Swami Akhadananda In Gujarat

Swami Akhandananda was now most anxious to catch up with Swamiji. He could not do so if he went on foot, but who would pay his railway fare? Without informing him, someone purchased a half-rupee ticket to Biawar and gave it to him. But at Biawar, he learned that Swamiji had come and gone already. Swami Akhandananda now began to travel to any of the places for which the tickets were purchased by various people. Someone gave him a ticket for Mt. Abu . He visited the holy place to be seen there and left for Ahmedabad. There he learned that Swamiji had gone to Wadhwan in Gujarat . A householder took him to Dakor. From there he became to Baroda , Broach, and then on to the Gulf of Cambay, where the Narmada River enters the ocean. He had a dip in the holy river, and enjoyed the hospitality of a peasant family in a nearby village. After giving him a meal and a good room, his hosts all departed to harvest crops in the field. Swami Akhandananda was surprised and delighted to see their confidence in a stranger.

When they came back from the field, he said to the mistress of the house, ‘Mother, how much trust in me you have! It's quite unusual'. But this is the duty of a householder, my son', replied his hostess. ‘One must accept a sannyasin for his garb alone. The sannyasin should do what is prescribed by his rules.' From their talk, Swami Akhandananda learned how only a few days before they had been deceived by one in a sadhu's dress.

From the Gulf of Cambay, he went back to Baroda , stopped there a fortnight, and then returned to Ahmedabad. Here he became acquainted with a sadhu who took him on the train. On the way, he alighted at the Wadhwan Junction and heard that a learned sadhu was residing at Junagadh. At Junagadh he discovered that the sadhu had left for Dwaraka via Porbandar four or five days back.

From Junagadh, he went to the holy Prabhas and there took the steamer for Dwaraka. At Dwaraka, he heard that Swamiji had gone to Bet-Dwaraka, an island just off to coast. He spent a night at Dwaraka and then went to Bet-Dwaraka, where he was told that Swamiji had gone to Kutch Mandavi, at the invitation of the Raja of Bhuj.

Following in tracks of Swamiji, and just missing him by a day, increased Swamiji Akhandananda's anxiety and zeal so much that he scarcely found time to see anything of the holy places he passed through. At Mandavi, he heard that Swamiji had left in a carriage with the Raja's men to Narayan-sarovar, a distance of eighty miles. Swami Akhandananda started alone on foot. After he had walk eight miles, a householder cautioned him that there was a danger of dacoits on the way. ‘I am penniless', said the fearless monk. ‘Of what would the dacoits rob me?' However, he was provided with a boy to guide to the next village. Swami Akhandananda asked the by to translate into the Kutch dialect the following words: ‘Just take all I have, do not kill me', which the boy rendered as, ‘Mere gano, mere gano, mukev mar jo mu.' Swami Akhandananda memorized the words carefully, as he walked along. He thought ‘I am going after Swamiji at such peril; must I die at the hands of dacoits before I meet him? However, let me see what God wills'.

Since he would have had to wait a long time for a guide at the next village, he started out alone. Fifty miles were passed in safety, and Narayan-sarovar was only thirty miles away. Most of the villages were deserted because of famine. After covering some of the remaining distance, he rested for the night at a small settlement, where the road to Narayana sarovar divides. The footpath with a village on the way was considered safe, but the road for carriages was fourteen miles long, completely deserted and very dangerous. ‘Swamiji will, in all probability, return by the carriage road', thought Swami Akhandananda, ‘If I take the footpath, I might miss him again, and so I will take the risk in going by the carriage road.'

At the penniless monk was about to start, a shopkeeper said to him: ‘Revered Sir, you will find no human habitations on the way. At midday , you will come across a tank (reservoir). Take your bath there and eat this fried rice and molasses for your meal.' A local bhakat (pilgrim) joined him; and by noon , just as the shopkeeper had said, they arrived at a small tank in which they took their bath. After bathing, they ate the fried rice and molasses. Then, like a magician, the bhakat took out of his bag flour, salt, and a pan; then he lit a fire with dry cow dung cakes and proceeded to bake some bread. He obtained milk from some goats that were grazing nearby. The two travelers thus satisfied their hunger and continued on their way.

The sun was setting. They could see some people following them, some distance behind, across uneven land. At times, they disappeared from sight. Swami Akhandananda sensed danger. He wanted to tell the bhakat to run away, but then he thought, ‘Let us see how the Lord dispenses with matters'.

