A Letter to a Young Man in Madras: The College I Never Built.

My dear young friend,

Your letter reached me here at Belur, and I read it twice. You ask what you should study and why. Good. That is the right question. Most men ask what they should earn, not what they should become.

When I was in Madras in 1897, I said to your city what I had written from America two years before: "We must have a College in Madras to teach comparative religions, Sanskrit, the different schools of Vedanta, and some European languages; we must have a press, and papers printed in English and in the Vernaculars." That college never came in my lifetime. And beside it I asked for a temple — a plain temple with no image, no priest, no sect, only the symbol Om on the wall, open to every man and woman of every faith. That temple never came either. So I will tell you what I meant, and you may take it or leave it.

First, comparative religions. Not to prove yours is best. To see that every faith is a path, and all paths lead to the same peak. The Vedas say ekam sat viprā bahudhā vadanti — the One Truth is called by many names. If you study the scriptures of the world without fear, you will find that no religion teaches what a bad man wants it to teach. You will also see that the same truths appear in every book, only in different language. That gives a man backbone. He can meet a Christian or a Muslim or a Buddhist and say, "Brother, we are climbing the same hill from different sides." That is the spirit of acceptance I preached in Chicago, and it is more needed now than ever.

Second, Sanskrit and the schools of Vedanta. Why Sanskrit? Because our grandmothers and grandfathers thought their deepest thoughts in that language. Not to worship the grammar, but to drink from the well. The Upanishads, the Gita, the Brahma Sutras — these are not dead books. They are maps of the mind. If you read them with a clear head and a steady heart, you will find that they do not contradict science; they complete it. And the different schools of Vedanta — Advaita, Vishishtadvaita, Dvaita — these are not quarrels. They are different ways of seeing the same elephant. Study them all. Do not be a sectarian. Be a Vedantist who knows the whole house.

Third, European languages. Why? Because the West has something to teach us, and we have something to teach them. I went to America without a rupee and spoke to the Parliament of Religions. I could not have done it if I had known only my own corner. So learn the languages of Europe not to become a foreigner but to bring back what we need: science, organisation, the printing press, railways, the spirit of work. And give them what they need: the Vedanta, the peace of the soul, the knowledge that the Atman is one with Brahman. That is exchange. That is brotherhood.

And a press. Why a press? Because ideas must travel. A book can go where a monk cannot reach. A newspaper printed in English and in the Vernaculars can reach the boy in the village and the professor in the city. Alasinga Perumal and the other young men of Madras started Brahmavadin in 1895 under my inspiration. I wrote for it from across the ocean. It ran for nineteen years. That is a sword. A press is a sword. Use it for truth. But a press is only as good as the men who write for it. If you have nothing to say, a press is only noise. So first become a man who has something to say.

And the temple. That plain temple with only Om — it was not a building. It was a statement. That every faith is welcome under one roof. That God has no name and no form, and yet every name and every form leads to Him. If you ever build such a temple in your own heart, you will have built it in the world too.

But none of this matters if the man is not ready. I said in Madras that year: "It is a man-making religion that we want. It is man-making theories that we want. It is man-making education all round that we want." And again: "Education is the manifestation of the perfection already in man." So I ask you: what do you mean to do with your learning? If you study only to get a job, you are a clerk. If you study only to argue, you are a talker. But if you study to become strong, to serve, to teach a child to read, to give a girl her own strength — then you are a man.

So I ask you, my friend: first, what will you do with your learning? Not what you will study. Then you will learn. Then you will serve. You will go to the village and teach the poor. You will open a school for girls. You will print a book in your mother tongue. You will meet a Christian and say "Brother, we are climbing the same hill." That is the college I never built. It is not a building. It is a man. You.

With all my blessing,

Vivekananda