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“bliss” or “peace,” is the suffix usually added to a swami’s given name.)
    In 1922, Brahmananda died. In 1923, Prabhavananda was told by his seniors that an assistant swami was needed at the center in San Francisco and that they wished him to go there. (There were already several such centers, founded by Vivekananda during his second and last visit to the United States, 1899–1900. These centers were often called Vedanta societies, meaning that they were dedicated to the study and practice of the philosophy which is taught in the Vedas, the most ancient of the Hindu scriptures.)
    Since Brahmananda’s death, Prabhavananda had been hoping to be permitted to lead a contemplative life, practicing intensive meditation, at a monastery in the Himalayan foothills. He felt quite unfitted to teach anybody. In his own words, “I was barely thirty, I looked like twenty, and I felt even younger than that.” But his seniors rebuked him for his lack of confidence. How could he presume to imagine that success or failure depended on his own efforts? Had he no faith that Brahmananda would help him? “How dare you say you cannot teach? You have known the Son of God!”
    When Prabhavananda lectured for the second time at the San Francisco Center, he was suddenly at a loss for words and had to excuse himself and walk out of the room. But this was only beginner’s stage fright. He soon became an effective speaker, as well as an efficient assistant to the swami in charge. Within two years, he was sent to Portland, Oregon, to open a center there.
    While he was living in Portland, Prabhavananda was invited to Los Angeles, to give a series of lectures on Vedanta philosophy. It was then that he got to know Mrs. Carrie Mead Wyckoff. Thirty years earlier, as a young woman, Mrs. Wyckoff had met Vivekananda while he was in California. Later she had become a disciple of Swami Turiyananda, another of Ramakrishna’s direct disciples, and he had given her the monastic name of Sister Lalita—Lalita was one of the handmaidens of Krishna. Henceforward, people usually called her “Sister.”
    Sister was now a widow and she had just lost her only son—it seemed natural for the elderly lady and the youthful swami to form a kind of adoptive relationship. Sister returned with him to Portland and kept house for him at the center. Then, in 1929, she offered him her home, 1946 Ivar Avenue, to be the center of a future Vedanta Society of Southern California. They moved into it as soon as arrangements to carry on the work in Portland had been made.
    At first the Society was very small. The living room of the house was easily able to hold Prabhavananda’s congregation. An Englishwoman whom they called Amiya came to live with them; later they were joined by two or three other women. They had barely enough money to live on.
    Then, around 1936, the congregation began to expand. Prabhavananda had become well known locally as a speaker. It was now only rarely that anyone would telephone to ask if the Swami would draw up a horoscope or give a public demonstration of psychic powers. In fact, word had got about that he wasn’t a swami in the usual California sense but a teacher of religion whose title had the same significance as “Father” in the Catholic Church.
    And then donors appeared with enough money to pay for the building of a temple; there was room for one in Sister’s garden. It was finished and dedicated in July 1938—one year before I first saw it.

Three
    In the beginning, the most important aspect of my relationship with Prabhavananda was that I was British. For, however hotly I might profess anti-imperialistic opinions, I was still an heir to Britain’s guilt in her dealings with India. I was well aware of this and of the mixed feelings which guilt caused in me. While condemning the British, I felt an involuntary hostility to Hindus—just because my ancestors had