The men who had been following them took a shortcut and, coming onto the road ahead, stood in front of them. Swami Akhandananda summoned his courage and asked, ‘How many miles away is Narayan-sarovar?' ‘Six miles', replied one of the men, as he blocked their passage. Swami Akhandananda was about to speak again, when one of the bandits seized him by the neck. As he said in Kutch dialect, ‘Mere gano, mere gano, mukey mar jo mu' , he was struck two times on his back with a staff. He felt scarcely any pain, as he wore a coat with cotton padding, but he was knocked down on the road. He saw in the robbers' hands their drawn swords shining. An old man commanded him roughly, ‘Strip yourself'. He removed all his clothing except his loin cloth. The robbers then searched his cast-off clothes thoroughly.

In the meantime, the poor and feeble bhakat, who had fallen behind, arrived on the scene. He began to tremble at the terrifying sight, and crying out, ‘I am undone' fell down on the road. Swami Akhandananda begged the robbers to spare the bhakat's life and not to beat him. He told the bhakat to give up whatever he had, saying that he would make good the loss. But his advice fell on deaf ears; the bhakat was too frightened.

The dacoits realized that the monk was penniless. They tried to tie his hands behind his back, but this we would not allow. They threatened to kill him, but undaunted, he told them in firm voice, ‘Do whatever you like; I won't place my hands behind me'.

The man who was trying to tie his hands gave up after a while for some unknown reason. Swami Akhandananda told them, as they started to leave, ‘Take those warm clothes with you, friend. You are poor; you'll need them in winter'. One of the robbers took the dust of his feet and said, ‘Be kind, Maharaj, be kind; put your clothes on'. With fingers to their lips, they indicated that he was not to tell anyone what had happened. Then they vanished in the twinkling of an eye.

Slowly, Swami Akhandananda continued his way with the bhakat . It was dusk when they reached Narayan-sarovar, only to learn that Swamiji had gone on to Ashapuri. Disappointment, the physical strain, and the excitement of the day brought on a fever; so the Swami did not bathe in the Narayan-sarovar. The abbot of the local monastery told him; ‘You have got a new lease of life. Had you carried with you but five rupees, you would not now be alive. Recently, just there at that very spot, dacoits hacked a person to death for only thirty rupees.' The abbot then provided the swami with a pony and a sepoy (guard) to accompany him to his next destinatior.

Swami Akhandanada was aware that he was now close upon Swamiji's heels. He was growing anxious, but thinking of Swamiji drove away all thoughts of bodily comfort; and he forgot the journey in the hot sun, the bodily pain due to the blows of the robbers, and the subsequent fever. Riding the pony and accompanied by the sepoy, he started that night for Ashapuri. On the way, he visited Kotisvara Mahadeva at the westnmost part of India, and soon reached Ashapuri, only to hear that Swamiji was somewhere near, Mandavi, about a hundred miles further on. At every village now, he was given a pony and a sepoy guide; and as the days were extremely hot in this desert region, he traveled only on moonlit nights.

The Swami's route was infested with robbers. One night, when he and his guide were resting on a vast plain, the sepoy stood up, apparently startled, and looked around saying, ‘Some ruffian has just taken cover behind a tree; but don't fear, I too belong to his gang. The little bit of money I get is not enough pay for me, so sometimes I join their company'. At these words, Swami Akhandananda thought to himself: ‘If I fear, I shall never meet Swamiji, even after undergoing all these ordeals for his sake. I may finally lose my life after all in this desert plain at the hands of robbers.'

After a night of great anxiety, they reached a rest house. In the morning the village people, who were very respectful towards sadhus, gave him a substantial meal.

At last, Swami Akhandananda had crossed the vast desert, most of the time on horseback and sometimes on camelback. After many sleepless nights, he reached Mandavi and heard the satisfying news that Swamiji was staying there at the house of a bhatiya (trader). With great joy, he hastened to meet his brother, the object of his long and arduous journey, about which he later wrote:

Words fail to express the joy I felt. I found Swamiji's appearance had changed; his beauty illumined the whole room. He, too, was astonished and delighted at my unexpected appearance, and cried out ‘Hallo! Is it Ganga ? How did you come here?' I told him how, from far-off Jaipur, I had followed him. As he heard of my encounter with the bandits, he said ‘Was it wise to have taken such a rash course? Why didn't you ask for a horse and sepoy?'

After the two had greeted each other, Swamiji regaled his dear brother with many pleasantries and witticisms, which helped to remove the weariness and discomfort of the long journey.

