri Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj. The others ate cold dal because there was not enough firewood to heat everyone’s dal. From where would they get the firewood? Only a few sticks were brought, which were for Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj. There was no hearth. A few bricks were put one over the other and a crude hearth was constructed for the sake of the great master—to heat a little dal for him

Those were wonderful days, indeed. ‘Wonderful’ is the only word we can use. What kind of life it was—can we imagine it? These things are not found in books. I can tell you many a thing from my own experience which cannot be found in any printed book. These things could not be written down and it was not possible to write them down, because much was known only to those who were actually with Swami Sivanandaji.

However, one day a spurt of religious enthusiasm and spiritual fire caught the great master, and in an intriguing fashion which could not be known in detail by others, he embarked upon a sankirtan tour. I should mention that there was no Divine Life Society at that time; there was no name, and not even an ashram. There was only a hut in which Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj stayed with a few people: Swami Swarupanandaji, Swami Atmanandaji and Swami Advaitanandaji. Swami Tapovanji was usually in Uttarkashi conducting teachings on the Brahma Sutras, Upanishads, etc.

These three—Swami Atmananda, Swami Advaitananda and Swami Swarupananda—went on the sankirtan tour through the whole of northern India. Swami Swarupanandaji translated into Hindi the discourses and lectures that Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj delivered in English. Swami Swarupananda did not translate literally. He did not give a dictionary-like translation of Swami Sivanandaji’s English words; he would interpret them and add his own comments. Swami Sivanandaji would sometimes say that he would translate something quite different from what Swamiji had spoken. That was the kind of translation that Swami Swarupanandaji Maharaj did. He was a very good man; I saw him for several years when he was in the ashram. He was a specialist in expounding the Gita Govinda of Jayadeva, and was a great devotee of Lord Krishna and Radha. Swami Advaitanandaji was a lawyer, a scientific thinker and a logical type of philosopher.

So, this sankirtan tour through the whole of Uttar Pradesh and Punjab was undertaken. One of the pioneers who supported Sri Gurudev in this work was Chand Narain Harkuli of Lakimpur Kheri; and Swamiji remembered C.N. Harkuli and his family for many years. Then the wave moved to Punjab, right up to Lahore and various other places. It was mainly a movement in Uttar Pradesh and Lahore, maybe through the Delhi jurisdiction.

After a few years of this spiritual sankirtan tour, some people who were enthused, inspired, fired up and ignited in their spirits collected together and importuned Sri Gurudev: “Swamiji, we should have a place to sit and work; and it is good that we organise this place of work in an official manner, in a well-recognised fashion, and make it into a Society.” This suggestion was made in Ambala, in Punjab. Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj advocated what he called DIN: Do it now. If a thought arises, it has to be implemented now. It cannot be postponed until tomorrow. “A thought has come, so now itself I should do it! Sit. I’ll dictate something.” He could not wait even for a second. He would not go to his kutir until the matter was decided then and there. So as soon as the suggestion was made, Swamiji said, “Yes; and now write.”

The deed of registration was written, and it was registered in Ambala under the aegis of the government of Punjab during those days. Thus the Society was officially registered in Punjab, not in Uttar Pradesh. Then it gathered momentum; the force gathered itself into itself. It became stronger and stronger, and a centre for publishing Swami Sivanandaji’s writings was also found. It was in Lahore, and partly in Amritsar. Later on it was in Calcutta, due to the association of some devotees from Bengal.

Yet, Sri Swami Sivanandaji Mararaj was the same Swami Sivananda that he always was. I have been told that until the year 1943, he was the same person that he was in the Swargashram—very, very reticent, and not speaking to people at all. He spoke a few words only to the people who were around him, and observed a kind of practical defacto mauna (silence)—never interfering with anybody, never talking, never saying anything, and never showing interest in anything.

It is said that until the year 1943, Swami Sivanandaji was a thorough-going virakta. An old sadhu from the Kailash Ashram who knew him during those days used to come to our ashram for biksha.He would say, “He was anagni of virakti”: a fire of renunciation. Tyag tyag, tyagi; aag tyagi; aag tyagi: Renounce, renounce the renunciate; fire on the renunciate; fire on the renunciate. This has a very mystical meaning. Swami Sivanandaji used to define tapasya as the process of generating heat and fire inside by the control of the senses. The Sanskrit word tapas means ‘heating’. The whole personality gets heated up by a concentrated centre of energy and capacity, due to the withdrawal of depleting energies by the control of the senses. Such a force was generated in Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj and he became an embodiment of tapas, wanting nothing for himself.

I am told that towards the end of 1943 he called his associates and workers and said, “Listen to me. I shall tell you what I did.” Swami Chidanandaji Maharaj was there at that time, having come in the month of May or so in 1943. I came a year later, in May 1944—a difference of one year. He told me that everyone was called, including Swami Nijabodhanandaji, Swami Vishudhanandaji, Swami Narayananandaji and Swami Purnanandaji, who were the great personalities there. Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj spoke for the first time and narrated, in a vociferous fashion and in detail, what he was and what he did, and gave them some idea of his life. He began to narrate his own life history, and each one of them was expected to take down notes of what was heard. The outcome of what Swami Chidanandaji Maharaj, in his pre-Sannyasa days, took down came out in the form of his book called Light Fountain. Another book, called Swami Sivananda, was written by a brahmachari who is no longer here; and Perfect Master was the book written by Swami Narayananandaji. Swami Nijabodhanandaji and Swami Purnanandaji did not write anything. I remember these two first-rate original biographies of Sri Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj. While the writing of Swami Chidanandaji Maharaj, in the form of Light Fountain, is a little more intellectual and more polished in the modern style, the work of Swami Narayananandaji, which is called Perfect Master, is more an emanation of his heart and feelings—a bhakta writing about the nature of his Guru. Saint Sivananda is a very small book by another devotee, written in a very elevated style of English. Well, these people were all seated there.

Thus, the biographies emerged for the first time. How? By listening to what Swami Sivanandaji Maharaj himself said on a sudden brainwave, we may say, that occurred to him sometime in the year 1943. Up to the year 1943 it was one chapter of this whole organisation, the Divine Life Society. The picture changed from the beginning of the year 1944, when it became more expanded in its career of humanitarian services, publications, and its reach to the public in general.