SWAMI Sivananda was about six feet tall, with a shining copper red for his complexion. He had broad shoulders and long arms. His head and face were clean shaven. His countenance was childlike—no guile, no gall in it. His eyes sparkled. The Master’s titanic proportions of head and body reminded one of the Deities of Grecian mythology.
In the simplicity of a monk, the Master seemed like a monarch. He was a picture of serenity and youth. It was impossible to judge his age from his appearance. He refused to grow old.
"You look like the rock of Gibraltar," commented a visitor from Indiana, U.S.A., when she saw the Master on his sixty-eighth birthday.
The Master had a vibrant, powerful voice. Often at a meeting he would gently push aside the mike, saying, "I don’t need it." His stentorian voice could reach an audience of thousands without the need of amplification.
Paying a handsome tribute to his voice, Dr. Hari Prasad Shastri, founder of Santi Sadan, London, once commented, "We cannot describe our joy when we heard on the gramophone the sweet and holy voice of this great advocate of spiritual life. It was indeed an unforgettable thrill."
Sri N. Ananthanarayanan
To be continued ...