It was at Meerut that swamiji had parted from his monastic brothers. They were all aware that there was some great purpose in Swamiji's desire to travel alone. A few days previous to Swami Akhandananda's arrival, Swamiji had met Swami Trigunatita by chance at Porbandar and had warned him that none of his brothers, particularly Gangadhar, should get even a hint as to his whereabouts.

During their conversations, Swami Akhandananda was able to understand Swamiji's apprehension that, because of the great difficulty in finding him, Akhandananda might not be willing to Part Company with him. One day, Swamiji told him very plainly, ‘Well, Ganga , I have a plan which I cannot carry out if any one of you be in my company'. Finally, he told him, ‘Look here, I have turned bad. Just leave me'. In reply, Swami Akhandananda told him frankly: ‘What do I care if you have turned bad! I love you, and that has nothing to do with your character, but I don't wish to be an obstacle in your way. I was very anxious to meet you, and now that desire has been fulfilled. You may go your way as you please, alone.'

Swamiji was glad to hear this from the simple, tender-hearted Akhandananda, and the very next day he left for Bhuj. Swami Akhandananda left for Bhuj a day later. Swamiji realized that Akhandananda would not be an obstacle to his freedom, so the two spent a couple of days together and met again at Mandavi.

A subtle force had impelled Swami Akhandananda to follow Swamiji and to try again, at first hand, some knowledge of his experiences. It was no insignificant power that had led him on, day after day, and month after month, following Swamiji in the face of many dangers, even death, and had given him the opportunity to finally meet Swamiji at the very end of the western part of India .

One day at Dakshineswar, Swamiji had heard from the lips of his Guru the divine message. ‘Not mere kindness to man, but service to God in man'. Swamiji, understanding the deep significance of these words, had said: ‘If God wills it, I shall preach what I have heard today to all, the world-to the learned and the ignorant, to the rich and the poor, to the Brahmin and the pariah.'

When he saw Swamiji at Mandavi, Swami Akhandananda realized that the blessed day had come. He saw manifest in Swamiji an extraordinary and irresistible divine power, and his heart was filled with joy. Swamiji remained at Mandavi with his dearly beloved Ganga for a fortnight, and then left for Porbandar, where five or six days later, Swami Akhandananda joined him again. During this time with Swamiji at Mandavi, Bjuj, and Porbandar, he had discussed with him the plight of the country and its future. Was it here, then, that Swami Akhandananda began to see the part he would have to play in giving shape to the new ideal of service envisioned by Sri Ramakrishna and developed by Swamiji?

After a few happy days together in Probandar, Swamiji went on to Junagadh, while Swami Akhandananda turned his steps towards Jamnagar .

At Jamnagar

Inception of ‘Work Is Workship'

After parting with Swamiji at Porbandar, Swami Akhandananda stayed a few days in Kathiawar and then started for Jamnagar , passing through Jetpur, Gondal, and Rajkot . In June 1892, he arrived in Jamnagar at the height of a furious sand and hail storm. He was the guest of Kaviraj Manisankar Vithalji at his home, ‘Dhanvantari Dham'. It was the time of Caturmasya Yajna, a time-honoured custom of observing sacrificial rites and ceremonies in one particular place, during the four months of the rainy season. Swami Akhandananda decided to remain there during that period. He had long cherished a desire to read the Caraka-Susruta Samhita . An opportunity to fulfil this desire now offered itself at Jamnagar , and he began his study. For lack of a commentary, he read it with the help of a Sanskrit dictionary, Sabdartha Candtrika Kosa .

Attached to the Kaviraj's house was a Catuspathi, or Sanskrit School . Poor students lived there on one meal a day of rice begged from door to and cooked with their own hands. They were taught only the hastapatha and svarapatha of the Vedas, for even the teachers were ignorant of the meaning of the texts. 1 (1. Chanting with traditional movements of the hands to accompany inflections of the voice when reciting the Vedas.) However, the delight Swami Akhandananda felt in hearing the Vedas chanted was profound. He describes in his reminiscences:

The teacher of the Sukla Yajur-Veda and his pupils, with appropriate movements of the hands, began in deep and sonorous voice to chant, in full and half tones, the Veda. The joy it gave me cannot be expressed. I sat at convenient times and heard recitation of the four Vedas by different teachers.

For help in the maintenance of these poor scholars, he wrote to Pramada Babu of Varanasi , whose generous response made it possible to open a free store for them. Swami Akhandananda himself became a student of the Sukla Yajur-Veda , starting with its elementary lessons. Thought he was greatly disappointed to find that none of the scholars knew the meaning of the Vedas , he did discover a Dravids brahmin, with knowledge of the Vedas, who was observing the Caturmasya there. The brahmin would spend of the forenoon in worship and other religious observances; then after his noonday meal, he would discuss the scriptures with Swami Akhandananda. He was pleased to hear the recital of the Candi 2 ( 2- Chandi, a name of Goddess Durga in Her fearful aspect, as depicted in the Devi Mahatmya, also known as Chandi or Durge Saptasati) by the Swami and said, ‘The Bengalis have a reputation for the recitation of the Candi, as we here have for the recital of the Vedas .'

Swami Akhandananda often visited the Ashrama of a local brahmacarin. The brahmacarin was looked upon with favour by the Raja of Jamnagar, who had no one to succeed him and take over his property, and he wanted Swami Akhandananda to become his heir. The Swami replied with a Hindi saying: ‘As flowing water is pure, so also is a wandering monk.'

He heard of one Tokra Swami, a paramahamsa from the South, who had been in the area for a number of years. The paramahamsa was a non-dualist in philosophy, but engaged himself in worship during the whole day. On being questioned about it, he replied with the Sanskrit couples:

“To the man of wisdom the difference between the individual soul and the Paramatman has vanished; nevertheless, he continues his worship.

The husband and wife are united in their hearts, yet the wife occasionally peeps at her lord through her veil.”

The verses left a deep impression on Swami Akhandananda, and later he recited them for Swamiji, who was charmed by their appropriateness.

Although Jainism is the prevailing creed in Jamnagar , temples of Hindu gods and goddesses are to be seen here and there, the most popular being the temples of Virbhajan Shiva, Bechrobai Devi, and Kalyanji Vishu . At the time when the Swami was visiting, votaries gathered daily at Kalyanji's temple in the mornings and at Shiva's temple in the evenings. At night, hymns were sung at the Devi's temple. The songs were very appealing, and one line especially stirred Swami Akhandananda's feelings: ‘O Bechrobai, whatever I may be, I am Thine!'

The people of Kathiawar make liberal use of ghee in their cooking, and consequently their food is very rich. As a result, Swami Akhandananda became ill, in spite of the care he took not to eat much of such dishes. He had to remain under Kaviraj Manisankarji's treatment for almost a month. While in Manisankarji's dispensary the Swami read a few treatises on Ayurvedic medicine. He also became acquainted at this time with Sankarji Seth, a local banker. When he had recovered, Sankarji Seth took him into his home where he convalesced. Here, for four months, Swami Akhandananda's diet consisted of milk and rice at noon and only milk at night. The cow which gave the milk was kept tied at home, lest it should eat any unclean fodder outside.

Sankarji was tall, of fair complexion, and of a pious nature. Unfortunately, he was a widower with no children. His nephews were to inherit his vast wealth. Swami Akhandananda noticed, while at Sethji's house, that no one took care of his aged mother. All the other members of the household had someone to serve them, but the old lady had to wash her own clothes. One day, after her bath she had a fall. Swami Akhandananda said to Sethji, ‘May I ask why your old mother is left in such a pitiable condition, when you have so much wealth and when there are so many in the household who could look after her?' ‘In our part of the country', Sethji replied, ‘ after the marriage of the son the mother is somewhat neglected. It is really an undesirable custom. Please tell me what I should do.' Swami Akhandananda said, ‘You should bow down to your mother every morning and enquire about her needs'. Thenceforward, every day Sethji would pay his respects to his mother, preseting her with a four-anna piece and taking good care of her. The old lady expressed her gratitude to sannyasin, but the other members of the family were not well disposed toward the change.

Sethji was a pious man who took an early bath, worshipped, read the scriptures, told his beads, visited the shires and was very hospitable to guests. These were a part of his regular round of duties and observances. His house was open to beggars and brahmins, and sadhus sat with him daily for dinner.

While at Sethji's house, Swami Akhandananda would read late into the night. Often, Sethji himself would remind him to go to bed. With the passing of time, Sethji felt more and more drawn to his sannyasin guest and often took him out in his carriage in the afternoons. This roused feelings of jealousy in the nephews.

One day in the absence of Sethji, a servant within the hearing of Swami Akhandananda said to a sadhu, ‘A sadhu regularly dines here; you cannot be entertained'. Swami Akhandananda said to the servant immediately, ‘I won't be having my meals here today'. Later when he returned he saw the sadhu dining with Sethji, and was very glad. When Sethji heard about the incident, he called his servant and said to him, ‘Thought God's grace, I am not in *need. If even forty sadhus come, don't turn them away'.

For Swami Akhandananda's pleasure, Sethji engaged the famous singer Sri Mulji, whose songs Swamiji had heard and enjoyed. This was too much for Sethji's relatives to bear, and they made no effort to disguise their displeasure at his generosity. As Sethji's attachment to Swami Akhandananda grew, so did the disapproval of his relatives, till one day the Swami thought it best that he did farewell to his kind host. But Sethji fell at his feet and, with tears in his eyes, said: ‘I shall write to Swami Brahmananda, the abbot of your monastery for permission to keep you here longer. I shall build a shrine for Sri Ramakrishna and arrange for his worship and service.' Swami Akhandananda felt uneasy over this proposal, for he thought that he would now be getting deeply entangled in household affairs. Therefore, he intended to get away from it all that very night, without informing anyone. However, as he was about to leave the house, he heard Sethji growing with a fever. His heart melted with pity, and he stayed on to take care of him.

Coffee drinking was popular at Jamnagar then, and Swami Akhandananda was fond of it. One day, after Sethji had recovered, Swami Akhandananda was taking coffee, and noticed something oily floating on it. The taste too was rather pungent. He thought it was probably due to contact with ghee and spices, but after finishing the coffee he had diarrhoea the whole day. He was bed-ridden for four days. Jhandu Bhatt, a physician, then treated him.

After he had recovered, Swami Akhandananda went to see Jhandu Bhatt, and the physician told him, ‘I have heard that there was a conspiracy in that house to poison you'. But the sannyasin would not believe it. The following day, when he had decided to leave Sethji's house, and was gathering together his clothes, he discovered that Sethji was weeping in his bed. Swami Akhandananda consoled him saying, ‘I shall be living in the town and will be meeting you often'. Sethji offered him coffee. There was the same oil floating on the surface, and the same pungent smell. He took a sip, and then lost no time running to Jhandu Bhatt's house, for the concoction had already begun to act. After hearing everything, the physician said, ‘They had mixed jaipal seeds (a drug) in your coffee'. Still the Swami could not believe it. Jhandu Bhatt then brought some jaipal seeds and touched Akhandanand's tongue with one. Even that slight touch made him ill.

Bhattji then said to him: ‘Sethji not only went to you for advice, but he also spent whatever he could on you gladly. Besides, there was his proposal to build a temple. Therefore, an attempt was made to remove you altogether from this world.' Swamiji, too, was acquainted with Jhandu Bhatt. About him, Swamiji had remarked, ‘I have seen many benevolent persons, but none can compare with Jhandu Bhatt Vitthalji'.

At one of their meetings at Sethji's house, news reached Bhattji and Swami Akhandananda of the death of Vidyasagar 3 (3.vidyasagar was a great educationist and philanthropist, whom Sri Ramakrishna met.). of Bengal. Bhattji requested the Swami to get a copy of Vidyasagar's life, and when the book reached them, Bhattji went regularly to Sethji's house to hear it read. When the part concerning Vidyasagar's benevolence was read, he was greatly moved and burst into tears.

Bhattji was very regular in his habits of eating and personal cleanliness, but one day while listening to the life of Vidyasagar, he deviated from his routine. As a result, he fell ill and suffered a long time. A clear picture of Bhattji and his activities was given by Swami Akhandananda.

Bhattji's house was more like a hospital. It was full of patients suffering from various ailments, for whom Bhattji provided both treatment and diet.

He rose at four in the morning, and when he came out after Workship, people began to arriver in groups to have their tea and get their prescriptions. His medicines were free to rich and poor alike, and these even included costly items like Makaradhvaja, an Ayurvedic specific. After filling prescriptions, he drove out in tom-tom (horse-carriage) to visit his patients free of change.

While staying at Bhattji's place, Swami Akhandananda was astonished one day to see an example of the largeness of his heart. Returning from his morning walk, the Swami found an uncouth-looking person suffering from a skin infection which covered his body. He was lying on Bhattji's own bed, and a woman was massaging the man with oil. Bhattji was sitting nearly, slowly turning the leaves of an Ayurvedic treatise. Seeing the extraordinary scene, Swami Akhandananda asked Bhattji what it all meant. The physician then told him: ‘The fellow had been a slave to inordinate sexual indulgence. The Ayurveda prescribes that such a person should lie on a soft bed before a physician, while being massaged with oil by a woman. I have followed the instructions, and am now searching for the medicine.' ‘But why on your bed?' asked the Swami. ‘Because it would take time to get a soft bed ready for him,' – replied Bhattji. In time the lecherous man was cured, and became an inmate worker of the physician's house.

Thus, by the benign dispensation of God, the wandering sannyasin was destined to spend a year at Jamnagar . The incident just described gives us an insight into the future method of the Swami's work. Swami Akhandananda was particularly influenced by Bhattji's boundless sympathy in his service of people. Bhattji was then about seventy years old. He would recite to himself with great feeling the Sanskrit couplet:

Is there any way by which I may enter into the bodies of other begins and suffer their pains myself

Swami Akhandananda, too, used to chant the lines as a mantra . This saying of Rantideva 4 ( 4. Reatnideva: a king who gave away every morsel of food received after 48 days fasting with family – Srimad Bhagavatam 9/21/1-18) opened in his heart the well-spring of sympathy for the suffering of others and drew him more and more to the ideal of service. Sympathy for the distressed moved him to find ways for its removal. Another verse in Sanskrit which touched Bhattji deeply was: ‘I covet not any earthly kingdom, nor heaven, nor even salvation. The only thing I desire is the removal of the miseries of the afflicted.' 5 ( Na Kamaye'ham gatim-Isvarat paramastardhiyuktmapunarbhavam va - Artim prapadye ‘khila-deha-bhajam-antahsthito yena bhavanty-adukham. – Srimad Bhagavata 9.21.12)

Swami Akhandananda remembered the words of his Master, ‘I learn as long as live', and took lesson in service from the life of the high-souled Bhattji. He himself said: ‘Servicing and loving man is the highest good. This I have learned specially by seeing it practiced in Bhattji's life.' When Jhandu Bhattiji becomes ill, Swami Akhandananda was happy to nurse him and try to relieve his suffering. After his recovery, Bhattji when went to Khambalia to treat the wife of a wealthy businessman. Swami Akhandananda was invited to accompany him. As it was inconvenient for him at the house of their host, the Swami was accommodated for the night in a large vacant house nearby. The first night, after barring the door of his room, Swami Akhandananda lay down and closed his eyes to sleep. Then he saw a person of very ugly appearance with two or three goats moving about him in the room. He opened his eyes and saw that the person was sitting at a distance, but that the goats had disappeared. He shouted two or three times, ‘Who are you? Who are you?', but got no reply. Finally, he went to take hold of the person, but the object dissolved into thin air. He looked about for it, but it was nowhere to be found. He came back to his room and repeated aloud Rama-raksha-mantra for protection and added: ‘ My friend, if you are a spirit, remember I am your guest. Please do not harm a guest so long as he is here.'

When the villagers heard about the incident next morning, they informed the Swami that the house was haunted and suggested that he should stay elsewhere. Swami Akhandananda, however, did not leave the house and slept there for next five nights without seeing the apparition again.

He remained at Khambalia observing the life-pattern of his hosts for some time before returning to Jamnagar . Then, with Bhattji again, he went to Kundala, a village in Baroda sate, for a short stay Afterwards, Bhattji returned home, and Swami Akhandananda went on to Bhavnagar, after visiting Palitana, a sacred place of the jains. At Bhavnagar he, learned that Swamiji was in America . He stayed in this city for a fortnight and then left by train for Bombay . On the way he got off at Nadiad and stayed at the house of Haridas bhai Beharidas, Dewan of the Nawab of Junagad, who was disciple of Swamiji. Here for some days, he held discussions on the Vedas with Krishnananda Bhikshu. A little latter, he reached Bombay and remained there for about a month. He then left for pune with Rakhal Haldar, a disciple of the Master.

After returning to Bombay from Pune, he received a letter from Swami Brahmananda desiring that they meet at Abu. As he arrived at Abu, he was met by both Swami Brahmananda and Swami Turiyananda. In course of their conversations, Swami Brahmananda asked him, if he knew why Swamiji had gone to America . Swami Akhandananda replied that he did not know. Then Swami Brahmananda told him: ‘In his travels in western India , Swamiji often shed tears seeing the misery of the common people under the tyranny of rich. He would say, “Brother, the people here are too poor to receive your religious teachings. I shall preach religion to them when I have removed their distress. Therefore, I' am going to the land of Kubera , the god of wealth, to see if I can raise some money for them.”'